ggk.asongforarbonne-第63部分

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ting　out　a　loud　cry　his　exhausted　mother　heard　as　triumphant　when　the　priestess　of　Rian；　summoned　hastily　to　the　castle；　drew　him　from　her　womb　and　clipped　the　birthing　cord。
　　They　washed　him　ceremoniously　in　milk　warmed　by　the　fire；　as　befitted　a　child　of　rank；　and　the　older　of　the　two　priestesses　swaddled　him　expertly　in　blue　samite　before　handing　him　to　the　countess　of　Arbonne；　who　had　remained　in　the　room　for　the　last　long　hours　of　Rosala's　travail。　Signe　de　Barbentain；　white…haired；　with　the　delicate　blue　veins　showing　in　her　pale；　flawless　skin；　cradled　the　child　and　looked　down　upon　it　with　an　expression　Rosala　could　not　entirely　prehend　but　which　she　found　deeply　reassuring　nonetheless。　After　a　moment　Signe　walked　over　to　the　bed　and　laid　the　infant　gently　in　his　mother's　arms。
　　Rosala　had　not　expected　the　gentleness。　She　had　not　known　what　to　expect。　She　had　only　realized；　when　Galbert　de　Garsenc　had　ridden　away　from　her　a　week　ago；　that　she　was　going　to　go　south；　however　she　possibly　could。　Beyond　that　she　had　not　clearly　thought。
　　The　ing　of　the　Lussan　Fair　had　given　her　the　chance。　Garsenc　lay　near　to　the　principal　road　that　ran　up　into　the　mountain　pass；　and　each　day　Rosala　had　seen　small　troupes　of　corans　and　tradesmen　passing　by　their　lands；　often　stopping　to　worship　at　the　chapel；　or　do　a　bit　of　business　in　the　castle　or　the　village　below。
　　Two　days　after　her　father…in…law's　visit；　Rosala　wrote　a　note　to　her　husband；　saying　that　she　was　journeying　north　to　her　own　family　estate　to　await　the　birth　of　the　child。　She'd　had　a　dream；　she　lied；　a　terrible　nightmare　of　premonition。　Too　many　infants　and　women　had　died　in　labour　at　Garsenc　Castle；　she　wrote　Ranald。　It　had　frightened　her　for　their　child。　She　felt　safer　going　home　to　Savaric。　She　hoped　he　would　understand。　She　hoped　he　would　e　to　her　there　when　affairs　at　court　allowed。　She　signed　it　with　her　name。　She　left　the　castle；　unseen；　by　the　postern　gate　that　same　night。　Her　favourite　horse　was　kept　in　the　coran's　stables　outside　the　walls　so　it　could　be　readily　exercised　while　she　was　unable　to　ride。　There　was　no　guard　at　the　stables…no　one　would　be　rash　enough　to　tempt　the　wrath　of　the　Garsenc　by　approaching　their　horses。　She　had　mounted　awkwardly　and　ridden　away；　side…saddle；　by　the　twin　lights　of　the　moons；　the　landscape　both　beautiful　and　frightening　at　night；　the　child　large　and　heavy　in　her　belly。　She　had　only　the　faintest　hope；　dim　as　the　stars　beside　bright　Vidonne；　of　reaching　her　destination。
　　That　one　night　was　all　she　was　capable　of　riding。　Reluctantly；　in　real　distress；　she　left　the　horse　near　a　small　hamlet　before　dawn　and　made　her　way　on　foot　back　to　the　road。　At　sunrise；　walking　slowly；　hungry　and　extremely　tired；　she　came　upon　the　encampment　of　some　travelling　entertainers。　Two　women　were　bathing　in　a　stream　when　she　came　up　to　them。　They　exclaimed　at　her　condition。　She　used　the　first　name　that　came　into　her　head　and　told　them　she　was　travelling　to　Arbonne　in　search　of　aid　in　childbirth。　Two　infants　had　already　died　at　birth；　she　lied；　making　the　warding　sign　behind　her　hip。　She　was　willing　to　do　anything　to　save　this　one；　she　said。　That　last　was　true。　It　was　entirely　true。
　　The　women　made　their　own　warding　signs　at　the　hint　that　she　was　seeking　magic　but　generously　weled　her　into　their　pany　for　the　journey　south。　Rosala　rode　through　the　mountains　in　a　jouncing；　lurching　wagon　with　two　thievish　grey　monkeys；　a　talking　bird　from　the　northern　swamplands；　an　adder　in　a　basket　and　a　garrulous　animal…trainer；　whose　teeth　were　bizarrely　blue。　Poison；　he　explained；　from　the　snake　before　it　was　defanged。　He　fed　it　mice　and　small　lizards　that　he　caught。　Every　time　the　wagon　hit　a　rut　in　the　road；　and　there　were　a　great　many　as　they　went　through　the　pass；　Rosala　looked　anxiously　to　the　basket；　to　make　sure　the　clasp　still　held。　The　bear　and　the　mountain　cat；　thankfully；　rode　in　their　own　wagon　just　behind　them。　She　talked　as　little　as　she　could；　to　avoid　having　to　sustain　an　accent　that　would　not　give　her　away。　It　was　relatively　easy　with　Othon　in　the　wagon：　he　was　one　of　those　men　who　would　have　pined　away　had　he　lost　the　use　of　his　voice。　He　was　kind　to　her；　though；　bringing　soups　and　bread　back　from　the　munal　fire　at　the　dinner　hour。　She　grew　accustomed　to　the　drone　of　his　voice　and　the　endlessly　reiterated　stories　of　past　travels　during　the　three　slow　days　it　took　them　to　cross　from　Gorhaut　over　the　summit　of　the　pass　and　e　down　into　Arbonne。　It　began　to　seem　to　her　that　she　had　always　been　with　these　people；　riding　in　this　wagon；　that　Garsenc　Castle　was　the　dream；　something　from　another　woman's　life。
