ggk.asongforarbonne-第16部分

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drawn　upwards　by　a　glow　of　light　that　turned　out　to　be　the　radiance　of　Soresina　de　Baude。　He　used　another　name　for　her；　of　course；　but　the　same　one　as　it　had　been　all　along。　Everyone　knew　who　the　woman　was。　Everyone　was　happy。
　　The　troubadour　left　Baude　at　the　end　of　a　week　with　a　jingling　purse；　an　assuaged　self…esteem　and　a　more　than　slightly　enhanced　reputation。　No　one　in　Arbonne　would　know　exactly　what　had　transpired　in　this　remote　castle　in　the　highlands；　but　it　was　evident　that　Evrard　of　Lussan　had　somehow　been　wooed　back　by　the　baron　and　his　wife；　and　had　been　handsomely　rewarded　for　his　indulgence　of　their　earlier　errors。　Among　other　things；　the　power　of　the　troubadours；　both　in　their　person　and　through　their　satires　and　eniums；　had　been　subtly　augmented　by　the　enigmatic　sequence　of　events。　That　part　Blaise　didn't　much　like；　but　there　wasn't　anything　he　could　do　about　it；　and　this　wasn't　his　home　in　any　case。　It　shouldn't　matter；　he　told　himself；　what　follies　Arbonne　strayed　into；　or　continued　with。
　　The　corans　of　Baude　had　been　making　wagers　amongst　each　other　all　week…wagers　never　likely　to　be　settled　one　way　or　another…as　to　just　how　far　Soresina's　contrition　had　gone；　or　rather；　how　far　it　had　allowed　the　poet　to　go。　Blaise；　scrutinizing　the　woman　and　the　man　narrowly　on　the　morning　of　Evrard's　departure；　had　been　quite　certain　that　nothing　untoward　had　happened；　but　this　was　not　the　sort　of　thing　he　wagered　upon　or　talked　about；　and　he　kept　his　peace。　He　did　accept　an　additional　purse　from　Mallin　over　and　above　his　wages　that　month；　the　baron　was　so　caught　up　in　his　new　style　of　noble　largess　that　Blaise　actually　spent　part　of　a　morning　doing　calculations　and　then　musing　on　how　long　Mallin　was　going　to　be　able　to　sustain　this　sort　of　thing。　Rank　and　position　in　the　hierarchy　of　nobility　didn't　e　cheaply；　in　Arbonne　or　anywhere　else。　Blaise　had　wondered　if　the　baron　really　understood　all　the　implications　that　were　likely　to　arise　from　his　pursuit　of　status　in　the　world。
　　And　then；　about　ten　days　after　Evrard's　departure；　one　of　the　more　immediate　implications　had　arrived；　preceded　by　an　envoy　with　a　message　that　had　thrown　Baude　Castle　into　a　chaos　of　preparation。
　　At　the　top　of　the　dark　stairway　Blaise　shifted　his　seat　on　the　stone　bench。　It　would　be　nice；　he　thought　briefly；　to　have　a　beaker　of　wine　up　here；　not　that　he'd　ever　really　have　allowed　himself　such　an　indulgence。　He　knew　at　least　two　men　who　had　died；　drunken　and　asleep；　when　they　should　have　been　on　watch。　He　had；　as　it　happened；　killed　one　of　the　two　himself。
　　It　was　silent　in　the　castle；　he　felt　very　much　alone；　and　a　long　way　from　home。　An　unusual　feeling；　that　one：　home　hadn't　meant　much　to　him　for　a　long　time。　People　still　did；　though；　sometimes；　and　there　was　no　one　here　who　was　really　a　friend　yet；　or　likely　to　bee　one　in　the　time　he　was　allowing　himself　at　Castle　Baude。　He　wondered　where　Rudel　was　tonight；　what　country；　what　part　of　the　world。　Thinking　of　his　friend　led　him　back　to　the　cities　of　Portezza；　and　so；　inevitably　perhaps　in　the　silence　of　night　outside　a　woman's　rooms；　to　memories　of　Lucianna。　Blaise　shook　his　head。　Women；　he　thought。　Was　there　ever　one　born　to　be　trusted　since　the　world　was　made　？
　　And　that　thought；　not　a　new　one　for　him　this　year；　would　take　his　memories　straight　home　if　he　let　them；　to　his　brother　and　his　brother's　wife；　and　the　last　time…as　the　High　Priestess　of　Rian　had　somehow　known…he　had　lain　with　a　woman　in　love。　Or；　not　love。　The　priestess　had　known　that　too；　uncannily。　He　had　felt　shockingly　open　and　exposed　before　her　blindness　in　the　forest　that　night；　and　not　overly　proud；　after；　of　what　she　had　seen　in　him。　He　wondered　if　her　vision　was　deep　enough；　in　whatever　way　she　saw　such　things；　to　reach　back　to　roots　and　sources　and　an　understanding　of　why　men…and　women…did　the　things　they　did。
