ggk.asongforarbonne-第59节

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　　The　Gotzlanders　began　rhythmically　banging　their　heavy　flagons　on　the　wooden　table。　The　noise　was　so　insistent　it　shaped　a　lull　in　the　din　of　sound。　Into　that　space　in　the　noise　the　trovaritz　on　the　table　shouted　again：　〃A　challenge！〃
　　〃Damn　that　man；〃　said　Remy；　in　the　middle　of　a　story　about　a　night　in　Portezzan　Vialla　when　his　music　had　been　sung　at　the　mune's　summer　feast　while　he　had　sat　at　the　high　table　with　the　most　powerful　men　of　the　city。　Aurelian　had　been　doing　the　singing；　of　course；　Lisseut　was　still　vexed　at　times　that　her　lanky；　dark…haired　friend　would　continue　to　suspend　his　own　steady　rise　among　the　ranks　of　the　poets　to　revert　to　a　joglar's　role　and　spend　a　season　lending　the　lustre　of　his　voice　to　enhance　Remy's　name。　Friendship；　Aurelian　had　said　mildly　when　she'd　challenged　him；　and：　I　like　to　sing。　I　like　singing　Remy's　songs。　Why　should　I　deny　myself　those　pleasures？　It　was　extremely　hard　to　pick　a　fight　with　Aurelian。
　　〃A　challenge　to　the　troubadours　of　Arbonne！〃　the　Gotzlander　roared。　With　the　ebb　in　the　tavern　noise　he　was　clearly　heard　this　time。　Even　Remy　turned　around；　his　expressive　face　going　still；　to　stare　at　the　man　balanced　precariously　on　the　next　table　top。
　　〃Speak　your　challenge；〃　said　Alain　of　Rousset　from　their　own　table。　〃Before　you　fall　and　break　your　neck。〃　He　was　much　more　assertive　these　days；　Lisseut　noted；　with　some　pleasure。　She'd　had　something　to　do　with　that：　the　success　of　their　partnership；　the　recognition　now　beginning　to　e　for　both　of　them。
　　〃Won't　fall；〃　said　the　trovaritz；　very　nearly　doing　exactly　that。　Two　of　his　fellows　had　hands　up；　steadying　him。　A　very　crowded　room　had　bee　remarkably　quiet。　The　man　reached　downward　urgently。　Another　of　the　Gotzland　musicians　obligingly　handed　him　up　a　flagon。　The　trovaritz　took　a　long　pull；　wiped　his　moustache　with　the　back　of　his　hand　and　declaimed；　〃Want　you　to　show　why　we　should　keep　following　Arbonne。　In　our　music。　We　do　all　your　things　in　Aulensburg；　there're　singers　in　Arimonda　'n　Portezza。　Do　everything　you　do　now。　Do　it　as　well！　S'time　to　e　out　from　your　shadow。〃　He　drank　again；　swayed；　added　in　the　stillness；　〃Specially　'cause　you　may　not　be　here　a　year　from　now！〃
　　Two　of　the　others　at　his　table　had　the　grace　to　wince　at　that　and　haul　the　trovaritz　down；　but　the　thing　had　been　said。　Lisseut　reached　for　anger　but　found　only　the　sadness　and　the　fear　that　seemed　to　have　been　with　her　since　Midsummer。　It　didn't　take　brilliance　to　see　enough　of　the　future　to　be　afraid。
　　There　were　four　troubadours　at　their　table；　though　she　knew　Aurelian　would　not　volunteer　his　own　music。　He　could　sing　for　them；　though。　Remy　and　Jourdain　exchanged　a　glance；　and　Alain　cleared　his　throat　nervously。　Lisseut　was　about　to　speak　her　suggestion　when　someone　took　the　matter　away　from　all　of　them。
　　〃I　will　make　answer　to　that　challenge；　if　I　may。〃　She　knew　the　voice；　they　all　knew　the　voice；　but　they　hadn't　seen　the　man　e　in。　No　one　had　even　reported　that　he　was　in　Lussan。　Looking　quickly　around；　Lisseut　saw　Ramir　of　Talair；　carrying　his　lute；　ing　slowly　forward　from　a　corner　at　the　very　back　of　the　tavern；　picking　his　way　carefully　between　tables　of　people　to　the　center　of　the　room。
