ggk.asongforarbonne-第65部分

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lair　entered　that　room　with　the　morning　brightness；　wearing　his　habitual　amusement　like　a　cloak；　sardonic　laughter　barely　hidden　in　his　eyes。　He　looked　at　the　countess　first；　and　then　to　where　the　woman　lay；　and　lastly　he　looked　down；　without　speaking　upon　the　cradle　at　the　foot　of　the　bed　and　saw　the　sleeping　child。
　　After　a　long　time　during　which　his　expression　could　slowly　be　seen　to　change；　he　looked　back　at　the　mother　lying　in　the　bed。　The　priestess　of　Rian　had　washed　her　and　dressed　her　in　a　blue　silk　robe；　and　had　helped　her　with　her　hair。　It　lay；　long　and　golden　in　the　mild　sunlight；　bed　out　upon　the　pillow　and　over　the　coverlet。　Her　eyes　were　as　blue　as　his　own。
　　〃My　congratulations；〃　he　said　formally。　〃You　have　a　handsome　son。　I　wish　him　good　fortune　all　his　life。〃
　　She　was　registering　everything　she　could：　the　light；　clear　voice；　the　scar；　the　mutilated　ear；　the　way　his　expressive　face　had　altered　when　he　allowed　the　irony　to　recede。
　　〃Galbert　de　Garsenc；　High　Elder　of　Corannos　in　Gorhaut；　would　take　this　child　from　me；〃　she　said；　without　preamble　or　pleasantry。　Her　voice　was　carefully　measured；　she　had　prepared　these　words　while　they　waited　for　him　to　e。　It　was　bald；　graceless；　but　she　was　too　weary　to　do　this　eloquently；　she　could　barely　manage　to　say　what　needed　to　be　said。
　　〃So　I　have　been　informed；〃　he　replied　gravely。　〃I　am　afraid；　under　those　circumstances；　that　accepting　Guardianship　for　my　child　will　be　more　than　ceremonial。〃　
　　〃Under　the　circumstances；　I　believe　that　to　be　so。〃　
　　〃Will　you　take　this　upon　yourself？〃　she　asked。　
　　〃Yes；〃　he　replied　calmly。　And　then；　after　a　pause；　〃I　will　die　myself　before　you　lose　this　child　to　him。〃
　　Her　colour　rose　sharply；　he　saw；　and　her　breathing　quickened；　as　if　released　from　a　rigid　effort　of　control。　〃Thank　you；〃　she　whispered。　There　were　tears　now…for　the　first　time　all　night；　though　he　could　not　know　that。　She　turned　her　head　and　looked　at　the　countess。　〃Thank　you　both。　This　makes　him　as　safe　as　the　world　will　let　him　be。　I　think　I　can　rest　now。〃
　　They　saw　her　close　her　eyes。　She　was　asleep　almost　as　soon　as　she　finished　speaking。　Standing　on　either　side　of　the　bed　Bertran　and　the　countess　exchanged　a　long　glance。　Neither　spoke　for　several　moments。
　　Finally　the　duke　grinned；　Signe　had　been　more　or　less　expecting　that；　it　was　almost　a　relief　when　it　came；　a　breaking　of　the　heavy　spell　of　this　night。
　　〃You　did　this；〃　he　said；　〃not　I。　Never　reproach　me。〃　
　　〃I　did　not　think　you　would　refuse　a　child；〃　she　said　quietly。　〃There　will　be　no　reproach。　We　must　be　what　we　are；　or　we　bee　our　enemies。〃　It　was　morning；　she　hadn't　slept　all　night。　She　didn't　feel　tired　though；　not　any　more。　She　walked　to　the　eastern　window　and　looked　out　over　the　island　and　the　river　and　the　red　and　golden　autumn　colours　of　her　land。
　　In　the　doorway；　Roban　the　chancellor　heard　those　words　exchanged　and　watched　his　countess　move　to　stand　at　the　window。　She　looked　terribly　small　and　fragile　there；　beautiful　as　ivory。　He　remained　silent；　smoothing　down　the　front　of　his　shirt　again；　unnecessarily。　He　was　contemplating　not　only　the　nobility　of　the　sentiments　just　expressed　but　the　rapidly　growing　likelihood　that　they　would　all　be　conquered　and　dead　by　the　summer　of　the　year　to　e。
　　
　　The　taverns　of　Lussan　were　thronged　at　the　time　of　the　fair；　and　there　were　a　great　many　of　them。　It　was；　therefore；　only　sheerest　bad　luck　that　led　Othon　the　animal…trainer　into　The　Arch　late　that　night　after　he'd　already　visited　three　other　inns　and　had　menced　his　enjoyment　of　the　Lussan　Fair　in　typically　liquid　fashion。　Rendered　even　more　garrulous　than　usual；　Othon　was　holding　forth　at　a　table　of　sundry　reunited　performers；　describing　the　unusual　travelling　panion　he'd　had　in　his　wagon。　For　a　man　known　to　travel　with　a　snake　and　monkeys　to　characterize　any　panion　as　unusual　was　sufficiently　droll　to　earn　him　more　attention　than　customary。
