ggk.asongforarbonne-第67部分

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　the　vow　he'd　sworn　when　he　left　Garsenc　Castle。　He　hadn't　known　he　would　say　what　he　had　said　to　Daufridi　of　Valensa。　He　hadn't　prepared　his　challenge　to　Quzman　in　advance。　He　was　a　dancer　with　the　bulls；　moving　with　their　movements；　in　flight　now　over　the　horns　of　his　fate。
　　Drawing　a　breath　to　gather　and　hold　his　thoughts；　he　told　Ariane　then　how　he　wanted　certain　things　to　be　done　on　the　morrow。　Her　features　grew　still　and　focused　as　she　listened。
　　Bertran　came　closer；　resting　a　hand　on　the　back　of　her　divan。　He　added　a　suggestion　when　Blaise　was　done。　Valery　said　nothing　at　all。　He　looked　grimly　unhappy。　Blaise　couldn't　tell　how　Rudel　looked；　his　friend　was　still　slumped　in　his　deep　chair；　only　the　fair；　tousled　hair　visible　from　behind。　He　thought　Rudel　might　even　have　fallen　asleep；　but　discovered；　when　he　was　finished；　that　this　was　not　so。
　　〃My　father　was　right；〃　said　the　heir　to　the　Correze　fortune　in　a　musing　tone。　〃I　will　very　probably　go　forth　to　repent　this　allegiance　of　mine　more　than　all　the　other　errors　of　my　life。　I　ought　surely　to　have　known　better　than　to　leave　the　banking　business　and　take　up　with　madmen　from　Gorhaut。〃
　　There　were　a　number　of　replies　that　could　be　made　to　that；　from　the　cutting；　to　the　witty；　to　the　soberly　judicious。　No　one　said　anything；　though。
　　
　　〃He　will　want　to　cut　downwards　on　the　angle　and　then　back　across　low　for　your　knees；〃　Valery　said。　Rudel　was　tightening　the　drawstrings　on　the　leather　armour　to　be　worn　by　the　two　men　fighting。
　　〃I　know；〃　said　Blaise。　〃It's　the　usual　attack　with　a　curved　sword。〃　He　wasn't　really　concentrating　though；　either　on　the　words　of　advice　or　the　increasing　level　of　sound　he　could　hear　from　the　pavilions。　When　he　and　Quzman　were　ready　to　emerge　from　their　tents　the　sounds　would　rise　to　a　crescendo　and　then　fall　for　the　ceremony　of　introduction　before　beginning　again；　on　a　different　note；　when　the　killing　began。　It　was　the　same　all　over　the　world。　Blaise　had　seen　a　number　of　challenges　to　the　death。　He　had　fought　in　a　foolish　one；　years　before；　when　a　Valensan　coran　had　insulted　the　king　of　Gorhaut　in　the　presence　of　one　of　that　king's　newest；　youngest　corans。　Blaise　had　been　lucky　to　survive　and　he　knew　it；　the　Valensan　had　taken　his　youthful　opponent　too　casually　and　paid　the　price。　Blaise　had　worn　the　dead　man's　armour　for　years。
　　〃He'll　have　a　knife　in　his　belt　and　one　behind　his　left　calf；〃　Rudel　murmured。　〃And　he　won't　hesitate　to　throw。　He's　known　for　that；　and　accurate　with　both　hands。　Keep　your　shield　up。〃
　　Blaise　nodded　again。　They　meant　him　a　world　of　good；　he　knew；　it　was　their　anxieties　that　were　producing　this　outpouring　of　instruction。　He　remembered　being　exactly　the　same　way　when　serving　as　squire　to　friends　in　their　challenges；　including　Rudel；　three　times　if　he　remembered　rightly。
　　He　really　wasn't　paying　close　attention　though。　This　had　happened　to　him　before：　his　mind　wandered　before　battle；　drifting　along　unexpected　pathways。　It　kept　him　calm；　until　the　moment　the　fighting　began；　when　the　sensation　was　akin　to　a　muffling　curtain　pulled　swiftly　aside；　and　Blaise　would　feel　all　his　senses　converge　like　arrows　upon　the　battleground。
