ggk.asongforarbonne-第115部分

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　bring　the　goddess…afflicted　soldiers　of　this　land　out　from　their　walls　to　battle。
　　They　did　not　anticipate　an　army　waiting　for　them；　but　Ademar　turns　away　from　the　now…dead　singer　on　the　platform…one　of　the　two　fools　they　caught　spying　on　their　line　of　march…and　sees　his　High　Elder　smiling　as　well。
　　〃It　is　well；〃　Galbert　says；　the　deep　voice　rich　with　satisfaction。　〃They　are　ignorant　as　well　as　cowardly。　Had　they　known　about　our　shortage　of　food　they　would　not　be　here。　As　it　is；　this　will　be　over　tomorrow；　my　liege；　and　the　granaries　of　Arbonne　will　lie　open　to　us　with　everything　else。　See　their　numbers？　See　our　own？　Look　up　at　the　god's　sun　over　us。〃
　　〃It　is　well；〃　Ademar　says　briefly。　At　times　he　tires　of　Galbert's　intoned　pieties；　and　even　his　jaded　appetites　are　nearly　sated　by　now　of　the　High　Elder's　passion　for　fire　and　maiming。　Ademar　has　e　to　conquer　a　rich　land　and　to　scotch　the　whiff　of　rebellion　shaped　by　the　younger　Garsenc　son　and　Fulk　de　Savaric。　Galbert　is　here　for　something　else。　The　god　will　have　his　due　and　more；　the　king　has　promised　as　much。　He　only　hopes　it　does　not　last　too　long；　and　leaves　him　some　fields　to　sow　and　harvest　and　a　country　to　rule　when　the　last　of　the　burning　is　done。　The　numbers　are　indeed　very　good　though；　Galbert　speaks　truth　there；　and　there　are　surprises　in　reserve。
　　〃If　we　are　to　fight　tomorrow；〃　says　Borsiard　d'Andoria；　moving　his　splendid　horse　nearer；　〃then　may　I　ask　that　the　High　Elder's　disinherited　son；　the　pretender；　be　left　for　me　to　deal　with？　I　have　reasons　of　my　own；　you　understand。〃
　　Ademar　doesn't　like　this　vain；　choleric　man；　but　he　has　been　made　to　accept　the　importance　that　a　Portezzan　pany　in　their　ranks　will　have　for　the　days　after　the　war。　At　times　it　seems　to　him　that　he　accepts　rather　too　much　from　the　High　Elder；　but　the　king　of　Gorhaut　is　willing　to　be　tolerant　yet。　A　great　deal　had　been　promised　him　and　those　promises　are　about　to　bear　fruit。
　　Another　horse　approaches　and　he　hears　its　rider　laugh　sardonically。　〃My　brother；〃　says　Duke　Ranald　de　Garsenc　to　the　elegantly　garbed　Portezzan；　as　the　three　men　turn　to　look　at　him；　〃could　slice　you　into　pieces　while　attending　to　other　business　at　the　same　time。　Be　not　so　hasty；　my　lord；　to　single　him　out　unless　you　want　your　dear　wife　widowed　again　and　free　for　another　marriage。〃　The　words　are　a　little　slurred。　Ranald　does　not　look　well。　It　is　a　fair　assumption　that　he　has　already　been　drinking　during　the　morning's　ride。　His　father　scowls；　but　Ademar　is　genuinely　amused；　not　at　all　unhappy　to　observe　the　de　Garsenc　at　odds　again；　or　the　Portezzan's　flushed　disfiture。
　　〃Well；　if　we　are　speaking　of　dear　wives…〃　Borsiard　d'Andoria　begins　waspishly。
　　〃We　are　not　speaking　of　them；〃　Ademar　says　quickly；　asserting　his　control。　He　does　not　want　this　discussed；　not　now；　and　not　ever　in　public。　He　wonders　if　Rosala　de　Garsenc　is　in　Talair　Castle　now　or　still　in　Barbentain。　Shrewdly　he　guesses　she　has　e　with　the　army；　that　the　countess　of　Arbonne；　too；　is　within　those　walls　by　the　lake。　If　so；　it　will　all　truly　be　over　tomorrow；　Galbert　will　have　been　right。　He　remembers；　amused　again；　that　it　was　Ranald　who　suggested　once　that　he　marry　Signe　be　Barbentain　in　order　to　gain　control　of　Arbonne。　That　is　not　going　to　be　necessary；　it　seems。
　　〃There　are　formalities；〃　his　High　Elder　is　now　saying；　as　he　turns　his　back　on　his　elder　son。　〃Shall　I　send　the　herald　to　speak　your　demands；　my　liege？〃　This；　too；　diverts　the　king；　the　so…careful　observance　of　protocols　and　rituals　despite　what　they　have　been　doing　to　unarmed　men　and　women　and　to　children　all　the　way　south。　That；　Ademar　thinks　sagely；　is　what　happens　when　one　marries　a　religious　crusade　with　a　war　of　conquest。
　　〃Send　him；〃　he　says　lazily；　〃but　let　us　ride　with　him　ourselves　to　see　who　they　have　sent　against　us。　Who　knows；　my　lord　High　Elder；　we　might　even　have　a　chance　to　speak　with　your　ambitious　younger　son。　I　do　still　wonder　how　he　came　by　that　dangerous　trait。〃
