ggk.asongforarbonne-第121部分

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　　It　seemed　that　it　had。
　　He　slipped　his　hands　under　Ranald's　head　and　lifted　it　so　he　could　slide　himself　free；　then　he　laid　his　brother　down　again　on　the　grass。　Rising；　he　looked　at　Ademar　and　said　formally；　over　the　growing　clamour　to　the　north；　〃As　his　brother　I　lay　claim　to　this　body。　Do　you　challenge　me　for　it？〃
　　Ademar　shook　his　head。　〃Believe　me；　I　do　not　want　it。〃
　　Blaise　nodded。　〃Very　well。〃　He　felt　very　calm　now；　almost　eerily　so。　A　kind　of　numbness　was　setting　in。　〃I　will　look　for　you　at　sunset　if　we　are　both　alive。〃
　　Ademar's　eyes　flicked　over　to　where　Ranald　lay　but　then　came　back　to　meet　Blaise's。　He　had　never　been　a　coward；　whatever　else　might　be　said　of　him。　〃I　shall　not　be　hard　to　find；〃　he　said；　and　wheeled　his　horse　north　towards　the　battlefield。
　　Only　then　did　Blaise　turn　to　his　father。
　　Galbert；　watching　the　others　leave；　seemed　to　have　been　waiting　for　him。　The　large；　smooth　features　were　a　little　flushed　perhaps；　but　otherwise　unruffled。　Blaise　said；　choosing　his　words　with　care；　〃I　will　not　be　the　man　that　kills　you；　for　I　would　not　want　a　father…slaying　marked　against　my　soul；　but　there　is　a　journey　to　the　god　that　awaits　you；　whether　it　es　today　or　soon　or　late　and　Corannos　will　know　how　to　judge　you　for　this　deed。〃　He　paused。　〃And　so　will　Rian；　for　a　parley　and　a　challenge　breached；　for　a　son's　murder　here。〃
　　Galbert　gave　a　bark　of　laughter　and　opened　his　mouth　to　reply。
　　〃Be　gone　from　this　place；〃　said　Bertran　de　Talair　before　the　High　Elder　could　speak。　〃I　have　never　slain　a　man　in　the　presence　of　heralds　in　my　life；　but　I　could　do　so　now。〃
　　〃What？〃　said　Galbert　mockingly。　〃And　face　the　same　judgment　as　me？〃　And　saying　so　he　turned　his　horse　and　began　riding　away。　The　nearest　panies　of　the　armies　were　now　engaging　each　other；　banners　whipped　by　the　wind；　in　that　valley　north　of　Talair。
　　Blaise　looked　over　his　dead　brother　on　the　ground；　and　then　back　to　his　father　riding　north；　a　huge；　bulky　man；　yet　easy　and　even　graceful　in　the　saddle。　There　was　something　deeply　unreal　about　the　two　images　for　him；　as　if　his　mind　were　somehow　refusing　to　accept　this　conjunction。　But　there　were　men　battling　now　and　he　reached　out　towards　that　single　hard　truth；　the　urgency　of　it；　as　a　pathway　out　of　the　numbness　that　seemed　to　be　trying　to　claim　him。
　　He　heard　a　grating　sound　behind　him　and　turned　to　see　two　boats　being　pulled　up　on　the　stony　strand。　The　women　began　boarding　them。　In　one　of　the　boats　he　recognized；　without　surprise；　the　tall；　slender　young　priestess　he　had　met　beside　this　lake　when　he　first　came　here。　There　had　been　dead　men　on　the　ground　then；　too；　he　remembered。　She　looked　at　him；　but　only　briefly　and　without　expression；　then　she　reached　out　a　hand　to　the　countess　and　helped　her　into　the　boat。
　　The　other　women　were　quickly　on　board　and　the　boats　were　pushed　back　out　into　the　choppy　water。　Sails　were　run　up　that　the　north　wind　might　take　them　away。　As　he　watched；　hesitating　beside　that　stony　strand；　Blaise　saw　Ariane　turn　back　to　look　for　him；　her　dark　hair　blown　out　behind　her　by　the　wind。　Their　glances　held　for　a　beat　of　time　before　she　turned　away。　A　moment　later；　in　the　other　boat；　Blaise　saw　that　Lisseut　of　Vezét　who　had　also　lost　men　she　loved　this　day；　had　turned　to　look　back　as　well。　She　began；　awkwardly；　to　lift　one　hand；　but　then　let　it　fall　to　her　side。　He　could　see　that　she　was　crying。
　　Rosala　did　not　turn　around　at　all；　and　so　he　did　not　see　her　face　at　the　end。　He　only　saw　her　from　behind；　sitting　straight…backed　beside　the　small；　delicate　figure　of　the　countess　of　Arbonne　as　the　two　boats　swept　back　across　Lake　Dierne　towards　the　isle；　leaving　behind　the　grassy　space　by　the　stones　of　the　northern　shore　where　her　husband's　body　lay。
　　Blaise　drew　a　slow　breath；　and　then　another。　He　turned　away　from　the　women　in　the　boats。　Bertran　de　Talair　came　up　to　him。
　　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　the　duke　asked　quietly。　Blaise　saw　Fulk　de　Savaric　behind　Bertran；　the　same　question　in　his　eyes。
