ggk.asongforarbonne-第59部分
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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
