ggk.asongforarbonne-第45部分

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the　loss　of　the　power　she　offered　him　than　anything　else。　Aelis　had　no　softness　in　her　though；　she　was　all　pride　and　recklessness；　even　on　her　deathbed。　She　pushed　herself　up　in　the　bed　and　she　told　Urté　the　child　was　Bertran　de　Talair's。〃
　　〃How　do　you　know　this？〃
　　〃I　was　there；〃　Ariane　had　said。　〃As　I　say；　that　moment　altered　my　own　life；　shaped　what　I　think　I　have　bee。　Those　words　she　spoke　to　Urté　changed　our　world；　you　know。　We　would　live　in　a　differently　ordered　country　had　Aelis　not　taken　her　vengeance。〃
　　〃Vengeance　for　what？〃　Blaise　had　asked；　though　he　was　beginning；　slowly；　to　understand。
　　〃For　not　being　loved；〃　Ariane　had　said　simply。　〃For　being　valued　at　too　much　less　than　she　was。　For　being　exiled　to　the　dank；　grim　fastness　of　Miraval　from　the　lights　and　laughter　of　her　father's　court。〃
　　He　had　thought　it　might　be　that。　Once　he　would　have　scorned　such　a　thing　as　beneath　contempt；　another　woman's　vanity　marring　the　unfolding　of　the　world。　It　had　surprised　him　a　little　that　he　didn't　still　see　it　that　way；　at　least　that　night　in　Tavernel；　with　Ariane　de　Carenzu　in　his　arms　he　didn't。　It　had　occurred　to　him　then；　with　a　shock　he　had　tried　to　mask；　that　this　new　pattern　of　thought　might　be　his　own　deepest　rebellion　against　his　father。
　　〃I　can　guess　what　you　are　thinking；〃　Ariane　had　said。　
　　〃No；　I　don't　think　you　can；〃　he　had　replied　without　elaborating。　〃What　did　Urté　do？〃　he'd　asked；　pushing　his　own　family　affairs　towards　the　back　of　his　mind。　There　had　been　a　sadness　in　Blaise　that　night；　hearing　the　old　tale。　The　question　was　a　formality。　He　was　sure　he　knew　what　En　Urté　de　Miraval　had　done。
　　Ariane's　answer　had　surprised　him；　though。　〃No　one　knows　for　certain。　And　that　is　the　heart　of　Bertran's　tragedy；　Blaise。　There　was　a　son　born　before　Aelis　died。　I　watched　the　priestess　bring　him　into　the　world。　I　heard　him　cry。　Then　Urté；　who　had　been　waiting；　took　him　away；　and　not　Aelis　nor　the　priestess；　and　certainly　not　I　at　thirteen　years　of　age；　had　the　power　to　stop　him　within　his　own　walls。　I　remember　how　his　face　changed　when　she　told　him　who　the　father　was；　that　I　will　never　forget。　And　I　remember　him　bending　down　over　her；　as　she　lay　there；　torn　and　dying；　and　whispering　something　into　her　ear　that　I　could　not　hear。　Then　he　left　the　room　with　Bertran's　child　crying　in　his　arms。〃
　　〃And　killed　it。〃
　　She　shook　her　head。　〃As　I　say；　no　one　knows。　It　is　likely；　probable；　knowing　Urté；　knowing　how　such　a　child　would　have　been　heir　to　so　much　。。。　to　Barbentain；　and　so　to　Arbonne　itself；　as　Aelis's　child。　It　is　likely；　but　we　do　not　know。　Bertran　doesn't　know。　Not　with　certainty。　If　the　child　lived；　if　it　lives　now；　only　Urté　de　Miraval　knows　where　it　is。〃
　　Blaise　had　seen　it　clearly　then；　the　harsh；　ugly　shape　of　Bertran's　pain。　〃And　so　Urté　could　not　be　killed　all　these　years…cannot　be　killed　now…because　any　possibility　of　finding　the　truth　or　the　child　will　die　with　him。〃
　　Ariane　had　looked　up　at　him　in　the　muted　grey　light　of　the　room　and　nodded　her　head　in　silence。　Blaise　had　tried　to　imagine　what　it　would　have　been　like　to　be　thirteen　years　old　and　to　have　lived　through　such　a　night；　to　have　it　lying；　like　a　weight　of　stones；　in　your　own　past。
　　〃I　would　have　killed　him　regardless；〃　he　had　said　after　a　long　time。　And　she　had　answered　only；　〃You　and　Bertran　de　Talair　are　very　different　men。〃
