ggk.asongforarbonne-第26部分

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　　When　Bertran　de　Talair　grew　pale；　Blaise　knew；　the　scar　on　his　cheek　became　extremely　prominent。　He　had　seen　it　happen　before；　but　not　like　this。　The　duke　had　gone　rigid　with　anger　or　shock　but　he　did　not　turn　around。　Valery　did；　very　swiftly；　moving　so　that　his　body　was　between　Bertran's　and　the　door。
　　〃What　are　you　doing　here？〃　said　de　Talair；　his　back　to　the　person　addressed。　His　voice　was　cold　as　winter　moonlight。　Blaise　registered　that　fact　and　moved；　belatedly；　to　stand　beside　Valery。　Even　as　he　did；　the　crowd　of　men　and　women　between　them　and　the　door　was　shifting　awkwardly　out　of　the　way　to　reveal；　as　a　parting　curtain　before　a　stage；　the　man　standing　in　the　entrance　to　the　tavern。
　　He　was　huge；　Blaise　saw；　robed　in　extravagantly　expensive　dark　green　satin　trimmed　with　white　fur；　even　in　summer。　Easily　sixty　years　old；　his　grey　hair　cropped　close　like　a　soldier's；　he　stood　lightly　balanced；　for　all　his　size；　and　his　posture　was　straight…backed　and　arrogant。
　　〃What　am　I　doing　here？〃　he　echoed　mockingly。　The　voice　was　memorable；　deep　and　resonant。　〃Isn't　this　where　the　singers　are？　Is　this　not　Carnival？　Cannot　a　man　seek　the　solace　and　pleasure　of　music　at　such　a　time？〃
　　〃You　hate　musicians；〃　Bertran　de　Talair　said　harshly；　biting　off　his　words。　He　still　had　not　turned。　〃You　kill　singers；　remember？〃
　　〃Only　the　impertinent　ones；〃　the　other　man　said　indifferently。　〃Only　those　who　forget　where　they　are　and　sing　what　they　should　not。　And　that　was　a　long　time　ago；　after　all。　Men　can　change；　surely；　as　we　move　towards　our　waiting　graves。　Age　can　mellow　us。〃　There　was　nothing　mellow　about　that　tone；　though。　What　Blaise　heard　was　mockery；　savage；　acid…dipped。
　　And　suddenly　he　knew　who　this　had　to　be。
　　His　eyes　flicked　to　either　side　of　the　speaker；　taking　the　measure　of　the　three　green…garbed　corans　flanking　him。　All　wore　swords；　regardless　of　whatever　laws　Tavernel　might　have；　and　all　three　looked　as　if　they　knew　how　to　use　them。
　　He　had　a　flashing　memory　of　a　path　by　Lake　Dierne；　six　dead　men　in　the　spring　grass。　The　crowd　had　fallen　well　back；　leaving　a　cleared　space　around　the　two　parties　by　the　door。　Blaise　was　aware　that　the　slim；　brown…haired　woman；　the　one　who　had　accosted　him；　was　still　standing　just　behind　him。
　　〃I　will　not　banter　with　you；〃　Bertran　said　quietly。　His　back　was　still　to　the　door；　to　the　huge　man　standing　there　with　malice　in　his　flint…grey　eyes。　〃One　more　time；　why　are　you　here；　my　lord　of　Miraval？〃
　　Urté　de　Miraval；　framed　massively　in　the　doorway　of　The　Liensenne；　did　not　reply。　Instead　his　heavy　gaze；　eyes　deep…hooded　in　his　face；　swung　over　to　look　at　Blaise。　Ignoring　Bertran's　question　as　if　it　had　been　asked　by　an　importuning　farm　labourer；　he　fixed　Blaise　with　an　appraising　scrutiny。　He　smiled　then；　but　there　was　no　lessening　of　the　malice　in　his　expression。
　　〃Unless　I　am　greatly　wrong；〃　he　said；　〃and　I　do　not　think　I　am；　this　will　be　the　northerner　who　is　so　free　with　his　bow　to　shed　the　blood　of　other　men。〃　The　corans　beside　him　shifted　slightly。　The　motion；　Blaise　noted；　freed　space　for　their　swords　to　be　drawn。
　　〃Your　corans　shot　my　pony　and　my　horse；〃　Blaise　said　quietly。　〃I　had　reason　to　believe　they　were　minded　to　kill　me。〃
