ggk.asongforarbonne-第99部分
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〃My lady！〃 began Ariane de Carenzu； her own colour high。 〃Countess； this is something that…〃 She stopped abruptly at a swift； imperious gesture from the countess。
Signe hadn't even bothered to look at her。 She was still gazing at Bertran de Talair； daring him to speak again。 〃You lead our armies； my lord；〃 she said flatly。 〃This is a mand。〃 And then； very clearly； with an emphasis on each word： 〃Fail me not。〃
Urté de Miraval rose slowly； heavily； to his feet。 Rosala； watching him； felt an oppressive burden settling upon her like a weight of stones。 It wasn't even her history； her country； but she thought she knew what was ing and what it would mean。 The whole room； all those gathered here in Barbentain； seemed somehow to be caught and suspended in a dark； entangling web spun long ago。
〃He leads those armies then without the men of Miraval；〃 Urté said with a grave； unnatural calm that was somehow a match for Signe's own manner。 〃And so on your shoulders； countess； must lie the burden of that。 You might perhaps have remembered； since you chose to speak so freely of the dead； that in this room I am the nearest thing to a son that you have。〃 And turning on his heel he strode to the door。
〃My lord； wait！〃 called Thierry de Carenzu。 Urté did not turn。 He opened the door and passed through and they heard it close with a reverberant finality behind him。
Echoes； Rosala thought； swallowing hard。 Echoes of a past that threatened to destroy the present。 She looked about the room； registering nuances of grave apprehension。 Only the countess seemed immune； only Signe showed no fear or doubt。
〃How many men does this mean？〃 It was Fulk； her brother's first words spoken and； characteristically； addressing the most prosaic aspect of all of this。
〃Fifteen hundred； somewhat more。 Almost all of them trained。〃 Thierry de Carenzu； who had been the only man to try to stay Urté's departure； gave the answer。 It was a very large number and Rosala had been in Arbonne long enough to know why： two decades of clashes between Talair and Miraval had led both dukes to gather around them substantial armies of fighting men。 And this morning those same bone…deep hostilities had just cost them half those men。
〃I see；〃 said Fulk quietly。 Her brother was not a man prone to elaboration of his thoughts。 They were not needed here； every man and woman in the room knew the implications of Urté's leaving them。 〃Are you going to have him arrested？〃 Fulk asked。
No one answered him。 Bertran was staring out the window； visibly shaken。 Rosala saw the chancellor； Roban。 leaning against the wall； as if for desperately needed support； he was white as a bone。 So were most of the others in the room； she saw。 Only the countess； small； rigidly erect； seemed to have retained her posure。
Rosala cleared her throat。 〃Will he really stay away？〃 she asked。 It seemed incredible to her； and yet somehow； in some terrifying way； predestined at the same time。 For some reason she found herself turning to Ariane de Carenzu as she spoke。
Ariane's face was also pale。 In a thin voice far removed from her customary crisp authority； she said； 〃I'm afraid he will。 If he doesn't do even more than that。〃
〃That is unfair！〃 her husband said quickly； gesturing sharply。 Thierry de Carenzu shook his head。 〃He is not a traitor。〃
〃No？〃 It was Blaise again。 Still with that slight unsettling new control in his tone。 〃What would you call a man who does what he just did； regardless of what course he takes afterwards？〃
It was a fair question； if a harsh one。 It was what Fulk had been asking。 The answer was easy enough： you called such a man a traitor。
Rosala looked at her brother and saw that he was gazing steadily back at her for the first time that morning。 In his eyes； identical to her own； she read the same answer。 Were this Gorhaut； she thought suddenly； Urté de Miraval would never have been allowed to leave this room alive。
There was something genuinely frightening about that thought。 She was beginning to glimpse a part of the price Arbonne paid for its freedoms and its subtle graces。
She wondered how much of that price was yet to be paid。
And it was at that precise moment； Rosala remembered afterwards； that the knocking came at the door and the guards opened it to admit two exhausted； travel…stained troubadours； one fair…haired； one dark； with a message from Rian's Island in the sea： a message that the High Priestess had had a vision from the goddess of a battle by Lake Dierne。
CHAPTER 17