　　〃Yellow…haired　and　blue…eyed；　she　was；〃　Othon　declared；　〃and　very　likely　a　beauty；　though　it　was　hard　to　see　given　her　。。。　condition；　if　you　take　my　meaning。〃　He　paused。　Someone　obligingly　refilled　his　glass。　〃Not　many　women　look　their　best　when　about　to　drop　a　babe；　in　my　experience。　〃
　　Someone　made　a　lewd　remark　linking　Othon's　experience　to　his　monkeys。　Amid　the　laughter　the　animal…trainer　drank　again　and　then　went　on；　with　the　placid　tenacity　of　a　storyteller　used　to　holding　the　floor　against　difficult　odds。　He　did　not　notice　the　three　men　at　the　next　table　who　had　stopped　their　own　conversation　to　listen　to　what　he　was　saying。
　　〃She　tried　to　pretend　she　was　a　farmer's　wife　or　some　such；　a　smith；　a　carter；　but　it　was　easy　enough　to　see　she　was　no　such　thing　at　all。　I've　been　in　enough　castles　in　my　time　to　recognize　nobility；　if　you　know　what　I　mean。〃　The　wit　at　his　table　attempted　another　jest；　but　Othon's　voice　rode　over　him　this　time。　〃We　left　her　at　the　goddess's　temple　here；　and　it　is　my　personal　wager　that　some　lord　of　Gorhaut'll　have　a　babe　by　now　through　the　aid　of　the　priestesses　of　Rian…and　isn't　that　a　jest？〃
　　It　might　have　been；　but　it　was　also　somewhat　near　to　the　bone　that　autumn　season。　Everyone　knew　how　tense　affairs　had　bee　between　Gorhaut　and　Arbonne；　and　no　one　wanted　to　be　the　first　or　the　most　obvious　to　laugh　in　a　tavern　filled　with　unfamiliar　men　from　many　countries。　Disappointed；　Othon　subsided　into　silence　for　a　few　moments；　before　beginning；　with　impressive　optimism；　a　new；　discursive　account　of　his　last　visit　to　Barbentain。　He　had　lost　his　audience　by　then；　though；　and　was　largely　talking　to　himself。
　　The　three　men　at　the　next　table　had　not　only　stopped　listening；　they　had　settled　their　account　and　left　The　Arch。　In　the　street　outside；　expensively　lit　by　lanterns　during　the　fair　season；　the　three　corans；　who　happened　to　be　from　Gorhaut；　and　more　particularly　from　Garsenc　Castle；　had　a　hurried；　highly　agitated　consultation　among　each　other。
　　At　first　they　considered　drawing　straws　to　see　which　of　them　would　ride　back　to　Garsenc　with　what　they　thought　they'd　learned。　It　could　be　done　in　two　days　if　a　man　killed　horses　under　him。　A　moment's　further　deliberation　induced　them　to　alter　this　plan。　There　might　be　some　real　risk　in　bearing　these　tidings；　or　there　might　be　profit　to　be　found…it　was　hard　to　tell　with　the　lords　of　Gorhaut；　and　especially　so　with　the　de　Garsenc。
　　In　the　end；　they　each　elected　to　forego　the　ransoms　they　might　earn　in　the　tournament　melee…the　reason　they'd　e　to　Lussan　in　the　first　place…in　favour　of　collectively　riding　north　with　the　almost　certain　news　that　the　missing　wife　of　Duke　Ranald　was　in　Lussan　at　the　moment。　Carefully　they　avoided　ment；　even　among　themselves；　on　the　possible　implications　of　this。　They　returned　to　their　own　inn；　paid　their　accounts；　saddled　horses　and　rode。
　　Part　of　the　bad　luck…all　of　it；　in　fact；　from　Othon　the　animal…trainer's　point　of　view…was　that　one　of　the　three　pulled　up　suddenly　just　before　the　wide…open　northern　gates　of　walled　Lussan　and　grimly　pointed　something　out　to　the　other　two。　Silent；　visibly　shaken　by　what　he　said；　they　exchanged　frightened　glances；　each　nodding　agreement　with　this　new　conclusion。
　　They　did　draw　straws　then　after　all。　The　one　who'd　had　the　disturbing　thought　drew　the　short　straw；　perhaps　appropriately。　He　bade　farewell　to　the　other　two　and　watched　them　start　off　on　the　hard　ride　back　through　the　mountain　pass。　He　returned　to　their　inn　alone。　Later　that　night　he　killed　the　animal…trainer　with　a　knife　between　the　ribs　when　the　latter　stumbled　alone　into　an　alley　to　relieve　himself。　It　was　an　easy　killing；　in　fact；　though　it　brought　him　no　particular　satisfaction。　No　ruler　could　guarantee　safety　after　sunset；　even　during　a　fair。　He　was　breaching　a　truce　by　doing　this；　though；　and；　as　it　happened；　he　didn't　much　like　doing　that；　but　his　own　likes　or　dislikes　weren't　greatly　important　in　a　situation　such　as　this　one　had　bee。　He　cleaned　his　blade　at　a　splashing　fountain　and　went　back　into　The　Arch　for　another　flask　of　ale。　Killing；　he'd　always　found；　gave　him　a　thirst。
　　It　would　not　do；　he　had　said　to　the　other　two　corans　at　the　city　gates；　to　have　Ranald　de　Garsenc；　or　worse；　the　High