ggk.asongforarbonne-第106部分

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　of　Rian　was　not　what　Arbonne　needed　from　her　after　this。　Everything　had　changed。
　　Ariane　had　said　something　else；　though；　something　unexpected：　that　she　would　defend　with　all　her　own　power　and　honour　any　choice　at　all　that　Rinette　made。　She　had　been　near　to　weeping　as　she　said　that；　Rinette　remembered。　It　was　a　deeply　generous　offer；　but　it　actually　didn't　matter　very　much；　not　really。　Rinette　would　not　have　been　what　she　was　had　she　been　unable　to　see　for　herself　the　clear　truth　of　what　all　of　this　meant。
　　She　was　heir　to　Arbonne。　There　was　no　one　else。　With　the　offer　of　her　hand　in　marriage；　the　future　of　her　country；　of　the　worship　of　holy　Rian；　could　be　safeguarded　for　a　time。　Perhaps　a　very　long　time。　It　was　not　an　awareness　from　which　one　could　turn　away　for　the　familiarity　of　the　small　isle　that　was　all　the　home　she'd　ever　known。　The　paths　of　holy　blindness　and　the　inward　sight　it　might　offer　were　not　to　be　hers　any　more。
　　She　was　not　going　to　follow　the　High　Priestesses　after　all。　Neither　the　one　here；　nor　Beatritz　herself　on　the　island　in　the　sea。　The　High　Priestess　on　Rian's　Island；　the　goddess's　most　holy　servant；　Rinette　thought　suddenly；　putting　her　mind　around　this　for　the　first　time；　was　her　mother's　older　sister。
　　She　shook　her　head。　It　was　going　to　be　very　hard。　She　could　see　them　lighting　torches　in　the　garden　now。　They　were　being　careful　of　her　privacy；　keeping　at　a　distance　from　where　she　walked。　The　light　in　the　west　had　bee　quite　beautiful；　crimson　and　purple　and　a　softer　range　of　dusky　hues　low　down　where　the　sun　was　nearly　gone。　The　garden；　she　could　see；　was　nowhere　near　its　best　in　this　depth　of　winter；　but　Talair　was　far　enough　south　that　there　were　still　hints　of　colour　all　around；　and　the　wind　was　gentler　here；　with　the　walls　and　the　trees　for　shelter。　She　heard　the　sound　of　splashing　water　and　walking　a　little　further　down　a　path　of　small　stones　she　came　to　a　fountain。　The　servants　had　been　here　before　her；　there　were　torches　burning　in　brackets　set　into　the　soil。　She　stood　close　to　one；　holding　her　hands　out　for　warmth。
　　She　was　heir　to　Arbonne。　Heir　to　this　castle　of　Talair　as　well；　for　En　Bertran　had　never　married　and　never　named　anyone　to　succeed　him。　En　Bertran。　The　duke　of　Talair　was　her　father。
　　She　had　seen　him；　of　course；　growing　up　on　the　isle　so　near　this　castle　she　had　seen　him　so　many　times　across　the　water。　She　could　remember　how　she　and　the　other　acolytes　had　spent　countless　evenings　when　they　were　supposed　to　be　asleep　breathlessly　repeating　tales　and　rumours　about　him；　carried　by　the　troubadours　and　joglars　who　came　to　Rian's　Isle。　She　knew　all　about　Bertran　de　Talair　and　Duke　Urté　and　the　beautiful　lady　who　had　died；　Aelis　de　Miraval。　She　even　knew…everyone　knew…the　old　song　Bertran　had　written　for　his　beloved　beside　the　springtime　shores　of　this　same　lake。　What　she　had　never　known　was　that　the　song　was　her　father's　for　her　mother；　that　she　was　a　part　of　that　tale。　She　seemed　to　be；　in　fact；　the　ending　of　the　story。
