ggk.asongforarbonne-第88部分

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。　Blaise　was　aware　that　he　was　swaying　unsteadily　on　his　feet。　His　ear　felt　as　if　it　were　shredded；　on　fire。　His　legs；　from　the　first　sword　wound　and　then　the　last　shield　blow；　could　barely　support　him。　But　he　was　upright；　and　he　had　his　sword　again；　and　the　other　man　was　down。
　　He　set　the　point；　as　steadily　as　he　could；　at　Quzman's　throat。　The　Arimondan's　black　eyes　gazed　up　at　him　implacably；　without　fear；　even　as　death　arrived　for　him。
　　〃Do　it；〃　he　said；　〃that　my　spirit　may　rejoin　my　brother's。〃
　　Blaise　said；　breathing　in　hard；　short　gasps；　〃I　am　free　of　your　blood　before　the　god？　It　was　fairly　done？　I　have　your　dispensation？〃
　　Quzman　managed　a　bitter　smile。　〃It　matters　to　you？〃　He　dragged　a　breath。　〃You　have　it。　It　was　fairly　done。〃　Another　harsh　breath。　〃It　was　more　than　fair；　after　the　woman's　rooms。　You　are　free　of　my　death。　Do　it。〃
　　The　shouts　and　screaming　had　stopped；　It　was　eerily　silent　now　all　around　the　ground　where　they　stood。　One　man　called　out　something　from　the　mons'　side。　In　the　stillness　his　voice　rose　and　fell　away；　leaving　silence　again。　There　was；　Blaise　realized；　one　more　thing　he　could　do　this　morning。　And　it　seemed；　remarkably；　that　he　wanted　to　do　it　in　any　case。
　　He　said；　the　words　ing　slowly　as　he　struggled　to　control　his　breathing；　〃Your　wounds　are　not　mortal。　I　will　need　good　men　with　me　to　do　what　I　must　do。　I　killed　your　brother　when　attacked　by　six　corans　and　only　after　they　first　shot　at　me。　Will　you　let　this　bat　settle　the　past　for　us？　I　am　loath　to　kill　a　brave　man。　I　do　not　want　your　death　on　my　hands；　even　with　dispensation。〃
　　Quzman　shook　his　head；　his　expression　curiously　tranquil　now。　〃I　might　have　agreed；〃　he　said；　his　breathing　quick　and　shallow；　〃were　it　not　for　one　thing。　My　brother　carried　no　bow；　he　never　did；　and　he　died　of　an　arrow　in　the　throat。　You　ought　to　have　fought　him；　Northerner。　For　killing　him　at　a　distance　you　must　die；　or　I　must。〃
　　Blaise　shook　his　head。　There　was　a　great　weariness　in　him　now。　〃Need　it　be　written　before　the　god　that　we　be　enemies？〃　He　fought　off　a　renewed　wave　of　pain。　He　could　feel　blood　dripping　from　his　ear。　〃It　was　not　a　tourney　that　day　by　the　lake。　I　was　fighting　six　men　for　my　life。　I　am　not　going　to　kill　you；　Arimondan。　If　I　ask；　they　will　let　you　go　from　here。　Do　what　you　will　with　your　life；　but　know　that　I　will　be　pleased　to　have　you　in　my　pany。〃
　　〃Do　not　do　this；〃　said　Quzman　of　Arimonda。
　　Blaise　ignored　him。　He　turned　and　began　to　walk…cautiously；　because　he　could　not　move　any　other　way　just　yet…towards　the　pavilion　where　the　countess　sat　with　Ariane　and　Bertran　and　die　king　of　Valensa。　It　seemed　a　long　way　off。　And　it　was　very　nearly　the　hardest　thing　he　had　ever　done；　not　to　try　to　move　faster；　not　to　look　back　and　see。
　　He　took　five　or　six　steps　only。　He　had　thought　it　might　be　thus。　The　man　was　an　Arimondan。　after　all。　There　had　been　a　slim　chance；　no　more。
　　〃I　told　you　to　kill　me！〃　Quzman　di　Perano　cried。　Blaise　heard　footsteps　crossing　the　grass。　He　flung　a　prayer　outwards；　to　whoever　might　hear　him　from　this　field　in　Arbonne；　the　god；　or　the　goddess　who　was　more　than　his　maiden　daughter　here。　And　with　his　silent　invocation；　he　heard　the　impact　of　arrows。
　　Behind　him　the　Arimondan　grunted　queerly　and　spoke　a　name；　and　there　came　the　sound　of　a　body　falling　on　the　grass。
　　For　a　long　moment　Blaise　stood　motionless；　dealing　with　an　unexpected　regret。　When　he　did　turn　it　was　towards　his　tent；　to　see　Valery　of　Talair　and　Rudel　Correze　approaching；　the　two　best　archers　he　knew；　both　grim…faced；　both　with　bows　to　hand　and　the　arrows　gone。　He　went　slowly　back　to　stand　above　the　body　of　the　Arimondan。　Quzman　lay　face　down　in　the　grass；　still　gripping　his　splendid　sword；　but　Blaise；　gazing　upon　him；　saw　something　he　could　not　understand。　There　were　four　arrows；　not　two；　in　the　dead　man's　body。　He　looked　limp；　almost　ical；　stuck　full　of　arrows　like　a　sorcerer's　pin…doll。　An　ugly　ending　for　a　proud　man。　Blaise　looked　up；　his　brow　furrowing；　and　saw　a　third　man　with　a　bow　step　forward　as　if　he　had　been　waiting　to　be　noticed。　The　man　began　hesitantly　to　e　across　the　grass　towards　them　from　the　far　end　of　the　pavilions。　A　moment　later　Blaise　blinked　in　astonished　recognition。　It　had　been　a　long　shot；　that　one；　but　he　remembered　Hirnan　of　Baude；　the　best　coran　there；　as　being　exceptionally　good　with　his　bow。
