ggk.asongforarbonne-第17章

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t　had　been　different　at　home　in　Savaric；　but　Savaric　was　a　long　time　ago。
　　The　wind　is　rising　now；　ing　about　to　the　east；　sending　droplets　and　then　a　gusty　sheet　of　rain　through　the　window　to　strike　her　face　and　the　bodice　of　her　gown。　She　doesn't　mind　the　cold；　she　even　weles　it；　but　there　is　a　child　to　think　of　now。　Reluctantly　she　turns　away；　back　to　the　smoky；　stale；　crowded　room；　to　hear　her　husband's　father　begin　to　speak　to　the　issue　of　forced　marriages　and　conquest　in　the　warm　bright　south。
　　〃My　liege；　you　know　the　reasons　as　well　as　I；　so；　indeed　does　every　man　in　this　room；　save　one　perhaps。〃　The　glance　flicked　sideways　at　Ranald　is　so　brief　as　to　carry　its　own　measure　of　bone…deep　contempt。　〃Even　the　women　know　my　son's　folly　when　they　hear　it。　Even　the　women。〃　Beside　Rosala；　Adelh　de　Sauvan；　who　is　venal　and　corrupt　and　newly　widowed；　smiles。　Rosala　sees　that　and　looks　away。
　　〃To　wed　the　countess　of　Arbonne；〃　Galbert　goes　on；　his　rich　voice　filling　the　room；　〃we　would　need　her　consent。　This；　she　will　not　give。　Ever。　If　she　did；　for　whatever　reason；　maddened　by　woman's　desire　perhaps；　she　would　be　deposed　and　slain　by　the　assembled　dukes　of　Arbonne　before　any　wedding　could　take　place。　Think　you　that　the　lords　of　Carenzu　or　Malmount　or　Miraval　would　sit　by　and　watch　us　so　easily　stake　a　claim　to　their　land？　Even　a　woman　should　be　able　to　see　the　folly　in　such　a　fatuous　thought。　What；　my　liege；　do　you　think　the　troubadour　lord　of　Arbonne　would　do　at　such　a　time　。。。　think　you　that　Bertran　de　Talair　would　stand　by　and　let　such　a　marriage　take　place？〃
　　〃That　name　is　forbidden　here！〃　Ademar　of　Gorhaut　says　quickly；　leaning　abruptly　forward。　Two　spots　of　unnatural　colour　show　in　his　cheeks　above　the　beard。
　　〃And　so　it　should　be；〃　Galbert　says　smoothly；　as　if　he'd　expected　exactly　that　response。　〃I　have　as　much　reason　as　you　my　liege　to　hate　that　schemer　and　his　godless；　discordant　ways。〃
　　Rosala　smiles　inwardly　at　that；　keeping　her　features　carefully　schooled。　It　was　little　over　a　month　ago　that　de　Talair's　latest　song　had　reached　the　court　of　Gorhaut。　She　remembers　the　night；　wind　and　rain　then；　too；　a　trembling；　whey…faced　bard　obeying　Ademar's　mand；　singing　the　duke　of　Talair's　verses　in　a　voice　like　rasping　iron：
　　Shame　then　in　springtime　for　proud　Gorhaut；　
　　Betrayed　by　a　young　king　and　his　counsellor。
　　And　more；　much　more；　and　worse；　in　the　creaking；　barely　audible　mumblings　of　the　terrified　singer　while　a　wind　blew　on　the　moors　outside：
　　Where　went　the　manhood　of　Gorhaut　and　Valensa　
　　When　war　was　abandoned　and　pale　peace　bought
　　By　weak　kings　and　sons　long　lost　to　their　lineage？
　　Rosala　can　almost　find　a　kind　of　warmth　in　her　heart　at　the　memory　of　the　torchlit　faces　around　her　that　night。　The　expressions　of　the　king；　of　Galbert；　the　furtive　glances　that　flitted　about　the　hall　from　one　newly　landless　lord　or　coran　to　another　as　the　driving　music　brought　the　force　of　the　words　home；　even　in　the　timid　voice　of　the　singer。　The　bard；　a　young　trovaritz　from　Gotzland；　had　almost　certainly　owed　his　continued　life　to　the　presence　in　the　great　hall　of　Cortil　that　evening　of　the　envoy　from　his　own　country　and　the　undeniable　importance　of　keeping　peace　with　King　Jorg　of　Gotzland　at　this　juncture　of　the　world's　affairs。　Rosala　had　no　doubt　what　Ademar　would　have　liked　to　do　when　the　music　ended。
　　Now　he　leans　urgently　forward　again；　almost　rising　from　the　throne；　the　two　bright　spots　vivid　in　his　cheeks　and　says；　〃No　man　has　as　much　reason　as　we　do；　Galbert。　Do　not　exalt　yourself。〃
　　The　High　Elder　gently　shakes　his　head。　Again　the　rich　voice　enpasses　the　room；　so　warm；　so　caring；　it　can　so　easily　deceive　one　into　thinking　the　man　is　profoundly　other　than　he　is。　Rosala　knows　about　that；　she　knows　almost　everything　about　that　by　now。
