Белый отряд

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
 
Д55

ISBN 978-5-9925-1178-9

Дойл, Артур Конан.
Д55 
Белый отряд : книга для чтения на английском языке. / А. Конан Дойл. — Санкт-Петербург : 
КАРО, 2017. — 608 с. — (Classical Literature).

ISBN 978-5-9925-1178-9.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей исторический роман знаменитого английского писателя Артура Конан Дойла «Белый 
отряд», посвященный событиям Столетней войны. В книге приводится полный неадаптированный текст романа с комментариями и словарем.

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2017

Chapter I

HOW THE BLACK SHEEP CAME FORTH 
FROM THE FOLD

The great bell of Beaulieu was ringing. Far away through 
the forest might be heard its musical clangour and swell. 
Peat-cutters on Blackdown and fishers upon the Exe 
heard the distant throbbing rising and falling upon the 
sultry summer air. It was a common sound in those 
parts — as common as the chatter of the jays and the 
booming of the bittern. Yet the fishers and the peasants 
raised their heads and looked questions at each other, 
for the Angelus had already gone and Vespers was still 
far off. Why should the great bell of Beaulieu toll when 
the shadows were neither short nor long?
All round the Abbey the monks were trooping in. 
Under the long green-paved avenues of gnarled oaks and 
of lichened beeches the white-robed brothers gathered 
to the sound. From the vineyard and the vinepress, from 
the bouvary or ox-farm, from the marl-pits and salterns, 
even from the distant iron-works of Sowley and the 
outlying grange of St. Leonard’s, they had all turned 

their steps homewards. It had been no sudden call. A 
swift messenger had the night before sped round to the 
outlying dependencies of the Abbey, and had left the 
summons for every monk to be back in the cloisters by 
the third hour after noontide. So urgent a message had 
not been issued within the memory of old lay-brother 
Athanasius, who had cleaned the Abbey knocker since 
the year after the Battle of Bannockburn1.
A stranger who knew nothing either of the Abbey or 
of its immense resources might have gathered from the 
appearance of the brothers some conception of the 
varied duties which they were called upon to perform, 
and of the busy widespread life which centred in the old 
monastery. As they swept gravely in by twos and by 
threes, with bended heads and muttering lips, there were 
few who did not bear upon them some signs of their daily 
toil. Here were two with wrists and sleeves all spotted 
with the ruddy grape juice. There again was a bearded 
brother with a broad-headed axe and a bundle of faggots 
upon his shoulders, while beside him walked another 
with the shears under his arm and the white wool still 
clinging to his whiter gown. A long straggling troop bore 
spades and mattocks, while the two rearmost of all 
staggered along under a huge basket of fresh-caught 
carp — for the morrow was Friday, and there were fifty 
platters to be filled and as many sturdy trenchermen 
behind them. Of all the throng there was scarce one who 

1 the year aft er the Battle of Bannockburn — битва, в которой шотландцы победили англичан (1314 г.)

was not labour-stained and weary, for Abbot Berghersh 
was a hard man to himself and to others.
Meanwhile, in the broad and lofty chamber set apart 
for occasions of import, the Abbot himself was pacing 
impatiently backwards and forwards, with his long 
white nervous hands clasped in front of him. His thin 
thought-worn features and sunken haggard cheeks 
bespoke one who had indeed beaten down that inner foe 
whom every man must face, but had none the less 
suffered sorely in the contest. In crushing his passions 
he had well-nigh crushed himself. Yet, frail as was his 
person, there gleamed out ever and anon from under his 
drooping brows a flash of fierce energy, which recalled 
to men’s minds that he came of a fighting stock, and that 
even now his twin-brother, Sir Bartholomew Berghersh, 
was one of the most famous of those stern warriors who 
had planted the Cross of St. George before the gates of 
Paris. With lips compressed and clouded brow, he strode 
up and down the oaken floor, the very genius and 
impersonation of asceticism, while the great bell still 
thundered and clanged above his head. At last the 
uproar died away in three last, measured throbs, and ere 
their echo had ceased the Abbot struck a small gong 
which summoned a lay-brother to his presence.
“Have the brethren come?” he asked, in the AngloFrench dialect used in religious houses.
“They are here,” the other answered, with his eyes 
cast down, and his hands crossed upon his chest.
“All?”

“Two-and-thirty of the seniors and fifteen of the 
novices, most holy father. Brother Mark of the Spiсarium 
is sore smitten with a fever and could not come. He said 
that — — ”
“It boots not what he said. Fever or no, he should 
have come at my call. His spirit must be chastened, as 
must that of many more in this Abbey. You yourself, 
brother Francis, have twice raised your voice, so that 
it hath come to my ears, when the reader in the 
refectory hath been dealing with the lives of God’s 
most blessed saints. What hast thou to say?”
The lay-brother stood meek and silent, with his arms 
still crossed in front of him.
“One thousand Aves1 and as many Credos2, said 
standing with arms outstretched before the shrine of the 
Virgin, may help thee to remember that the Creator hath 
given us two ears and but one mouth, as a token that 
there is twice the work for the one as for the other. 
Where is the master of the novices?”
“He is without, most holy father.”
“Send him hither.”
The sandalled feet clattered over the wooden floor, 
and the iron-bound door creaked upon its hinges. In a 
few moments it opened again to admit a short square 
monk with a heavy composed face and authoritative 
manner.
“You have sent for me, holy father?”

