ggk.asongforarbonne-第101节

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assurance　over　the　years　to　young　men　under　his　mand。　He　was　positive；　though；　that　his　father　had　no　fear　just　now；　riding　here　in　pursuit　of　his　life's　long　dream。　What　that　meant；　he　really　didn't　know。
　　〃We'll　array　ourselves　at　the　south…east　end　of　the　valley；〃　he　heard　Bertran　explaining　to　the　three　men　who　had　just　joined　them。　Barons　from　the　south。　One　of　them　was　Mallin　de　Baude。　He　and　Blaise　had　had　time　for　no　more　than　a　quick　greeting　and　an　exchange　of　glances。　There　might　never　be　time　for　more。　〃The　castle　and　the　lake；〃　Bertran　went　on；　〃will　be　behind　us　so　they　can't　flank　around。　There　is　a　slight　slope　downward…if　you　look　closely　you　can　see　it…in　the　valley　to　the　west　that　will　help。　It'll　give　the　archers　a　little　more　distance　if　nothing　else。〃　Bertran；　Blaise　thought；　knew　this　land　like　a　melody　from　his　childhood。　He　surprised　himself　with　the　image。　Perhaps；　he　thought；　he　should　start　being　less　surprised：　he　was　among　the　army　of　Arbonne；　after　all。
　　〃What　about　Rian's　Isle？〃　one　of　the　new　barons　asked。　〃Can　they　reach　it　from　the　western　shore　of　the　lake　if　we're　leaving　them　access　to　that　side？〃
　　〃No　boats。　We've　brought　them　all　to　our　wharf　or　across　to　the　isle　itself。　I　don't　think　they'll　be　thinking　about　that　in　any　case　until　they're　done　with　us。〃　Bertran's　voice　was　calm。　Blaise　was　impressed；　though　not　especially　surprised：　he'd　had　some　time　now　to　take　the　measure　of　this　man。　He　trusted　him　and　he　liked　him；　and　only　a　year　ago　he　wouldn't　have　expected　either　to　ever　be　true。
　　Bertran　was　bareheaded　as　always；　and　without　armour；　clad　in　his　usual　outdoor　garb　of　unassuming　brown　hues。　When　Blaise　had　first　seen　him　riding　up　to　Baude　Castle　last　spring　those　rough…spun　clothes　had　seemed　a　perverse　affectation　on　the　part　of　a　lord　of　such　immense　power　and　wealth；　now；　in　a　curious　fashion；　Bertran's　appearance　seemed　entirely　apt　to　a　war…leader　on　the　eve　of　a　battle。　It　was　as　if；　in　some　inexplicable　manner；　de　Talair　had　always　been　readying　himself　for　this。　Blaise　wondered　if　that　might　actually　be　true：　he　remembered…another　image　crowding　in…the　biting；　sardonic　verses　the　duke　had　sung　in　Baude　Castle　about　Ademar　and　Galbert　and　Daufridi　of　Valensa。　The　man　who　had　written　those　words　might　well　have　anticipated　a　response　to　them。　The　first　response　had　been　an　arrow　dipped　in　syvaren；　Blaise　recalled；　glancing　at　Rudel　a　little　further　along　the　wall　walk。　The　second　response　seemed　to　be　war。
　　He　looked　away　west。　The　massive　Arch　of　the　Ancients　shone　in　the　sunlight　at　the　end　of　its　elms。　A　little　nearer　he　saw　the　strand　beside　the　roadway　where　six　corans　of　Miraval　had　killed　his　horse　and　pack　pony　and　then　died　by　his　arrows。　He　remembered　the　young　priestess　from　the　isle　ing　to　bear　him　to　Talair。　We　have　been　waiting　for　you；　she　had　said；　assured　and　arrogant　as　they　all　seemed　to　be。　He　had　never　properly　understood　what　they　had　meant。　It　was　part　of　the　same　unsettling　web　of　mystery　that　had　brought　them　here　now　in　response　to　Beatritz's　warning。
