ggk.asongforarbonne-第40部分

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ndoria's　long　life　or　domestic　happiness。〃
　　〃Then　why　did　he　marry　her？　He's　a　powerful　man；　isn't　he？　Why　would　he　invite　the　Delonghi　into　Andoria？〃
　　Aurelian　laughed　quietly。　〃Why　do　men　and　women　ever　do　anything　less　than　rational？　Why　do　the　teachings　of　the　metaphysicians　of　the　university　not　guide　us　all　in　our　actions？　Shall　we　call　it　the　influence　of　Rian　on　hearts　and　souls？　The　reason　we　love　music　more　than　rhetoric？〃
　　This　wasn't　what　she　wanted　to　know。
　　〃Is　she　beautiful；　Aurelian？〃
　　〃I　only　saw　her　once；　at　a　distance。〃
　　〃And？〃
　　〃Remy　could　describe　her　better。〃
　　〃Remy　is　out　bedding　someone　or　getting　drunk。　You　tell　me。〃
　　There　was　a　short　pause。　The　music　of　Anselme's　sweet　song　drifted　up　to　them。
　　〃She　is　as　beautiful　as　obsidian　in　new　snow；〃　said　Aurelian　slowly。　〃She　glitters　like　a　diamond　by　candlelight。　There　is　fire　in　her　like　a　ruby　or　an　emerald。　What　other　jewellery　shall　I　give　her？　She　offers　the　promise　of　danger　and　dark　oblivion；　the　same　challenge　that　war　or　mountains　do；　and　she　is　as　cruel；　I　think；　as　all　of　these　things。〃
　　Lisseut　swallowed　with　some　difficulty。　〃You　sound　like　Remy　when　he's　had　too　much　wine；〃　she　said　finally；　trying　to　manage　a　tone　of　irony。　She　had　never　heard　Aurelian　speak　like　that　before。　〃And　all　this　from　a　distance？〃
　　〃From　the　far　end　of　a　table　in　Faenna；〃　he　agreed　calmly。　〃I　would　never　have　dared　go　nearer；　but　that　was　near　enough。　She　is　not　for　having；　that　one。　Were　it　not　an　impiety　I　would　say　that　the　dark　side　of　the　goddess　is　in　her。　She　destroys　what　she　is　claimed　by。〃
　　〃But　still　she　is　claimed。〃
　　〃There　is　darkness　in　all　of　us；　and　desires　we　might　prefer　to　deny　by　day。〃　He　hesitated。　〃I　dream　of　her　sometimes。〃
　　Lisseut　was　silent；　unsettled　again；　sorry　now　that　she　had　asked。　Her　confusion　of　before　seemed　to　have　e　back　in　all　its　jangling　discord。　They　lay　together；　listening　to　the　music　from　below；　and　eventually　it　was　the　music　that　calmed　her；　as　it　almost　always　did。　Before　it　ended　they　were　both　asleep。　She　dreamt；　lying　in　Aurelian's　arms；　of　arrows；　though；　and　heard；　in　her　dream；　Rudel　Correze's　laughter　in　a　garden。
　　In　the　morning　she　would　waken　with　sunlight　in　the　window　to　find　Aurelian　gone。　Sprawled　across　the　other　bed；　snoring　and　sodden；　still　in　his　boots　and　clothes；　would　be　Remy　of　Orreze。　Lisseut　would　hesitate　only　a　moment；　then；　offering　devout　and　genuinely　grateful　thanks　to　Rian　and　Corannos　both；　she　would　take　the　basin　of　water　Aurelian　had　thoughtfully　filled　for　her　before　he　left；　and　empty　it　over　the　sleeping；　fair…haired　troubadour　who'd　been　her　first　lover。　Then　she　would　flee　through　the　door　and　down　the　stairs；　leaving　his　shrieks　of　outrage　behind　to　awaken　all　those　who　yet　slumbered　in　The　Liensenne　on　a　bright　Midsummer's　Day。　She　would　feel　much；　much　better　after　that。
　　
　　Every　second　or　third　year；　in　the　absence　of　war　or　plague；　it　had　been　the　custom　of　Guibor　IV；　count　of　Arbonne；　to　spend　Midsummer　Night　in　Tavernel　at　the　Carnival；　in　homage　to　the　goddess　and　to　affirm　for　his　people　in　the　south　that　he　was　ever　mindful　of　his　duties　to　them　and　of　the　importance　of　the　sea　to　Arbonne。　Once；　when　young；　he　had　even　essayed　the　Boats　and　Rings　on　the　river；　plucking　three　garlands　before　missing　the　fourth　and　dousing　himself　in　the　river；　to　emerge　with　the　booming　good…natured　laughter　that　was　a　part　of　why　his　country　loved　him。
