ggk.asongforarbonne-第5部分

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　　He　stopped　there。　He　stopped　because　she　had　reached　up　even　as　he　began　to　speak　and　was　now；　with　careful；　deliberate　motions；　unbinding　her　hair。
　　Bertran　fell　silent；　desire　and　wonder　and　the　sharp　awareness　of　implications　all　written　in　his　face。　It　was　that　last　she　had　to　smooth　away。　He　was　too　clever　a　man；　for　all　his　youth；　he　might　hold　back　even　now；　weighing　consequences。　She　pulled　the　last　long　ivory　pin　free　and　shook　her　head　to　let　the　cascade　of　her　hair　tumble　down　her　back。　The　sheerest　encitement　to　desire。　So　all　the　poets　sang。
　　The　poet　before　her；　of　a　lineage　nearly　as　proud　as　her　own；　said；　with　a　certain　desperation　now；　〃A　child。　Are　you　certain？　How　do　you　know　that　today；　now；　that　we　。。。〃
　　Aelis　de　Miraval；　daughter　of　the　count　of　Arbonne；　smiled　then；　the　ancient　smile　of　the　goddess；　of　women　centred　in　their　own　mysteries。　She　said；　〃En　Bertran；　I　spent　two　years　on　Rian's　Island　in　the　sea。　We　may　have　only　a　little　magic　there；　but　if　it　lies　not　in　such　matters　as　this；　where　should　it　possibly　lie？〃
　　And　then　knowing…without　even　having　to　think　of　what　her　mother　would　have　done…knowing　as　surely　as　she　knew　the　many…faceted　shape　of　her　own　need；　that　it　was　time　for　words　to　cease；　Aelis　brought　her　fingers　up　to　the　silken　ties　at　the　throat　of　her　green　gown　and　tugged　at　them　so　that　the　silk　fell　away　to　her　hips。　She　lowered　her　arms　and　stood　before　him；　waiting；　trying　to　control　her　breathing；　though　that　was　suddenly　difficult。
　　There　was　hunger；　a　kind　of　awe　and　a　fully　kindled　desire　in　his　eyes。　They　devoured　what　she　offered　to　his　sight。　He　still　did　not　move；　though。　Even　now；　with　wine　and　desire　racing　through　her　blood；　she　understood：　just　as　she　was　no　tavern　girl；　he　in　turn　was　no　drunken　coran　in　a　furtive　corner　of　some　baron's　midnight　hall。　He　too　was　proud；　and　intimately　versed　in　power；　and　it　seemed　he　still　had　too　keen　a　sense　of　how　far　the　reverberations　of　this　moment　might　go。
　　〃Why　do　you　hate　him　so　much？〃　Bertran　de　Talair　asked　softly；　his　eyes　never　leaving　her　pale；　smooth　skin；　the　curve　of　her　breasts。　〃Why　do　you　hate　your　husband　so？〃
　　She　knew　the　answer　to　that。　Knew　it　like　a　charm　or　spell　of　Rian's　priestesses　chanted　over　and　over　in　the　starry；　sea…swept　darkness　of　the　island　nights。
　　〃Because　he　doesn't　love　me；〃　Aelis　said。
　　And　held　her　hands　out　then；　a　curiously　fragile　gesture；　as　she　stood；　half…naked　before　him；　her　father's　daughter；　her　husband's　avenue　to　power；　heiress　to　Arbonne；　but　trying　to　shape　her　own　response　today；　now；　in　this　room；　to　the　coldness　of　destiny。
　　He　took　a　step；　the　one　step　necessary；　and　gathered　her　in　his　arms；　and　lifted　her；　and　then　he　carried　her　to　the　bed　that　was　not　the　charcoal…burner's；　and　laid　her　down　where　the　slanting　beam　of　sunlight　fell；　warm　and　bright　and　transitory。
　　
　　PART　I…SPRING
　　CHAPTER　1
　　There　was　very　little　wind；　which　was　a　blessing。　Pale　moonlight　fell　upon　the　gently　swelling　sea　around　the　skiff。　They　had　chosen　a　moonlit　night。　Despite　the　risks；　they　would　need　to　see　where　they　were　going　when　they　came　to　land。　Eight　oars；　rising　and　falling　in　as　much　silence　as　the　rowers　could　mand；　propelled　them　out　across　the　line　of　the　advancing　waves　towards　the　faint　lights　of　the　island；　which　was　nearer　now　and　so　more　dangerous。
　　Blaise　had　wanted　six　men　only；　knowing　from　experience　that　missions　such　as　this　were　best　done　relying　on　stealth　and　speed　rather　than　numbers。　But　the　superstitious　Arbonnais　who　were　Mallin　de　Baude's　household　corans　had　insisted　on　eight　going　out　so　that　there　would　be；　if　all　went　well；　nine　ing　back　when　they　were　done。　Nine；　it　appeared；　was　sacred　to　Rian　here　in　Arbonne；　and　it　was　to　Rian's　Island　they　were　rowing　now。　They'd　even　had　a　lapsed　priest　of　the　goddess　go　through　a　ritual　of　consecration　for　them。　Blaise；　his　men　watching　closely；　had　reluctantly　knelt　and　permitted　the　drunken　old　man　to　lay　gnarled　hands　on　his　head；　muttering　unintelligible　words　that　were　somehow　supposed　to　favour　their　voyage。