　　
　　Riding　north　beside　the　river　with　Duke　Bertran　and　the　corans　of　Talair　to　the　Autumn　Fair　in　Lussan；　Blaise　thought　again　about　that　remark。　It　was　very　nearly　the　last　thing　she'd　said　to　him　that　night　before　they'd　dressed　and　she'd　gone　from　his　room　alone；　cloaked　and　hooded；　with　only　a　mild；　chaste　kiss　of　farewell　in　first　grey　light　of　day。
　　What　made　men　so　different　from　each　other？　Accidents　of　birth；　of　upbringing；　of　good　fortune　or　tragedy？　What　sort　of　man　would　Blaise　himself　have　bee　had　he　been　the　older　son；　the　heir　to　Garsenc；　and　not　the　younger　one　for　whom　an　unwanted　destiny　among　the　clergy　of　the　god　had　been　ordained　by　his　father？　What　if　his　mother　had　lived；　the　question　Signe　de　Barbentain　had　asked？　Would　she　have　made　any　difference？　What　if　Galbert　de　Garsenc　had　somehow　been　a　different；　gentler；　less　power…obsessed　man？
　　Though　that　last　speculation　was　impossible；　really；　it　was　simply　not　possible　to　imagine　his　father　as　anything　other　than　what　he　was。　Galbert　seemed　absolute　to　Blaise；　like　a　force　of　nature　or　some　gigantic　monument　of　the　Ancients；　one　that　spoke　to　nothing　but　power　and　had　been　in　the　world　almost　forever。
　　Bertran　de　Talair；　too；　was　a　younger　son。　Only　the　early　death　of　his　brother　had　brought　him　to　the　dukedom　and　set　two　great　houses　so　harshly　against　each　other。　Before　that　he　had　followed　the　usual　course：　a　sword　for　hire　in　battle　and　tournament；　seeking　fortune　and　a　place　in　the　world。　The　same　path　Blaise　de　Garsenc　was　to　take；　starting　from　Gorhaut；　years　after。　The　same　path；　that　is；　if　one　left　out　the　music。
　　But　the　music　could　not　be　left　out。　It　defined　Bertran；　just　as　it　defined　Arbonne；　Blaise　found　himself　thinking。　He　shook　his　head；　almost　amused　at　himself。　Half　a　year　now　he　had　been　here；　and　already　his　mind　seemed　to　have　this　tendency　to　slide　down　channels　it　had　never　known　before。　Resolutely　he　pulled　his　wandering　thoughts　back　to　the　present；　to　the　high　road　of　Arbonne　built　by　the　Ancients　between　the　river　and　the　grainfields　to　the　east。
　　Looking　ahead；　squinting　through　the　dust；　Blaise　was　drawn　from　reverie。　He　was　riding　near　the　rear　of　the　column；　behind　the　long　baggage…train　of　goods　they　were　escorting　to　the　fair…mostly　barrels　of　Talair　wine。　He　saw　Bertran　and　Valery　riding　back　towards　him。　Their　pace　was　measured；　but　just　quick　enough　to　make　him　aware　that　something　was　happening　at　the　front　of　the　long　column。　Beyond　the　two　of　them　he　could　make　out　banners　in　the　distance。　They　seemed　to　be　about　to　overtake　someone。　There　was　nothing　in　that；　all　the　roads　were　crowded　on　the　way　to　a　fair；　and　the　high　road　most　of　all。　He　raised　his　eyebrows　as　the　two　men　came　up　and　neatly　turned　their　horses　to　fall　into　stride　on　either　side　of　Blaise。
　　〃Diversions；　diversions；〃　said　Bertran　airily。　He　had　a　smile　on　his　face　that　Blaise　recognized　by　now；　it　made　him　uneasy。　〃Unexpected　pleasures　of　so　many　kinds　await　us。　What；〃　the　duke　went　on；　〃can　you　tell　me　about　someone　named　Rudel　Correze？〃
　　After　a　number　of　months　with　Bertran；　Blaise　was　getting　used　to　this　sort　of　thing。　It　sometimes　seemed　to　him　that　the　Arbonnais　preferred　to　be　known　as　clever　and　witty　more　than　anything　else。
　　〃He　shoots　fairly　well；〃　he　said　drily；　trying　to　match　Bertran's　tone。　〃Ask　Valery。〃
　　The　big　coran；　now　fully　recovered；　grunted　wryly。
