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Eternal Life;Cursed Gift 17
That March day, Genevieve gave him a couple of deniers and sent him to the grocer's. François ran out into the street and thumped his boots on the cobblestones. Hearing someone call to him, he turned around and saw Andre, the ten-year-old son of their neighbor, Madame Bugeaud. The boy overtook François, and they walked side by side.“Oh, it would be summer already,” Andre muttered, wrapping himself in a cape, and suddenly, for no reason at all, asked, “they say you will soon have a new dad?”- What-oh? François was surprised.- Well, how. That gentleman who visits your mother is obviously going to marry her, we all think so. A prominent guy, you will not say anything. And what a cloak! Not like my rag.François was silent, trying to comprehend what he had heard. So Genevieve has a boyfriend? He felt a burning jealousy. However, this was to be expected, she had been alone for too long.Andre looked at him in surprise.- You didn't know anything?- Nuu ... how can I tell you ... Tell me
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François went to Montferrand, where Anna de La Tour lived. As we moved east, there were fewer and fewer villages on the way, and on the third evening after leaving Limoges, Francois could not find a single settlement where one could stop for the night. After spending the night in the field and eating the remnants of cheese, which he was provided with in the last village he passed, he continued on his way.By evening, a forest appeared ahead, huge and dark. The road went straight through it. Before reaching the forest, exhausted and hungry, François settled down for the night. For the whole day he did not meet a single village. “What should I do now?” he thought. “The forest, apparently, is rather big, it may take several days to go through it, but there are probably no villages there. What will I eat? And where will I sleep?”With these gloomy thoughts, he imperceptibly fell asleep, and in the morning, hungry and chilled, he cautiously moved towards the forest.He was walking down the
Eternal Life;Cursed Gift 19
But it was too late to retreat. The next morning François, as promised, helped papa Étienne straighten the fence and set off.The road was steadily going uphill, and François was rather tired, climbing up the wide path. Here it is, the Auvergne, a wooded highland with short mountain ranges sticking out here and there. Far below, he noticed a village near a river flowing in a narrow valley. Well, he finally reached the goal, somewhere in this alien, inhospitable mountainous country, his sister lives. Inspired by this thought, the boy hurried down.François now walked much more carefully, from settlement to settlement, trying not to catch the twilight on his way. You can hide or run away from robbers, but where can you get away from evil spirits?If the locals refused him lodging for the night, Francois quietly settled in someone's garden. He shuddered at the thought that a werewolf might attack him at any moment. When he managed to persuade the owners to give him shelter, he carefully
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As soon as dawn broke, François pushed Blanca aside, and they set off in the direction of the Dauphine. It was dark in the forest, and they walked carefully, carefully looking around.Very soon both felt that they were hungry. François was alarmed: it was not the first time for him, he would be patient, but what would it be like for his sister not to eat for a day?"Let's look for a clearing," he suggested. - If we're lucky, we can find berries.- Nonsense, - Blanca waved her hand. - The forest is full of sweet roots. Look, this is a cinquefoil, and there is a parsnip. He has pretty tasty tubers.- How do you know all this?“I’m a country girl,” the girl answered innocently. - We all know this. Give me the knife.She sat down in front of a small bush with pale yellow flowers and began to dig it out of the ground with a knife. Her brother stood by and watched her in surprise.Suddenly, a gray carcass flashed through the air, and a huge wolf landed on François's shoulders, instantly kno
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After dinner, François, Gilbert, and Blanca ran to Uncle Lazzi's house. Half of the villagers were already there. The guys squeezed closer to the table, at which sat the owner, Umberto Lazzi, and a stranger strikingly similar to him. He was short, but broad-shouldered and muscular, and over a linen shirt he wore an unusual-looking leather jacket. His swarthy smiling face was overgrown with a beard and was dotted with wrinkles, his eyes glinted slyly from under a cap of disheveled hair. A white scar ran across the right cheek, on which an earring dangling on the earlobe cast a glare.François and Blanca, like everyone else, stared in amazement at the strange stranger. None of them had seen anything like it before. Roberto did not seem to notice the surprised looks, cheerfully and calmly telling his story to those around him. Slowly and with humor, he told how he ran away from home as a boy, how in Genoa he became a cabin boy on a merchant ship bound for Marseille, and how over the year
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François returned to the city and wandered around the market for a long time. Finally, he found what he was looking for: fire-grass, causing instant irritation and skin burns. Having bought a bunch of grass and some fern powder, he went to the next street, where he bought not a new, but rather decent European-cut caftan, a velvet beret, chausses, boots and a leather purse. Having finished shopping, the young man jumped on his horse and rode back to the Toad's house. Not far from him, François dismounted, tying his horse in the shade of palm trees, and changed his clothes. He looked at himself as best he could and was satisfied: in this caftan he could easily pass for a young rich merchant.François approached the house cautiously and bent over towards the back door. There were no servants present, and he slipped in unhindered.The house was huge. François crept along the corridor, looked into several rooms, but did not meet a soul anywhere. Ahead, the corridor forked. After hesitating
