ggk.asongforarbonne-第108节

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behind　her　by　the　wind。　Their　glances　held　for　a　beat　of　time　before　she　turned　away。　A　moment　later；　in　the　other　boat；　Blaise　saw　that　Lisseut　of　Vezét　who　had　also　lost　men　she　loved　this　day；　had　turned　to　look　back　as　well。　She　began；　awkwardly；　to　lift　one　hand；　but　then　let　it　fall　to　her　side。　He　could　see　that　she　was　crying。
　　Rosala　did　not　turn　around　at　all；　and　so　he　did　not　see　her　face　at　the　end。　He　only　saw　her　from　behind；　sitting　straight…backed　beside　the　small；　delicate　figure　of　the　countess　of　Arbonne　as　the　two　boats　swept　back　across　Lake　Dierne　towards　the　isle；　leaving　behind　the　grassy　space　by　the　stones　of　the　northern　shore　where　her　husband's　body　lay。
　　Blaise　drew　a　slow　breath；　and　then　another。　He　turned　away　from　the　women　in　the　boats。　Bertran　de　Talair　came　up　to　him。
　　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　the　duke　asked　quietly。　Blaise　saw　Fulk　de　Savaric　behind　Bertran；　the　same　question　in　his　eyes。
　　There　was　a　third　boat　being　pulled　up　even　now　on　the　strand；　grating　on　the　stones。　They　had　e　for　Ranald；　he　realized。　He　would　have　to　let　them　deal　with　him；　and　trust　the　clergy　of　Rian　to　do　his　brother　honour。　He　had　no　choice　in　this；　no　time。　Time　was　what　had　been　taken　away。　His　task　was　elsewhere　now；　among　the　living；　and　those　he　meant　to　kill。
　　〃It　doesn't　matter　how　I　am；〃　he　said　to　the　duke　of　Talair；　a　little　frightened　by　the　sound　of　his　own　voice。　〃It　really　doesn't　matter。　Let's　go。〃
　　
　　CHAPTER　18
　　The　battle　that　ended　Gorhaut　and　Arbonne　as　the　world　had　known　them　started　a　day　too　soon。　In　the　tumultuous　wake　of　the　aborted　parley　by　the　lake　the　nearest　panies　of　the　two　armies　engaged；　and　once　that　happened　there　was　nothing；　short　of　an　actual　manifestation　of　a　goddess　or　a　god　in　the　sky　above；　that　could　have　separated　them。　Whatever　advantages　of　tactics　and　knowledge　of　the　terrain　that　Bertran　de　Talair　might　have　been　able　to　call　into　play；　given　time　to　prepare；　were　swept　away　in　the　tumult　of　spontaneously　begun　fighting　that　turned；　almost　immediately；　into　headlong；　screaming　chaos。
　　In　such　a　battle；　Blaise　knew；　enmeshed　in　the　fighting　nearest　the　lake；　sheer　numbers　would　almost　always　tell。　The　smaller　army　could　only　have　a　chance　if　the　larger　one　was　cowardly；　or　poorly　led；　or　posed　of　mercenaries　who　might　be　prone　to　cut　their　losses　early。
　　None　of　these　things　were　true　in　the　valley　by　Lake　Dierne。　He　had　learned；　in　most　of　a　year　here　south　of　the　mountain　passes；　that　the　men　of　Arbonne　were　never　to　be　lightly　dismissed…and　they　were　fighting　now　for　their　country　and　on　their　own　land。　Even　so；　the　warriors　of　Gorhaut　had　been　raised　and　trained　in　a　single…minded　purity　that　exalted　Corannos　of　Battles　as　the　highest　incarnation　of　the　god；　squarely　in　the　tradition　of　the　Ancients　who　had　e　to　conquer；　and　whose　arch　loomed　west　of　this　valley　like　a　brooding　presence。