　　Just　now　he　was　remembering　Rudel's　last　ment　in　Ariane's　chambers　that　morning。　He　thought　about　Vitalle　Correze；　who　wanted　his　much…loved　son　to　be　a　banker　not　a　coran；　and　then　about　his　relationship　with　his　own　father。　He　wasn't　sure　why　his　thoughts　were　turning　that　way。　Perhaps　as　he　grew　older；　saw　more　of　the　world　and　its　interactions；　he　was　corning　to　understand　the　degree　to　which　the　Garsenc　men　had　poisoned　each　other。　He　suddenly　wondered；　for　the　first　time；　how　Ranald　would　be　feeling　about　Rosala's　flight。　He　realized　that　he　had　no　idea；　absolutely　none；　he　didn't　know　his　brother　very　well。
　　Valery　tapped　him　briskly　on　the　shoulder　and　Blaise　obediently　sat　down　on　the　stool　and　straightened　his　legs　in　front　of　him。　His　friends　knelt　and　began　lacing　and　tying　the　supple　Portezzan　leather　about　his　thighs　and　calves。　Through　a　gap　in　the　tent　flap　behind　their　bent　heads　Blaise　could　glimpse　the　dazzling　colours　of　the　pavilions　in　the　morning　sunlight；　and　the　green　grass　where　he　would　be　fighting　soon。
　　They　hadn't　raised　the　banner　above　his　tent　yet；　following　his　instructions　of　yesterday。　For　most　of　the　people　in　the　pavilions　or　in　the　moners'　standing　ground　on　the　other　side　he　was　simply　a　Gorhautian　coran　enmeshed　in　some　quarrel　with　an　Arimondan。　A　quarrel　that　was　about　to　offer　them　the　most　exciting　entertainment　there　was。　A　handful　of　people　knew　more；　and　there　would　be　rumours　of　course；　there　were　usually　rumours　at　a　time　like　this。
　　He　felt　very　calm。　He　was　always　calm　before　fighting　now；　though　it　hadn't　been　that　way　in　the　beginning；　years　ago。　He　had　prayed　last　night；　kneeling　on　the　cold　stone　floor　in　the　surprisingly　handsome　chapel　of　Corannos　in　Lussan。　He　had　not　asked　for　victory；　a　coran　never　did。
　　Before　the　two　tall　candles　above　the　frieze　he　had　offered　the　ancient　prayers　for　sunrise　and　sunset　and　for　the　strength　of　the　god's　life…giving　golden　light。　The　frieze　itself　had　been　masterfully　done；　a　rendering　of　Corannos　bestowing　fire　upon　the　first　men；　that　the　nights　might　hold　less　terror　than　before。
　　Perhaps　he　shouldn't　have　been　so　surprised　by　the　serene　grace　of　the　god's　houses　here。　They　worshipped　Corannos　in　Arbonne。　He　had　always　known　that；　there　were　corans　here；　after　all；　with　the　same　rituals　of　initiation　and　invocation　that　he　had　passed　through　in　Gorhaut；　the　same　ones　used　in　all　six　countries。　It　had　been　difficult；　though；　when　he　first　arrived；　in　those　early　days　at　Castle　Baude　in　the　highlands；　to　overe　a　lifetime　of　prejudice　and　vicious　innuendo；　much　of　it　ing；　of　course；　from　his　father。　It　was　odd　how　often　he　was　thinking　about　his　father　of　late。　Or　perhaps　not　so　odd　after　all；　given　what　he　was　about　to　do。　They　said　the　mind　reached　backwards　when　one's　life　was　in　extreme　peril。
　　Galbert　de　Garsenc　had　stipulated　that　his　younger　son　follow　him　into　the　clergy　of　Corannos。　It　was　not　a　matter　for　discussion；　what　the　High　Elder　wanted；　he　was　accustomed　to　receive。　Blaise's　repeated　flights　as　a　boy　from　the　chapel　school　near　Cortil；　his　silent　endurance　of　the　whippings　he　was　given；　both　at　home　by　Galbert's　heavy　hand　and　again　when　he　returned　to　the　Elders；　and　then　his　obdurate；　absolute　refusal　to　speak　the　vows　of　consecration　when　he　turned　sixteen　had　represented　a　colossal　thwarting　of　the　High　Elder's　carefully　laid　plans。
