ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第61节

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　　And　it　was　Ibero's　task…as　tutor；　guardian；　spiritual　counsellor…to　somehow　control　and　channel　that　force。　He　looked　at　the　two　boys；　one　feverish　with　excitement；　the　other　seeming　a　little　unfocused；　not　altogether　present；　and　he　surrendered　yet　again。
　　〃You　are　both　going　to　be　useless　for　the　rest　of　the　morning；　I　can　see　that　much。〃　He　shook　his　head　darkly。　〃Very　well；　you　are　released。〃　Fernan　whooped：　a　child　again；　not　a　mander…in…waiting。　Diego　hastily　stood　up。　Ibero　had　been　known　to　change　his　mind。
　　〃One　condition；〃　the　cleric　added　sternly。　〃You　will　spend　time　with　the　maps　in　the　library　this　afternoon。　Tomorrow　morning　I　am　going　to　have　you　mark　the　cities　of　Al…Rassan　for　me。　Major　ones；　smaller　ones。　This　matters。　I　want　you　to　know　them。　You　are　your　father's　heirs　and　his　pride。〃
　　〃Done；〃　said　Fernan。　Diego　just　grinned。
　　〃Then　go；〃　said　Ibero。　And　watched　them　hurtle　past　him　and　down　the　ladder。　He　smiled　in　spite　of　himself。　They　were　good　boys；　both　of　them；　and　he　was　a　kindly　person。
　　He　was　also　a　devout　man；　and　a　thoughtful　one。
　　He　knew…who　in　Valledo　did　not；　by　now？…of　the　holy　war　being　launched　this　ing　spring　from　Batiara；　an　armada　of　ships　sailing　for　the　eastern　homelands　of　the　infidels。　He　knew　of　the　presence　in　Esteren；　as　a　guest　of　the　king　and　queen；　of　one　of　the　highest　of　the　clerics　of　Ferrieres；　e　to　preach　a　war　of　the　three　kingdoms　of　Esperana　against　Al…Rassan。　The　Reconquest。　Was　it　truly　to　e　now；　in　their　lifetime；　after　so　many　hundreds　of　years？
　　It　was　a　war　every　devout　man　in　the　peninsula　was　duty…bound　to　support　and　succor　with　all　his　being。　And　how　much　more　did　that　apply　to　the　clerics　of　holy　Jad？
　　Sitting　alone　in　the　straw　of　the　barn　loft；　listening　to　the　milk　cows　plaining　below　him；　Ibero　the　cleric　of　Rancho　Belmonte　began　a　hard　wrestling　match　within　his　soul。　He　had　been　with　this　family　most　of　his　life。　He　loved　them　all　with　a　fierce；　enduring　passion。
　　He　loved　and　feared　his　god　with　all　his　heart。
　　He　remained　up　there；　thinking；　for　a　long　time；　but　when　he　finally　came　down　the　ladder　his　expression　was　calm　and　his　tread　firm。
　　He　went　directly　to　his　own　chamber　beside　the　chapel　and　took　parchment　and　quill　and　ink　and　posed　then；　carefully；　a　letter　to　the　High　Cleric　Geraud　de　Chervalles　at　the　king's　palace　in　Esteren；　writing　in　the　name　of　Jad　and　humbly　setting　forth　certain　unusual　circumstances　as　he　understood　them。
　　
　　〃When　I　sleep；〃　said　Abir　ibn　Tarif；　〃it　feels　as　if　I　still　have　my　leg。　In　my　dreams　I　put　my　hand　down　to　my　knee；　and　I　wake　up；　because　it　isn't　there。〃　He　was　reporting　it；　not　plaining。　He　was　not　a　man　who　plained。
　　Jehane；　changing　the　dressing　on　his　wound；　nodded　her　head。　〃I　told　you　that　might　happen。　You　feel　tingling；　pain；　as　if　the　leg　were　still　attached？〃
　　〃That　is　it；〃　Abir　said。　Then；　stoutly；　〃The　pain　is　not　so　great；　mind　you。〃
