ggk.asongforarbonne-第44节

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　　〃Or　the　northerner；　I　saw。　But　don't　think　about　them。　It　has　nothing　to　do　with　us。　Think　about　your　song。　Alain's　downstairs；　by　the　way；　happy　as　a　crow　in　a　grainfield。　They're　all　talking　about　it；　you　know；　even　with　everything　else　that　happened。〃
　　〃Are　they？　Oh；　good；　I'm　so　happy　for　Alain。〃
　　〃Be　happy　for　his　joglar；　Lisseut。　And　don't　sign　any　contracts　tomorrow　without　talking　to　me　first…you're　worth　a　great　deal　more　now　than　you　were　this　afternoon。　Believe　it。〃
　　〃Then　why　don't　you　offer　me　a　job？〃　An　old　tease；　though　his　news　was　genuinely　exciting。　Too　much　had　happened　though；　she　couldn't　reach　through　to　any　clear　emotion；　even　for　something　like　this。
　　Characteristically；　he　chose　to　take　her　seriously。　〃If　I　write　a　woman's　song　like　Alain　did；　trust　me；　it　will　be　yours。　But　for　the　rest；　I'm　not　proud；　my　dear　。。。　I　sing　my　own　work　still。　I　started　on　the　roads　as　a　joglar；　and　I'll　end　as　one；　I　expect。〃
　　She　squeezed　his　knee。　〃I　wasn't　being　serious；　Aurelian。〃　One　of　the　first　rank　of　the　troubadours；　Aurelian　was　probably　the　very　best　of　the　joglars；　with　the　possible　exception　of　Bertran's　own　Ramir；　who　was　getting　old　now　and　on　the　roads　far　less　than　he　used　to　be。
　　Polite　applause　floated　up　from　below。　A　new　performer　began　tuning　his　instrument。　Aurelian　and　Lisseut　exchanged　wry　glances　of　relief；　and　then　laughed　quietly　together。　She　lifted　her　head　and　kissed　him　on　the　cheek。　〃How　many　years　in　a　row　now？〃　she　asked；　knowing　the　answer　very　well。
　　〃Together　at　Carnival？　I　am　aggrieved　and　affronted　that　the　nights　are　etched　on　my　heart　while　you　can't　even　remember。　Four；　now；　my　dear。　Does　that　make　us　a　tradition？〃
　　〃Would　you　like　to　be　one？〃　she　asked。　His　hand　had　moved　upwards；　stroking　the　nape　of　her　neck。　He　had　a　gentle　touch；　he　was　a　gentle　man。
　　〃I　would　like　to　know　you　and　be　your　friend　for　the　rest　of　my　life；〃　said　Aurelian　quietly。　His　dark　head　came　down　and　they　kissed。
　　Feeling　a　physical　sense　of　release；　and　a　genuine　fort　on　a　night　when　she　needed　exactly　that；　Lisseut　slid　slowly　back　down　on　the　bed　and　laced　her　fingers　through　his　black；　thick　hair；　pulling　him　down　to　her。　They　made　love　as　they　had　before；　three　years　running　on　this　night　。。。　with　tenderness　and　some　laughter；　and　an　awareness　of　shaping　a　still　place　together　amid　the　wildness　outside　and　the　music　below　and　the　wheeling　of　the　summer　stars　about　the　axis　of　the　year。
　　
　　Some　time　later；　her　head　on　his　chest；　his　arm　around　her　again；　the　two　of　them　listened　to　a　voice　singing　one　of　the　oldest　tunes；　Anselme　of　Cauvas's　most　tender　song。　In　The　Liensenne　someone　always　came　back　to　it　on　Midsummer　Eve：
When　all　the　world　is　dark　as　night
There　is；　where　she　dwells；　a　shining　light　。。。　
　　Softly；　not　entirely　certain　why　she　was　asking；　Lisseut　said；　〃Aurelian；　what　do　you　know　about　Lucianna　Delonghi？〃
