ggk.asongforarbonne-第68部分

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　　Blaise　lifted　first　his　left　leg　and　then　his　right。　
　　〃All　right；〃　said　Valery。　Blaise　stood　up；　and　Rudel　reached　around　his　waist　and　buckled　on　the　long；　Aulensburg…forged　sword　in　its　plain　soldier's　scabbard。　From　the　table　he　hefted　the　light　helmet。　Blaise　took　it　from　him　and　set　it　on　his　head。　Valery　was　waiting　with　the　round；　unornamented　shield。　Blaise　took　that　too。　
　　〃Where　do　you　want　your　knives？〃　Valery　asked。　
　　〃One　for　the　belt。　I　have　the　other。〃　Valery　asked　no　further　questions；　neither　did　Rudel。　They；　too；　had　both　been　through　this　before。　Rudel；　his　face　and　manner　sober；　lifted　a　sleek　black　knife　from　the　trunk　beside　the　tent　flap　and　handed　it　to　Blaise。
　　Blaise　smiled　briefly　at　him。　〃Do　you　remember？　You　gave　me　this　one？〃
　　Rudel　made　a　quick；　warding　sign。　〃I　did　no　such　thing。　I　found　it　for　you。　You　paid　me　a　copper　piece　for　it。　We　don't　give　knives　as　gifts；　you　ignorant　northerner。〃
　　Blaise　laughed。　〃Forgive　me。　I　forgot　that　you　are　a　superstitious　Portezzan　farmer　at　heart。　However　did　you　get　permission　to　leave　your　hoe　in　the　vineyards　to　travel　among　men　of　rank？〃
　　A　frivolous　gibe；　not　worthy　of　a　response　and　receiving　none；　for　the　trumpets　sounded　then。
　　Valery　and　Rudel　moved　to　stand　on　either　side　of　the　tent　flaps。　The　tradition　was　for　the　squires　to　say　nothing　at　this　time；　farewells　of　any　sort　were　thought　to　be　invitations　to　fate。　Blaise　knew　this。　He　looked　at　each　of　them　and　smiled。　He　was　still　calm；　but　there　was　a　slight　telltale　acceleration　to　his　pulsebeat　now；　as　silence　settled　like　a　bird　to　a　branch　outside。
　　He　nodded；　and　Valery　and　Rudel　each　drew　back　a　flap　of　the　tent。　He　stepped　past　the　two　of　them；　ducking　his　head；　and　he　came　out　into　sunshine　and　the　green　grass　of　the　battleground。
　　Quzman　of　Arimonda　was　the　first　person　he　saw；　standing　at　the　entrance　to　his　own　tent　on　the　far　side　of　the　field。　A　banner　was　flying　behind　him：　three　black　bulls　on　a　crimson　field。　Blaise　registered　the　curved　sword　worn　across　the　Arimondan's　back　in　the　western　fashion；　and　he　saw　the　polished　golden　shield。　He　glanced　east　to　check　and　remember　the　angle　of　the　rising　sun；　that　shield　could　blind　him　if　the　Arimondan　used　it　to　catch　and　throw　back　the　light。　Blaise　was　aware；　but　only　as　background；　of　excited；　rapacious　murmurs　ing　from　all　around　them。　A　death　challenge　was　the　keenest　sport　there　was。
　　The　trumpets　sounded　again；　briefly；　and　Blaise　turned　towards　the　central　pavilion　as　the　herald　of　Arbonne　stepped　forward。　He　was　aware　that　his　heart　was　beating　even　more　rapidly　now；　but　not　from　anticipation　of　the　battle；　not　yet。　There　was　something　still　to　e；　before　the　fighting。
　　The　herald's　rich　voice　rolled　out；　sonorously　naming　the　most　illustrious　of　those　assembled　there。　Blaise　saw　King　Daufridi　of　Valensa　sitting　next　to　the　countess；　his　bearded　features　unreadable；　betraying　nothing　more　than　idle；　polite　interest。
　　〃To　my　left；〃　cried　the　herald　at　last；　his　trained　voice　carrying　effortlessly　over　the　grass　and　the　densely　packed　pavilions；　〃stands　Quzman　di　Perno　of　Arimonda；　prepared　to　lay　his　life　before　Corannos　and　Rian　in　this　matter　of　his　family's　honour。〃　He　paused。　Blaise　drew　a　breath。　It　had　e。　〃All　right；〃　he　said　to　the　two　men　behind　him。　〃Do　it。〃　He　didn't　look　back；　but　as　the　herald　of　Arbonne　turned　towards　him　he　heard　the　rustle　and　flap　of　two　banners　being　run　up　to　fly　above　his　tent；　and　a　moment　later　there　came；　truly　like　the　roaring　of　sea　surf　in　wind；　a　swelling　of　sound　that　nearly　drowned　the　herald's　urgently　rising　voice。