　　It　was　ridiculous；　Blaise　thought；　pulling　hard　at　his　oar；　remembering　how　he'd　been　forced　to　give　in　on　those　issues。　In　fact　this　whole　night　journey　smacked　of　the　absurd。　The　problem　was；　it　was　as　easy　to　be　killed　on　a　foolish　quest　in　the　pany　of　fools　as　on　an　adventure　of　merit　beside　men　one　respected　and　trusted。
　　Still；　he　had　been　hired　by　En　Mallin　de　Baude　to　train　the　man's　household　corans；　and　it　had　suited　his　own　purposes　for　his　first　months　in　Arbonne　to　serve　a　lesser　baron　while　he　quietly　sized　up　the　shape　of　things　here　in　this　goddess…worshipping　land　and　perfected　his　grasp　of　the　language。　Nor　could　it　be　denied…as　Mallin　had　been　quick　to　point　out…that　tonight's　endeavour　would　help　to　hone　the　corans　of　Baude　into　a　better　fighting　force。　If　they　survived。
　　Mallin　was　not　without　ambition；　nor　was　he　entirely　without　merits。　It　was　his　wife；　Blaise　thought；　who　had　turned　out　to　be　the　problem。　Soresina；　and　the　utterly　irrational　customs　of　courtly　love　here　in　Arbonne。　Blaise　had　no　particular　affection；　for　good　and　sufficient　reasons；　for　the　current　way　of　things　in　his　own　home　of　Gorhaut；　but　nothing　in　the　north　struck　him　as　quite　so　impractical　as　the　woman…driven　culture　here　of　the　troubadours　and　their　joglars；　wailing　songs　of　love　for　one　lord's　wife　or　another。　It　wasn't　even　the　maidens　they　sang　of；　in　Corannos's　name。　It　seemed　a　woman　had　to　be　wed　to　bee　the　proper　object　of　a　poet's　passion　in　Arbonne。　Maffour；　the　most　talkative　of　the　household　corans；　had　started　to　explain　it　once；　Blaise　hadn't　cared　enough　to　listen。　The　world　was　full　of　things　one　needed　to　know　to　survive；　he　didn't　have　the　time　to　fill　his　brain　with　the　useless　chaff　of　a　patently　silly　culture。
　　The　island　lights　were　nearer　now　across　the　water。　From　the　front　of　the　skiff　Blaise　heard　one　of　the　corans…Luth；　of　course…offer　a　fervent；　nervous　prayer　under　his　breath。　Behind　his　beard　Blaise　scowled　in　contempt。　He　would　have　gladly　left　Luth　back　on　the　mainland。　The　man　would　be　next　to　useless　here；　good　for　nothing　but　guarding　the　skiff　when　they　brought　it　ashore；　if　he　could　manage　to　do　even　that　much　without　wetting　himself　in　fear　at　owl　noises　or　a　falling　star　or　a　sudden　wind　in　the　leaves　at　night。　It　had　been　Luth　who　had　begun　the　talk　earlier；　back　on　shore；　about　sea　monsters　guarding　the　approaches　to　Rian's　Island…great；　hump…backed；　scaly　creatures　with　teeth　the　size　of　a　man。
　　The　real　dangers；　as　Blaise　saw　it；　were　rather　more　prosaic；　though　none　the　less　acute　for　that：　arrows　and　blades；　wielded　by　the　watchful　priests　and　priestesses　of　Rian　against　falsely　consecrated　men　e　in　secret　in　the　night　to　the　goddess's　holy　island　with　a　purpose　of　their　own。
　　Said　purpose　being　in　fact　extremely　specific：　to　persuade　one　Evrard；　a　troubadour；　to　return　to　Castle　Baude　from　his　self…imposed　exile　on　Rian's　Island　in　the　depths　of　righteous　indignation。
　　It　was　all　genuinely　ridiculous；　Blaise　thought　again；　pulling　at　the　oar；　feeling　the　salt　spray　in　his　hair　and　beard。　He　was　glad　that　Rudel　wasn't　here。　He　could　guess　what　his　Portezzan　friend　would　have　had　to　say　about　this　whole　escapade。　In　his　mind　he　could　almost　hear　Rudel's　laughter　and　his　acerbic；　devastating　assessment　of　the　current　circumstances。
　　The　story　itself　was　straightforward　enough…an　entirely　natural　consequence；　Blaise　had　been　quick　to　declare　in　the　hall　at　Baude；　of　the　stupidity　of　the　courtly　rituals　here　in　the　south。　He　was　already　not　much　liked　for　saying　such　things；　he　knew。　That　didn't　bother　him；　he　hadn't　been　much　liked　in　Gorhaut；　either；　the　last　while　before　he'd　left　home。
　　Still；　what　was　an　honest　man　to　make　of　what　had　happened　in　Castle　Baude　last　month？　Evrard　of　Lussan；　who　was　said　to　be　a　modestly　petent　troubadour…Blaise　was　certainly　not　in　a　position　to　judge　one　man's　scribblings　against　another's…had　elected　to　take　up　residence　at　Baude　in　the　high　country　of　the　south…western　hills　for　a　season。　This　had　rebounded；　in　the　way　of　things　down