　　Bertran's　joglar　had　to　be　sixty　years　old　now　at　least。　He　seldom　toured　for　the　duke　any　longer。　Long　past　were　the　days　when　Ramir　carried　his　lute　and　harp　and　Bertran　de　Talair's　music　to　every　castle　and　town　of　Arbonne；　and　into　most　of　the　major　cities　and　fastnesses　of　the　other　five　countries。　He　lingered　in　Talair　mostly　now；　with　a　suite　of　rooms　of　his　own　and　an　honoured　place　by　the　fire　in　the　hall。　He　hadn't　even　e　to　Tavernel　for　Midsummer　the　past　two　years。　There　had　been　some　overly　febrile　speculation　among　the　younger　performers　both　seasons　that　it　might　soon　be　time　for　En　Bertran　to　select　a　new　joglar。　There　was　no　higher　status　imaginable　for　a　singer；　dreams　or　night…long　sleeplessness　could　be　shaped　of　such　a　fantasy。
　　Lisseut　looked　at　the　old　performer　with　a　mingling　of　affection　and　sadness。　She　had　not　seem　him　for　a　long　time。　He　did　look　older　now；　frail。　His　round；　kind　face；　scarred　by　a　childhood　pox；　seemed　to　have　been　part　of　her　world　forever。　A　great　deal　would　change　when　Ramir　was　gone；　she　realized；　watching　as　he　came　shuffling　forward。　He　didn't　walk　very　well；　she　saw。
　　〃Well；　really…〃　Remy　began；　under　his　breath。　〃Shut　up。〃　Aurelian　spoke　with　uncharacteristic　sharpness。　The　lanky　troubadour's　face　had　an　odd　expression　as　he　looked　at　Ramir。
　　Alain　rose　from　his　seat　and　hurried　to　bring　Ramir　the　performer's　stool　and　footrest。　With　a　gentle　smile　the　old　joglar　thanked　him。　Troubadours　didn't　tend　to　assist　joglars；　but　Ramir　was　different。　Declining　Alain's　offered　hand；　the　old　man　cautiously　lowered　himself　onto　the　low　stool。　He　stretched　out　his　left　leg　with　an　audible　sigh　of　relief。　One　of　the　Gotzlanders　laughed。　Ramir　had　some　trouble　with　the　thong　on　his　lute　case　and　Lisseut　saw　an　Arimondan　at　the　table　on　the　other　side　of　them　cover　his　mouth　to　politely　hide　a　smile。
　　Ramir　finally　slipped　his　instrument　out　of　the　case　and　began　tuning　it。　The　lute　looked　to　be　as　old　as　he　was；　but　the　sound；　even　in　the　tuning；　was　achingly　pure。　Lisseut　would　have　given　almost　anything　for　such　an　instrument。　She　looked　around　The　Senhal。　The　silence　was　a　nervous　one　now；　broken　by　whispers　and　murmuring。　It　was　so　crowded　in　the　tavern　it　was　hard　to　move。　On　the　upper　levels　people　had　pushed　to　the　railings　to　look　down。　Over　on　the　eastern　wall；　on　that　higher　level；　Lisseut　saw　a　gleam　of　long；　dark　hair　by　candlelight。　She　was　a　little　surprised；　but　not　greatly　so。　Ariane　de　Carenzu；　her　hair　down；　as　ever；　in　defiance　of　tradition；　sat　beside　a　slender；　handsome　man；　her　husband。　Lisseut　knew　Duke　Thierry　now。　Before　ing　to　Lussan　she　and　Alain　had　spent　a　fortnight　in　Carenzu；　at　the　particular　request　of　the　queen　of　the　Court　of　Love。　They　each　had　a　purse　full　of　silver　to　show　for　it；　and　Lisseut　had　been　given　a　crimson　vest　of　fine　wool　trimmed　with　expensive　squirrel　fur　against　the　ing　cold。　She　had　told　Remy　earlier　in　the　evening　that　if　he　damaged　her　new　vest　in　any　way　he　would　replace　it　or　die。　He　had　ordered　a　bottle　of　Cauvas　gold　wine　by　way　of　reply。　They　had　been　joking　then；　laughing　about　Midsummer；　celebrating。
