ggk.asongforarbonne-第59部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


t。　〃The　truth　is　she　goaded　you　and　you　spat　out　something　you　didn't　mean　to　say。〃
　　His　father　shakes　his　head　slowly　back　and　forth；　his　jowls　waggling　with　the　motion。　〃Don't　be　pletely　the　fool；　Ranald。　Why　do　you　think　I　went　to　see　her　at　Garsenc　in　the　first　place？　Why　would　I　want　a　baby？　What　would　I　do　with　an　infant？　You　seem　sober　this　morning。　Seize　the　opportunity：　think。　It　will　be　in　your　own　interests；　incidentally…whatever　you　might　privately　imagine…to　confirm　my　version　of　the　story。　I　cannot　conceive　of　events　falling　out　better　for　our　purposes。〃
　　〃Our　purposes？　Your　own；　you　mean。　You　will　now　make　war　on　Arbonne　to　bring　back　the　child。〃　It　is　just　barely　possible　that　his　father　is　telling　the　truth；　that　this　entire　escapade　of　Rosala's　flight　was　cunningly　engineered。　It　is　the　way　he　deals　with　people；　the　way　he　has　proceeded　all　his　life。
　　With　a　crash　that　shatters　the　stillness　the　largest　door　to　the　room　bangs　open　and　thuds　against　the　stone　wall。　Father　and　son　wheel　swiftly。　Massive　in　the　doorway；　beard　and　hair　dripping　with　perspiration；　blood　and　grass　stains　on　his　broad　shoulders　and　chest；　mud　spattering　breeches　and　boots；　King　Ademar　of　Gorhaut　throws　his　riding　whip　down　on　the　stone　floor　and　snarls；　〃I　want　her　back！　You　hear　me；　Galbert？　I　want　her　back　here　immediately！〃　His　face　is　a　vivid　red；　his　pale　eyes　are　glassy　with　rage。
　　〃Of　course；　my　liege；〃　says　the　High　Elder　soothingly；　recovering　his　poise　with　speed。　〃Of　course　you　do。　You　are　conscious　of　the　insult　to　our　family　and　seek　to　help　us　respond。　We　are　profoundly　grateful。　Indeed；　my　son　and　I　were　just　discussing　how　next　to　proceed。〃
　　〃Proceed　however　you　must！　I　want　her　back！〃　Ademar　says　again；　running　a　gloved　hand　through　his　hair。
　　〃And　the　child；　too；　of　course。〃　Galbert　murmurs。　〃The　child　is　so　very　important。〃
　　His　deep；　calming　tones　seem　finally　to　take　effect。　The　king　of　Gorhaut　takes　a　breath　and　shakes　his　head　as　if　to　clear　it。　He　says；　a　little　more　lucidly；　〃Of　course。　The　child　too。　Very　important。　Heir　to　Garsenc；　if　it's　a　boy。　Of　course。〃　He　looks　at　Ranald　for　the　first　time　and　his　eyes　flick　away。
　　〃If　they　keep　a　boy　child　from　us；〃　Galbert　de　Garsenc　says　then；　still　in　the　quiet；　assuaging　voice；　〃the　world　can　scarcely　dispute　our　right　to　go　after　him。〃
　　Ademar　bends　suddenly　and　picks　up　his　whip。　He　strikes　it　sharply　against　his　own　leg。　〃Right。　You　do　it。　Gotzland；　Arimonda；　the　Portezzans　。。。　explain　it；　make　it　all　sound　right；　whatever　you　need　to　do。　But　I　want　her　back。〃
　　He　spins　on　his　heel；　not　even　looking　at　Ranald　a　second　time；　and　strides　heavily　from　the　room。　Behind　him；　expressionlessly；　a　servant　reaches　in　and　swings　the　heavy　door　closed；　leaving　the　two　Garsenc　men　alone　again。
　　Registering　his　elder　son's　expression；　Galbert　begins；　quietly；　to　laugh。　〃Ah；　well；〃　he　says；　not　bothering　to　hide　his　amusement；　his　jowls　shaking；　〃you　have　just　made　a　discovery。　It　seems　that　someone　here　at　least　desires　the　return　of　your　lady　wife。　I　do　wonder　why。〃
　　Ranald　turns　away。　He　feels　sick　to　his　stomach　and　he　needs　a　drink。　The　memory　of　the　king；　huge　and　wrathful　in　the　doorway；　seems　imprinted　on　his　brain。　He　can't　shake　free　of　the　image。　He　wonders　where　his　own　rage　is；　where　his　capacity　for　such　feelings　seems　to　have　gone　over　the　years。
