ggk.asongforarbonne-第101部分
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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