　　〃To　my　other　hand；〃　the　herald　proclaimed；　〃equally　prepared　to　defend　the　honour　of　his　name；　stands　Blaise　de　Garsenc　of　Gorhaut；　who　here　lays　claim　before　this　assembled　gathering　of　the　six　nations　and　upon　this　holy　field　where　the　god　and　goddess　are　judges　of　honour　and　worth；　to　the　crown　of　the　Kingdom　of　Gorhaut；　falsely　now　held　by　traitorous　Ademar！〃
　　People　were　on　their　feet；　the　herald　was　shouting　now。　〃En　Blaise　has　also　declared　that　this　bat；　freely　entered　into　by　him　against　a　felon　so　proclaimed　by　the　countess　of　Arbonne；　shall　serve　as　a　warrant　for　the　worth　of　his　claim；　and　he　willingly　lays　his　life　at　hazard　before　you　all　in　this　moment　of　asserting　his　right　to　that　same　crown。〃
　　The　last　was　scarcely　heard　over　the　thunder　of　noise　from　the　pavilions　and　the　standing　grounds　on　the　other　side。　It　didn't　matter　whether　the　herald　was　audible　or　not。　The　banners　told　the　story。　Blaise　turned　slowly…it　was　all　theatre　now；　all　symbol；　until　the　killing　began…and　he　nodded　his　head；　as　an　equal　to　his　equals；　to　Signe　de　Barbentain　and　then　to　Daufridi　of　Valensa。　And　the　countess　of　Arbonne　rose；　in　the　presence　of　her　people　and　those　gathered　from　the　other　countries　of　the　world；　and　gestured　to　Blaise　with　an　extended　hand　in　wele；　equal　to　equal。　There　was　screaming　now。　Blaise　ignored　it。　He　waited。　One　long　moment；　then　another；　and　finally；　the　hairs　rising　on　the　back　of　his　neck；　he　saw　Daufridi　stand。　Tall　and　proud；　the　king　of　Valensa　turned　to　left　and　right；　not　hurrying；　a　master　of　moments　such　as　this；　and　then　very　slowly；　facing　Blaise；　he　laid　his　right　hand　on　his　left　shoulder　in　the　coran's　salute。
　　He　had　done　it。　There　had　been　no　way　of　knowing　if　he　would。　It　was　not　quite　the　full　gesture　of　wele　that　Signe　had　offered…Daufridi　had　far　too　plex　a　game　of　his　own　to　play　for　that　to　be　possible…but　he　had　given　more　than　they'd　had　any　right　to　expect：　an　acknowledgement　that　Blaise　was　worthy　of　a　king's　standing　up　to　recognize　him。
　　Blaise　closed　his　eyes　with　relief；　and　then　opened　them　quickly　again。　He　must　not　be　seen　to　have　doubted；　though　of　course　he　had。　There　had　been　no　promises　from　Daufridi　at　all…and　certainly　none　regarding　an　event　so　unexpectedly　swift　to　develop　as　this　one　had　been。　Leaving　that　inn　outside　the　walls　two　nights　ago；　he　had　offered　only　the　unreassuring　remark　that　he　would　think　on　what　Bertran　had　said。　He　had　done　so；　evidently。　He　was　with　them；　at　least　this　far。　Blaise　was　under　no　illusions　though：　if　the　King　of　Valensa　ever　decided　that　they　were　a　greater　danger　than　Ademar　and　Galbert；　he　would　be　swift　in　his　denunciation。　But　for　the　moment；　in　the　midst　of　this　tumultuous　maelstrom　of　sound；　he　had　risen　to　his　feet　to　wele　Blaise　to　the　stage　of　world　affairs。　It　was　something；　it　was；　in　fact；　a　great　deal。　Keeping　his　expression　as　serene　and　unrevealing　as　he　could；　Blaise　turned　away　from　the　pavilions　to　face　his　own　tent；　and　so　looked　up　for　the　first　time　at　what　flew　above　it　now。