　　Who　knows　what　the　women　do　when　they　go　out　in　the　woods　at　night？　His　father's　words　once；　before　burning　another　presumed　witch　on　Garsenc　lands。　He　preferred　not　to　remember　such　things。　There　would　be　fires　here；　though；　an　almost　unimaginable　inferno　if　Galbert　conquered。　With　some　effort　Blaise　forced　himself　to　push　that　thought　away；　to　think　back；　instead；　to　the　music　that　had　been　playing　as　he'd　entered　this　castle　for　the　first　time　beside　Valery　that　day　in　spring。　It　seemed　a　long　time　ago。
　　Fulk　de　Savaric　moved　closer；　resting　his　elbows　on　the　stone　in　front　of　them。　Without　taking　his　eyes　from　the　northern　end　of　the　valley；　he　murmured　wryly；　〃Do　you　have　anything　extremely　clever　in　mind？〃
　　Blaise's　mouth　twitched。　〃Of　course　I　do；〃　he　said；　matching　Fulk's　tone。　〃I　intend　to　challenge　Ademar　to　single　bat。　When　he　foolishly　accepts　I'll　kill　him；　take　mand　of　his　grateful　army　and　we'll　all　ride　home　to　Gorhaut　in　time　for　spring　planting。〃
　　Fulk　gave　a　snort　of　amusement。　〃Sounds　good　to　me；〃　he　said。　〃Do　I　get　to　deal　with　your　father？〃
　　Blaise　didn't　smile　this　time。　〃There　are　a　few　people　who　might　want　to　do　that；〃　he　said。
　　〃Including　you？〃　Fulk　turned　to　look　at　him。
　　〃I　suppose　so。〃　He　didn't　meet　the　other　man's　gaze；　and　after　a　moment　Fulk　de　Savaric　turned　away。
　　In　the　distance　to　the　south…west；　clearly　visible　from　this　height　in　the　windswept　winter　air；　Blaise　could　see　the　towers　of　Miraval。　Even　now；　with　all　he　had　learned；　and　with　the　image　of　Duke　Urté；　on　his　knees　before　Signe　de　Barbentain；　then　striding　from　the　council　chamber；　there　was　a　part　of　him　that　could　not　quite　believe　that　fifteen　hundred　fighting　men　would　stay　within　those　walls　if　battle　came。
　　Whether　that　was　cause　for　a　sliver　of　hope　or　a　deeper；　colder　dread　he　did　not　know。
　　What　he　did　know　was　that　he　had　spent　most　of　his　own　life　pursuing　a　dream　or　a　vision　of　Gorhaut；　what　it　should　be；　what　it　once　had　been；　and　that　vision　had　had　Corannos　at　the　very　heart　of　it。　And　now；　having　rashly　claimed　a　crown　for　himself；　he　was　about　to　go　to　battle　amongst　the　men　of　woman…ruled　Arbonne　in　a　goddess's　name　against　his　own　country　and　king…and　father　if　it　came　to　that…and　against　an　army　marching　beneath　the　banner　of　the　god　he　had　vowed　to　serve　with　honour　all　his　days。
　　How；　Blaise　thought；　did　one　trace　back　the　line　of　a　life　to　see　where　the　fork　appeared　that　had　led　to　these　ramparts？　He　couldn't　answer　that。　Perhaps　a　poet　could；　or　a　priestess；　but　he　was　a　soldier　and；　yes；　a　would…be　king；　and　the　time…
　　〃There　they　are；〃　said　Rudel　quietly；　his　archer's　eyes　catching　the　first　far　glint　of　sunlight　finding　metal　among　the　trees。
　　…and　the　time　for　such　thoughts　was　gone　now；　like　a　leaf　on　the　wind；　a　wave　on　the　stony　shore；　like　all　the　mornings　of　the　vanished　past。　The　army　of　Gorhaut　had　e　to　Lake　Dierne。
