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　　Valery　slowed；　and　turned。　The　duke　did　not　hear　him　or；　if　he　did；　paid　no　heed　at　all。　Over　to　his　left；　behind　the　Gorhaut　centre；　Blaise　saw　Fulk　de　Savaric　lift　his　head　to　his　cry；　raise　a　hand　in　response；　and　then　turn　to　relay　urgent　orders　to　his　men。　The　corans　of　Miraval　were　still　attacking；　driving　in　to　meet　Bertran；　with　panic…stricken　soldiers　of　Gorhaut　spinning　and　wheeling　between　them；　implacable　foes　on　all　sides　now；　and　men　from　their　own　ranks　gone　over　to　their　enemies。
　　Blaise　came　up　to　the　nearest　of　the　Garsenc　corans；　the　ones　who　had　rallied　to　him　when　Rudel　first　raised　the　banner。　〃No　more　killing！〃　he　ordered　the　nearest　of　them。　〃Make　them　throw　down　their　weapons！　They　won't　be　killed　if　they　do！〃　He　was　almost　certain　that　was　true；　but　not　entirely　so。　There　was　a　mood　in　the　army　of　Arbonne　that　was　near　to　being　out　of　control。
　　He　moved　on；　churning　in　the　wake　of　the　duke　of　Talair。　He　understood　very　well　what　had　happened　to　Bertran；　how　battle…fury　could　overmaster　the　most　clear…sighted　of　men…and　he　also　knew　that　Bertran　de　Talair　had　more　reason　than　a　man　should　ever　need　to　be　killing　men　of　Gorhaut　just　now。
　　In　the　end　it　was　Thierry　de　Carenzu；　over　on　the　right　flank；　nearest　the　severed　heads　and　the　maimed；　dead　troubadour；　who　had　the　horns　sounded　to　put　a　halt　to　the　slaughter　of　men。
　　It　was　Thierry　who　did　it；　Blaise　would　always　remember　that；　he　himself　was　of　Gorhaut；　he　could　not　have　halted　the　army　of　Arbonne　that　day。
　　Even　Bertran　pulled　up　his　horse　when　he　heard　the　high　clear　sweet　notes　of　those　horns　rising　above　the　valley。　It　was　music　of　a　sort；　among　the　dying　and　the　dead。　Blaise；　forcing　his　way　forward；　was　finally　able　to　catch　up　with　him。
　　〃Bertran　stop；　you　must　stop。　These　are　only　soldiers　now。　Farmers　and　villagers。　Ademar　is　dead；　it　is　over！〃　The　duke　of　Talair　turned　then　to　look　at　him　and　Blaise　was　sobered　and　chilled　by　what　he　saw　in　the　other　man's　eyes。
　　〃But　I　did　not　kill　him；〃　Bertran　said　slowly；　as　if　in　a　trance。　There　was　something　terrible　in　the　words。
　　Drawing　a　deep　breath；　Blaise　said　carefully；　〃Nor　did　I；　with　as　much　cause；　perhaps。　It　must　not　be　allowed　to　matter；　Bertran；　for　either　of　us。　We　have　won。　And　look；　the　men　of　Garsenc　are　forcing　the　others　to　surrender。〃
　　It　was　true。　The　soldiers　of　Gorhaut；　the　crusading　army　of　the　god；　could　be　seen　throwing　down　their　weapons　even　as　they　spoke。　Blaise　saw　Thierry　riding　towards　them。　He　shouted　as　he　approached：　〃We　must　not　kill　unarmed　men；　Bertran。〃
　　〃Will　you　tell　me　why？　I　seem　to　have　forgotten。〃　Bertran's　eyes　were　still　wild；　lost。
　　〃No　you　haven't；〃　said　Valery　from　behind　his　cousin。　They　turned　to　him；　his　own　features　were　calm　again；　though　Blaise　could　see　that　that　control　was　costing　Valery　a　great　deal。　〃You　haven't　forgotten　at　all。　You　just　want　to　forget。　So　do　I。　Oh；　Bertran；　so　do　I；　but　if　we　do　that　we　bee　what　we　have　just　defeated。〃
　　Blaise　had　said　the　same　thing　once；　in　the　serenity　of　a　council　chamber。　This　was　a　battlefield；　and　there　was　a　kind　of　madness　in　the　blue　eyes　of　the　man　Valery　was　addressing。　Bertran　stared　coldly　for　a　long　moment　at　his　cousin。　Then　Blaise　saw　him　shake　his　head　several　times；　as　if　trying　to　slip　free　of　something。　He　understood；　he　understood　better　than　Bertran　could　have　known；　how　hard　it　was　to　move　past　battle…rage　to　anything　else　at　all。