　　They　had　tried　to　starve　him　into　submitting　to　the　vows…on　his　father's　orders。　Blaise　had　never　forgotten　those　weeks。　He　woke　sometimes　in　the　night　remembering　them。　Even　today　pangs　of　hunger　made　him　panic　irrationally；　and　he　could　not　lash　a　man。
　　Would　your　mother　have　made　a　difference？　Signe　de　Barbentain　had　asked　the　first　night　he　met　her。　He　didn't　know。　He　would　never　know。　No　man；　with　only　the　one　life　to　live；　could　answer　such　a　question。　He　remembered　learning；　when　still　a　small　boy；　not　to　cry　because　there　was　no　one　in　the　world　who　would　e　with　fort　if　he　did。　The　brethren　in　the　chapel　school　were　terrified　of　his　father；　none　dared　offer　succour　to　the　unworthy；　ingrate　son。　Not　ever。　Once；　in　Garsenc；　Ranald　had　slipped　into　Blaise's　room　at　night　with　a　salve　for　his　brother's　lacerated　back。　In　the　morning；　when　Galbert　saw　the　healing　ointment　he　had　whipped　Ranald　and　then　Blaise　a　second　time。　Ranald　never　tried　to　intervene　in　his　punishments　after　that。　Blaise　could　have　stopped　running　away。　He　could　have　taken　the　vows　they　demanded　of　him。　Neither　possibility　ever　occurred　to　him；　not　even　as　options　to　be　considered。　When　it　became　clear　that　Blaise　would　die　of　starvation　before　he　broke　in　this；　Galbert　calmly　proposed　to　have　him　publicly　executed　for　his　disobedience。　It　was　King　Duergar　himself；　being　aware　of　this　savage　family　drama　playing　itself　out；　who　had　forbidden　that　execution；　who　had　insisted　on　food　and　drink　being　brought　for　the　starving　boy；　and　it　was　Duergar　who　accepted　the　sworn　fealty　of　a　gaunt；　silent；　hollow…eyed　sixteen…year…old　one　month　later；　and　named　him　a　coran　of　Gorhaut。
　　Duke　Ereibert　de　Garsenc；　doughty　and　hoar；　had　died　childless　when　his　two　nephews　were　twenty…one　and　nineteen；　his　stern　mastery　in　war　allowing　him　to　outface　lifelong　rumours　about　his　lack　of　heirs。　Ranald　inherited。　He　withdrew；　of　necessity；　from　his　position　as　King's　Champion　and　became　duke　of　Garsenc　instead；　lord　of　the　richest；　most　powerful　estates　in　Gorhaut。　Blaise　should　by　then　have　been；　by　his　father's　careful　designs；　firmly　placed　in　the　hierarchy　of　the　god's　brotherhood；　ready　for　a　smooth　ascent　all　the　way　to　the　ultimate　station　Galbert　held；　as　High　Elder　of　Corannos；　with　kings　and　princes　subject　to　his　fiat。　The　Garsenc　family　should　have　been　poised　for　generations　of　power　in　Gorhaut…the　country　held　as　if　between　the　paws　of　the　rampant　bear　that　was　on　their　escutcheon…whomever　might　nominally　have　been　sitting　on　the　throne。
　　Ranald　would　have　sons　to　succeed　him　at　Garsenc　and　to　follow　Blaise　into　the　clergy；　there　would　be　daughters　to　bind　other　families　with　the　hoops　of　marriage　vows。　And　eventually；　perhaps　not　so　far　in　the　future；　there　might　be　even　more　than　all　of　this…there　might　be　the　throne　itself。　A　Garsenc　ruling　in　Cortil；　and　the　borders　of　Gorhaut　itself　stretching　all　the　time；　though　first…first　of　all　things；　of　course…reaching　across　the　mountain　passes　to　the　south；　to　Arbonne；　where　they　were　godless　and　heretical；　ruled　by　women　and　womanish　men　steeped　in　their　blood…soaked　rites。
　　Blaise　had　known　almost　all　of　this　from　very　early　in　his　life。　He　had　been　the　one　Galbert　talked　to　when　the　boys　were　young。　There　had　been　a　brief　time　when　he　hadn't　understood　why　that　was　so；　and　then　a　longer　period　when　he'd　felt　sorry　for　Ranald。　It　had　all　been　long　ago。　
　　
　　〃Boots；〃　said　Rudel。
　　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