　　〃It　all　works　out　so　neatly　for　you；　doesn't　it？〃　he　says　quietly；　looking　out　the　window　now　on　the　inner　courtyard　of　the　palace。　Ademar's　corans　are　dismounting　there　in　the　bright　sunlight；　displaying　the　bloody　trophies　of　their　hunt。
　　〃If　they　shelter　the　wife　and　heir　of　Garsenc；〃　his　father　says　peacefully；　in　the　deep；　sonorous　voice；　〃they　must　not　imagine　they　can　do　so　with　impunity。　In　the　eyes　of　the　world　we　will　have　the　cause　we　need。〃
　　〃And　if　they　do　surrender　them？〃　Ranald　turns　back　from　the　window。　He　is　wondering　how　long　King　Ademar　has　been　coveting　his　wife。　He　wonders　how　he　has　never　noticed　it　before。　He　wonders；　finally；　if　his　father　has　been　quietly　guiding　that　desire。　Another　tool；　another　instrument　of　policy。　He　ought　to　be　challenging　the　king；　he　thinks。　He　almost　has　to。　He　knows　he　will　do　no　such　thing。　Loathing　himself；　Ranald　realizes　that　he　is　not　going　be　able　to　continue　this　much　longer　without　a　drink。
　　His　father　is　shaking　his　head。　He　asked　Galbert　a　question；　Ranald　remembers。　It　has　bee　difficult　to　concentrate。　〃Surrender　them？　Arbonne？　Woman…ruled　Arbonne？〃　The　High　Elder　is　laughing。　〃It　will　not　happen。　They　will　destroy　themselves　before　they　yield　a　woman　and　a　newborn　babe　to　us。〃
　　Ranald　feels　a　taste；　as　of　bile；　in　his　mouth。　〃Or　you　will　do　the　destroying　for　them。〃
　　〃I　will　indeed　do　so；〃　says　Galbert　de　Garsenc；　the　glorious　voice　swelling　now　for　the　first　time。　〃In　the　name　of　Corannos　and　for　his　eternal　glory　I　will　indeed　destroy　that　place　of　festering；　blood…smeared；　womanish　corruption。　It　is　the　quest　of　my　days；　the　reason　for　all　I　do。〃
　　〃And　you　are　so　close　now；　aren't　you？〃　Ranald　says；　his　own　voice　harsh。　He　is　going　to　have　to　leave　very　soon；　he　knows。　He　is　afraid　he　is　about　to　be　ill。　He　cannot　get　that　image　of　the　king　out　of　his　mind。　〃Everything　has　e　together　for　you。　Duergar's　death；　the　treaty；　Rosala's　flight　now；　Ademar　in　the　palm　of　your　hand。〃　He　says　that　last　too　loudly；　but　he　doesn't　care　any　more。　〃All　you　need　now；　to　deal　with　the　other　countries；　to　make　it　all　acceptable　to　them；　is　for　the　child　to　have　been　a　boy。〃
　　〃You　are　correct；〃　his　father　agrees；　smiling　benignly。　〃You　astonish　me；　my　son。　I　have　prayed　upon　my　knees　to　the　god。　I　can　only　hope　Corannos　has　heard　my　words　and　found　me　worthy　to　be　answered；　that　I　may　strike　soon　with　fire　and　sword　in　his　most　holy　name。　All　I　need；　truly；　as　you　say；　is　for　the　child　to　be　a　boy。〃
　　
　　Rosala　came　back　down　the　corridor　from　the　room　where　her　son　lay　sleeping。　The　wet…nurse　they　had　found　was　with　him；　and　the　younger　of　the　two　priestesses　who　had　been　present　at　Cadar's　birth　was　staying　in　Barbentain　Castle　for　this　first　week。　They　were　careful　in　Arbonne　with　babies；　she　was　discovering；　or；　at　least；　careful　with　the　babies　of　nobility。　Some　things　were　constant　wherever　in　the　world　one　went。　Rosala　doubted　the　same　attention　had　been　paid　to　the　child　of　the　wet…nurse　in　its　village。　She　knew　it　had　died；　she　didn't　want　to　know　how；　or　why。　Children　died　in　so　many　ways。　The　usual　advice　was　not　to　grow　too　attached　to　them　in　the　first　year；　lest　the　heart　break　if　they　were　taken　away。　Rosala　remembered　hearing　that　years　ago；　and　thinking　it　made　sense；　she　didn't　think　that　any　more。
