ggk.asongforarbonne-第123部分

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　in　front　of　Blaise。
　　They　were　guarding　him；　he　understood；　at　risk　of　their　own　lives。
　　In　that　instant；　utterly　calm　in　the　midst　of　wild　battle；　with　a　dead　man　trampled　into　the　ground　at　his　feet；　Blaise　de　Garsenc　came　into　his　true　awareness　of　power。　On　a　field　of　death；　fighting　his　countrymen　on　the　day　his　father　had　killed　his　brother；　Blaise　realized　that　he　really　did　know　what　he　wanted　for　Gorhaut；　and　that　he　thought　he　could　achieve　it　if　given　but　half　a　chance。
　　He　did　not　expect；　pushing　forward　between　Rudel　and　Hirnan；　feeling　his　horse's　hooves　unavoidably　trample　the　body　below；　to　live　long　enough　to　do　anything　about　it。
　　Later　he　would　remember　how　that　last　bleak　thought　had　e　to　him　even　before　he　heard　Rudel；　his　panion　on　so　many　battlefields；　speak　a　malediction　of　bitter　ferocity；　and　Blaise；　looking　over　to　the　west；　saw　what　his　friend　had　seen　and　felt　something　colder　than　winter　enter　his　heart　with　the　awareness　of　treachery　and　of　the　final；　inexorable　revenge　of　the　past。
　　On　the　forested　ridge　of　land　west　of　the　valleys　a　pany　of　men　could　be　seen　at　the　edge　of　the　trees。　A　very　large　pany；　arrayed　in　precise　rows；　well　armed　and　armoured。　Above　their　heads　were　flying　not　one　but　two　banners。　One　was　a　green　device　Blaise　had　e　to　know　well　in　Arbonne。　The　other　was　that　of　the　kings　of　Gorhaut。
　　Urté　de　Miraval　had　e　to　war；　and　their　worst　nightmares　were　made　real　as　those　grim；　meticulous　ranks　began　to　move　down　the　slope。　Fulk　de　Savaric；　Blaise　saw；　had　somehow　managed　to　fight　his　way　around　by　the　shore　of　the　lake。　He　and　his　men　had　turned　north　and　were　even　now　poised　to　turn　and　strike　at　Ademar's　centre　from　behind。
　　It　didn't　matter　any　more。　They　were　going　to　be　annihilated；　their　backs　pletely　exposed　to　the　men　of　Miraval；　who　were　gathering　speed　now　as　they　swept　into　the　valley。　If　Fulk　turned　to　face　Urté　they　would　be　equally　helpless　before　Ademar's　corans。　Blaise　had　sent　those　men　to　the　worst　sort　of　death。
　　With　their　own　soon　to　follow。　Blaise　looked　a　long　way　over　then…there　seemed　to　be　a　respite　here　on　their　flank　as　men　in　both　armies　turned　to　see　what　was　happening…and　he　picked　out　the　fiercely　battling　figure　of　Bertran　de　Talair。　Once　he　had　thought　the　man　no　more　than　a　lord　who　debased　his　rank　by　consorting　with　singers　and　frivolously　pursuing　any　woman　who　came　under　his　blue　gaze。　These　things　were　true；　there　was　no　gainsaying　them；　but　there　was　nothing　in　the　man　he　saw　just　then　that　could　have　been　called　less　than　lordly　as　Bertran　fought　for　his　land　in　the　face　of　betrayal　and　what　would　have　to　be　the　knowledge；　bitter　as　poison；　that　Urté　de　Miraval　was　the　source　of　their　undoing。
　　With　a　horrified　fascination…the　way　one　watches　a　coiled　snake　before　it　strikes…Blaise　saw　the　corans　of　Miraval；　fifteen　hundred　of　them；　sweep　down　from　their　ridge　behind　the　majestic　figure　of　the　duke。　He　saw　them　e　up　beside　the　first　of　Fulk's　wheeling；　scrambling　men；　swords　and　spears　and　axes　uplifted　and　levelled　and　poised。
　　And　he　saw　them　go　straight　past　those　desperate　men；　no　horse　or　man　of　Urté's　pany　so　much　as　breaking　stride；　to　crash；　with　a　sound　and　an　impact　that　seemed　to　shake　the　earth；　full　into　the　rear　of　the　army　of　Gorhaut。
　　In　the　instant　before　that　impact；　just　as　he　realized；　with　a　wild　surging　in　his　heart；　exactly　what　was　happening；　Blaise　heard　his　father's　voice　rise　up　again…to　tower　like　a　presence　over　the　valley；　crying　the　name　of　the　god　in　his　need。　There　was　no　answer　though；　no　reply　from　Corannos　in　the　cold　blue　sky。　Only　the　huge　thunder　of　hooves　on　hard　earth　and　the　screams　of　terrified　men　as　the　racing　corans　of　Miraval　smashed　into　the　rear　of　Ademar's　men；　with　the　warriors　of　Savaric　turning　swiftly　to　join　them　and　Bertran's　men　ing　forward　from　the　other　side；　roaring　in　exultation；　to　pincer　them　mercilessly。