　　〃It　is　not　in　my　own　name　that　I　take　umbrage；　my　liege；〃　says　Galbert。　〃I　am　as　nothing；　nothing　at　all　in　myself。　But　I　stand　before　you　and　before　the　eyes　of　all　those　in　the　six　countries　as　the　voice　of　the　god　in　Gorhaut。　And　Gorhaut　is　the　Heartland；　the　place　where　Corannos　of　the　Ancients　was　born　in　the　days　before　man　walked　and　woman　fell　into　her　ruin。　An　insult　to　me　is　a　blow　delivered　to　the　most　high　god　and　must　not　be　tolerated。　Nor　will　it　be；　for　all　the　world　knows　your　mettle　and　your　mind　in　this；　my　liege。〃
　　It　is　fascinating；　Rosala　thinks；　how　smoothly；　how　effortlessly；　Galbert　has　shifted　the　matter　at　hand。　Ademar　is　nodding　his　head　slowly；　so　are　a　number　of　the　men　in　the　hall。　Her　husband　is　drinking；　but　that　is　to　be　expected。　Briefly；　Rosala　feels　sorry　for　him。
　　〃We　would　have　thought；〃　the　king　says　slowly；　〃that　Daufridi　of　Valensa　would　share　our　attitude　to　this　provocation。　Perhaps　when　we　next　receive　his　envoy　we　ought　to　discuss　the　matter　of　Bertran　de　Talair。〃
　　Daufridi　has　all　our　land　north　of　Iersen　now；　Rosala　finds　herself　thinking　bitterly；　and　knows　that　others　will　be　framing　the　same　thought。　He　can　afford　to　tolerate　insults　from　Arbonne。　Her　family's　ancient　estates　along　the　Iersen　River　are　right　on　the　newly　defined　northern　border　of　Gorhaut　now；　Savaric　had　not　been　so　exposed　ever　before。　And　there　are　men　in　this　room　whose　lands　and　castles　have　been　given　away；　they　are　part　of　Valensa　now；　ceded　by　treaty；　surrendered　in　the　peace　after　being　saved　in　the　war。　King　Ademar　is　surrounded　by　hungry；　ambitious；　angry　men；　who　will　need　to　be　assuaged；　and　soon；　however　much　they　might　fear　him　for　the　moment。
　　It　is　all　so　terribly　clear；　Rosala　thinks；　her　face　a　mask；　blank　and　unrevealing。
　　〃By　all　means；〃　Galbert　the　High　Elder　is　saying；　〃raise　the　matter　with　the　Valensan　envoy。　I　think　we　can　deal　with　a　shabby　rhymester　by　ourselves；　but　it　would　indeed　be　well　to　have　certain　other　matters　understood　and　arranged　before　another　year　has　e　and　gone。〃
　　Rosala　sees　her　husband　lift　his　head　at　that；　looking　not　at　his　father　but　at　the　king。
　　〃What　matters？〃　Duke　Ranald　says；　loudly；　in　the　silence。　〃What　needs　to　be　understood？〃　It　is　only　with　an　effort　sometimes　that　Rosala　is　able　to　remember　that　her　husband　was　once　the　most　celebrated　fighting　man　in　Gorhaut；　champion　to　Ademar's　father。　A　long　time　ago；　that　was；　and　the　years　have　not　sat　kindly　on　the　shoulders　of　Ranald　de　Garsenc。
　　Ademar　says　nothing；　chewing　on　his　moustache。　It　is　Ranald's　father　who　replies；　the　faintest　hint　of　triumph　in　the　magnificent　voice。　〃Do　you　now　know？〃　he　asks；　eyebrows　elaborately　arched。　〃Surely　one　so　free　with　idle　counsels　can　riddle　this　puzzle　through。〃
　　Ranald　scowls　blackly　but　refuses　to　put　the　question　again。　Rosala　knows　he　doesn't　understand；　again　she　feels　an　unexpected　impulse　of　sympathy　for　him　during　this　latest　skirmish　in　his　lifelong　battle　with　what　his　father　is。　She　doubts　Ranald　is　the　only　man　here　bemused　by　the　cryptic　byplay　between　the　High　Elder　and　the　king。　It　happens；　though；　that　her　own　father；　in　his　day；　had　been　a　master　of　diplomacy；　high　in　the　counsels　of　King　Duergar；　and　Rosala　and　one　brother　were　the　only　two　of　his　children　to　survive　into　adulthood。　She　had　learned　a　great　deal；　more　than　women　tended　to　in　Gorhaut。　Which；　she　knows；　is　a　large　part　of　her　own　private　grief　right　now；　trapped　among　the　de　Garsenc　and　their　hates。