　　There　was　a　third　boat　being　pulled　up　even　now　on　the　strand；　grating　on　the　stones。　They　had　e　for　Ranald；　he　realized。　He　would　have　to　let　them　deal　with　him；　and　trust　the　clergy　of　Rian　to　do　his　brother　honour。　He　had　no　choice　in　this；　no　time。　Time　was　what　had　been　taken　away。　His　task　was　elsewhere　now；　among　the　living；　and　those　he　meant　to　kill。
　　〃It　doesn't　matter　how　I　am；〃　he　said　to　the　duke　of　Talair；　a　little　frightened　by　the　sound　of　his　own　voice。　〃It　really　doesn't　matter。　Let's　go。〃
　　
　　CHAPTER　18
　　The　battle　that　ended　Gorhaut　and　Arbonne　as　the　world　had　known　them　started　a　day　too　soon。　In　the　tumultuous　wake　of　the　aborted　parley　by　the　lake　the　nearest　panies　of　the　two　armies　engaged；　and　once　that　happened　there　was　nothing；　short　of　an　actual　manifestation　of　a　goddess　or　a　god　in　the　sky　above；　that　could　have　separated　them。　Whatever　advantages　of　tactics　and　knowledge　of　the　terrain　that　Bertran　de　Talair　might　have　been　able　to　call　into　play；　given　time　to　prepare；　were　swept　away　in　the　tumult　of　spontaneously　begun　fighting　that　turned；　almost　immediately；　into　headlong；　screaming　chaos。
　　In　such　a　battle；　Blaise　knew；　enmeshed　in　the　fighting　nearest　the　lake；　sheer　numbers　would　almost　always　tell。　The　smaller　army　could　only　have　a　chance　if　the　larger　one　was　cowardly；　or　poorly　led；　or　posed　of　mercenaries　who　might　be　prone　to　cut　their　losses　early。
　　None　of　these　things　were　true　in　the　valley　by　Lake　Dierne。　He　had　learned；　in　most　of　a　year　here　south　of　the　mountain　passes；　that　the　men　of　Arbonne　were　never　to　be　lightly　dismissed…and　they　were　fighting　now　for　their　country　and　on　their　own　land。　Even　so；　the　warriors　of　Gorhaut　had　been　raised　and　trained　in　a　single…minded　purity　that　exalted　Corannos　of　Battles　as　the　highest　incarnation　of　the　god；　squarely　in　the　tradition　of　the　Ancients　who　had　e　to　conquer；　and　whose　arch　loomed　west　of　this　valley　like　a　brooding　presence。
　　It　had　always　been　that　way　in　the　nations　of　the　north；　in　Gorhaut；　Valensa；　Gotzland。　The　southern　countries　had　no　such　fixed；　warlike　obsession　in　their　make…up；　and　Arbonne　worshipped　a　goddess　above　the　god。　All　of　these　things　involved　nuances　and　subtleties　to　which　he　would　have　been　oblivious　a　year　ago；　Blaise　knew…but　the　primal　inferno　of　a　battlefield　was　no　place　for　subtleties。　They　didn't　matter　here。　Weapons　mattered；　and　training；　and　the　will　of　the　men　who　wielded　them。　And；　in　the　end；　the　numbers　on　either　side。
　　It　would　take　a　miracle；　he　thought；　immersing　himself　in　battle　that　winter　afternoon　like　a　man　with　a　bitter　thirst　to　slake。　Blaise　had　always　given　Corannos　his　faith　and　he　was　ing；　amazingly；　to　have　some　sense　of　the　very　different　power　of　Rian；　but　he　still　didn't　believe　in　miracles。　The　men　and　women　he　knew…and　he　included　himself　in　this…were　simply　not　deserving　of　such　holy　intercession。　He　hewed　and　slashed　with　his　sword；　a　mortal　man　dealing　in　death；　knowing　that　he　was　killing　men　he'd　fought　beside　at　Iersen　Bridge　and　many　times　before。　It　was　only　with　an　effort　of　will　that　he　was　able　to　keep　the　meaning　of　that　from　breaking　through　to　undo　him　entirely。
　　Square　on　in　that　windswept　valley　the　armies　of　two　countries　crashed　into　each　other　in　the　clear　light　of　midwinter　in　Arbonne　and　Blaise　knew　that　the　weight　of　numbers　was　going　to　push　them　back。　Back　to　the　lake；　to　the　edge　of　the　castle　moat；　to　the　ending　of　their　lives。　Courage　and　skill　and　the　rightness　of　a　cause　were　sometimes　not　enough。　They　were　seldom　enough；　he　thought；　tasting　that　truth　like　poison　in　his　mouth：　Corannos　and　Rian　had　shaped　a　world　in　which　this　was　so。　He　was　aware　of　death　hovering　in　the　blue　brightness　of　the　sky；　preparing　to　descend；　to　cloak　the　world　in　darkness。
　　He　had　a　sudden；　searing　image　in　his　mind　of　night　fires　on　Rian's　Isle　when　their　army　was　destroyed。　He　saw　Signe　de　Barbentain；　small；　elegant；　proud；　bound　and　burning　on　one　of　his　father's　pyres；　her　mouth　open　in　a　soundless　scream；　her　white　hair　in　flames。　A　rage　rose　up　in　him　then；　a　fury　of　denial；　and　the　numbness　that　had　fallen　upon　him　like　a　blanket　of