　　On　the　fourth　morning；　Rosala　lifted　the　flap　of　the　wagon　and　stepped　outside　just　as　the　sun　was　rising　over　the　hills　east　of　them。　She　looked　south　over　a　landscape　entirely　strange　to　her　and　saw　the　river；　bright　blue　in　the　morning　light；　flowing　swiftly　beside　the　road。　In　the　distance；　glittering；　scarcely　visible　save　for　that　shimmer　in　the　sun；　she　saw　towers。
　　〃That'll　be　Barbentain；〃　said　Othon　sagely　from　behind　her。　She　looked　over　her　shoulder　and　managed　a　weak　smile。　He　scratched　himself　in　several　indelicate　places；　stretched　and　grunted。　〃Yon's　the　finest　castle　I've　ever　been　to　in　all　my　days。　We'll　be　there　tonight；　I　reckon。　There　was　a　count　there；　not　long　ago…mayhap　you　heard　of　him…Guibor　Third；　or　Fourth　he　may　have　been。　Huge　man；　tall　as　a　tree；　fierce　in　war　。。。　and　in　love；　as　they　all　are　down　here。〃　He　chuckled　lewdly；　showing　the　blue　teeth。　〃Any…hap；　he　was　the　finest　figure　of　a　man　I　ever　saw　in　my　days。　His　widow　rules　now。　Don't　know　much　about　her。　They　say　she　used　to　be　pretty　but　now　she's　old。〃　Othon　yawned　and　then　spat　into　the　grass。　〃We　all　get　old；〃　he　pronounced　and　strolled　away；　scratching；　to　attend　to　his　morning　functions　in　the　bush。　One　of　the　monkeys　followed　him。
　　Rosala　placed　a　hand　over　her　belly　and　looked　along　the　bright；　sinuous　line　of　the　river　away　to　the　south。　There　were　cypresses　on　the　ridges　above　them；　and　a　species　of　pine　she'd　not　encountered　before。　On　the　terraced　slopes　west　of　the　road　were　the　fabled　olive　trees　of　Arbonne。
　　She　gazed　at　them　for　a　moment；　then　turned　back　to　look　again　at　the　far；　shimmering　turrets　of　the　castle；　where　Guibor　TV's　widow　ruled　now。　Marry　the　bitch；　her　husband　had　advised　Ademar　of　Gorhaut　not　so　long　ago。　Rosala's　father　had　said　once　that　the　countess　of　Arbonne　was　the　fairest　woman　in　the　world　in　her　day。　One　thing；　at　least；　in　which　he　appeared　to　agree　with　Othon　the　animal…trainer。
　　Rosala　didn't　need　her　to　be　beautiful。　Only　kind；　and　with　a　certain　kind　of　courage　that　she　knew　her　presence　would　put　greatly　to　the　test。　She　was　too　versed　in　the　nature　of　things　not　to　know　what　her　arrival　in　Barbentain　would　mean；　carrying　a　possible　heir　to　Garsenc…or　a　successor　to　the　High　Elder　of　the　god　in　Gorhaut。　She　honestly　didn't　see　what　choice　she'd　had；　though；　unless　it　was　to　surrender　the　child；　and　that　was　no　choice　at　all。
　　Later　in　the　day；　with　the　sun　high　in　a　bright；　clear　autumn　sky；　she　began　feeling　the　first　pains。　She　hid　them　as　best　she　could；　but　eventually　even　Othon　noticed　and　his　endless　flow　of　words　slowly　dried　up。　He　sent　for　the　women　and　they　forted　her　as　best　they　could；　but　they　had　a　long　way　to　go　yet　to　Lussan。　It　was；　in　fact；　well　past　nightfall　by　the　time　they　set　her　down　at　the　temple　of　Rian。
　　It　was　a　healthy；　well…made　baby　boy；　Signe　thought；　surprised　at　the　pleasure　she　felt　holding　him。　Under　all　the　circumstances；　she　should　have　been　feeling　nothing　but　the　deepest　concern　for　her　own　people。　This　child　and　his　mother　represented　danger　in　its　purest　form；　they　could　easily　be　Gorhaut's　excuse　for　war。　In　the　room　outside；　Roban　was　pacing　like　a　father　desperate　for　an　heir；　but　Signe　knew　the　source　of　his　disquiet　was　entirely　otherwise。　He　was　almost　certainly　hoping　Rosala　de　Garsenc's　child　would　be　a　girl。　For　a　girl；　the　corans　of　Gorhaut　were　far　less　likely　to　be　unleashed　upon　them。
　　No　such　luck；　it　seemed。　Rian　and　Corannos　both　appeared　to　have　a　hand　in　the　events　unfolding　here；　and　when　the　god　and　the　goddess