　　On　those　nights；　Signe　de　Barbentain　reflected；　lying　in　a　room　in　the　temple　of　Rian　with　a　small　fire　to　take　away　the　chill　that　afflicted　her　now；　even　in　summer；　she'd　had　no　concerns　about　the　ancient　saying　in　Tavernel　that　it　was　unlucky　to　lie　alone　on　Midsummer　Eve。　She　had　lain　with　her　husband；　and　the　wild　sounds　outside　had　seemed　part　of　a　fabric　of　enchantment　in　the　dark。
　　Tonight；　though；　she　was　alone　and　feeling　afraid。　Not　for　herself；　her　own　summons　to　Rian　would　e　when　it　came；　and　was　unlikely　to　lie　far　off。　She　had　long　since　e　to　terms　with　that。　Her　fear　was　for　the　land；　for　the　dangerous　rush　of　events　that　seemed　to　be　gathering　speed　all　around　them。
　　New　parts　to　the　pattern　had　been　discovered　tonight　and；　starkly　awake；　looking　at　the　flickering　shapes　that　fire　and　guttering　candle　cast　on　the　walls　of　her　room；　the　countess　of　Arbonne　tried　again　to　deal　with　these　new　things。　Gorhaut　was　ing　south。　There　could　be　no　honest　denial　of　that　truth　any　longer。　Roban；　the　chancellor；　had　flatly　predicted　it　the　very　same　day　word　of　the　Treaty　of　Iersen　Bridge　had　e　to　Barbentain。　And　now　there　was　this　purposeful；　extravagant　payment　made　for　the　death　of　Bertran　de　Talair。　He　might　indeed　have　died　tonight；　Signe　thought；　suppressing　a　shiver。　Had　the　clouds　not　e　when　they　did；　or　had　Beatritz　not　been　in　Tavernel　and　the　bearded　coran；　Blaise；　not　known　the　arrow　and　the　assassin；　and　so　guessed　the　presence　of　syvaren　on　the　head；　Bertran　could　so　easily　have　died；　leaving　Talair　without　a　proper　heir　and　Arbonne　without　a　man　it　needed　desperately。
　　And　that　same　Gorhaut　coran；　Blaise；　was　a　matter　unto　himself。　For　the　fiftieth　time；　or　the　hundredth；　Signe　tried　to　weigh　risks　and　gains　in　this　gamble　that　Beatritz　and　Bertran　had　jointly　undertaken　in　trying　to　bind　Galbert　de　Garsenc's　younger　son　to　their　cause。　Roban　had　wanted　nothing　to　do　with　it；　had　stalked　grimly　about　the　perimeter　of　the　council　room　when　the　matter　was　first　raised。　She　couldn't　really　blame　him；　Beatritz　and　Bertran；　so　unlike　each　other　in　most　ways；　yet　shared　a　confidence　in　their　own　judgment　and　a　penchant　for　taking　risks　that　could　be　quite　unnerving　at　times。
　　Blaise　de　Garsenc　wasn't　the　kind　of　man　she'd　been　led　to　expect；　either。　Rumour　had　told　of　a　hardened　mercenary；　with　a　reputation　won　in　the　tournaments　and　the　wars　of　the　six　countries　over　many　years。　According　to　Roban；　she　herself　had　presented　the　man　with　a　laurel　at　the　Autumn　Fair　in　Lussan　six　years　past；　she　didn't　remember。　It　was　hard　to　remember　all　the　young　men　now。　They　seemed　to　remain　as　young　as　ever　while　she　grew　older　all　the　time。
　　This　man　wasn't　the　grim　northern　warrior　she'd　anticipated。　He　had　anger　in　him；　yes；　and　easy　enough　to　see；　but　he　was　clever；　and　more　bitter　than　anything　else；　she　judged。　He　had　clearly　been　hurt　in　Portezza　before　he　came　here；　there　were　rumours　about　that　as　well。　They　were　probably　true。　Well；　he　would　not　be　the　first　young　man　whose　heart　had　been　left　lying　on　the　carpet　outside　Lucianna　Delonghi's　bedchamber　door；　and　he　was　not　going　to　be　the　last。