　　〃No　son　of　mine！〃　Galbert　says；　a　little　too　quickly；　scenting　danger。　〃I　disowned　him　formally　in　the　sanctuary　of　Corannos　in　the　mountains。　You　were　with　me；　my　liege。〃
　　Ademar　laughs　aloud　this　time。　He　enjoys　the　ease　with　which　he　can　set　his　counsellors　on　edge；　even　Galbert；　who　bears　close　watching。　The　king　discovers　just　then；　somewhat　to　his　surprise；　that　he　feels　the　need　for　a　woman。　Perhaps　it　is　not　so　surprising　after　all。　He　has　been　watching　his　soldiers　take　their　pleasure　of　the　priestess　since　they　came　down　from　the　pass。　He　has　held　himself　aloof；　with　some　self…congratulation；　to　preserve　the　dignity　of　the　crown　on　this　holy　crusade。　He　looks　briefly　over　his　shoulder　at　Ranald　de　Garsenc　and　then　back　up　at　the　ramparts　of　Talair。　He　is；　in　fact；　quite　certain　that　she　is　within　those　walls。
　　Tomorrow；　he　thinks；　and　smiles。　He　is　not　actually　a　man　accustomed　to　waiting　to　slake　his　needs；　but　sometimes　there　is；　in　fact；　a　certain　heightening　of　satisfaction　if　one　delays　a　little　time。　Not　too　long；　mind　you；　but　a　little。　He　regards　this　as　a　truth　about　the　world　he　has　discovered　for　himself。　He　looks　back　at　the　husband　and　then　away　again。
　　
　　Lisseut　saw　what　had　been　done　to　two　of　the　men　she　had　loved　when　she　rode　out　with　the　countess　of　Arbonne　and　a　number　of　their　people　to　parley　with　the　king　of　Gorhaut。　Had　they　not　been　warned　by　Thierry　beforehand；　the　sickness　that　passed　over　her　when　the　bodies　came　into　sight　might　have　undone　all　her　resolutions。　It　was　the　hardest　thing　she　had　ever　had　to　do　in　her　life；　to　ride　past　what　was　left　of　Remy　and　Aurelian　and　not　give　way　to　the　clawing　grief　that　rose　up　within　her。　She　kept　her　eyes　fixed　on　the　straight…backed　figure　of　the　countess　in　front　of　her　and　gripped　her　horse's　reins　in　hands　that　would　not　stop　shaking。　She　kept　wanting　to　scream。　She　could　not　let　herself　scream。
　　She　had　been　with　Ariane　and　the　countess　and　Rosala　de　Garsenc　in　the　music　gallery　of　Talair　when　the　duke　of　Carenzu　had　e　down　from　the　tower　to　tell　them　that　Gorhaut　had　e；　and　that　something　terrible　had　been　done　to　men　they　all　knew。
　　She　would　have　expected　to　burst　into　desperate　tears；　to　faint；　to　feel　her　mind　slamming　shut　like　a　door。　Perhaps　it　was　the　shock；　or　an　inward　refusal　to　believe；　but　she　had　done　none　of　these　things；　nor　had　any　of　the　other　women　there。　Ariane；　to　whom　her　husband　had　formally　told　the　news　about　Remy　and　Aurelian；　had　risen　stiffly　from　where　she　sat　and　walked　away；　to　stand　with　her　back　to　the　room；　staring　into　the　fire。　After　an　interval　of　time；　though；　she　had　turned　and　e　back。　She　had　been　very　pale；　but　her　flawless　features　were　carefully　posed。　She　had　sat　beside　the　countess　and　reached　for　one　of　Signe's　hands；　holding　it　between　both　of　her　own。
　　Of　all　the　people　in　that　room；　Alain　of　Rousset　had　been　the　only　one　who　wept　openly；　and　Lisseut　had　gone　over　to　him。　The　little　troubadour　had　been　wearing　his　sword。　He　was　still　awkward　with　it；　but　he　was　here　to　join　the　soldiers　in　Talair；　had　rowed　across　the　water　to　fight　with　them。
　　It　seemed　that　Remy　and　Aurelian　had　been　thinking　in　the　same　way；　spying　on　the　army　of　Gorhaut　as　it　moved　south。　Lisseut　would　have　thought　the　two　of　them　might　even　have　been　good　at　that；　but　she　didn't　know　much　about　warfare。
　　Neither　had　they。
　　She　had　found　herself　meeting　the　clear　blue　gaze　of　the　woman　named　Rosala。　There　was　pain　there；　and　something　else　as　hurtful；　if　harder　to　understand；　but　Lisseut　had　taken　resolution　and　a　certain　fort　from　that　exchange　of　glances；　and　tried；　as　best　she　could；　to　give　back　the　same　two　things。
　　〃There　should　be　a　song　for　them；〃　the　countess　had　said；　rising　from　her　chair　and　turning　to　where　Lisseut　was　standing　beside　Alain。　The　little　troubadour　had　lifted　his　head；　wiping　his　eyes。　〃I　will　not　ask　for　it　now；　though；〃　Signe　de　Barbentain　went　on。　〃This　is　not　a　time　for　music。〃
　　It　was　then　that　they　had　heard　footsteps　in　the　corridor　again；　and　Bertran　had　e　into　the　room　with　a　number　of　other　men。　One　of　whom　was　Blaise。　There　was　something　bleak　and　forbidding　about　him；　as　if　a　part　of　the　wi