　　It　had　always　been　that　way　in　the　nations　of　the　north；　in　Gorhaut；　Valensa；　Gotzland。　The　southern　countries　had　no　such　fixed；　warlike　obsession　in　their　make…up；　and　Arbonne　worshipped　a　goddess　above　the　god。　All　of　these　things　involved　nuances　and　subtleties　to　which　he　would　have　been　oblivious　a　year　ago；　Blaise　knew…but　the　primal　inferno　of　a　battlefield　was　no　place　for　subtleties。　They　didn't　matter　here。　Weapons　mattered；　and　training；　and　the　will　of　the　men　who　wielded　them。　And；　in　the　end；　the　numbers　on　either　side。
　　It　would　take　a　miracle；　he　thought；　immersing　himself　in　battle　that　winter　afternoon　like　a　man　with　a　bitter　thirst　to　slake。　Blaise　had　always　given　Corannos　his　faith　and　he　was　ing；　amazingly；　to　have　some　sense　of　the　very　different　power　of　Rian；　but　he　still　didn't　believe　in　miracles。　The　men　and　women　he　knew…and　he　included　himself　in　this…were　simply　not　deserving　of　such　holy　intercession。　He　hewed　and　slashed　with　his　sword；　a　mortal　man　dealing　in　death；　knowing　that　he　was　killing　men　he'd　fought　beside　at　Iersen　Bridge　and　many　times　before。　It　was　only　with　an　effort　of　will　that　he　was　able　to　keep　the　meaning　of　that　from　breaking　through　to　undo　him　entirely。
　　Square　on　in　that　windswept　valley　the　armies　of　two　countries　crashed　into　each　other　in　the　clear　light　of　midwinter　in　Arbonne　and　Blaise　knew　that　the　weight　of　numbers　was　going　to　push　them　back。　Back　to　the　lake；　to　the　edge　of　the　castle　moat；　to　the　ending　of　their　lives。　Courage　and　skill　and　the　rightness　of　a　cause　were　sometimes　not　enough。　They　were　seldom　enough；　he　thought；　tasting　that　truth　like　poison　in　his　mouth：　Corannos　and　Rian　had　shaped　a　world　in　which　this　was　so。　He　was　aware　of　death　hovering　in　the　blue　brightness　of　the　sky；　preparing　to　descend；　to　cloak　the　world　in　darkness。
　　He　had　a　sudden；　searing　image　in　his　mind　of　night　fires　on　Rian's　Isle　when　their　army　was　destroyed。　He　saw　Signe　de　Barbentain；　small；　elegant；　proud；　bound　and　burning　on　one　of　his　father's　pyres；　her　mouth　open　in　a　soundless　scream；　her　white　hair　in　flames。　A　rage　rose　up　in　him　then；　a　fury　of　denial；　and　the　numbness　that　had　fallen　upon　him　like　a　blanket　of　fog　when　Ranald　died　was　finally　pushed　away。
　　Blaise　looked　around；　as　if　seeing　the　field　clearly　for　the　first　time　and　in　doing　so　he　pushed　past　his　inward　griefs　and　accepted　the　role　that　lay　waiting　for　him；　the　burden　that　had　been　his　from　the　moment　he'd　claimed　a　crown。
　　He　was　manding　the　left　flank；　with　him　were　Rudel　and　Fulk　and　the　barons　and　corans　of　southern　Arbonne；　including　Mallin　de　Baude。　Bertran　and　Valery　held　the　centre；　mostly　with　the　men　of　Talair；　and　Thierry　de　Carenzu；　with　the　corans　of　the　east；　was　on　the　right。　As　best　he　could　tell…eyes　narrowed　in　the　sunlight…they　were　still　holding　ground　on　all　fronts。　He　could　see　Ademar　in　the　forefront　of　the　Gorhaut　army；　not　far　from　Bertran　in　fact；　though　there　were　hundreds　of　men　between　them。　Galbert　was　beside　the　king；　a　black　mace　in　his　right　hand。　Even　as　Blaise　watched；　his　father　leaned　over　in　his　saddle；　huge；　powerful；　to　hammer　the　mace　into　the　skull　of　an　Arbonnais　pikeman。　The　man　didn't　even　have　a　chance　to　scream　as　his　head　was　crushed。　He　crumpled　to　the　earth　like　so　much　spilled　grain。
