ggk.asongforarbonne-第39节

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　　He　had　taken　his　hand　from　her　shoulder。　It　was　Midsummer　Eve；　in　Tavernel。　She　said；　〃You　don't　have　to　leave　me　。。。　actually。　It　is　Carnival　and　the　night　has　some　time　yet　to　run。　We　could　share　a　bottle　of　wine；　if　you　like；　and　。。。　and；　well　if　you　are　staying　in　Arbonne　for　a　while　longer　you　should　know　some　of　our　customs。〃　She　looked　away；　despite　herself；　along　the　crowded　street。　〃It　is　said　to　be　。。。　unlucky　to　spend　tonight　alone　in　this　city。〃
　　Her　mother　had　always　said　she　would　end　up　disgracing　the　family。　She　could　blame　her　uncle　for　taking　her　out　into　the　wide　world　as　a　singer。　She　could　blame　Remy　of　Orreze。　She　could　blame　the　holy　rites　of　Rian　in　Tavernel　on　Midsummer　Eve。
　　She　could　wait；　biting　her　lip；　for　the　man　with　her　to　say；　with　devastating　politeness；　〃Thank　you。　To　both　things。　But　I　am　not　of　Arbonne；　truly；　and　if　it　brings　me　ill　luck　or　no；　a　coran　I　admired　has　died　tonight　and　my　own　customs　require　that　I　keep　vigil　for　him　in　a　house　of　the　god。〃
　　〃All　night？〃　She　looked　back　up　at　him。　It　took　some　courage。
　　He　hesitated；　reaching　for　words。　Lisseut　said　then；　knowing　it　was　ill　advised；　〃I　don't　know　what　happened　in　Portezza；　obviously；　but　I　am　not　like　that。　I　mean；　I　don't　normally…〃
　　He　put　a　hand　over　her　mouth。　She　felt　his　fingers　against　her　lips。　〃Don't　say　it；〃　he　murmured。　〃Leave　me　that　much　as　my　own。〃
　　He　was　an　uncivilized　northerner；　she　thought。　He　had　stabbed　Remy　in　the　arm。　Until　the　sun　falls　and　the　moons　die；　her　grandfather　and　her　father　used　to　say；　Gorhaut　and　Arbonne　shall　not　lie　easily　beside　each　other。　His　fingers　withdrew；　he　withdrew　back　into　himself；　behind　his　own　mask。　It　was　only　the　dangerous　associations　of　Midsummer　Eve；　she　told　herself；　and　the　disturbing　intimacy　of　what　she'd　heard　in　that　garden。　There　were　other　men　to　be　with；　men　she　knew　and　trusted；　men　of　talent　and　wit　and　courtesy。　They　would　be　back　at　The　Liensenne；　in　the　downstairs　room　or　upstairs　with　Marotte's　wine　and　cheeses　and　their　own　harps　and　lutes　and　songs；　celebrating　Rian　through　the　remaining　hours　of　the　goddess's　most　holy　night。　It　was　not　likely　she　would　have　to　lie　alone。
　　Unless；　in　the　end；　she　wanted　to。　With　an　unexpected　sadness　within　her；　Lisseut　looked　away　beyond　the　man　she　was　standing　with；　struggling　to　regain　the　diamond…bright　mood　of　exhilaration　that　seemed　to　have　slipped　away　from　her　somewhere　in　this　strange　night　among　the　crowds　and　the　music　and　the　noisemakers　and　the　one　arching　arrow　and　the　words　she'd　heard　spoken　beside　the　splashing　of　a　fountain。
　　And　so　it　was；　looking　away　along　the　crowded　street；　that　she　saw　before　he　did　the　six　men　in　crimson　livery　who　now　came　up　and　surrounded　them　carrying　torches；　bearing　swords。
　　Their　leader　bowed　gracefully　to　Blaise　of　Gorhaut。　〃It　would　be　a　great　courtesy；〃　he　said；　with　perfect；　grave　formality；　〃if　you　would　e　with　us。〃