　　〃We　have　been；〃　said　Bertran　crisply；　his　tone　changing　without　warning；　〃collectively　avoiding　a　decision　all　summer。　I　think　it　is　time　to　make　it。〃
　　〃Correze　banners　up　ahead？〃　Blaise　asked。
　　〃Indeed　there　are。　Among　others。　I　think　I　recognized　Andoria　and　Delonghi　as　well。〃
　　It　was　odd　how　the　ambushes　of　life　came　upon　one　so　utterly　unawares。　Or　perhaps　it　wasn't　all　that　odd；　Blaise　corrected　himself：　they　wouldn't　be　ambushes　otherwise；　would　they？　It　stood　to　reason；　didn't　it？　He　felt　suddenly　cold；　though。　He　wondered　if　the　other　two　men　could　read　a　response　in　him；　and　then　he　wondered　why　it　had　never　even　occurred　to　him　that　Lucianna　might　be　ing　to　the　Lussan　Fair。
　　There　was　more　than　enough　of　importance　happening　in　the　world；　as　autumn　came；　to　make　an　appearance　by　the　Delonghi　an　obvious　thing　to　have　expected　at　this　annual　gathering。　They　would　e　to　trade；　to　watch　and　wager　or　fight　in　the　tournament；　to　celebrate　the　harvests　and　share　news　of　the　six　countries　before　winter's　snow　and　rain　made　the　roads　impassable。　And　where　the　men　of　the　Delonghi　were　likely　to　be　present；　the　celebrated；　notorious　jewel　of　the　family　would　almost　certainly　be　found。　Lucianna　was　not　prone　to　be　left　behind；　anywhere。
　　The　immediate　question　had　been　about　Rudel；　though；　and　Bertran　had　raised　another　issue　as　well。
　　Blaise　addressed　the　question；　making　his　tone　as　precise　as　he　could。　〃You'll　have　to　make　a　point　of　acknowledging　Rudel　himself；　and　his　father　if　he's　here。　He　might　be。　Once　acknowledged；　and　under　the　truce　of　the　fair　Rudel　will　do　nothing　at　all。　In　fact；　it　will　probably　amuse　him　to　be　seen　in　your　pany。〃
　　〃It　will　amuse　me　as　well；〃　Bertran　murmured；　〃to　no　end。　I　think　I　will　enjoy　meeting　this　man。〃
　　Most　of　the　world　knew　now　about　the　failed　assassination　and　the　money　spent。　A　few　people　were　aware　of　who　it　was　who　had　fired　that　poisoned　arrow　and　hit　the　wrong　man。　Rudel；　so　far　as　Blaise　could　judge；　would　have　been　seriously　embarrassed…especially　after　heading　straight　to　Gotzland　to　claim　the　promised　fee。　Bertran's　sources　at　the　court　of　King　Jorg…who　were　remarkably　well　informed…had　sent　word　later　about　how　Rudel　had　been　forced　to　repay　the　sum。　He　had　already　spent　part　of　it；　it　was　reported；　and　so　his　father　had　been　pelled　to　intervene　and　square　the　account。　Blaise　could　quite　easily　imagine　how　his　old　friend　had　felt　about　that。
　　In　his　own　way；　he　was　looking　forward　to　seeing　Rudel　again。　In　the　plex　sparring　match　of　their　relationship　he　had　won　a　victory　in　that　garden　in　Tavernel；　and　both　of　them　would　know　it。　He　didn't　win　so　cleanly　very　often；　it　would　be　something　to　savour。
　　Or　it　might　have　been；　except　that　Lucianna　was　here；　and　Blaise　knew　from　experience　that　Rudel　would　use　whatever　weapons　he　needed　to　to　even　a　score　if　he　felt　himself　on　the　losing　side　of　the　slate。　Blaise　shook　his　head。　He　would　have　to　try　to　deal　with　that　if　and　when　it　happened。　There　was　something　else　still　to　be　addressed　here；　and　Bertran　and　Valery　were　both　watching　him　in　silence　as　they　rode。　There　was　a　growing　motion　up　at　the　front　of　their　column　and　they　seemed　to　be　slowing　down。　He　could　see　the　overtaken　banners　clearly　now：　Correze；　Delonghi；　Andoria；　one　or　two　others　he　didn't　recognize。
　　He　turned　to　Bertran。　The　duke　was　bareheaded　as　usual；　in　the　nondescript　riding