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The next morning, taking advantage of the non-working day, Francois agreed with the overseers and went into the forest to collect herbs for the treatment of a friend. Even on the Star of the Seas, he more than once had to help the ship's doctor and extract herbs for him in various ports. And now he quickly found everything he needed, and an hour later he was already giving don Rodrigo a healing decoction to drink. During the day he gave the Spaniard half a dozen different tinctures, and by night he was already much better. Using all his eloquence, Francois convinced the guards that the living Don Rodrigo is much more useful to Sufi Pasha than the dead one - after all, a ransom is already being taken for him. The Spaniard was allowed one day to spend in bed, and this finally helped him to his feet.The captives were very happy to learn that they now have their own apothecary. They often turned to François for medical help, and he made it a rule to go for herbs every Friday. The Arrais
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The life of friends flowed according to the established schedule: during the day they went to patients, at sunset they passed a glass of wine in the nearest tavern, and late in the evening Nostrdam sat down to read books, among which were the works of Johann Faust, Agrippa Nettesheim, Paracelsus, and often sat up until morning. François tried not to disturb him at this time, but Michel often knocked on his room to read some quote or ask his opinion on this or that problem. François more and more often joined his friend when he worked with books on healing. In addition, Nostrdam initiated him into the secrets of astrology, firmly believing that the past and future of any person can be read by the stars, you just need to be able to do it. And now the two of them sat all night long, reading, writing, experimenting, mixing herbs, agreeing and arguing.***After one of these night vigils, François slept until noon. Entering Nostrdam's room, he found that his friend was not at home. There w
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- Eternal Life;Cursed Gift
Epilogue
Michael Gold paused, trying to catch his breath. He seemed to be reliving the terror that had seized him in the mountains of South America.“And Plath is gone?” exclaimed the vicar ruefully.Alas, John, yes. A strange insanity has deprived me of this most valuable relic!- What a pity! What do you think it was?“I have puzzled over this for three hundred years, explaining everything as the revenge of higher powers. It was only three years ago that I read an article in The Sunday Times that I think explains the panic attack that happened to me then. The article said that a certain John Balderston, director of the London Lyric Theater, was preparing a play for staging, where the characters were transported into the past as the action progressed. He wanted to come up with something spectacular so that the audience at that moment felt the psychological tension. And Mr. Balderston turned to his friend, the physicist Robert Wood, for help. He made a pipe, like an organ, but longer and thick
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Gold wearily rubbed his face with his hands.“Those days are hard for me to remember, John. Then I committed one of the most shameful acts of my entire life. But I swear I'll be completely honest about everything.'I have no doubt, my friend,' nodded the vicar. - Few people could speak so frankly about themselves, not only good, but also bad.— So, we got into a small pirogue and sailed up the river. Usually, for the construction of boats, the Indians took a tree with a wide trunk and burned out the middle. But this boat turned out to be wicker and very light. The current here was weak, so Anka and Yakumama rowed tirelessly.About five hours later we landed on the shore, and I saw a path cut through the jungle, as wide as I had ever seen in these places. It turned out that the Indians dragged boats along it to another river, which they called the Serpent, and the Europeans - Madre de Dios. Even such a light pirogue as ours was not easy to drag, but we managed and by the evening reache
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On one of the days of the Month of Seva, Apu Uma sent for Istvan. He hurried to the leader and found him in great agitation. Forgetting to offer mate to the guest, the Indian said:“Our scouts have spotted a white party, Amauta. They go through the jungle towards Antavara.The priest's heart jumped with joy, but at the same moment he thought - if the Europeans capture the village, they will also learn about the mines. No, this cannot be allowed.- How is it - "go"? After all, the selva is impassable.- How do we go? Cut through the road with knives and axes.— How many of them?The chief frowned and drew seven parallel lines on the dirt floor. Thirty-five people, Isstvan realized."And when will they get to us?"- In two or three days. We need to organize protection.“No,” the priest said thoughtfully. “We have to set up an ambush. Then, firstly, they will not find the village, and secondly, thanks to a surprise attack, we will have an advantage.After thinking for a moment, Apu Uma n
