ggk.asongforarbonne-第109部分

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sky。　The　last　thing　she　saw　was　a　tree。　Then　the　images　were　gone　and　she　was　left　with　only　darkness　again；　and　Brissel　on　her　shoulder。
　　It　came　like　this；　and　it　went；　never　coerced；　never　subject　to　entreaty。　The　goddess　remembered　her　children　sometimes　and　sometimes　she　forgot　them　in　the　caprice　of　her　nature。　She　could　shower　gifts　like　blessed　rain　in　spring；　or　she　could　turn　her　back　and　let　ice　and　fire　have　their　way。　She　had　a　face　of　laughter　and　one　of　desire；　a　countenance　of　true　passion　and　a　terrible　visage　of　judgment。　In　the　teachings　of　Arbonne　it　was　Corannos　the　god　who　was　kinder；　more　soberly　caring　for　men　and　women。　Rian　suffered　them；　and　loved　them；　but　she　could　be　cruel　as　nature　was　cruel。　It　was　the　god　who　held　their　mortal　children　always　in　mind；　who　did　not　fail　to　see　their　sufferings　upon　the　earth。　So　it　had　been　taught　in　Arbonne　for　generations。
　　The　teachings　were　different　elsewhere。　They　were　very　different　in　Gorhaut。
　　She　was　going　to　have　to　stay　here；　Beatritz　understood。　Only　on　the　island　could　she　have　access　to　any　such　precognitions　as　this　one。　A　message　would　have　to　go　to　Barbentain　tonight。　She　would　ask　the　two　young　troubadours　who　were　wintering　with　them　here。　They　would　not　deny　her；　these　were　not　men　to　hide　in　the　sea　when　death　and　ruin　were　ing　down　from　the　north。　She　would　send　them　to　the　countess；　warning　her；　telling　them　all　where　the　culmination　was　to　be。
　　It　would　be　in　the　place　of　this　vision；　she　was　being　told：　by　that　small　isle　in　Lake　Dierne；　by　the　arch；　the　two　castles；　it　would　end　there。
　　Of　course；　she　thought；　aware　of　an　inner　stillness　in　the　aftermath　of　the　presence　of　Rian。　Of　course　it　will　be　there。　She　felt　the　nudge　of　an　old　sorrow。　I　should　have　known。　That　is　where　it　began。
　　She　was　wise　and　no　longer　young；　Beatritz　de　Barbentain；　deeply　conversant　with　the　ways　of　power　in　the　world；　and　long　since　accustomed　to　her　darkness　and　the　occasional　gateways　to　knowledge　it　gave　her。　She　was；　in　fact；　more　privy　to　the　paths　of　Rian　than　she　allowed　herself　to　acknowledge；　for　she　had　always　wanted　more　than　she　had。　It　was　the　nature　of　her　family；　the　legacy　of　her　blood。　Still；　the　goddess　had　never　yet　abandoned　her　entirely；　however　long　the　intervals　might　be。　She　knew　a　great　deal；　having　been　granted；　at　moments　such　as　this；　clear；　sharp　visions　through　rifts　in　time　hidden　from　all　the　other　living　children　of　Corannos　and　Rian。
　　On　the　other　hand；　there　were　things　even　the　High　Priestess　on　her　island　did　not　know　and　had　never　known；　whether　of　future　or　present　or　the　widening　ripples　of　the　shaping　past。　Nor　would　it　have　been　proper　if　she　had。　Oaths　sworn　to　the　dying　were　sacrosanct　in　Arbonne。
　　
　　When　they　e　down　at　last　from　the　snows　of　the　pass　into　Arbonne；　the　crusading　army　of　Gorhaut　are　halted　by　their　spiritual　leader；　and　on　a　high　plateau　they　kneel　in　their　armour；　every　man　of　them；　to　hear　the　High　Elder's　prayer　of　thanksgiving　to　the　god。
　　They　have　e　through　the　mountains　with　humbling；　awe…inspiring　ease；　only　some　few　hundred　men　and　horses　lost　to　the　high　cold　and　the　icy；　treacherous　path　and　the　one…amazingly；　only　the　one…avalanche　that　missed　the　main　army　by　less　than　a　bowshot；　taking　only　the　rear　guard　down　into　a　white　death　with　no　true　burial。
　　It　might　have　been…it　ought　to　have　been…so　much　worse；　this　folly　of　taking　an　army　through　the　mountains　in　winter　to　seize　the　advantage　of　surprise。　Even　the　High　Elder　himself　narrowly　escaped　losing　his　life。　Standing　beside　their　tall　king；　he　speaks　to　the　army　with　an　arrow　held　aloft　in　one　hand　and　a　crimson　bandage　on　his　left　arm；　brilliant　against　his　blue　robe　and　the　white　of　the　snow　behind　him。　He　had　caught　up　to　them；　wounded　as　he　was；　in　the　midst　of　the　pass；　riding　alone…which　every　man　there　knows　to　have　been　foolhardy　beyond　words。　Foolhardy；　that　is；　for　one　not　perfectly　trusting　of　Corannos；　not　favoured…as　Galbert　de　Garsenc；　High　Elder　of　Gorhaut　so　manifestly　is…by　the　blessing　and　the　protection　of　the　god。　Which　means　that　they；　too；　in　his　pany；　are　so　blessed；　the　chosen；　the　elect；　the　weapons　of　Corannos。