　　There　was　the　other　man　as　well；　the　one　who　was　soon　to　be　made　king　of　Gorhaut。　He　had　fought　for　Arbonne　today　against　his　own　people。　She　had　seen　him；　too；　twice。　Once　last　spring　and　again　this　morning　when　they　had　e　across　the　lake　to　take　the　countess　from　the　parley。　He　was　a　tall　man；　that　one；　bearded　as　the　northerners　all　were；　grim…looking　with　that；　but　a　message　had　e　from　Rian's　Island　last　spring　that　he　should　be　watched　for；　that　he　was　ing　their　way　and　might　be　important　to　them。　And　only　a　little　while　ago　this　afternoon　Ariane　de　Carenzu；　who　ought；　Rinette　supposed；　to　know　about　such　things；　had　said　that　he　was　a　good　man；　gentler　than　he　looked；　and　wiser；　carrying　burdens　with　which　he　would　need　someone's　help　in　the　days　and　years　to　e。
　　She　wondered　if　he　would　e　to　her　here。　If　it　would　begin　already。　She　wondered　if　her　father　would　e。　Abruptly　she　sat　down　on　one　of　the　stone　benches　by　the　fountain；　ignoring　the　cold。　Cold　was　easy　to　deal　with。　What　had　overtaken　her　today　was　not；　despite　the　self…possession　she　had　managed　to　preserve　with　Ariane。　It　had　been　an　overwhelming　day。　She　wished　she　could　hide；　sleep；　not　dream。　She　wanted　。。。　she　didn't　really　know　what　she　wanted。
　　She　suddenly　felt…and　could　not　remember　feeling　this　way　since　she'd　been　a　small　child…that　she　might　even　cry。　It　wasn't　Ariane's　fault；　it　wasn't　anyone's　fault。　She　was　sitting　in　the　walled　garden　of　her　father's　castle；　and　all　she　knew　of　her　father　were　the　endlessly　traded　stories　about　a　duke　who　wrote　the　finest　music　of　his　day　and　had　fought　in　wars　in　many　countries；　and　who　had　spent　more　than　twenty　years　pursuing　women　all　over　the　world　with　a　flamboyance　that　everyone　knew…everyone　knew…was　a　lifelong　attempt　to　deal　with　the　death　of　the　one　lady　he　had　ever　loved。　Her　mother。
　　I　am　afraid；　Rinette　said　to　herself　suddenly；　and　the　admission；　curiously；　seemed　to　help　her　gather　her　self…control　again。　I　am　not　going　to　burn　alive；　she　admonished　herself　sternly。　None　of　us　are　going　to　burn　now。　We　have　won；　by　grace　of　Rian；　who　has　given　us；　again；　more　than　we　have　ever　deserved　of　her。　These　changes　in　her　life；　she　told　herself；　were　only　that…changes　in　a　life。　Mortal　men　and　women　were　not　to　know…they　could　not　know…what　the　future　held　in　store　for　them；　except　for　the　fleeting；　wayward　glimpses　the　goddess　sometimes　granted　those　who　had　blinded　themselves　in　her　name。
　　That　was　not　to　be　her　path。　Her　path　began　here　in　this　garden；　walking　forth　with　whomever　came　to　lead　her　into　the　brightness　and　the　burdens　shaped　by　what；　it　seemed；　she　was。
　　Surely　it　was　all　right　to　be　a　little　afraid；　though？　Surely　that　could　be　allowed　of　someone　sitting　alone　at　dusk　in　a　winter　garden　dealing　with　the　loss　of　every　expectation　she　had　ever　had　of　her　life？
　　It　was　then　that　she　heard　a　footfall　on　the　walkway；　from　behind　her；　the　way　she　had　e。　She　looked　up　at　the　torches　for　a　moment　and　then；　a　little　blinded；　beyond　them　until　she　could　see　the　stars　again。　She　drew　a　long　breath　and　pushed　her　dark　hair　back　from　her　face。　Then　Rinette　rose；　straight…backed；　holding　her　head　high；　and　turned　to　meet　her　future。　There　was　a　solitary　figure　standing　at　the　end　of　the　path　that　led　to　this　foundation。
　　It　was　not　the　northerner　who　had　e；　nor；　yet；　her　father；　after　all。
　　She　knew　who　this　was；　of　course。　She　sank　to　her　knees　on　the　cold　ground。
　　〃Oh；　my　dear；〃　said　Signe　de　Barbentain；　the　countess　of　Arbonne；　〃I　am　so　desperately　happy　to　see　you；　and　so　very　sad　just　now。　So　many　years　we　have　lost；　you　and　I。　There　is　so　much　I　have　to　tell　you。　About　your　father　and　your　mother；　and　then　about　the　grandfather　you　never　knew；　who　would　have　loved　you　with　all　his　heart。〃