　　She　smiled　at　him；　and　across　the　infirmary　bed　at　his　brother；　who　was　always　present　when　she　visited。　〃A　lesser　man　would　not　say　that；〃　she　murmured。　Abir　looked　pleased。　She　liked　both　of　them；　these　sons　of　an　outlaw　chieftain；　hostages　in　Ragosa　for　the　winter。　They　were　gentler　men　than　she　might　have　expected。
　　Idar；　who　had　developed　an　attachment　to　her；　had　been　telling　stories　through　the　winter　of　Arbastro　and　their　father's　courage　and　cunning。　Jehane　was　a　good　listener；　and　sometimes　heard　more　than　the　teller　intended。　Physicians　learned　to　do　that。
　　She　had　wondered　before　about　the　price　paid　by　the　sons　of　great　men。　This　winter；　with　Idar　and　Abir；　she　addressed　the　question　again。　Could　such　children　move　out　from　under　that　huge　shadow　into　their　own　manhood？　She　thought　of　Almalik　II　of　Cartada；　son　of　the　Lion；　of　the　three　sons　of　King　Sancho　the　Fat　of　Esperana；　indeed；　of　Rodrigo　Belmonte's　two　young　boys。
　　She　considered　whether　the　same　challenge　confronted　a　daughter。　She　decided　it　didn't；　not　in　the　same　way。　She　wasn't　in　petition　with　her　father；　she　was　only　trying；　as　best　she　could；　to　be　worthy　of　his　teaching　and　his　example；　deserving　of　the　flask　she　carried　as　heir　to　his　reputation。
　　She　finished　with　Abir's　dressing。　The　wound　had　healed　well。　She　was　pleased；　and　a　little　proud。　She　thought　her　father　would　have　approved。　She'd　written　to　him　soon　after　their　return　to　Ragosa。　There　were　always　some　hardy　travellers　who　could　carry　messages　back　and　forth　through　the　winter　pass；　though　not　swiftly。　Her　mother's　neat　handwriting　had　conveyed　Ishak's　reply：　This　will　be　too　late　to　be　useful；　but　in　cases　when　you　operate　in　the　field　you　must　watch　even　more　carefully　for　the　green　discharge。　Press　the　skin　near　the　wound　and　listen　for　a　crackling　sound。
　　She　had　known　about　this。　Such　a　sound　meant　death；　unless　she　cut　again；　even　higher…and　few　men　survived　that。　But　Abir　ibn　Tarif's　wound　did　not　turn　green　and　his　endurance　was　strong。　His　brother　seldom　left　his　side　and　the　men　of　Rodrigo's　pany　seemed　to　have　taken　a　collective　liking　to　the　sons　of　ibn　Hassan。　Abir　did　not　lack　for　visitors。　Once；　when　Jehane　had　e　to　attend　upon　him；　she　caught　a　lingering　trace　of　the　scent　favored　by　the　women　of　a　certain　neighborhood。
　　She　had　sniffed　the　air　elaborately　and　tsked　her　disapproval。　Idar　laughed；　Abir　looked　shamefaced。　He　was　well　on　the　road　to　recovery　by　then；　however；　and　secretly　Jehane　was　pleased。　The　presence　of　physical　desire；　Ser　Rezzoni　had　taught；　was　one　of　the　clearest　signs　of　returning　good　health　after　surgery。
　　She　checked　the　fitting　of　the　new　dressing　a　last　time　and　stepped　back。　〃Has　he　been　practicing？〃　she　asked　Idar。
　　〃Not　enough；〃　the　older　of　the　brothers　replied。　〃He　is　lazy；　I　told　you。〃　Abir　swore　in　quick　protest；　then　apologized　even　more　quickly。
　　This　was　a　game；　in　fact。　If　he　wasn't　watched　carefully；　Abir　was　likely　to　push　himself　to　exhaustion　in　his　efforts　to　learn　how　to　get　about　with　the　shoulder　sticks　Velaz　had　fashioned　for　him。