　　Blaise　wondered　if　he　himself　really　understood　the　events　of　that　short；　hopeless　attempt　to　return　home　four　months　ago。　It　had　been　pure　impulse　that　had　led　him　back；　or　so　he'd　thought　at　the　time；　bidding　farewell　to　Rudel　at　the　Gotzland　Pass　to　go　back　to　Gorhaut　and　his　family　home　for　the　first　time　in　almost　a　year。　What　was　a　country；　what　was　a　home？　He　looked　out　through　the　narrow　archer's　window。　The　blue　moon　was　high；　almost　full。　Escoran　they　named　it　in　Gorhaut…〃daughter　of　the　god〃…but　they　called　the　blue　moon　Riannon　here；　for　their　goddess。　There　was　a　power　to　naming　so；　a　choosing　of　alignments。　But　the　moon　was　the　same；　wasn't　it；　whatever　mortal　man　chose　to　call　it；　lending　her　strange；　elusive　light　to　the　landscape　east　of　the　castle？
　　Pale　Vidonne…which　bore　the　same　name　everywhere…wouldn't　rise　for　some　time　yet。　If　someone　were　actually　making　a　foray　from　outside；　climbing　up　to　the　window；　it　would　be　fairly　soon；　in　the　denser　shadows　while　the　blue　moon　rode　alone。　It　was　a　mild　night；　which　pleased　Blaise　for　Hirnan's　sake　outside。　It　was　unlikely　in　the　extreme　that　any　sane　man　would　actually　attempt　to　scale　the　outer　wall　of　the　castle　in　pursuit　of　a　seduction；　but　as　long　as　they　were　assigned　to　guard　duty　they　might　as　well　do　it　properly。　Blaise　had　had　that　attitude　to　things　as　a　boy；　and　nothing　in　his　adult　years　had　made　him　find　cause　to　change。
　　He　couldn't　see　Hirnan　down　below；　of　course；　but　the　moonlight　showed　the　hills　in　the　distance；　and　the　fields　where　the　lavender　would　soon　flower；　and　the　winding　road　that　climbed　from　them　up　to　the　castle。　Lavender　would　make　him　think　of　Lucianna　again　if　he　wasn't　careful。　Resolutely；　Blaise　turned　his　mind　to　the　task　at　hand；　to　where　he　now　was；　to　this　matter　of　Bertran　de　Talair；　with　all　its　implications。
　　On　a　bright；　windy　morning　seven　days　ago；　with　spring　fully　arrived　and　the　first　wildflowers　gleaming　in　the　sun　like　a　many…coloured　carpet　laid　down　for　royalty；　three　horses　had　been　seen　making　their　way　up　the　slow；　circuitous　path　to　the　castle　gates。　A　trumpet　blew　erratically　from　the　ramparts；　the　portcullis　was　raised　with　a　dangerous　celerity；　almost　maiming　one　of　the　men　handling　the　winches；　and　Blaise　had　assembled　with　the　corans　and　most　of　the　household　in　the　forecourt。　Mallin　and　Soresina；　splendidly　jewelled　and　attired　（a　great　deal　more　expense　there；　Blaise　happened　to　know　exactly　what　fur…trimmed　Portezzan　samite　with　gold　thread　in　the　weft　would　have　cost）；　rode　out　to　honour　the　arriving　trio。
　　Blaise　saw　a　brown　horse；　a　grey；　a　rather　magnificent　black。　An　elderly　joglar　with　the　by　now　familiar　harp　and　lute　was　riding　the　brown；　a　broad…shouldered　coran　of　middle　years　sat　the　grey　with　the　ease　of　many　seasons　in　the　saddle。　Between　the　two　of　them；　bareheaded　in　the　sunshine　and　the　wind；　clad　in　nondescript　brown　fustian　without　adornment　of　any　kind；　rode　Duke　Bertran　de　Talair；　e　to　pay…inexplicably…a　visit　to　the　appropriately　overwhelmed　young　baron　and　baroness　of　Castle　Baude。
　　As　the　small　party　rode　into　the　castle　forecourt；　Blaise；　staring　with　frank　curiosity；　saw　that　de　Talair　was　a　man　of　slightly　more　than　middle　height　with　a　lean；　ironical　face；　clean…shaven　in　the　Arbonnais　fashion。　He　was　almost　forty…five　years　old；　Blaise　knew　from　the　corans'　reports；　but　he　didn't　look　it。　His　eyes　were　indeed　as　blue　as　the　gossip　had　them；　even　at　a　distance　the　colour　was　disconcerting。　There　was　a　scar　on　his　right　cheek；　and　he　wore　his　hair　cropped　unfashionably　short；　revealing　that　the　top　part　of　his　right　ear　was　missing。
　　Most　of　the　world；　it　seemed；　knew　the　story　of　how　he　had　e　by　those　injuries；　and　what　he　had　done　in　turn　to　the　hired　assassin　from　Portezza　who　had　inflicted　them。　As　it　happened；　Blaise　knew　the　son　of　that　man。　They　had　served　a　season　in　Gotzland　together　two　years　back。
　　As　events　unfolded　over　the　next　hours　and　days；　it　swiftly　became　apparent　to　Blaise　that　the　duke's　reasons　for　being　there　were　at　least　threefold。　One；　obviously；　was　Mallin；　and　a　wide…ranging；　many…faceted　attempt　to　enlist　the　emerging；　ambitious　young　baron　to　Bertran's　allegiance　in　the　long　power　straggle　with　Urté　de　Miraval　for　preeminence　in　the　western　part　of　Arbonne；　if　not　the　country　as　a　who