　　Hirnan　came　up　to　him　and　bowed；　his　expression　awkward　and　anxious。　〃I　must　ask　your　forgiveness；〃　he　said。　〃I　saw　him　rise　up　with　the　sword。　I　did　not　know　the　others　had　instructions　from　you。〃
　　〃They　didn't；〃　Blaise　said　mildly。　〃I　didn't　know　I　was　going　to　do　that。〃　He　extended　a　hand　and　touched　the　big　coran　on　the　shoulder。　〃Well　met　again；　Hirnan；　and　hardly　a　time　to　be　asking　forgiveness…you　might　have　saved　my　life　just　there。〃
　　Hirnan　took　a　relieved　breath　but　did　not　smile。　He　seemed　uneasy　here　on　the　grass　with　so　many　people　watching　them。　〃I　heard　what　the　herald　said；〃　he　murmured。　〃We　never　knew　who　you　were；　you　understand。〃　He　looked　Blaise　in　the　eye。　〃But　I　made　my　own　judgment　last　spring。　I　claim　no　very　great　skills　or　dignity；　but　if　you　can　use　a　man　you　can　trust　in　your　pany　I　would　be　honoured。　My　lord。〃
　　Blaise　felt　a　truly　unexpected　feeling　of　warmth　beginning　to　steal　through　him；　pushing　away　the　pain。　He　liked　this　man　and　respected　him。　〃The　honour　will　be　as　much　my　own；〃　he　said　gravely。　〃I　made　my　own　judgments　too；　in　the　highlands。　But　you　are　a　sworn　coran　of　the　lord　of　Baude　Castle。　I　doubt　Mallin　will　be　eager　to　lose　one　such　as　you。〃
　　For　the　first　time；　Hirnan　allowed　the　trace　of　a　smile　to　cross　his　face。　〃Look　again；〃　he　said。　〃It　was　En　Mallin　himself　who　told　me　to　ready　my　bow；　there　at　the　end　when　the　Arimondan　fell　and　you　stood　talking　to　him。　I　truly　do　not　think　he　will　object　if　I　join　you　now。〃
　　Blaise　did　look　over　then；　where　Hirnan　was　indicating；　to　a　bright　yellow　pavilion　far　down　the　lists；　and　he　saw　that　Mallin　de　Baude　was　on　his　feet。　Even　at　this　distance　he　could　see　that　the　young　baron　was　smiling。　Memories　of　the　springtime　came　flooding　back　as　Blaise　lifted　a　hand　in　salute。　And　then　Mallin　de　Baude；　as　if　born　to　such　gestures；　to　performing　them　before　the　eyes　of　the　gathered　world；　saluted　Blaise　in　return　with　a　lifted　hand；　and　then　he　bowed　to　him；　the　way　one　bows　to　kings。　Beside　him；　with　exquisite　grace；　Soresina　de　Baude；　in　a　skirt　green　as　the　grass；　sank　low　to　the　ground　and　remained　thus　for　a　moment　before　she　rose。　There　was　a　murmur　from　the　pavilions　and　the　mons；　both。
　　Blaise　swallowed；　struggling　without　great　success　to　adjust　his　own　thinking　to　this　sort　of　thing。　It　was　difficult　to　resist　the　urge　to　return　the　salute　in　kind；　but　a　man　claiming　a　crown　did　not　bow　to　minor　barons。　The　rules　of　the　game　were　changing；　as　of　this　morning　they　had　changed　for　the　rest　of　his　life；　however　long　or　short　that　might　be。　There　was　something　frightening　in　that　thought。
　　Behind　him　there　came　a　dry　cough。　He　looked　over　his　shoulder　at　Rudel　and　Valery。　〃That　ear　will　need　looking　to。　And　there　is　a　fourth　arrow　here；〃　Valery　said　prosaically。
　　Rudel's　expression　was　odd；　as　if　astonishment　were　vying　with　hilarity　for　mastery　in　him。　〃And　the　man　who　fired　it　is　making　his　appearance　even　as　we　speak；　like　the　unmasked　coran　at　the　end　of　a　puppet　play。　This　is　the　end　of　the　play；　Blaise。　You'd　best　think　quickly。　Look　to　the　other　tent。〃
　　Blaise　looked。　From　behind　the　Arimondan's　tent；　very　much　indeed　as　from　behind　a　stage　curtain；　resplendent　in　green　and　gold；　with　a　longbow　in　one　hand；　came　Urté　de　Miraval。
　　He　was　seen　now　by　the　pavilions　and　the　mons　both；　and　so　the　noise；　not　surprisingly；　began　to　grow　again。　In　the　midst　of　it；　Urté　began　walking　towards　them　with　a　measured；　unhurried　tread；　as　if　he　were　doing　no　more　than　stroll　the　grounds　of　Miraval。
　　He　came　up　to　Blaise　and　stopped；　his　carriage　straight　as　a　spear　for　all　his　years。　There　was　a　stillness　where　they　stood；　though　the　sounds　continued　to　grow　all　around　them。
　　〃Do　not；〃　Urté　said；　〃expect　another　salute。　The　last　time　I　looked　into　the　matter；　A