　　She　looked　back　at　Ramir。　He　was　still　tuning　the　lute；　loosening　his　fingers　as　he　did。　Lisseut's　uncle　had　taught　her　about　that；　one　of　the　first　lessons　he　had　given　her：　whatever　else　you　do；　never　rush　the　beginning。　Start　when　you　are　ready　to　start；　they　will　not　leave　as　long　as　they　see　you　preparing。
　　〃We　have　a　challenge　here；〃　Ramir　said；　almost　conversationally；　one　ear　tilted　down　towards　the　lute；　fingers　busy　on　the　strings。　His　voice　was　pitched　so　they　all　had　to　lean　forward　to　hear。　The　silence　abruptly　became　plete。　Another　old　joglar's　trick；　Lisseut　knew。　She　saw；　out　of　the　corner　of　her　eye；　that　Remy　was　now　smiling　as　well。
　　〃A　curious　challenge；　really。〃　For　the　first　time　Ramir　looked　briefly　at　the　table　of　Gotzlanders。　〃How　is　one　to　fairly　choose　among　the　music　of　different　countries；　different　heritages？　Surely　there　is　fine　music　made　in　Aulensburg　and　in　Arimonda　at　the　court　of　King　Vericenna；　as　has　just　been　urged　upon　us　so　。。。　soberly　。。。　by　our　friend　over　there。〃　There　was　a　titter　of　amusement。　Gradually；　almost　imperceptibly；　Ramir's　voice　had　begun　to　chime　and　weave　with　the　apparently　random　chords　he　was　playing　upon　the　lute。　Aurelian's　face　as　he　listened；　Lisseut　saw；　was　entranced；　rigorously　attentive。
　　〃We　are　asked；　in　the　light　of　this　truth；　why　Arbonne　should　be　pre…eminent。〃　Ramir　paused；　looked　around　the　room；　not　hurrying。　〃We　are　also　asked；　in　nearly　as　many　words；　what　there　will　be　to　mourn　if　Arbonne　is　lost。〃
　　He　left　a　silence　after　that；　save　for　the　gentle；　almost　casual　notes　drawn　from　the　instrument　as　if　unconsciously。
　　Lisseut　swallowed　abruptly；　with　difficulty。　Ramir　said；　〃I　am　only　a　singer；　and　such　questions　are　difficult　to　answer。　Let　me　offer　a　song　instead；　with　apologies　if　it　should　be　found　inadequate　and　fail　to　please。〃　The　ancient　phrasing；　that；　no　one　used　it　any　more。　〃I　will　sing　a　song　of　the　first　of　the　troubadours。〃
　　〃Ah；〃　said　Remy　under　his　breath。　〃Ah；　well。〃　Ramir's　fingers　were　busier　now；　the　music　beginning　to　take　shape；　the　notes　gathering　as　if　from　scattered　places　in　the　world　at　the　joglar's　bidding。　〃Anselme　of　Cauvas　was　of　modest　birth；〃　Ramir　said；　and　this　too　was　of　the　old　fashion；　the　vidan；　the　tale　of　the　poser。　No　one　in　the　newer　generation　did　this　any　longer　when　beginning　a　song。　〃Anselme　was　clever　and　gifted；　though；　and　was　brought　into　the　chapel　of　the　god　at　Cauvas；　and　then　Duke　Raimbaut　de　Vaux　took　him　into　his　household；　and　finally　he　came　to　the　attention　of　the　count　himself；　Folquet；　and　the　count　honoured　Anselme　for　his　wisdom　and　discretion　and　employed　him　in　many　affairs　of　state　in　all　of　the　six　countries　for　many　years。　And　Anselme　had　several　great　loves　among　the　noble　ladies　of　his　day；　but　always　he　was　chaste　and　honourable；　and　never　did　he　speak　the