　　The　rampant　bear　of　Garsenc；　crimson　on　its　deep　blue　ground；　carried　its　own　full　measure　of　significance　for　those　who　had　not　even　known　who　he　was　until　this　moment。　And　above　it；　in　pride　and　glory　and　most　brazen　declaration；　flew　the　banner　of　the　kings　of　Gorhaut。
　　Standing　at　the　centre　of　a　growing　tidal　wave　of　noise；　Blaise　looked　up　at　that　golden　sun　on　its　white　ground；　with　the　crown　of　kings　above　it　and　the　sword　of　the　god　below；　and　it　seemed　to　him；　oddly；　as　if　he　had　never　really　seen　it　before。　In　a　way；　he　never　had；　not　like　this。　Not　lifted　in　the　breeze　and　the　light　by　his　own　mand。　It　had　begun。　With　this　banner　flying　above　his　head　and　raised　in　his　own　name　before　the　emblem　of　his　country's　kings　as　the　noise　from　all　around　grew　to　a　climax；　louder　than　he　would　ever　have　thought　possible。
　　He　knew　how　to　quell　that　sound。　To　bring　the　pavilions　and　the　standing　grounds　back；　like　hunting　dogs　to　heel；　to　what　lay　ahead　of　them　now　on　this　green　grass　beneath　the　morning　sun。　It　had　begun　here；　and　it　might　end　here；　for　there　was　still　the　affirmation　of　the　god　to　be　sought。　Of　Corannos；　and　of　the　goddess　of　Arbonne。　For　the　first　time　in　his　life　Blaise　of　Gorhaut　offered　a　prayer　to　Rian。　Then　he　turned　to　the　Arimondan　and　he　drew　his　sword。
　　Jousts　for　pleasure　and　sport　were　done　on　horseback　in　full　tournament　regalia；　horse　and　rider　armoured　magnificently；　the　display　lying　as　much　in　the　glitter　of　the　coran's　equipment　as　in　anything　else。　No　one　ever　enjoyed　losing…it　could　be　hideously　expensive　for　one　thing…but　the　armour　prevented　all　but　the　rare　serious　injury；　and　in　the　long　run；　save　for　a　handful　of　the　most　celebrated　fighters；　wins　and　losses　tended　to　even　themselves　out。　Tournaments　were　entertainments；　a　parading　of　wealth　and　success；　a　revelation　of　prowess；　diversions　for　the　pavilions　and　the　mons　both；　and　they　were　regarded　as　such。
　　Challenges　to　the　death　were　contested　on　foot。　Only　limited　protection　was　allowed。　There　was　no　glitter　to　them；　no　elaborately　ornate　breastplate　or　decorated　helm。　Death　fights　were　primitive　encounters；　even　holy　ones；　reaching　back　to　far　distant　times　before　the　Ancients　had　e；　most　purely　testing　a　man's　courage　and　will　and　the　power　of　his　goddesses　or　gods。　They　were　an　entertainment　too；　of　course；　as　the　excitement　of　the　assembled　watchers　now　attested；　but　of　a　darker　sort；　with　a　grim；　foreknown　destination：　a　man　broken　and　dying　on　trampled　grass；　mortality　made　harshly　manifest　for　those　gathered　to　bear　witness　and　be　reminded　of　their　own　end。
　　It　was　because　of　this　more　than　anything　else　that　when　Blaise　drew　his　sword　the　screaming　stopped。　In　the　dining　halls　of　the　sanctuary　retreats　of　Corannos；　where　men　and　women　sometimes　withdrew　from　the　world　as　they　felt　their　endings　draw　near；　there　were　always　tapestries　or　paintings　hung　upon　the　walls；　and　in　every　sanctuary　at　least　one　of　these　works　would　show　the　gaunt；　laughing　figure　of　Death；　bearing　the　mace　with　which　he　ground　the　life　from　men；　leading　a　winding　procession　over　a　wintry　hill　to　the　west　where　the　sun　was　going　down。　And　always；　by　long　tradition；　the　first　figure　in　that　procession；　even　before　the　crowned　kings　and　queens　of　earth；　hand　in　hand　with　Death　himself；　would　be　a　tall　coran　in　the　prime　of　his　days；　his　sword　useless　in　its　scabbard　as　Death　led　him　away。
　　Quzman　di　Perano；　with　a　smile；　reached　up　and　pulled　his　curved　blade　from　the　sheath　on　his　back。　He　drew　upon　a　clasp　and