Запретный лес
Prologue
...AtmyfeetlayWoodilee,andamiraclehadbeenwrought,foragloomliketheshadowofaneclipseseemedtohavecreptovertheparish.Isawanillusion,whichIknewtobesuch,butwhichmymindaccepted,foritgavemethevisionIhadbeenseeking.
ItwastheWoodileeofthreehundredyearsago.Andmymind,oncegiventhecue,setoutthingsnotpresentedbytheilludedeye....Therewerenohighways--onlytracks,miryinthebogsandstonyonthebraes,whichledtoEdinburghononehandandtoCarlisleontheother.Isawfewhouses,andthesewerebrownaspeat,butontheknoweoftheoldkirktonIsawthefourgreywallsofthekirk,andthemansebesideitamongeldersandyoungashes.Woodileewasnotnowaparishlyingopentotheeyeofsunandwind.Itwasnomorethanatinyjumbleofcrofts,boundedandpressedinuponbysomethingvastanddark,whichclothedthetopsofallbutthehighesthills,muffledtheridges,chokedtheglensandoverflowedalmosttotheedgeofthewaters--whichlayonthelandscapelikeashaggyfurcastlooselydown.Mymouthshapedtheword"Melanudrigill,"andIknewthatIsawWoodileeasnoeyehadseenitforthreecenturies,when,asitsnametells,itstilllayintheshadowofaremnantoftheWoodofCaledon,thatmostancientforestwhereonceMerlinharpedandArthurmusteredhismen....
Anenginewhistledinthevalley,asignal-boxsprangintolight,andmyvisionpassed.