The identical message by a different messenger came to the lake isle that same morning。 Lisseut； who； wisely or otherwise； had not gone home for the winter to her mother after all； heard the tidings when she came across the green towards the dining hall for breakfast。
It was not a great surprise。 They had known that the army of Gorhaut was likely to be ing to them。 This isle was the holiest sanctuary of Rian in the north of Arbonne and by now everyone knew that the warriors of Gorhaut were on a crusade in the name of the god。 It didn't matter that Corannos was worshipped here as well。 Had such things mattered； Lisseut thought bitterly； then priestesses and children and those who had tried to defend them would not now be lying charred and dead。
She moved a little distance away from the knot of anxiously talking priests and priestesses。 It was not easy to find privacy within the narrow confines of the isle and； perhaps surprisingly for someone who had e to adulthood within the intensely social world of the troubadours； she seemed to be drawn to solitude of late。 More precisely； since the night she'd sung Blaise de Garsenc to sleep with lullabies of childhood and then left his room to walk back with Alain to their inn。 There was no fierce turmoil in her any more； however； no sharp pain。 That seemed to be behind her now that winter had e。 A stone makes a splash when it strikes the water； Lisseut had thought； standing by this same shore on the day she'd arrived near the end of autumn； but no sound at all as it sinks down to the lake's deep bed。 That was how she felt； she had decided…or how she had been feeling； until war came with the harrowing reports of deaths and burnings and thoughts of such private matters were trivialized and driven far away。
She looked out across the choppy waters of Lake Dierne； past the honey…coloured stones of Talair on the northern shore and up beyond the grass of the valley to the winter vineyards and the forest rising in the distance。 Somewhere out there an army was ing； axes and swords and brands； severed heads dancing on pikes above them。 The survivors； fleeing south before the fury of Gorhaut； had brought tales of such horrors with them。
Lisseut plunged her hands into the folds of the vest she'd been given by Ariane in Carenzu。 It was a cold morning； diamond…bright； the stiff wind pushing the three plumes of smoke almost due south。 The air was fresh and clean and she could see a long way。 To the west； when she turned； the massive stones of the Arch of the Ancients showed clearly at the end of the row of marching elms。 Lisseut hated that arch。 She had from the moment she'd first seen it years ago： there was too much oppressive power stamped upon it； the sculptor's undeniable art wholly given over to the brutally explicit message。 The arch reminded her now； every day； of what was ing。
She would have been safer at home； she knew。 Vezét couldn't be reached by an invading army for a long time yet and； if it came to that； a well…known joglar could take ship from the coast and find a ready wele in Portezza or Arimonda。
That last thought hadn't even lingered long enough to be seriously considered。 Even when it had bee clear that the flattering invitation she and Alain had accepted…to winter on Rian's Isle…had brought them squarely into the path of death； Lisseut knew she would not leave。
There was a reason she could have offered if anyone had asked； but no one did ask。 It had been Ramir's song though； in Lussan at the Autumn Fair that； more than any other single thing； had shaped her feelings now。 If there was a role； any role at all for her to play in this appalling time it would not lie in hiding away south by the sea or fleeing across the water。 The imagined presence of that stone inside her； sinking silently down as through dark； still lake waters； might have had something to do with it； too。 She would have admitted that； she was usually honest with herself； and the worst part of that pain seemed to be gone now。 It had been months since the Lussan Fair； she didn't even know where Blaise was。 She called him by his name in her mind now。 Surely that much could be allowed？
Alain had stayed on the isle as well。 She had thought he would。 Her affection for the little troubadour had grown with each passing day。 He had even begun practising with a sword； rowing across to join the corans of Talair every afternoon。 He was not very good。 Lisseut had gone to watch him one day； and foreboding had lain within her like a different kind of weight。
That grim sense of premonition was with her again now as she gazed out across the whitecaps at the stones of the arch beyond
