Elidor. Alan Garner
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Elidor - Alan Garner страница 5
Название: Elidor
Автор: Alan Garner
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Детская проза
isbn: 9780007388769
isbn:
“What did you see?”
“See? I didn’t – see. I – through my fingers – See? Towers – like flame. A candle in darkness. A black wind.”
“Lead me.”
“Yes.”
Roland went down the stairs, a step at a time, dazed but no longer frightened. The church was somehow remote from him now, and flat, like a piece of stage scenery. The only real things were the fiddler and his bow.
“I heard your music,” said Roland. “Why were you playing so far away from people?”
“I was near you. Are you not people?” They had reached the bottom of the stairs, and were standing on the earth floor of the church. “Give me my bow.”
“I can’t stay,” said Roland. But the old man put the fiddle to his shoulder. “I’m looking for my sister, and my two brothers—” The old man began to play. “—and I must find them before dark—” It was the wild dance. “—and we’ve a train to catch. What’s that noise? – Please! – Stop! – It’s hurting!—Please!—”
The air took up the fiddle’s note. It was the sound Roland had heard upstairs, but now it was louder, building waves that jarred the church, and went through Roland’s body until he felt that he was threaded on the sound.
“—Please!—”
“Now! Open the door!”
“I can’t! It’s locked!”
“Open it! There is little time!”
“But—!”
“Now!”
Roland stumbled to the door, grasped the iron handle and pulled with all his weight. The door opened, and he ran out on to the cobbles of the street, head down, driven by the noise.
But he never reached the far pavement, for the cobbles were moving under him. He turned. The outline of the church rippled in the air, and vanished. He was standing among boulders on a sea shore, and the music died into the crash of breakers, and the long fall of surf.
A cliff rose above him, and at the top were the ruins of a castle. He was confused by the noise that had shaken the church, but the cold thrill and burn of the spray woke him.
Roland walked along the shore. The cliff was an islet separated from the mainland by a channel of foam. High over his head a drawbridge spanned the gap, and there was no other way to cross. He would have to climb, and climb soon, for even as he tried to find the best place to start, a wave dragged at the rocks. The tide was coming in.
The rocks sloped on one side, and were never more than a hard scramble: but the height was bad. The sound of the water dropped away and there was no wind. The cliff thrust him outwards, and each movement felt too violent for him to be able to keep his balance, and the tendons in his wrists were strained by the pressure of his grip on every hold. He knew better than to look down, but once he looked up, and the whole mass of the castle toppled slowly towards him. After that, he forced himself to see only what was within reach of his hand.
The foundations of the castle were smooth masonry curving to the vertical wall, but between the foundations and the bedrock there was a ledge which Roland worked himself along until he reached the drawbridge.
The chains that raised the bridge had been cut, and he was able to use one of them to pull himself up to the level of the gatehouse. The bridge itself was undamaged, but the gatehouse had fallen in. Roland climbed through into the courtyard.
There were four towers to the castle, one at each corner of the broken walls, and in the middle of the courtyard stood a massive keep. It was high, with few windows.
“Hello!” Roland called.
There was no reply. Roland went through the doorway of the keep into a great hall, cold and dim, and spanned by beams. The floor was strewn with dead roses, and the air heavy with their decay.
An arch in one corner led to a spiral staircase. Here the light came through slits in the wall, and was so poor that for most of the time Roland had to grope his way in darkness.
The first room was an armoury, lined with racks, which held a few swords, pikes, and shields. It took up the whole width of the keep.
Roland drew a sword from one of the racks. The blade was sharp, and well greased. And that was another strange thing about the castle. Although it was a ruin, the scars were fresh. The tumbled stone was unweathered and all the windows held traces of glass.
He replaced the sword: it was too heavy to be of use.
Roland continued up the stairs to the next door. He opened it and looked into a barren room. Shreds of tapestry hung against the walls like skeletons of leaves, and there was one high window of three lancets… and the glass of the middle lancet was scattered on the floor… and in the hearth opposite the window lay a white plastic football.
Roland took the ball between his hands, just as he had pulled it from under the lorry. The pattern of stitches: the smear of oil and brick dust: it was the same.
He stared at the ball, and as he stared he heard a man singing. He could not hear the words, but the voice was young, and the tune filled Roland with a yearning that was both pain and gladness in one.
Where’s it coming from? he thought. The next room up?
If only he could hear the words. Whoever was singing, he had to hear. But as he moved, the voice stopped.
“No,” whispered Roland.
The ball dropped from his fingers, and for a long time he listened to its slow bounce – bounce – bounce – down – and round – until that was lost.
“He must be up there.”
Roland started to climb. He came to the room above; the last room, for ahead the curve of the stairs grew brighter as it opened on to the top of the keep.
There was no one in the room. But under the window stood a low, white, marble table, and draped from one end, as though it had been jerked off, was a tapestry of cloth of gold.
Roland went to the table. It was quite plain, except for the shape of a sword cut deep in the stone. He picked up the golden tapestry and spread it over the table. It dropped with the folds of long, untouched use, and the impression of the sword was in the cloth. And as he stepped back Roland felt the castle tremble, and the voice drifted to him through the window, far away, but so clear that he caught broken snatches of the words.
“Fair СКАЧАТЬ