1 Ave — (лат.) молитва «Богородице, Дево, радуйся»
2 Credo — (лат.) молитва «Верую»

“Yes, brother Jerome, I wish that this matter be 
disposed of with as little scandal as may be; and yet it 
is needful that the example should be a public one.” 
The Abbot spoke in Latin now, as a language which 
was more fitted by its age and solemnity to convey the 
thoughts of two high dignitaries of the order.
“It would perchance be best that the novices be not 
admitted,” suggested the master. “This mention of a 
woman may turn their minds from their pious 
meditations to worldly and evil thoughts.”
“Woman! woman!” groaned the Abbot. “Well has the 
holy Chrysostom termed them radix malorum1. From 
Eve downwards, what good hath come from any of 
them? Who brings the plaint?”
“It is brother Ambrose.”
“A holy and devout young man.”
“A light and a pattern to every novice.”
“Let the matter be brought to an issue, then, according 
to our old-time monastic habit. Bid the chancellor and 
the sub-chancellor lead in the brothers according to age, 
together with brother John the accused and brother 
Ambrose the accuser.”
“And the novices?”
“Let them bide in the north alley of the cloisters. Stay! 
Bid the sub-chancellor send out to them Thomas the 
lector to read unto them from the Gesta beati Benedicti2. 

1 radix malorum — (лат.) корень зла
2 Gesta beati Benedicti — (лат.) «Деяния блаженного Бенедикта»

It may save them from foolish and pernicious 
babbling.”
The Abbot was left to himself once more, and bent 
his thin grey face over his illuminated breviary. So he 
remained while the senior monks filed slowly and 
sedately into the chamber, seating themselves upon the 
long oaken benches which lined the wall on either side. 
At the further end, in two high chairs as large as that of 
the Abbot, though hardly as elaborately carved, sat the 
master of the novices and the chancellor, the latter a 
broad and portly priest, with dark mirthful eyes and a 
thick outgrowth of crisp black hair all round his tonsured 
head. Between them stood a lean white-faced brother 
who appeared to be ill at ease, shifting his feet from side 
to side and tapping his chin nervously with the long 
parchment roll which he held in his hand. The Abbot, 
from his point of vantage, looked down on the two long 
lines of faces, placid and sun-browned for the most part, 
with the large bovine eyes and unlined features which 
told of their easy, unchanging existence. Then he turned 
his eager, fiery gaze upon the pale-faced monk who 
faced him.
“This plaint is thine, as I learn, brother Ambrose,” 
said he. “May the holy Benedict, patron of our house, be 
present this day and aid us in our findings! How many 
counts are there?”
“Three, most holy father,” the brother answered in a 
low and quavering voice.
“Have you set them forth according to rule?”

“They are here set down, most holy father, upon a 
cantle of sheepskin.”
“Let the sheepskin be handed to the chancellor. Bring 
in brother John, and let him hear the plaints which have 
been urged against him.”
At this order a lay-brother swung open the door, and 
two other lay-brothers entered, leading between them a 
young novice of the order. He was a man of huge stature, 
dark-eyed and red-headed, with a peculiar halfhumorous, half-defiant expression upon his bold, wellmarked features. His cowl was thrown back upon his 
shoulders, and his gown, unfastened at the top, disclosed 
a round sinewy neck, ruddy and corded like the bark of 
the fir. Thick muscular arms, covered with a reddish 
down, protruded from the wide sleeves of his habit, while 
his white skirt, looped up upon one side, gave a glimpse 
of a huge knotty leg, scarred and torn with the scratches 
of brambles. With a bow to the Abbot, which had in it 
perhaps more pleasantry than reverence, the novice 
strode across to the carved prie-Dieu1 which had been set 
apart for him, and stood silent and erect with his hand 
upon the gold bell which was used in the private orisons 
of the Abbot’s own household. His dark eyes glanced 
rapidly over the assembly, and finally settled with a grim 
and menacing twinkle upon the face of his accuser.
The chancellor rose, and having slowly unrolled the 
parchment-scroll, proceeded to read it out in a thick and 

1 prie-Dieu — (фр.) скамеечка для молитвы

pompous voice, while a subdued rustle and movement 
among the brothers bespoke the interest with which 
they followed the proceedings.
“Charges brought upon the second Thursday after 
the feast of the Assumption, in the year of our Lord 
thirteen hundred and sixty-six, against brother John, 
formerly known as Hordle John, or John of Hordle, but 
now a novice in the holy monastic order of the Cistercians. 
Read upon the same day at the Abbey of Beaulieu in the 
presence of the most reverend Abbot Berghersh and of 
the assembled order.
“The charges against the said brother John are the 
following, namely, to wit1:
“First, that on the above-mentioned feast of the 
Assumption, small beer having been served to the 
novices in the proportion of one quart to each four, the 
said brother John did drain the pot at one draught to the 
detriment of brother Paul, brother Porphyry, and brother 
Ambrose, who could scarce eat their none-meat of salted 
stock-fish, on account of their exceeding dryness.”
At this solemn indictment the novice raised his hand 
and twitched his lip, while even the placid senior 
brothers glanced across at each other and coughed to 
cover their amusement. The Abbot alone sat grey and 
immutable, with a drawn face and a brooding eye.
“Item, that having been told by the master of the 
novices that he should restrict his food for two days to 

1 to wit — (уст.) а именно