　　This；　in　fact；　is　his　message　to　them　when　the　prayer　is　over　and　they　rise。　He　holds　up　for　all　to　see　the　Arbonnais　arrow…fired　by　a　coward；　and　not　in　a　time　of　war…that　might　have　killed　him　in　his　own　castle。　The　god　is　with　us；　he　tells　them　all；　we　are　his　agents　and　his　instrument。
　　It　is　hard　not　to　agree；　and　the　men　of　the　army　of　Gorhaut；　in　the　presence　of　their　king；　are　not　inclined　to　be　cynical　or　doubting　at　a　time　like　this。　They　have　e　miraculously　through　the　mountains　in　winter；　and　before　them　now；　bright　and　fair　as　a　dream　under　blue　skies　lies　the　land　that　has　been　promised　them。
　　Promised；　that　is；　after　the　scourging　is　done。　They　are　the　hammers　of　the　god；　the　High　Elder　proclaims。　The　temples　and　villages　of　Arbonne　and　the　depraved；　unclean　women　who　inhabit　them　are　the　anvils　upon　which　their　most　holy；　cleansing　blows　must　fall。
　　The　temples　are　first；　the　castles　will　e　after；　he　tells　them。　Everything　will　e　to　them　if　they　but　follow　their　great　king。　The　men　of　Arbonne　are　cowards；　they　are　woman…mastered；　cuckolded　as　a　matter　of　course　by　their　own　musicians　and　barnyard　servants。　What；　Galbert　de　Garsenc　asks；　what　will　such　soft　men　do　when　they　e　face　to　face　with　the　assembled　might　of　Gorhaut　sweeping　down　upon　them　with　the　power　of　the　god？
　　They　will　die；　he　tells　them；　answering　his　own　question；　as　a　sound　shaped　of　hunger　and　excitement　rises　among　the　army。　They　will　die　like　the　craven　unbelievers　they　are；　and　when　all　is　done；　when　holy　Corannos　is　worshipped　properly　again　in　this　land；　then　shall　the　men　of　Gorhaut　have　shown　themselves　worthy　of　the　great　favour　the　god　has　always　bestowed　upon　them。　Then　shall　the　whole　world　know　their　worth。　Then　shall　this　sunlight；　these　high　green　valleys；　vineyards　and　castles　and　grainfields；　the　rich　cities　and　harbours　and　the　great　sea　beyond…all　shall　be　truly　given　over　to　Gorhaut　by　the　high；　pure　grace　of　Corannos。
　　Shall　this　not　be　the　way　of　it；　he　cries　to　them；　the　magnificent　instrument　of　his　voice　carrying　the　question　down　on　the　breeze　to　all　those　gathered　below。
　　They　give　him　his　answer；　fervent；　exalted；　with　one　voice　of　their　own。
　　The　king　rides　down　from　that　high　place；　then；　the　High　Elder　beside　him　with　the　arrow　still　held　aloft。　They　take　their　places　together；　handsome　men；　stern　and　majestic；　at　the　forefront　of　an　army。　Near　to　them　but　a　proper　distance　behind　rides　the　lord　Borsiard　d'Andoria　at　the　head　of　a　pany　of　his　own　men。　The　Portezzan's　presence　among　them；　the　army　has　been　told；　is　a　mark　of　how　not　only　the　god　but　all　the　countries　of　the　world　are　with　them　in　this　purging　of　dark　unholiness。
　　King　Ademar　of　Gorhaut　lifts　a　hand　and　the　trumpets　of　Gorhaut　are　heard　in　the　clean；　cool　air　under　a　sky　where　birds　are　wheeling　and　darting　in　the　sunlight。　Before　them　the　slopes　fall　away　southward；　green　with　winter　grass。　In　the　middle　distance　the　river　most　of　them　have　never　seen　sparkles　blue；　then　white　where　there　are　rapids；　then　blue　again；　rushing　towards　the　distant　sea。　The　ports　on　that　sea　will　be　theirs　soon；　they　have　been　promised　this。　The　god　is　with　them。
　　They　start　south；　the　invading　warriors　of　Gorhaut；　in　a　vast　glitter　of　spears　and　armour。　Later　that　same　day　the　vanguard　rides　past　and　above　the　ruined；　empty　village　of　Aubry　and　es　to　the　next　hamlet　beyond。　And　there；　with　sword　and　mace　and　brand；　amid　the　screaming　of　the　corrupt　women　and　their　heretic；　unsouled　children　and　the　desperate　cries　of　craven　men…farmers；　labourers；　artisans；　cowards　all　of　them…the　harrowing　of　Arbonne　is　begun。
　　The　god　is　with　his　army。　After　the　grey　cold　of　the　mountains　and　the　miracle　of　their　passage　they　can　feel　it　in　the　shining　grace　of　his　holy　sun　above　them。　Everything　they　ride　past　is　bright；　is　weling；　gleams　wondrously　in　the　light。
　　They　are　the　hammers　of　Corannos；　the　scourges　of　heresy；　this　war　is　blessed　from　the　sky；　every　man　of　t