　　〃Enough　to　avoid　her。　It's　Lucianna　d'Andoria　now；　actually；　since　she's　remarried；　but　no　one　but　her　husband's　family　will　ever　call　her　that。　I　would　not　place　any　sizable　wager　on　Borsiard　d'Andoria's　long　life　or　domestic　happiness。〃
　　〃Then　why　did　he　marry　her？　He's　a　powerful　man；　isn't　he？　Why　would　he　invite　the　Delonghi　into　Andoria？〃
　　Aurelian　laughed　quietly。　〃Why　do　men　and　women　ever　do　anything　less　than　rational？　Why　do　the　teachings　of　the　metaphysicians　of　the　university　not　guide　us　all　in　our　actions？　Shall　we　call　it　the　influence　of　Rian　on　hearts　and　souls？　The　reason　we　love　music　more　than　rhetoric？〃
　　This　wasn't　what　she　wanted　to　know。
　　〃Is　she　beautiful；　Aurelian？〃
　　〃I　only　saw　her　once；　at　a　distance。〃
　　〃And？〃
　　〃Remy　could　describe　her　better。〃
　　〃Remy　is　out　bedding　someone　or　getting　drunk。　You　tell　me。〃
　　There　was　a　short　pause。　The　music　of　Anselme's　sweet　song　drifted　up　to　them。
　　〃She　is　as　beautiful　as　obsidian　in　new　snow；〃　said　Aurelian　slowly。　〃She　glitters　like　a　diamond　by　candlelight。　There　is　fire　in　her　like　a　ruby　or　an　emerald。　What　other　jewellery　shall　I　give　her？　She　offers　the　promise　of　danger　and　dark　oblivion；　the　same　challenge　that　war　or　mountains　do；　and　she　is　as　cruel；　I　think；　as　all　of　these　things。〃
　　Lisseut　swallowed　with　some　difficulty。　〃You　sound　like　Remy　when　he's　had　too　much　wine；〃　she　said　finally；　trying　to　manage　a　tone　of　irony。　She　had　never　heard　Aurelian　speak　like　that　before。　〃And　all　this　from　a　distance？〃
　　〃From　the　far　end　of　a　table　in　Faenna；〃　he　agreed　calmly。　〃I　would　never　have　dared　go　nearer；　but　that　was　near　enough。　She　is　not　for　having；　that　one。　Were　it　not　an　impiety　I　would　say　that　the　dark　side　of　the　goddess　is　in　her。　She　destroys　what　she　is　claimed　by。〃
　　〃But　still　she　is　claimed。〃
　　〃There　is　darkness　in　all　of　us；　and　desires　we　might　prefer　to　deny　by　day。〃　He　hesitated。　〃I　dream　of　her　sometimes。〃
　　Lisseut　was　silent；　unsettled　again；　sorry　now　that　she　had　asked。　Her　confusion　of　before　seemed　to　have　e　back　in　all　its　jangling　discord。　They　lay　together；　listening　to　the　music　from　below；　and　eventually　it　was　the　music　that　calmed　her；　as　it　almost　always　did。　Before　it　ended　they　were　both　asleep。　She　dreamt；　lying　in　Aurelian's　arms；　of　arrows；　though；　and　heard；　in　her　dream；　Rudel　Correze's　laughter　in　a　garden。
　　In　the　morning　she　would　waken　with　sunlight　in　the　window　to　find　Aurelian　gone。　Sprawled　across　the　other　bed；　snoring　and　sodden；　still　in　his　boots　and　clothes；　would　be　Remy　of　Orreze。　Lisseut　would　hesitate　only　a　moment；　then；　offering　devout　and　genuinely　grateful　thanks　to　Rian　and　Corannos　both；　she　would　take　the　basin　of　water　Aurelian　had　thoughtfully　filled　for　her　before　he　left；　and　empty　it　over　the　sleeping；　fair…haired　troubadour　who'd　been　her　first　lover。　Then　she　would　flee　through　the　door　and　down　the　stairs；　leaving　his　shrieks　of　outrage　behind　to　awaken　all　those　who　yet　slumbered　in　The　Liensenne　on　a　bright　Midsummer's　Day。　She　would　feel　much；　much　better　after　that。
　　