　　Men　died　in　battle。　People　one　had　known　and　loved　died　in　battles。　You　could　not　let　that　make　you　falter。　They　were　holding　ground；　but　they　were　not　going　to　do　so　for　much　longer。　Blaise；　in　the　grip　of　a　sudden　clarity；　made　his　decision。
　　And　that　same　swift　clear…headedness　made　him　understand　that　this；　too；　was　one　of　the　things　that　came　with　the　role　on　the　world's　stage　that　he'd　claimed　for　himself：　one　gave　orders　in　a　battle　such　as　this　that　could　shape　the　destinies　of　nations。
　　It　was　true；　it　was　about　to　be　made　true　even　now；　and　Blaise　realized　that　he　would　have　to　accept　that　weight　because　his　only　other　alternative　was　to　withdraw　into　the　shadows　and　die；　betraying　all　those　who　believed　in　him。　He　made　his　choice　then；　and　prepared　himself　to　answer　for　it　before　the　god　when　his　hour　came。
　　Drawing　back　sharply　from　the　crush　at　the　front　of　the　lines　he　wheeled　his　horse　over　towards　Fulk　de　Savaric；　gesturing　urgently。　Fulk　saw　him　ing　and　drew　back　as　well。
　　〃We　can't　do　this　much　longer！〃　Rosala's　brother　shouted　over　the　roar　of　bat。　A　man　beside　them　fell；　dropping　his　sword；　clutching　with　both　hands　at　an　arrow　in　his　throat。
　　〃I　know！　Listen　to　me！　Pull　your　men　back　and　try　to　flank　around。　We'll　hold　as　best　we　can。　Get　in　behind　Ademar　if　you　can！　Drive　towards　Bertran。〃
　　〃You　can't　hold　here　without　us！〃　Fulk　screamed。　There　was　blood　on　his　face；　dripping　into　his　yellow　beard。　Blaise　couldn't　tell　if　it　was　Fulk's　own　blood　or　someone　else's。
　　〃Have　to　try！〃　he　shouted。　〃Nothing　else　is　going　to　break　this　up；　and　we　can't　keep　fighting　twice　our　numbers　face　to　face。〃
　　He　had　another　thought　then　and　looked　away　from　Fulk　towards　the　front　again。　He　saw　that　Rudel　was　looking　back　at　him；　waiting。　They　had　fought　beside　each　other　often　enough；　it　wasn't　really　a　great　surprise。　He　saw　his　friend　arch　his　eyebrows　in　silent　enquiry；　and　Blaise　nodded　his　head。
　　〃Do　it！〃　he　cried；　and　knew　that　Rudel　understood。　His　friend　turned　to　a　mercenary　beside　him　and　spoke　a　one　word　mand。
　　A　moment　later　there　came　a　fierce；　ragged　shout　from　Fulk's　men　of　Savaric　as　over　their　heads；　gripped　by　that　coran　beside　Rudel；　the　banner　of　the　kings　of　Gorhaut　rose　up　to　fly　beside　the　standard　of　Arbonne。　Two　of　us　under　the　same　banner；　Blaise　thought。　Will　it　matter？
　　A　moment　later　he　realized；　with　a　quickening　of　his　heart；　that　it　might。
　　〃Look！〃　Fulk　shouted；　pointing。
　　Blaise　had　already　seen。
　　〃To　me！〃　he　roared；　pulling　at　his　horse's　reins；　driving　towards　the　standard　Rudel　had　raised。　〃In　the　name　of　Gorhaut；　to　me；　men　of　Garsenc！〃
　　And　as　he　screamed　it　at　the　top　of　his　voice；　he　saw　that　there　were　indeed　corans　of　his　family　estate；　from　the　pany　behind　his　father　and　Ademar；　pulling　back　from　the　fight　in　the　centre　and　making　their　way；　swords　uplifted　in　salute；　towards　him。
　　Ranald's　last　shouted　words　had　been　heard；　Blaise　realized。