　　The　countess　came　closer　then；　moving　almost　hesitantly　into　the　light　of　the　torches；　and　Rinette　saw　that　she　was　crying；　tears　streaming　down　her　face　in　the　cold。　Rinette　rose　quickly；　instinctively；　a　queer　feeling　overtaking　her；　a　constriction　of　the　heart　and　throat。　She　heard　herself　make　a　sound　that　was　very　like　a　child's　cry；　and　she　moved　forward；　almost　running；　into　the　haven　of　her　grandmother's　arms。
　　
　　It　was　full　dark　now　in　the　valley　where　the　battle　had　been。　He　had　waited　patiently；　even　happily；　for　this。　The　moons　would　rise　soon；　both　very　bright　tonight；　spilling　their　rich；　mingled　light。　It　was　time　to　go。　There　were　no　fears　near　where　he　was；　no　soldiers　of　either　army　sleeping　or　on　watch　in　the　cold。
　　He　made　his　way　down　from　branch　to　branch；　surefooted　in　the　dark。　No　one　heard　him；　he　made　no　sound　for　anyone　to　hear。　Once　on　the　ground　he　slipped　away　west；　passing　close　by　the　forest；　going　the　long　way　around　to　where　he　had　left　his　horse　two　days　before；　north　of　the　Arch　of　the　Ancients。
　　The　stallion　was　hungry；　of　course。　He　was　sorry　for　that　but　there　had　been　nothing　to　do　about　it。　He　had　left　food　in　a　sack　nearby　and　he　fed　the　horse　now；　patting　and　rubbing　its　long　neck；　speaking　tenderly。　He　felt　deeply　at　peace；　as　one　with　the　night　and　the　murmuring　trees　all　around　him。　He　knelt；　on　impulse；　and　prayed。
　　There　was　so　much　gratitude　in　his　heart　he　felt　it　might　overflow。　He　had　done　exactly　what　he　had　e　here　to　do。　What　he　had　been　preparing　for…though　in　ignorance；　following　instructions　only…since　the　early　days　of　autumn。
　　It　was　time　to　go　now；　to　be　away　south　before　the　bright　moons　rose。　He　saddled　the　horse　and　mounted　and　began　to　ride。
　　I　want　you　to　learn　a　new　way　of　shooting；　the　High　Priestess　had　told　him　on　the　island　in　the　sea。　And　she　had　sent　him　to　a　place　where　no　one　ever　went；　to　learn　to　do　what　she　wanted　done。　He　had　always　been　able　to　handle　a　bow；　but　what　she　asked　was　odd；　inexplicable。　He　didn't　need　things　explained；　though；　he　was　honoured　beyond　words　to　have　been　chosen。　He　spent　the　whole　of　the　autumn　practising；　learning　to　hit　targets　with　the　high；　arching　trajectories　she　had　specified。　Over　and　over；　day　by　day　as　the　weeks　passed；　he　went　off　alone　to　the　eastern　end　of　the　island　and　practised。
　　He　learned。　He　told　her　one　day　that　he　thought　he　had　mastered　that　new；　strange　shooting　as　best　he　ever　would。　She　sent　him　back　that　very　day　to　begin　again；　the　same　arching　bowshots　aimed　at　the　apex　of　the　sky；　but　now　he　was　to　do　them　while　nestled　in　the　branches　of　a　tree。　He　did　that；　too；　day　after　day；　week　after　week；　as　winter　came　to　Rian's　Island　and　the　first　flocks　of　birds　from　the　north　filled　their　skies。
　　Then；　one　day；　the　High　Priestess　summoned　him　again；　and　alone　in　her　chambers；　with　only　the　white　owl　to　watch　his　face　as　he　reacted　to　what　she　said；　she　told　him　what　his　task　was　to　be；　the　thing　he　had　been　training　to　do。
　　The　goddess；　she　told　him；　will　sometimes　intercede　for　us；　but　she　always　wants　to　see　that　we　have　tried　to　aid　ourselves。　He　understood　that；　it　made　sense　to　him。　In　the　natural　world　a　deer　might　e　to　you；　but　only　if　you　were　out　in　the　forest；　upwind　and　silent；　not　if　you　stayed　at　home　on　a　bench　before　the　fire。　She　told　him　then…and　her　words　made　him　begin　to　tremble　with　awe…where　he　was　to　go；　a