　　Blaise　looked　quickly　around；　she　could　see　him　trying　to　take　the　measure　of　this　new　situation。　He　looked　back　at　Lisseut；　seeking　a　clue　or　explanation　in　her　eyes；　she　had　known　he　was　going　to　do　that。　He　didn't　know　the　livery；　of　course。　She　did。　She　knew　it　well。　And　didn't　much　feel；　just　then；　like　helping　him。　How；　she　thought；　surprised　by　her　own　swift　anger；　was　a　bedraggled　joglar　from　Vezét's　olive　groves　to　pete　with　this　sort　of　thing　on　a　night　of　Rian？
　　〃I　don't　think；〃　she　said；　〃that　you　are　going　to　have　your　vigil　with　the　god　after　all。　I　wish　you　joy　of　the　night　and　the　year。〃　And　took　a　shallow；　fleeting　satisfaction　in　the　inprehension　that　showed　in　his　eyes　before　they　took　him　away。
　　One　of　the　men　in　crimson　escorted　her　back　to　The　Liensenne。　Of　course。　They　were　flawlessly　versed　in　such　niceties。　They　had　to　be；　she　thought　sourly；　they　were　meant　to　be　an　example　to　all　the　world。
　　
　　CHAPTER　7
　　Even　when　he　saw　the　peacocks　in　the　extravagantly　lit　inner　courtyard　of　the　house　where　they　brought　him；　Blaise　wasn't　sure　where　he　had　e。　He　had　no　sense　of　immediate　danger　from　the　five　men　escorting　him；　but；　equally；　he　was　under　no　illusion　that　he　could　have　refused　their　courteously　phrased　request。
　　He　was　surprisingly　weary。　He'd　been　more　honest　with　the　singer；　the　straggle…haired　girl　named　Lisseut；　than　he　would　have　expected　to　be；　especially　after　what　she'd　done。　But　if　he'd　been　entirely　truthful　he　would　have　added；　at　the　end；　that　his　desire　for　a　vigil　in　a　house　of　the　god　was　at　least　as　much　for　the　cool　silence　such　a　solitude　would　afford　as　it　was　to　mourn　and　honour　Valery　of　Talair's　passing　to　Corannos　that　night。
　　He　had　rather　a　great　deal　to　think　about　and　try　to　deal　with　just　now；　and　wine　and　whatever　might　follow　on　a　decadent　night　in　Tavernel　with　a　singer…however　spirited　and　clever　she　might　be…was　not　going　to　ease　his　heart　or　his　mind　tonight。　Things　seemed　to　have　suddenly　bee　difficult　again。
　　His　father　had　paid　a　quarter　of　a　million　in　gold　to　Rudel　Correze　to　kill　the　duke　of　Talair。
　　A　clear　message　meant　for　all　the　world；　and　another；　hidden；　for　his　younger　son　alone：　See　what　I　have　to　work　with；　my　errant　child。　See　what　I　deny　you　for　refusing　me。　How　I　strip　away　even　your　friendship。　Learn　the　cost　of　your　folly。　How　could　you　ever　have　dreamt　of　gainsaying　me？
　　Was　there　any　place　on　the　surface　of　the　earth　where　he　might　go　and　not　be　brought　back；　face　to　face　as　before　the　polished；　merciless；　self…revealing　surface　of　a　mirror；　with　Galbert；　the　High　Elder　of　Corannos　in　Gorhaut？
　　And　there　was　more；　even　more　than　that　tonight。　Lucianna　was　married　again。　Another　sort　of　mirror　that；　distorting　and　dark：　guttering　candles　beside　a　ravaged　bed；　the　god's　moon　passing　from　a　window；　an　eastern　songbird　in　an　ornate　cage　singing　to　break　the　heart…images　so　raw　the　eyes　of　memory　flinched　away。