　　She　had　no　idea　how　women　held　back　from　loving　the　small；　desperately　needy　infants　in　their　arms。　She　was　grateful　beyond　words　for　the　care　they　were　offering　Cadar。　Crossing　the　mountains　south　in　that　jostling　wagon　she　seemed　to　have　passed　from　an　endless　nightmare　to　a　sheltering　haven。
　　An　illusory　thought；　she　knew。　She　was　too　versed　in　the　ways　of　the　world　to　imagine　that　she　would　simply　be　allowed　to　live　here　peacefully　with　her　child　and　the　old　countess　receiving　troubadours　and　their　joglars；　listening　to　music　and　riding　in　the　fields　beside　the　river　as　the　seasons　followed　each　other　and　Cadar　grew　into　a　child　and　then　a　man。　They　had　been　known　to　kill　women　in　Gorhaut　for　merely　speaking　impertinently　to　their　husbands　in　a　public　place。　What　would　they　do　to　a　woman　who　fled　with　a　child？　And　not　just　any　woman；　or　any　child。　The　heir　to　the　dukes　of　Garsenc　was　sleeping　in　the　room　she　had　just　left；　and　Cadar　was　perilously　near　in　succession　to　the　throne　itself　while　Ademar　remained　unwed。　Third　or　fourth　in　line；　actually；　by　one　path　of　reckoning；　depending　on　whether　one　counted　the　disinherited　Blaise　or　not。
　　It　didn't　much　matter。　They　would　be　ing　for　Cadar；　and　probably　for　her。　It　would　begin　with　the　formalities　of　statecraft；　the　richly　clothed　emissaries　with　their　learned　speeches　and　their　gifts　to　the　countess　and　the　mellifluously　written　letters　they　would　carry。　The　gifts　would　be　elaborate；　that　was　the　way　of　things。　The　speeches　would　be　eloquent　and　courteous。　The　demands　in　the　letters　would　be　unveiled　and　coldly　precise；　and　backed　by　ultimatums　that　left　nothing　to　the　imagination。
　　Rosala　wondered　whether　she　should　take　ship　for　the　east　to　release　Arbonne　from　the　burden　of　her　presence。　If　somewhere　in　one　of　the　fabled　courts　of　magic　in　those　far　lands　she　might　find　a　home　for　herself　and　Cadar。　Another　illusion；　that。　She　knew　the　tales　of　what　happened　to　fair…skinned　women　in　the　courts　and　bazaars　of　those　lands　of　spice　and　silk。　She　knew　what　happened　to　their　male　children。
　　She　could　hear　music；　a　murmur　of　voices　and　laughter　spiralling　up　the　stairwell　from　the　great　hall　below。　She　couldn't　remember　the　last　time　she'd　heard　laughter　that　didn't　carry　an　edge　of　malice。　They　had　told　her　that　the　music　tonight；　by　a　young　man　from　Orreze；　would　be　of　a　very　high　order。　She　knew　she　would　be　wele　if　she　went　downstairs。　She　still　felt　tired；　though；　and　extremely　tender；　not　ready　for　the　demands　of　public　spaces。　Privacy　was　a　rare　thing　in　her　world；　something　to　be　valued　as　much　as　any　other　gift　they　had　offered　her　here　in　Barbentain。
　　She　sat　down　carefully　in　a　recessed　window　seat　to　listen。　The　stone　bench　was　cushioned；　for　which　she　was　grateful。　She　reached　over　and　unlatched　the　window。　It　was　of　stained　glass；　etched　wonderfully　with　the　image　of　a　green　island　in　the　sea。　The　breeze　came　in；　and　through　the　window　she　could　see　the　unfiltered　light　of　the　blue　moon。　They　called　it　Riannon　here　for　the　goddess；　not　Escoran　for　the　god。　Because　of　that　difference；　she　reflected；　Arbonne　was　to　be　destroyed。
　　After　a　moment　she　rejected　the　thought：　too　simple　an　argument　and　conclusion。　Nothing　was　that　simple　in　the　world。
　　She　could　hear　the　river　running　below　in　the　darkness；　making　a　soft；　continuous　murmur　beneath　the　singing　of　the　joglar。　It　was　cool　tonight　on　the　isle　of　Barbentain；　Rosala　wrapped　the　woolen　robe　they　had　given　her　more　closely　about　herself