　　〃They　would　have　been；〃　Urté　de　Miraval　agreed；　almost　pleasantly。　〃Should　I　forgive　you　six　deaths　for　that　reason？　I　don't　think　I　shall；　and　even　if　I　were　minded　to；　there　is　another　aggrieved　party　in　the　case。　A　man　who　will　be　exceedingly　happy　to　learn　that　you　are　here　tonight。　He　might　even　join　us　later；　which　will　be　interesting。　So　many　accidents　happen　amid　the　crowds　of　Carnival；　it　is　one　of　the　regrettable　aspects　of　the　celebration；　wouldn't　you　agree？〃
　　Blaise　read　the　transparent　threat；　what　he　didn't　know　was　its　origin。　From　Valery's　stiffened　posture　he　sensed　that　the　other　man　did。
　　〃There　is　a　law　passed　regarding　killings　between　Miraval　and　Talair；〃　Bertran's　cousin　said　sharply　from　Blaise's　side。　〃You　know　it　well；　my　lord　duke。〃
　　〃Indeed；　I　do。　So；　if　it　es　to　that；　did　my　six　slain　men。　If　only　our　beloved　countess　in　Barbentain　could　pass　laws　that　guarded　against　the　mishaps　of　a　riotous　night　in　the　city。　Would　that　not　be　a　pleasant　thing；　a　reassuring　thing？〃　His　eyes　swung　back　from　Valery　to　Blaise　and　settled　there；　with　the　predatory　quality　of　a　hunting　cat。
　　And　with　that；　Bertran　de　Talair　finally　turned　to　confront　the　man　in　the　doorway。
　　〃You　frighten　no　one；〃　he　said　flatly。　〃There　is　nothing　but　sour　rancour　in　you。　Even　the　grapes　on　your　land　taste　of　it。　A　last　time；　my　lord　of　Miraval；　for　I　will　not　permit　this　exchange　to　continue：　why　are　you　here？〃
　　Again　there　was　to　be　no　reply；　or　not　from　the　man　addressed。　Instead；　a　woman；　hooded　and　cloaked；　stepped　around　him　and　into　the　room　from　where　she'd　been　hidden　behind　his　bulk。
　　〃Oh　dear；　oh　dear；　oh　dear！〃　she　said。　〃This　isn't　at　all　what　I　wanted　to　happen。〃　The　words　were　contrite　and　distressed；　the　tone　was　as　far　from　such　feelings　as　it　could　possibly　be。　In　that　lazy　drawl　Blaise　heard　boredom　and　vexation；　and　more　than　a　hint　of　power。　Not　another　one；　he　thought。　Not　another　of　these　women。
　　Astonishment　and　a　different　kind　of　anger　flashed　in　the　eyes　of　Bertran　de　Talair。
　　〃Ariane；　what；　precisely；　do　you　think　you　are　doing？　Is　this　a　game？　If　so　you　have　overreached　yourself。〃
　　Ariane。　Ariane　de　Carenzu；　who　was　queen　of　the　Court　of　Love。　The　woman　so　sharply　addressed　brought　up　one　elaborately　ringed　hand　and　cast　back　her　hood；　shaking　free　her　hair　with　an　unconcerned　motion。
　　She's　married；　though；　Blaise　thought　stupidly。　Her　hair　is　supposed　to　be　bound　up；　even　in　Arbonne。　It　wasn't。　Her　hair　was　thick　and　raven　dark；　and　as　he　watched　it　fell　in　waves　down　her　back；　liberated　from　the　transitory　confines　of　the　hood。　There　was　a　confused；　excited　murmur　in　the　room。　Looking　at　the　woman　standing　beside　Urté　de　Miraval；　momentarily　unable；　in　fact；　to　look　away　from　her；　Blaise　thought　he　understood　why。
　　〃Overreach？〃　she　said　now；　very　quietly。　〃I　don't　think　I　allow　language　like　that　even　from　a　friend；　Bertran。　I　wasn't　aware　that　I　needed　permission　from　you　to　visit　The　Liensenne。　〃
　　〃You　need　no　such　thing。　But　you　also　know　that…〃
　　〃I　know　only　that　the　duke　of　Miraval　was　kind　enough　to　invite　me　to　join　his　pany　this　evening　to　observe　the　delights　of　Carnival；　and　I　was　happy　to　accept。　I　would　also　have　thought；　evidently　wrongly；　that　two　high　lords　of　Arbonne　might；　for　tonight　at　least；　lay　down　a　petty　feud　they　carry；　at　least　enough　to　be　civil　in　the　pany　of　women　and　on　the　night　dedicated　to　the　goddess。〃
　　〃A　petty　feud？〃　Bertran　echoed；　incredulity　in　his　voice。