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The Indians made a noise, and Istvan could not believe his ears. What nonsense? This is impossible! But no, he saw the living dead with his own eyes!"But the corpses didn't disappear until the third night," he muttered.The sorcerer chuckled and nodded again.— Yes, but here they bury in the wall. Apparently, in the ground they deteriorate faster. At first I did not know this and could not understand why they did not turn into nzambi. The first two had to be killed, their minds barely affected. Then I realized that here the body was lying in the wall and tried to pick it up later. This is how I determined from experience that it is best to raise the "dead" on the third night.- Can they be cured somehow? Return to normal life?- Of course not.How long do they exist in this state?- Who is like. If you feed them on time, then some of them last for four or five years.“Now tell me, why can’t they be killed?”- Why, maybe. They just don't feel pain and follow orders as long as they can
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The Incas got up early. Not finding Istvan, they were alarmed. When he, half-dead from fatigue and experienced horror, dragged himself to the gate, he was greeted with a joyful uproar. Sampa Anka grabbed him under the armpits and helped him to the hut.“What happened to you, white brother? he kept asking. - Where have you been?"I'm sorry, Anka," Isstvan whispered, sinking onto the couch. “I’ll tell you everything, but right now I don’t have the strength.”He slept for almost a day and woke up cheerful, completely recovered from the shock of the night. Hardly waiting for the morning, Istvan went to Apu Uma and told about everything that he had to endure.Sampa Anka, who sat silently beside him, stared in horror at the priest, while the chief shook his head grimly.“You broke my ban, Amauta,” he said when Istvan finished his story.“Sorry, Great Leader, but I couldn’t help but watch your people die.“I understand that you were guided by a kind and brave heart. But what have you achieve
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The next morning, having somewhat calmed down, they again retired to the hut.- Understand, spirits are not like that at all! Istvan admonished his friend. “They were real flesh and blood people. There must be some other explanation.“Okay,” he nodded obediently, “then explain to me what the secret is.”“That is what we must find out. Tell everything you know about them.Sampa Anka shrugged.- There is nothing to tell. Ordinary guys.What could unite them?- Nothing. Only that they all died.- When exactly?The young man frowned as he remembered.“Well… Vira eight moons ago. Llapi four moons earlier. The other two, it seems, shortly before your arrival.This information did not give Isstvan anything, but he stubbornly bombarded Anka with questions, trying to find at least some thread.Did any of them get sick?- It seems not.- So all four died according to the prediction of the sorcerer?After thinking, Sampa Anka nodded confidently."And their bodies disappeared on the third night?"
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Returning to his room, Istvan was lost in thought. Let's say the evil Aya Naya really kills the Indians, but how and why? However, the methods may be different, for example, to send damage. For what purpose does he do this? And, most importantly, why do corpses disappear? Perhaps the spirit of the deceased raises his body and takes him somewhere? No, what nonsense!Isstvan's mind was in confusion. But he was a man of action, and therefore he soon questioned the leader and his son about all the details. It turned out that the bodies disappear on the third night after the funeral.When an old man died two weeks later at the other end of the village, Istvan decided to follow his grave.“This is unreasonable, brother,” Apu Uma admonished him, “and very dangerous. Only Viracocha knows what happens when the body disappears. Suddenly all living things around perish?“Believe me, Great Leader, I will find out the truth,” Isstvan replied grimly. “I don’t want an incomprehensible curse weighing
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Listening to the leader, Istvan could not recover from amazement. So the Templars were in the West Indies long before Señor Columbus?“The Order was rich,” he reflected, “and could well equip an expedition to search for new lands. The Templars sailed here and found huge reserves of silver and gold. So that's where the legends about the untold wealth of the order came from! Some came to rule the Incas, others left, taking away priceless treasures on ships. And then what? They returned forever ... Probably, it was under Philip the Handsome, who banned the order and arrested everyone he could find. But many Templars escaped and lived here until their deaths. Why didn't they leave offspring? Posing as gods? Of course, they were monks! They could not have intercourse with women and remained faithful to their vow even in such conditions. How many times have I broken my vow of chastity? Eh..."This discovery shocked Istvan. All his knowledge of the history of the conquest of the West Indies
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Religion occupied a huge place in the life of the tribe. Everywhere in the village and beyond there were so-called waki - sacred things and places. Uakoy could be anything - a bunch of stones stacked in a special way, a rock, a hill, a stream, a spring, an idol carved from wood, like standing on a kurikancha. The Indians carefully looked after all the Huacas. A special place of worship was Nayakuna Pirka - a long stone wall built to the east of the village, which consisted of separate cavities. In them, the inhabitants of the village buried the dead, closing each niche with a wooden door.As Istvan mastered Quechua, he learned more and more about the views of the Indians.“There are three worlds around us,” said Sampa Anka, “underground, earthly and divine. The underworld, Uku Pacha, is ruled by the ferocious god of death, Supai. All dead, unborn babies, some snakes, worms and seeds live there. In the earthly world, Kai Pacha, we are people, but also animals, birds, plants and ghosts.