　　〃He　fooled　them！〃　Rudel　screamed　in　Blaise's　ear。　〃He　fooled　them　pletely！〃　It　was　true；　Blaise　saw：　the　disruption　in　the　Gorhaut　ranks　caused　by　the　first　Garsenc　defections　earlier　had　turned　into　utter　chaos。　Corans　of　Garsenc　Castle；　men　he　had　known　all　his　life；　were　joining　with　Fulk　de　Savaric　now；　closing　in　upon　Ademar's　own　guards　even　as　he　watched。
　　〃e　on！〃　Blaise　cried。　In　front　of　them　the　men　on　their　flank　were　falling　back　in　panic；　fearing　to　be　cut　off。　Blaise　drove　his　horse　recklessly　forward　into　the　gap　between　the　armies。　It　seemed　to　him　as　if　something　oppressive　had　been　lifted　from　his　shoulders；　a　weight　from　the　darkness　of　the　past。　He　felt　light；　invulnerable；　and　he　wanted　Ademar。　He　didn't　even　look　back　to　see　if　anyone　was　following　him。　He　knew　now　that　they　would　be；　he　was　their　leader；　and　a　chance；　a　hope；　a　promise　like　a　lantern's　glow　seen　from　afar　in　a　night　forest；　had　appeared　for　them　where　none　could　ever　have　been　foreseen。
　　He　was　driving　in　to　the　centre；　straight　towards　Ademar；　and　so　was　actually　quite　close　when　he　saw　Duke　Urté　de　Miraval　meet　the　king　of　Gorhaut　in　the　midst　of　the　roiling　tumult。
　　
　　Ademar　feels　as　if　he　might　actually　choke　in　the　heat　of　his　fury。　It　is　hard　to　breathe。　Even　with　the　chill　of　the　winter　afternoon　he　is　sweltering　in　his　armour　and　helm。　He　knows　it　is　rage　that　is　doing　this　to　him。　He　is　almost　dizzied　by　wrath。　First　the　Garsenc　betrayals：　it　has　always　been　the　de　Garsenc　who　have　balked　him；　he　thinks；　slashing　savagely　at　a　Miraval　foot…soldier；　almost　severing　the　man's　head　with　the　blow。　Swearing；　he　drags　his　sword　free。　He　cannot　believe；　he　cannot　believe；　that　with　victory　so　easy；　so　assured；　those　Garsenc　corans　have　been　mad　enough　to　turn　upon　their　own　ranks。　Surely　any　sane　man　with　a　sense　of　self…preservation　would　have　known　better　than　to　rally　to　that　doomed　pretender's　pennon！
　　That　was　before　he　realized　that　Fulk　de　Savaric…another　traitor；　another　man　who　ought　to　have　been　by　his　side！…had　somehow　managed　to　bring　his　pany　around　behind　him。　There　had　been　some　real　danger　there；　and　Ademar　was　snapping　urgent　mands　when　one　of　his　captains　pointed　triumphantly　upwards　to　the　west；　and　the　king　of　Gorhaut；　looking　there；　had　felt　his　choler　recede；　eased　and　cooled　by　something　near　to　joy。　He　had　never　been　afraid；　he　was　not　a　man　inclined　to　fears；　but　with　the　sight　of　the　Miraval　corans　on　that　ridge　beneath　the　banner　of　Gorhaut；　Ademar　laughed　aloud；　tasting　the　sweetness　to　e。
　　He　had　a　few　moments　to　think　that　way；　to　watch　the　well…trained　men　of　Duke　Urté　start　smoothly　down　the　slope；　gaining　speed；　bringing　the　end　of　this　war　with　them　and　the　final　exaltation　of　Gorhaut。
　　Then　it　all　went　wrong；　wildly；　desperately　wrong。
　　There　was　one　moment；　when　Urté　de　Miraval　whipped　his　warhorse　straight　past　the　corans　of　Savaric；　when　Ademar　did　know　fear…just　for　an　instant。　Then　he　felt　the　impact　of　those　thundering　Miraval　horsemen　as　they　smashed　into　the　rear　of　his　ranks；　driving　men　back　before　them　like　so　many　helpless　children。
　　Now；　buffeted　in　the　midst　of　a　nightmare　chaos；　rage　is　foaming　like　a　river　in　flood　through　the　king　of　Gorhaut。　Ademar　hears　his　High　Elder　trumpet　his　call　to　the　god　and　he　curses　in　his　heart　the　very　name　of　Galbert　de　Garsenc　who　has　brought　him　to　this；　who　persuaded　him　that　the　duke　of　Miraval；　whose　overtures　to　them　in　the　past　few　days　were　direct　and　explicit；　was　a　necessary　man　to　enlist　in　their　cause；　to　act　as　first　regent　of　Arbonne　after　their　conquest。
　　It　was　a　trap。　It　is　clear　now　that　everything　Urté　did　was　a　trap；　and　they　are　in　the　jaws　of　it；　between　the　corans　of　Talair　and　Miraval；　with　Fulk　de　Savaric　and　the　renegades　of　Garsenc　ing　hard　against　them。　Ademar　lashes　his　horse　westward；　screaming　in　fury；　and　as　men　fall　back　before　him　he　es　swiftly　up　to　the　man　he　needs　to　kill　now；　right　now；　immediately；　before　this　battle　turns　hopelessly　against　them。　He　is　aware；　vaguely；　that　his　own　corans　have　also　fallen　back；　that　a　ring　of　men　has　formed　around　the　two　of　them；　as　if　even　in　the　midst　of　war　there　is　a　sense　that　this　bat　must　take　place。　And　so　Ademar　of　Gorhaut　begins