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Akce tohoto týdne:

George Orwell: balíček 5 elektronických knih (PDF+ePub)     za 183  110 Kč (-40%)

Kalendárium:

29.3.: Jo NesbøJo Nesbø
[29.3.1960]
slaví 64. narozeniny
29.3.: Jiří WolkerJiří Wolker
[29.3.1900-3.1.1924]
- 124. výročí narození
30.3.: Paul VerlainePaul Verlaine
[30.3.1844-8.1.1896]
- 180. výročí narození
30.3.: Karl MayKarl Friedrich May
[25.2.1842-30.3.1912]
- 112. výročí úmrtí
31.3.: Michal VieweghMichal Viewegh
[31.3.1962]
slaví 62. narozeniny
31.3.: Ota PavelOta Pavel
[2.7.1930-31.3.1973]
- 51. výročí úmrtí
1.4.: Nikolaj GogolNikolaj Vasiljevič Gogol (Николай Васильевич Гоголь)
[1.4.1809-4.3.1852]
- 215. výročí narození
1.4.: Milan KunderaMilan Kundera
[1.4.1929]
slaví 95. narozeniny
1.4.: François VillonFrançois Villon
[1.4.1431(19.4.1432?)-1463(1467?)]
- 593. výročí narození
1.4.: Edgar WallaceEdgar Horatio Edgar Wallace
[1.4.1875-10.2.1932]
- 149. výročí narození
2.4.: Hans Christian AndersenHans Christian Andersen
[2.4.1805-4.8.1875]
- 219. výročí narození
2.4.: Émile ZolaÉmile Zola
[2.4.1840-29.9.1902]
- 184. výročí narození
4.4.: Václav ČtvrtekVáclav Čtvrtek
[4.4.1911-6.11.1976]
- 113. výročí narození
4.4.: Jan DrdaJan Drda
[4.4.1915-28.11.1970]
- 109. výročí narození
5.4.: Vítězslav HálekVítězslav Hálek
[5.4.1835-8.10.1874]
- 189. výročí narození
5.4.: Allen GinsbergIrwin Allen Ginsberg
[3.6.1926-5.4.1997]
- 27. výročí úmrtí
6.4.: Isaac AsimovIsaac Asimov
[2.1.1920-6.4.1992]
- 32. výročí úmrtí
6.4.: Vítězslav NezvalVítězslav Nezval
[26.5.1900-6.4.1958]
- 66. výročí úmrtí
7.4.: Johannes M. SimmelJohannes Mario Simmel
[7.4.1924-1.1.2009]
- 100. výročí narození
7.4.: Jaroslav DurychJaroslav Durych
[2.12.1886-7.4.1962]
- 62. výročí úmrtí
8.4.: Jakub ArbesJakub Arbes
[12.6.1840-8.4.1914]
- 110. výročí úmrtí
9.4.: Charles BaudelaireCharles Pierre Baudelaire
[9.4.1821-21.8.1867]
- 203. výročí narození
9.4.: Egon BondyEgon Bondy
[20.1.1930-9.4.2007]
- 17. výročí úmrtí
9.4.: Zdeněk ŠmídZdeněk Šmíd
[17.5.1937-9.4.2011]
- 13. výročí úmrtí

Náhodná ukázka:

3

Horemheb stayed at my house, sleepless and haggard. His eyes grew more somber every day, and he had no stomach for the food Muti repeatedly set before him. Muti, like many other women, was greatly taken with Horemheb and had more respect for him than for myself, who, learning or no learning, was nothing but a flabbymuscled man.

Horemheb said, "What do I care for either Ammon or Aton? But they have let my men run wild so that many backs must come under my lash and heads must fall before I can bring them to their senses. And this is a great pity, for they are good fighting men when disciplined."

Kaptah grew richer every day, and his face shone with grease. He now spent his nights at the Crocodile's Tail, for the officers and sergeants of the Shardanas paid for their drams with gold, and in the back rooms of the tavern lay ever growing heaps of stolen treasure, jewels and coffers and mats, which the customers gave in exchange for wine without asking about the price. No one attacked the house, and thieves walked wide of it, for it was guarded by Horemheb's men.

By the third day my stock of medicines was exhausted, and it was impossible to buy more, even for gold. My arts were vain in the face of the disease that spread through the poor quarter from the corpses and foul water. I was tired, and my heart was like a wound in my breast, and my eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. I was sickened with everything--with the poor, with wounds, with Aton--and I went to the Crocodile's Tail where I drank mixed wine until I fell alseep.

In the morning Merit roused me; I was lying on her mat with her beside me. Deeply ashamed I said to her, "Life is like a cold night, but truly it is sweet when two lonely mortals keep one another warm, though their hands and eyes tell lies for the sake of their friendship."

She yawned sleepily.

"How do you know that my hands and eyes are lying? I am weary of smiting soldiers over the fingers and kicking their shins; here by your side, Sinuhe, is the only safe place in the city--a place where no one will lay a hand on me. Why this should be I cannot tell, and I am a little offended, for I am said to be beautiful nor is there anything amiss with my belly, though you have not deigned to look at it."

I drank the beer she offered me, to clear my aching head, and found nothing to say. She looked into my eyes with a smile, though in the depths of her brown ones sorrow lay still, like the dark waters at the bottom of a well.

She said, "Sinuhe, I would help you if I could, and I know that in this city there is a woman who owes you an immeasurable debt. In these days roofs are floors, and doors open outward, and payment for many old debts is demanded in the streets. Perhaps it would do you good also to go adunning and so lose the belief that every woman is a wilderness."

I said that I had never believed this of her, but I went and her words remained with me, for I was but human. My heart was swollen with the sight of carnage, and I had tasted the frenzy of hatred so that I was afraid for myself. I remembered the temple of the cat and the house beside it though time had drifted like sand over these memories. But during the days of terror the dead rose from their graves and I remembered my father Senmut in his tenderness and my good mother Kipa; there was a taste of blood in my mouth as I thought of them. At this time no one in Thebes was too rich or too eminent to be in danger when he walked abroad, and I need only have hired a few soldiers to carry out my purpose. But as yet I did not know what my purpose was.

(...)

 

(Mika Waltari, The Egyptian)

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