　　He　had　e　in　the　stillness　of　winter　through　the　passes　to　Arbonne　as　to　a　place　of　haven　or　refuge；　where　he　had　never　been　before；　would　probably　not　be　known；　might　serve　in　quiet　anonymity　whatever　petty　lord　in　whatever　remote　mountain　fastness　might　offer　him　an　adequate　repense。　Where　he　might　not　ever　hear　her　name　spoken；　whether　in　admiration　or　desire　or　contempt；　or　be　forced　to　deal　with　all　the　hurting；　hoarded　memories　from　Portezza：　images　framed　in　the　intricate　textures　of　carpeting　and　tapestries；　cushions　of　woven　silk；　vases　and　drinking　cups　of　marble　and　alabaster；　and　weaving　through　them　all；　like　a　drifting　veil　of　smoke；　the　sensuous；　elusive　scents　he　had　e　to　know　perilously　well　in　the　women's　wing　of　the　Delonghi　palace　in　many…towered　Mignano　a　year　ago。
　　What　is　my　sin；　Blaise？　Rudel　was　like　that。　A　knife　in　the　voice　and　in　the　thought　behind。　Quicksilver　bright；　insubstantial　as　a　moon　on　water　sometimes；　then　sharp　and　merciless　and　deadly　as　。。。　as　an　arrow　dipped　in　syvaren。　And　the　sharpness　in　his　perceptions；　as　much　as　in　anything　else。　A　man　from　whom　it　was　difficult　to　hide。
　　For　the　sin；　the　transgression；　lay…and　Rudel　knew　it；　they　both　knew　it…in　his　having　given　Blaise　exactly　what　he　wanted。　In　taking　a　Gorhaut　coran　still　numb　with　shock　and　anger　in　the　aftermath　of　the　Treaty　of　Iersen　Bridge　and　drawing　him　away；　first　to　Aulensburg　and　the　ale…sodden；　hunt…obsessed　court　of　Jorg　of　Gotzland；　and　then　down　south　by　stages　in　fair；　flowering　springtime　to　something　else；　something　entirely　otherwise。
　　To　the　cities　of　Portezza　and　their　intrigues；　the　delicate　pleasures　of　subtle；　wealthy　men　with　sidelong　smiles；　and　the　infinitely　versed　women　of　those　warring；　brilliant　city…states。　And　one　windswept　night；　with　distant　thunder　sounding　on　the　hills　north　of　Mignano；　there　had　been　Lucianna　Delonghi's　night…black　hair　at　the　head　of　a　banquet　table；　the　flash　of　her　jewellery；　the　equally　flashing　wit　with　unsettling　traps　and　double　meanings　everywhere；　the　mocking　laugh；　and　then；　astonishingly；　what　she　was　afterwards；　elsewhere；　under　the　painted　canopy　of　a　bed；　clad　only　in　the　dazzle　of　that　jewellery　。。。　what　happened　when　mockery　left　the　laughter　but　the　laughter　remained。　That　was　Rudel's　sin。　And　so；　being　honest；　Blaise　was　forced　to　say　there　was　really　no　sin　at　all；　only　a　doorway　offered…and　with　a　warning；　as　well…through　which　he　himself　had　walked；　scarred　by　wounds　from　a　winter　battle　when　his　king　had　died；　into　the　seeming　warmth　of　a　firelit；　candlelit；　scented　sequence　of　rooms；　from　which　he'd　emerged　a　season　later　with　wounds　that　went　deeper　by　far。
　　The　peacocks　were　arrogantly　unafraid。　One　of　them　seemed　inclined　to　challenge　their　right　to　cross　the　courtyard　before　it　turned　and　strutted　away；　opening　the　glorious　panoply　of　its　tail。　Under　the　moons　and　in　the　blaze　of　torches　there　was　something　extravagant　and　profligate　about　the　fan　of　colours　on　display。　In　his　memories　of　Lucianna；　too；　there　was　little　daylight；　it　all　seemed　to　have　happened　in　darkness　or　by　candlelight；　extravagant；　profligate；　in　one　palace　or　another；　and　once；　on　a　steaming；　airless　summer's　night　not　to　be　forgotten；　with　Rudel　in　Faenna　when　they　had　killed　her　husband　on　a　contract　for　her　fat