　　But　when　Bertran　turned　back　to　him　and　to　Thierry　beside　him；　Blaise　saw　that　his　expression　was　one　he　knew。
　　〃Very　well；〃　said　the　duke　of　Talair；　〃we　will　accept　their　surrender。　There　is　a　last　thing　that　is　still　to　be　done；　though　it　might　grieve　you；　Blaise；　I　don't　know。〃　He　paused　only　briefly。　〃Where　is　the　High　Elder　of　Gorhaut？〃
　　Amazingly；　Blaise　had　managed　to　push　his　father　from　his　mind；　or　perhaps；　given　all　that　had　now　broken　into　fragments　in　the　world；　it　wasn't　so　amazing　after　all。　He　turned　towards　the　knot　of　men　west　of　them；　and　standing　in　their　midst…unhorsed　but　towering　above　even　the　tallest　man　there…he　saw　his　father。
　　Galbert　had　removed　his　helm；　or　had　had　it　taken　from　him。　He　stood　bareheaded　in　the　light　of　late　afternoon。　There　was　blood　on　his　face　and　on　his　blue　robe。　A　space　had　been　cleared　around　him　and；　looking；　Blaise　realized　belatedly　where　Rudel　had　gone。　His　friend　was　standing　with　Galbert　inside　that　space；　sword　drawn；　calmly　levelling　it　at　the　man　who；　a　little　more　than　half　a　year　ago；　had　offered　him　a　quarter　of　a　million　in　gold　to　kill　Bertran　de　Talair。
　　This　was；　Blaise　understood　finally；　one　more　score　being　settled；　as　the　sun　moved　west　in　the　winter　sky。　He　wondered　why　his　father　had　not　killed　himself　rather　than　be　given　over　in　this　fashion　to　his　enemies。　It　was　only　a　brief　thought　though；　that　one。　Galbert　was　not　a　man　to　take　such　a　way　out；　and　it　was；　in　any　event；　an　action　forbidden　by　the　god。
　　It　seemed　to　have　grown　quiet　in　the　valley。　Some　clouds　appeared　in　the　northwest。　He　watched　them　move　across　the　sun　and　then　away。　It　was　colder　now；　late　in　the　day；　and　in　the　aftermath　of　so　much　exertion。　It　seemed　to　be　over　though；　the　clash　of　weapons　had　stopped。　Men　were　moaning；　crying　out　in　pain　from　many　parts　of　the　field。　That　would　go　on　a　long　time；　Blaise　knew。　He　shivered。
　　〃I　have　a　cloak　for　you。〃　It　was　Hirnan。　Blaise　turned　to　look　at　the　Arbonnais　coran　who　had　been　guarding　him　all　afternoon。　They　had　gone　to　Rian's　Island　in　the　sea　once；　in　springtime；　to　fetch　a　poet　back。　It　had　begun　there；　for　Blaise　it　seemed　to　have　begun　there　with　the　High　Priestess　in　the　wood；　the　dark　hollows　of　her　eyes；　the　white　owl　on　her　shoulder。
　　After　a　moment　he　nodded　his　head　and　Hirnan　draped　a　heavy　cloak　of　a　dark　purple　hue　over　Blaise's　shoulders。　Blaise　wondered　where　he'd　got　it；　purple　was　the　colour　of　kings。　He　had　a　suspicion　though；　a　guess　as　to　whence　that　cloak　had　e。　And　that　thought　made　him　turn　for　a　moment；　away　from　his　father　in　the　ring　of　swords；　to　look　briefly　at　Thierry；　and　then　away　from　him　and　all　the　others；　back　towards　the　isle　in　the　lake　where　the　women　were。
　　
　　It　was　just　possible；　now　that　the　fighting　had　stopped；　to　make　out　individual　figures　in　the　valley　across　the　water。　Standing　with　others　on　the　northern　shore　of　the　isle；　Ariane　could　see　her　husband；　from　the　way　he　sat　his　horse　it　seemed　he　was　all　right。　Not　far　from　Thierry　she　watched　Hirnan　of　Baude　lay　the　purple　cloak　she　had　entrusted　to　him　over　Blaise　de　Garsenc's　shoulders；　and　she　began　to　cry。