　　Every　second　or　third　year；　in　the　absence　of　war　or　plague；　it　had　been　the　custom　of　Guibor　IV；　count　of　Arbonne；　to　spend　Midsummer　Night　in　Tavernel　at　the　Carnival；　in　homage　to　the　goddess　and　to　affirm　for　his　people　in　the　south　that　he　was　ever　mindful　of　his　duties　to　them　and　of　the　importance　of　the　sea　to　Arbonne。　Once；　when　young；　he　had　even　essayed　the　Boats　and　Rings　on　the　river；　plucking　three　garlands　before　missing　the　fourth　and　dousing　himself　in　the　river；　to　emerge　with　the　booming　good…natured　laughter　that　was　a　part　of　why　his　country　loved　him。
　　On　those　nights；　Signe　de　Barbentain　reflected；　lying　in　a　room　in　the　temple　of　Rian　with　a　small　fire　to　take　away　the　chill　that　afflicted　her　now；　even　in　summer；　she'd　had　no　concerns　about　the　ancient　saying　in　Tavernel　that　it　was　unlucky　to　lie　alone　on　Midsummer　Eve。　She　had　lain　with　her　husband；　and　the　wild　sounds　outside　had　seemed　part　of　a　fabric　of　enchantment　in　the　dark。
　　Tonight；　though；　she　was　alone　and　feeling　afraid。　Not　for　herself；　her　own　summons　to　Rian　would　e　when　it　came；　and　was　unlikely　to　lie　far　off。　She　had　long　since　e　to　terms　with　that。　Her　fear　was　for　the　land；　for　the　dangerous　rush　of　events　that　seemed　to　be　gathering　speed　all　around　them。
　　New　parts　to　the　pattern　had　been　discovered　tonight　and；　starkly　awake；　looking　at　the　flickering　shapes　that　fire　and　guttering　candle　cast　on　the　walls　of　her　room；　the　countess　of　Arbonne　tried　again　to　deal　with　these　new　things。　Gorhaut　was　ing　south。　There　could　be　no　honest　denial　of　that　truth　any　longer。　Roban；　the　chancellor；　had　flatly　predicted　it　the　very　same　day　word　of　the　Treaty　of　Iersen　Bridge　had　e　to　Barbentain。　And　now　there　was　this　purposeful；　extravagant　payment　made　for　the　death　of　Bertran　de　Talair。　He　might　indeed　have　died　tonight；　Signe　thought；　suppressing　a　shiver。　Had　the　clouds　not　e　when　they　did；　or　had　Beatritz　not　been　in　Tavernel　and　the　bearded　coran；　Blaise；　not　known　the　arrow　and　the　assassin；　and　so　guessed　the　presence　of　syvaren　on　the　head；　Bertran　could　so　easily　have　died；　leaving　Talair　without　a　proper　heir　and　Arbonne　without　a　man　it　needed　desperately。
　　And　that　same　Gorhaut　coran；　Blaise；　was　a　matter　unto　himself。　For　the　fiftieth　time；　or　the　hundredth；　Signe　tried　to　weigh　risks　and　gains　in　this　gamble　that　Beatritz　and　Bertran　had　jointly　undertaken　in　trying　to　bind　Galbert　de　Garsenc's　younger　son　to　their　cause。　Roban　had　wanted　nothing　to　do　with　it；　had　stalked　grimly　about　the　perimeter　of　the　council　room　when　the　matter　was　first　raised。　She　couldn't　really　blame　him；　Beatritz　and　Bertran；　so　unlike　each　other　in　most　ways；　yet　shared　a　confidence　in　their　own　judgment　and　a　penchant　for　taking　risks　that　could　be　quite　unnerving　at　times。
　　Blaise　de　Garsenc　wasn't　the　kind　of　man　she'd　been　led　to　expect；　either。　Rumour　had　told　of　a　hardened　mercenary；　with　a　reputation　won　in　the　tournaments　and　the　wars　of　the　six　countries　over　many　years。　According　to　Roban；　she　herself　had　presented　the　man　with　a　laurel　at　the　Autumn　Fair　in　Lussan　six　years　past；　she　didn't　remember。　It　was　hard　to　remember　all　the　yo