　　Blaise　saw　them　then；　moving　down　the　road　that　wound　out　of　the　woods；　and　their　banners　were　the　banners　of　his　home；　their　voices…they　could　just　hear　them　now…were　lifted　in　a　song　he　knew；　and　he　could　recognize；　even　from　so　far　because　of　the　clear　light　that　was　Arbonne's；　the　king　he　had　named　a　traitor；　and　the　father　。。。　the　father　whose　long　dream　this　army　was。　He　saw　Ranald　ride　around　the　curve　of　the　road　and；　without　real　surprise；　recognized　the　pennon　of　Andoria　as　Borsiard　appeared　at　the　head　of　his　pany　of　men。　That　is　a　man　I　will　be　happy　to　kill；　he　thought。
　　And　then；　as　if　mocking　such　a　thought；　there　came　into　sight　waving；　jiggling　pikes　carried　by　foot…soldiers；　and　riding　on　the　top　of　some　of　those　pikes；　spitted　like　meat　for　broiling　were　the　severed　heads　of　men。
　　Bertran　de　Talair　made　a　sudden　harsh　gesture　and　a　sound　of　denial　that　might　have　been　a　name；　and　a　moment　later　Blaise　registered　a　memorable　mane　of　blond　hair　and　realized　that　he；　too；　recognized　the　foremost　of　those　severed　heads。　A　sickness　passed　over　him；　forcing　him　to　grip　hard　on　the　stones　of　the　wall　for　support。　A　moment　later　it　grew　even　worse。　In　the　midst　of　the　singing；　gesticulating　army　of　Gorhaut　a　rolling　platform　came　into　view；　and　on　it　they　saw　a　man　bound　naked　to　a　pole　set　in　the　centre　of　the　platform。　His　genitals　were　gone；　there　was　a　blackened　clotting　of　blood　at　his　groin。　Dead　birds…owls；　Blaise　saw…were　slung　in　mockery　from　ropes　around　his　bowed；　averted　neck。
　　He　thought　this　man；　too；　was　dead；　until　the　head　was　somehow　lifted…in　agonized　response　to　what　inner　message；　Blaise　never　knew…and　even　from　the　ramparts　they　could　see　the　holes　where　his　eyes　had　been　gouged　out。
　　Of　course；　Blaise　thought　with　loathing；　fighting　sickness。　It　was　part　of　the　mockery：　the　blindness；　and　the　birds　of　Rian。　And　then；　with　deepening　horror；　Blaise　realized　that　he　knew　this　maimed；　dark…haired　man　as　well。　He　looked　over　again　to　the　head　on　the　highest　of　the　bobbing　pikes　and　then　turned；　speechless；　to　Bertran　de　Talair。　He　saw　that　the　duke　had　lowered　his　head　so　as　not　to　have　to　see。
　　The　landscape　and　the　men　on　the　ramparts　grew　oddly　unfocused；　and　Blaise　became　aware　that　he　was　near　to　weeping；　he　who　had　killed　so　many　men　in　war；　or　beside　the　shore　of　this　same　lake；　or　in　the　close　darkness　of　a　Portezzan　night；　and　had　seen　others　slain　in　terrible　ways；　and　had　regarded　all　of　it　as　no　more　than　the　coinage　of　his　profession。　But　he　had　never　burned　a　helpless　old　woman　naming　her　a　witch；　or　dragged　a　priestess　screaming　from　her　bed；　and　he　had　never　maimed　or　broken　men　in　the　way　that　these　had　been。　This　was　warfare　of　a　different　kind。
　　He　was　remembering；　almost　against　his　will；　Midsummer　Night　in　Tavernel。　Remy　had　been　the　fair…haired　one；　with　more　spirit　and　art　than　mature　wisdom　in　him　perhaps；　and　Aurelian　was　the　darker；　quieter　man。　They　were　musicians；　not　soldiers；　both　of　them；　and　both　were　young。　It　was　these　two　who　had　carried　Beatritz's　tidings　to　Barbentain　from　the　island；　they　must　have　gone　north　together；　Blaise　realized；　after　delivering　the　High　Priestess's　message。　He　didn't　know