"E.Voiskunsky, I.Lukodyanov. The Crew Of The Mekong (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

was hunted by the feeling that someone was watching his every step.
On the other side of the filigree shutters lay an alien night. The
silence was absolute. He longed to hear a sound, any sound, even the barking
of a dog. At times he was driven to such despair that thoughts of laying
hands on himself came into his mind. Cry out though he might, Russia would
never hear him. She was too far away, beyond high mountains and scorching
plains.
Fedor shook the shutters in fury. He pressed his tear-stained face to
the cold metal.
Lal Chandra visited him almost every day. He would enter, tall and
erect, in his white robe, and conduct a vague conversation on theological
topics. These talks made Fedor uncomfortable. At home he had never prayed
with any particular fervour and he had never had the time or inclination to
go into the subtleties of religion. He had felt that it was enough if he, as
a soldier, crossed himself before climbing into bed.
One day he was unable to restrain himself, and in the midst of Lal
Chandra's monotonous utterances he burst out: "I'm sick of all this dull
talk. You bought me to work. Well, give me something to do."
Lal Chandra was silent for a while. "Soon," he said, "I shall raise
before you the veil that shrouds a holy mystery which the gods reveal only
to the chosen."
"Couldn't your gods find anyone else but me?" Fedor asked derisively.
"Do not speak thus of gods about whom you know nothing. Only I possess
knowledge of this mystery. You will be my assistant. You are a foreigner,
without friends or relatives here, and therefore you are less dangerous to
me than a fellow tribesman."
"If I am initiated into this mystery you will not allow me to return
home when the opportunity comes. I don't want to know it."
"It will be of no use to you at home. It is important and awe-inspiring
only here," Lal Chandra replied evasively. "But you must not speak about it
to anyone. If you do, yours will be a horrible death." With those words he
walked out of the room.
Fedor stood motionless for a long time, lost in gloomy thought.
The next evening Lal Chandra softly entered Fedor's room and sat down
beside him.
"Which deity did you worship in your country?" he asked.
Fedor was at a loss. "The Holy Trinity," he wanted to say, but he could
not find the words in Dutch. "I believe in the holy three," he said.
"Three gods-The Trimurti," Lal Chandra repeated thoughtfully. "Do your
gods work miracles?"
"Of course they do. The Bible tells how Jesus Christ, the son of God,
turned water into wine and raised Lazarus from the dead. Then there's the
story in the Old Testament of a bush that burned but didn't burn up."
"Have you ever seen a miracle?"
"No, never."
"Now listen carefully, young man," Lal Chandra began. "When the gods do
not work miracles, men tend to forget that they must obey the high priests
implicitly. But we are not given to know why the gods fail for a long time
to remind us of themselves."
"Are you a priest?" Fedor asked in surprise.