　　But　she　does　understand　things；　she　can　see　them；　almost　too　clearly。　If　he　is　sober　enough；　Ranald　will　probably　want　her　thoughts　tonight　when　they　are　alone。　She　knows　the　heavy；　hectoring　tone　he　will　use；　the　scorn　with　which　he　will　quickly　dismiss　her　replies　if　she　chooses　to　offer　any；　and　she　also　knows　how　he　will　go　away　from　her　after　and　muse　upon　what　she　tells　him。　It　is　a　power　of　sorts；　she　is　aware　of　that；　one　that　many　women　have　used　to　put　their　own　stamp；　as　a　seal　upon　a　letter；　upon　the　events　of　their　day。
　　But　such　women　have　two　things　Rosala　lacks。　A　desire；　a　passion　even；　to　move　and　manipulate　amid　the　fever　and　flare　of　court　events；　and　a　stronger；　worthier　vessel　in　which　to　pour　their　wisdom　and　in　their　spirit　than　Ranald　de　Garsenc　is　ever　going　to　be。
　　She　doesn't　know　what　she　will　tell　her　husband　if　he　asks　for　her　thoughts　that　evening。　She　suspects　he　will。　And　she　is　almost　certain　she　does　know　what　his　father's　designs　are　and；　even　more；　that　the　king　is　going　to　move　with　them。　Ademar　is　being　guided；　as　a　capricious　stallion　by　a　master　horsebreaker；　towards　a　destination　Galbert　has　likely　wanted　to　reach　for　more　years　than　anyone　knows。　King　Duergar　of　Gorhaut　had　not　been　a　man　susceptible　to　the　persuasion　of　anyone　in　his　court；　including　his　clergy…perhaps　especially　his　clergy…and　so　the　High　Elder's　access　to　real　power　dates　back　only　to　the　precise　moment　when　a　Valensan　arrow；　arching　through　a　wintry　twilight；　found　Duergar's　eye　in　that　grim；　cold　battle　by　Iersen　Bridge　a　year　and　a　half　ago。
　　And　now　Duergar　is　dead　and　burned　on　his　pyre；　and　his　handsome　son　rules　in　Cortil；　and　there　is　a　peace　signed　in　the　north　disinheriting　a　quarter　of　the　people　of　Gorhaut；　whether　of　high　estate　or　low。　Which　means…surely　anyone　could　see　it　if　they　only　stopped　to　look…one　thing　that　will　have　to　follow。　Instinctively；　a　motion　of　withdrawal　as　much　a　reflex　as　a　forest　creature's　retreat　from　a　tongue　of　flame；　Rosala　turns　back　to　the　window。　It　is　springtime　in　Gorhaut；　but　the　grey　rains　show　no　signs　of　ending　and　the　damp　chill　can　ache　in　one's　very　bones。
　　It　will　be　warmer；　she　knows；　warmer　and　softer　and　with　a　far　more　benevolent　light　in　the　sky；　in　Arbonne。　In　woman…ruled　Arbonne；　with　its　Court　of　Love；　its　wide；　rich；　sun…blessed　lands；　its　sheltered；　weling　harbours　on　the　southern　sea　and　its　heresy　of　Rian　the　goddess　ruling　alongside　the　god；　not　crouched　in　maidenly　subservience　beneath　his　iron　hand。
　　〃We　will　have　much　to　speak　of　yet；〃　Galbert　de　Garsenc　is　saying；　〃before　summer　draws　fully　upon　us；　and　to　you　my　liege　will　rightly　fall　all　decisions　that　must　be　made　and　the　great　burden　of　them。〃　He　raises　his　voice；　Rosala　does　not　turn　back　from　the　window。　She　knows　what　he　is　about　to　say；　where　he　is　taking　the　king；　taking　all　of　them。　〃But　as　High　Elder　of　Corannos　in　this　most　ancient；　holy　land　where　the　god　was　born；　I　will　say　this　to　you；　my　liege；　and　to　all　those　gathered　here。　Thanks　to　your　great　wisdom；　Gorhaut　is　at　peace　in　the　north　for　the　first　time　in　the　lifetime　of　most　of　those　here。　We　need　not　draw　axe　and　sword　to　guard　our　borders　and　our　fields　from　Valensa。　The　pride　and　the　might　of　this　country　under　King　Ademar　is　as　great　as　it　has　ever　been　in　our　long　history；　and　ours　is　still　and　ever　the　holy　stewardship　through　the　six　countries　of　the　power　of　the　god。　In　these　halls　walk　the　descendants　of　the　first　corans…the　earliest　brothers　of　the　god…who　ever　bestrode　the　hills　and　valleys　of　the　known　world。　And　it　may　be…if　you；　my　liege；　should　decide　to　make　it　so…that　to　us　will　fall　a　scourging　task　worthy　of　our　great　fathers。　Worthy　of　the　greatest　bards　ever　to　lift　voice　in　celebration　of　the　mighty　of　their　day。〃
　　Oh；　clever；　Rosala　thinks。　Oh；　very　neatly　done；　my　lord。　Her　eyes　are　fixed　on　what　lies　beyond　the　window；　on