Right hand. Prince of Darkness. Dmitry NazarovЧитать онлайн книгу.
threw a last glance in the direction where the old woman had already disappeared from sight, and followed me to the waiting rashtang.
The monastery walls – stone, massive, in places overgrown with moss, obviously built a long time ago and ready to be tortured not only by a siege, but also by time – met us surprisingly friendly. The sun was setting, there were no other places to sleep in the area, and we decided to knock here. It was generally accepted that in such places they are always happy to feed the traveler and provide him with an overnight stay.
The gate was indeed opened quickly. The nun, a woman of forty or forty-five years old, in a traditional black dress with white inserts and a matching black and white apostle, greeted us very kindly, invited us inside and promised peace and shelter. We didn’t ask for the first one, but the second one came in handy, so in general I was satisfied.
In the monastery, unlike the church, I felt comfortable. The temple is the home of the Prince of Light, while the monastery, for all its importance for religion, is the home of the people. Monasteries are different (female or male – only the smallest of differences): bright, giving human souls a sense of peace, or harsh, instilling fear of the afterlife; islands of true piety or a cover for a world of intrigue and violent power struggles. The people who lived in the monasteries were also very different, as well as the reasons that brought them there. It was this aspect that aroused my liveliest interest at the moment.
Inside we had to split up. Male travelers were allowed outside the gates, but they were not allowed to enter the living quarters, so Eitan had to eat and spend the night in some kind of military tent, spread out for such purposes in a wide courtyard. Either a local watchman or a woodworker was called in to help him, I didn’t really figure it out. I was taken along the stairs to the second floor located on the street. First, I ended up on a terrace covered from the rain by a wide canopy, and then in a room of an incomprehensible purpose: it was too large for a cell, too small for a refectory. Judging by the wooden table, it was still meant for eating, perhaps in cases where several nuns happened to have breakfast or dinner separately from the rest.
There were six of us in the room: four novices, one nun and myself. The menu consisted of a cup of water, a slice of black bread and… several heads of garlic. Either this vegetable became a favorite dish on earth, or it was used with might and main as a means of detecting demons. If the goal of the hospitable hostesses was the latter, we can say that it was achieved: I did not touch the garlic. I can’t stand his smell, and it has nothing to do with my, without a doubt, demonic essence.
However, to the credit of the local inhabitants, it must be said that they did not raise a fuss about this, and did not try to feed me by force. The atmosphere was quite friendly. Novices – they generally burned with curiosity, wanting to learn more from a person from the outside, and at the same time just chat about this and that. The presence of a nun was a hindrance: you can’t say everything you want in front of her. I had to limit myself to general, meaningless and “politically seasoned” phrases. But such a problem (as, indeed, any) had a solution.
– Sister Keminya! It’s really embarrassing for me to ask you about this … – I said, nervously fiddling with my fingers, – but my companion, the one who remained below… You see, he injured his leg during the journey: either twisted, or dislocated, or just hit. Hard to say. It’s definitely not a fracture, but maybe he still needs help.
My words, of course, were lies from beginning to end, but I suppose it is superfluous to explain that I did not worry about this.
– Don’t worry ma’am, we’ll check it out. The monastery will never turn a blind eye to human suffering. I’ll go down and ask him how he’s feeling. And, if necessary, I will send our healer. She’s great at this kind of work.
– Thank you, Sister Keminya, – I replied, looking down modestly.
It was fortunate that the nun left herself, and did not send one of the novices on an errand. Now it was possible to communicate, so to speak, without constraining factors.
– Well, – I perked up, – how is life in the monastery now?
And she winked encouragingly, making it clear that everyone is here.
– Quietly, calmly, without fuss, – answered the girl of strong constitution, who seemed plump because of her wide bones.
The apostle reliably hid her hair, but I was convinced that she wore a braid – at least until she was removed to the monastery.
My face took on an extremely sour expression: the novice expressed herself as if the nun had not left at all. Or, for example, remained standing outside the door. However, I have a flair for human presence, and therefore I had no doubt: no one outside was eavesdropping.
– Benevolently, – said the second with a peaceful smile, from under the scarf of which the edge of a black strand inadvertently peeked out.
No, they deliberately decided to kill me here! Directly not people, but angels in the flesh! I wanted to go outside and unwind, at least in a figurative sense, and maybe literally.
– It’s boring, – the third novice unexpectedly replied, literally bringing me back to life. – Nothing happens, every day is like the previous one.
– Not just boring, sickening! – picked up the last, the shortest, but no less lively. – You ask how life is, but there is no life here! The longing is hopeless.
The big girl looked at her disapprovingly, although now this disapproval seemed feigned. The novice with the stray lock smiled without a hint of judgment.
– You came to the monastery recently, – she turned to those who dared to express their displeasure. – We haven’t gotten used to it yet. Here life is completely different. Such changes, yes, in two or three weeks, it is impossible to accept. Here you need to get used to, feel, comprehend. In the meantime, of course, it’s not easy, – she sighed sympathetically.
Well, here’s the sermon. Complete steadfastness in the look, combined with sincere concern for others. Killer combination.
I turned away, preferring to focus on the other acolytes.
– And how did you get here?
– I am the youngest daughter of four, – the short one replied. – The dowry for the sisters was somehow scraped together, but it wasn’t enough for me. So they gave it here to somehow attach it. – She shrugged her thin shoulders, spread her hands, they say, such a story, whether you want to condemn, or not.
– And I’m the eldest, – the one who was built stronger than the rest smiled sadly. – But the end is the same. The other novices nodded sympathetically, apparently already knowing the story. But I didn’t know the continuation, so the girl explained: “Until our eldest daughter gets married, the rest can’t either.” Not to go to the ball, not to get acquainted, and even more so to sweeten the engagement. And I was born ugly, no one wanted to marry me. Here, so that the younger ones do not stay too long in the brides, they sent me here.
– What kind of parents are these? I squinted angrily.
The maternal instinct is alien to me, and I do not fully understand people who voluntarily doom themselves to many years of torment, which I imagine the care of a child and his upbringing. However, if you don’t want children, don’t have them, live for your own pleasure. And if you started, if you please, drink your cup to the bottom. It is not good to throw out of the life of someone who in this world cannot really stand up for himself. For such actions in the afterlife