　　Jehane　grinned　at　both　of　them。　〃Tomorrow　morning；〃　she　said　to　her　patient。　〃It　looks　very　good；　though。　By　the　end　of　next　week　I　expect　you　can　leave　this　place　and　go　live　with　your　brother。〃　She　paused　a　moment；　for　effect。　〃It　will　surely　save　you　money　on　bribes　here；　when　you　have　pany　after　dark。〃
　　Idar　laughed　again。　Abir　turned　red。　Jehane　gave　his　shoulder　a　pat　and　turned　to　leave。
　　Rodrigo　Belmonte；　booted　and　cloaked；　leather　hat　in　one　hand；　was　standing　by　the　fire　on　the　far　side　of　the　room。　From　the　expression　on　his　face　she　knew　something　had　happened。　Her　heart　thumped。
　　〃What　is　it？〃　she　said　quickly。　〃My　parents？〃
　　He　shook　his　head。　〃No；　no。　Nothing　to　do　with　them；　Jehane。　But　there　are　tidings　you　ought　to　know。〃
　　He　crossed　towards　her。　Velaz　appeared　from　behind　the　screen　where　he　made　his　salves　and　tinctures。
　　Jehane　straightened　her　shoulders　and　held　herself　very　still。
　　Rodrigo　said；　〃I　am　presuming　in　a　way；　but　you　are；　for　the　moment；　still　my　pany　physician；　and　I　wanted　you　to　hear　this　from　me。〃
　　She　blinked。　For　the　moment？
　　He　said；　〃Word　has　just　e　from　the　southern　coast；　one　of　the　last　ships　in　from　the　east。　It　seems　a　great　army　from　several　Jaddite　lands　has　gathered　in　Batiara　this　winter；　preparing　to　sail　to　Ammuz　and　Soriyya　in　the　spring。〃
　　Jehane　bit　her　lip。　Very　large　news　indeed；　but　。。。　
　　〃This　is　a　holy　army；〃　Rodrigo　said。　His　face　was　grim。　〃Or　so　they　call　themselves。　It　seems　that　earlier　this　autumn　several　panies　attacked　and　destroyed　Sorenica。　They　set　fire　to　the　city　and　put　the　inhabitants　to　the　sword。　All　of　them；　we　are　told。　Jehane；　Velaz；　I　am　so　sorry。〃
　　Sorenica。
　　Mild；　starry　nights　in　winter。　Spring　evenings；　years　ago。　Wine　in　the　torchlit　garden　of　her　kinfolk。　Flowers　everywhere；　and　the　breeze　from　the　sea。　Sorenica。　The　most　beautiful　sanctuary　of　the　god　and　his　sisters　that　Jehane　had　ever　seen。　The　Kindath　High　Priest　with　his　sweet；　laden　voice　intoning　the　liturgy　of　the　doubled　full　moons。　White　and　blue　candles　burning　in　every　niche　that　night。　So　many　people　gathered；　a　sense　of　peace；　of　calm；　of　a　home　for　the　Wanderers。　A　choir　singing；　then　more　music　after；　in　the　winding　torchlit　streets　outside　the　sanctuary；　beneath　the　round；　holy　moons。
　　Sorenica。　Bright　city　on　the　ocean　with　its　vineyards　above。　Given　to　the　Kindath　long　ago　for　service　to　the　lords　of　Batiara。　A　place　to　call　their　own　in　a　hostile　world。
　　To　the　sword。　An　end　of　music。　Trampled　flowers。　Children？
　　〃All　of　them？〃　she　asked　in　a　faint　voice。
　　〃So　we　have　been　told；〃　Rodrigo　said。　He　drew　a　breath。　〃What　can　I　say；　Jehane？　You　said　you　could　not　trust　the　Sons　of　Jad。　I　told　you　that　you　could。　This　makes　a　liar　of　me。〃
　　She　could　see　genuine　distress　in　the　wide…set　grey　eyes。　He　would　have　hurried　to　find　her　as　soon　as　he　heard　the　tidings。　There　would　be　an　emissary　from　court　waiting　at　her　home；　or　ing　here　even　now。　Mazur　would　have　sent。　Shared　faith；　shared　grief。　Should　it　not　have　been　another　Kindath　who　told　her　this？　She　could　not　answer　that。　Something　seemed　to　have　shut　dow