　　Urté　de　Miraval　laughed。　〃This　is　being　tedious　in　the　extreme；〃　he　said。　〃I　came　to　hear　what　passes　for　music　this　season　in　Tavernel；　not　to　bandy　words　in　a　doorway　with　a　choleric　degenerate。　Whose　songs　are　we　hearing　tonight？〃
　　There　was　a　stiff；　short　silence；　then：
　　〃Mine；〃　said　Alain　of　Rousset　clearly。　〃We　will　hear　my　songs；　if　you　like。　Lisseut；　will　you　be　good　enough　to　sing　for　us？〃
　　It　was；　she　thought　much　later；　when　she　had　space　for　calmer　reflection　on　the　turbulent　events　of　that　night；　not　so　greatly　surprising　when　looked　at　in　a　certain　light。　Remy　and　Aurelian　were　both　out　of　the　room；　and　Bertran　was　certainly　not　going　to　have　his　own　verses　sung　at　Urté　de　Miraval's　request；　of　the　troubadours　who　remained；　Alain　had　more　ambition　than　most　and　as　much　right　to　step　forward　as　any；　and　since　she'd　just　finished　a　season　of　touring　with　him　it　was　perfectly　logical　that　he　ask　her　to　perform。
　　All　such　clear　thinking　came　afterwards；　though。　At　the　moment；　Lisseut　was　aware　only　that　she　had　just　been　humiliatingly　inverted　in　a　tub　of　Cauvas　gold　wine；　that　there　was　a　spreading　puddle　beneath　her　feet；　that　her　clothing　was　ruined；　her　hair　soaked；　and　in　such　a　resplendent　condition　she　was　now　being　asked　to　sing…for　the　first　time　…　in　the　presence　of　three　of　the　most　powerful　personages　in　Arbonne；　one　of　whom　also　happened　to　be　the　most　celebrated　troubadour　of　their　day。
　　She　made　a　small；　gulping　sound　in　her　throat；　hoping　immediately　after　that　no　one　had　heard。　The　big　coran　from　Gorhaut　turned；　though；　and　favoured　her　with　an　ironic　scrutiny　from　behind　his　thick；　reddish　beard。　She　glared　fiercely　up　at　him；　and　that　brief　surge　of　anger；　as　much　as　anything　else；　calmed　her　momentary　attack　of　fright。　With　what　she　hoped　was　a　casual　gesture　she　tossed　the　towel　she　was　still　holding　to　the　bearded　man　and　turned　to　Alain。
　　〃I　would　be　honoured；〃　she　said；　as　calmly　as　she　could。
　　Alain's　face；　visibly　contending　with　anxieties　of　his　own；　didn't　much　help　her　to　relax。　She　understood；　of　course：　the　troubadour　was　boldly　seizing　an　unexpected　chance　to　make　a　bid　for　wider　renown…and　was　handing　her　the　opportunity　to　do　the　same。　A　moment　such　as　this；　singing　in　The　Liensenne　at　Midsummer　Carnival　before　the　dukes　of　Talair　and　Miraval　and　the　reigning　queen　of　the　Court　of　Love　。。。　Lisseut　blinked　and　swallowed。　If　she　thought　too　much　about　the　potential　implications　of　what　seemed　about　to　happen　she　would　probably　make　herself　sick。
　　Fortunately；　the　next　face　she　focused　on　was　Marotte's；　and　the　delighted　encouragement　she　read　in　the　innkeeper's　visage　was　exactly　what　she　needed。　Someone　brought　her　a　harp；　someone　else　placed　a　low　stool　and　a　floor　cushion　in　the　usual　place　near　the　booths　on　the　left…hand　wall；　and　somehow　Lisseut　found　herself　sitting　there；　holding　and　tuning　the　harp；　even　as　she　adjusted　the　cushion　for　fort。
　　She　was　still　wet；　if　not　actually　dripping　any　more；　and　she'd　had　no　time　at　all　to　prepare。　Glancing　up；　she　saw　Duke　Bertran　walking　over；　a　thin　smile　playing　about　his　lips。　It　didn't　reach　his　eyes；　though。　With　Urté　de　Miraval　in　the　room；　Lisseut　doubted　if　En　Bertran　could　actually　be　amused　by　anything。　The　duke　removed　his　lightweight　summer　cloak　and　draped　it　loosely　over　her　shoulders。
　　〃You'll　catch　a　chill　otherwise；〃　he　said　mildly。　〃If　you　leave　it　draped　so；　it　won't　get　in　the　way　of　your　hands。〃　Th