　　In　the　darkness；　Signe　rubbed　her　aching　fingers　together　under　the　bedcovers；　she　always　seemed　to　be　cold　these　days。　In　her　time；　all　the　young　men　had　fallen　in　love　with　her　in　that　same　way。　She　had　known　how　to　deal　with　it；　though。　How　to　deny　them　the　grace　they　had　to　be　denied　while　leaving　them　their　pride　and　even　binding　them　more　closely　to　her…and　so；　more　importantly；　to　Guibor　and　the　causes　of　Arbonne　in　the　world。　There　was　an　art　to　the　rituals　of　courtly　love；　and　a　purpose。　She　knew：　she　was　the　one　who　had　defined　and　shaped　both　the　purpose　and　the　art。
　　Thirty　years　ago　there　might　have　been　arts　she　would　have　practised　to　bind　this　Gorhaut　coran　to　her。　Not　now；　though；　those　were　the　tools　and　contrivances　of　younger　women　and；　she　judged…and　her　judgment　was　extremely　good　in　these　matters…with　a　different　man。　Not　so　soon　after　Lucianna　Delonghi　was　done　with　him　would　Blaise　of　Gorhaut　tread　the　path　a　woman's　allure　offered　or　besought。
　　Which　left　anger　and　hatred　as　the　emotions　they　could　most　easily　invoke；　neither　of　which　came　readily　to　her　hand；　either　long　ago　in　her　youth　or　now；　with　Guibor　gone　and　the　world　a　sad　and　empty　place。　It　fell　not　neatly　to　her　to　invoke　a　son's　hatred　of　his　father　to　achieve　her　own　ends；　however　desperately　needful　those　ends　might　be。
　　And　yet。　And　yet　the　man　had　spoken　the　words　himself；　with　none　of　them　to　goad　or　induce　them：　What　else　would　you　have　me　do　？　Ride　home　in　fell　wrath　and　declare　myself　the　true　king　of　Gorhaut？
　　He　hadn't　meant　it；　hadn't　known　he　might　even　possibly　mean　it；　but　the　pain　of　Iersen　Bridge　was　so　raw　in　him；　and　so　was　his　knowledge　of　his　father's　designs。　Most　of　the　world　that　mattered　knew　that　Galbert　de　Garsenc's　younger　son　had　left　Gorhaut　denouncing　the　treaty　his　father　had　devised。
　　It　might　be　possible。　It　might　indeed　be　barely　possible　to　find　a　rift　here　to　widen　north　of　the　mountains　in　Gorhaut。　She　felt　old　though；　and　tired。　She　wished　she　could　sleep。　She　didn't　want　to　deal　with　matters　of　war。　She　wanted　music　and　what　warmth　the　sun　could　offer　as　summer　ripened　the　vines。　She　wanted　the　gentler　warmth　of　memories。
　　There　came　a　very　quiet　tapping　at　her　door。　Only　one　person　she　could　think　of　would　be　knocking　here　this　late　at　night。
　　〃e　in；〃　she　said。　The　fire　and　the　single　taper　were　still　burning。　By　the　flickering　of　their　light　she　saw　her　last　living　child　open　and　then　close　the　door　behind　her；　entering　the　room　in　a　pale　night…robe；　with　a　sure　tread　that　belied　her　blindness。　The　white　owl　lifted　and　flew　to　one　of　the　bedposts。
　　Signe　remembered　the　first　time　she'd　seen　Beatritz　after　her　daughter's　eyes　had　been　sacrificed。　It　was　not　a　memory　she　cared　to　relive。　Even　knowing　the　ancient；　most　holy　reasons　and　the　power　gained；　it　was　hard　for　a　mother　to　see　her　child　marred。
　　Beatritz　came　to　stand　beside　the　bed。　〃Did　I　wake　you？〃
　　〃No。　I'm　thinking　too　much　to　be　able　to　sleep。〃
　　〃And　I。　Chasing　too　many　thoughts　on　Rian's　night。〃　Her　daughter　hesitated。　〃Is　there　room　for　me；　or　will　I　disturb　you？　I'm　troubled　and　fearful。〃
　　Signe　smiled。　〃Child；　there　is　always　room　for　you　beside　me。〃　She　pulled　the　coverings　back　and　her　daughter　lay　down　with　her。　Signe　lifted　one　arm　to　enfold　her　and　began　to　stroke　the　greying　hair；　remembering　how　soft　it　had　been；　how　dark　and　shining　and　soft　when　Beatritz　was　a　child。　There　had　been　two　brothers　and　a　sister　and　a　father　then。　There　are　only　the　two　of　us　left；　Signe　thought；　humming　a　tune　she'd　almost