　　There　was　a　great　deal　of　weeping　taking　place　now；　they　did　not　yet　know　how　many　had　died；　or　who。　The　countess　was　not　with　them　here　on　the　strand；　she　had　joined　the　priestesses　and　the　priests　in　the　temple　for　a　service　of　thanksgiving。　Ariane　knew　she　ought　to　be　with　them；　but　her　thoughts　just　now；　since　the　blowing　of　the　horns；　were　entirely　of　this　world。
　　The　small　boats　were　crossing　continuously　back　and　forth　across　the　choppy　water；　they　had　been　doing　so　all　through　the　battle。　The　last　messenger　had　told　them　that　the　king　of　Gorhaut　was　dead；　of　a　crimson　arrow　in　the　eye。　No　one　knew　who　had　shot　that　arrow；　the　priest　said；　kneeling　on　the　sands　of　the　goddess。　The　feathers；　he　said；　had　been　those　of　an　owl。　The　arrow　had　dropped　straight　down　from　the　sky。
　　He　had　also　told　them　that　Urté　de　Miraval；　who　had　saved　them　in　the　end；　despite　everything；　was　dying；　if　he　was　not　already　dead。　And　these　last　tiding；　for　Ariane；　meant　more　than　they　did　to　anyone　else　on　the　isle　or；　indeed；　anyone　else　alive。
　　They　meant　that　the　term　of　an　oath　she　had　kept　since　the　end　of　her　childhood　was　over；　a　secret　she　had　sworn；　to　keep　was　hers　to　offer　to　the　world。　And　it　was　because　of　this　that　she　was　weeping　on　that　shore；　looking　north　to　the　valley；　at　the　figure　of　her　husband　in　his　red　surcoat　and　the　tall　man　cloaked　in　purple　beside　him；　and　at　the　third；　smaller　man　with　the　two　of　them；　the　one　who　had；　so　many　years　ago；　surprised　a　travelling　party　among　the　elm　trees　she　could　see　even　now　beside　the　arch　to　the　west。
　　She　moved　away　from　the　others　on　the　strand；　withdrawing　into　memory。　There　was　another　boat　ing　with　even　newer　tidings　now；　the　other　women　moved　anxiously　towards　it。　Ariane　walked　a　distance　west　instead　and　stood　alone；　gazing　at　the　other　shore；　the　one　nearest　Miraval。
　　It　had　been　winter　then；　too；　she　remembered；　that　night　twenty…three　years　ago；　with　a　rain　wind　lashing　the　trees　and　lake　when　she　came　to　that　shore　in　the　dark　of　night。　Twenty…three　years；　and　oh；　it　was　as　yesterday　if　she　let　her　mind　go　back。　It　was　as　fierce　and　hard　and　terrible　as　if　she　were　standing　there　now；　thirteen　years　old；　an　oath　newly　sworn；　sobbing　wildly　with　grief　and　terror　as　she　stood　on　that　strand　in　the　shelter　of　the　signal　hut。
　　She　had　been　a　child　when　that　night　had　begun。　A　quick；　curious；　overly　indulged　young　girl。　She　had　not　been　young　any　longer　when　that　long　night　was　done　and　she　watched　the　pale　sun　finally　e　up　across　the　lake　and　listened　to　water　dripping　mournfully　from　the　trees　all　around。
　　She　had　kept　her　promise。　All　these　years　she　had　kept　the　promise　sworn　to　her　cousin　Aelis；　whom　she　had　loved。　She　could　see　herself　so　clearly　even　now：　the　thin；　shivering　girl　riding　in　a　wild　storm；　white　face　and　black　hair　lost　in　the　darkness　except　when　the　lightning　flashed。　And　she　had　been　crying；　crying　in　the　cruel　lashing　of　the　rain。　She　was　crying　again　now；　all　these　long　years　after；　weeping　for　innocence　lost；　for　the　dead　of　that　night　and　the　awful　burden　she　had　been　given　then　and　had　carried　all　these　years。
　　After　a　long　time　Ariane　wiped　her　eyes　and　squared　her　shoulders　and　turned　away　from　that　western　shore　and　its　weight　of　memory。　She　was　the　duchess　of　Carenzu；　queen　of　the　Court　of　Love　in　Arbonne；　a　woman　of　power　in　the　world；　and　there　was　a　great　deal　to　be　done。　Starting　with　the　ending　of　a　silence。　Aelis；　she　thought；　whispered　it　to　herself　actually；　only　the　name；　nothing　more　than　that；　realizing　as　she　did　so　that　it　was　a　kind　of　letti