ggk.asongforarbonne-第97章

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　long　breath　and　pushed　her　dark　hair　back　from　her　face。　Then　Rinette　rose；　straight…backed；　holding　her　head　high；　and　turned　to　meet　her　future。　There　was　a　solitary　figure　standing　at　the　end　of　the　path　that　led　to　this　foundation。
　　It　was　not　the　northerner　who　had　e；　nor；　yet；　her　father；　after　all。
　　She　knew　who　this　was；　of　course。　She　sank　to　her　knees　on　the　cold　ground。
　　〃Oh；　my　dear；〃　said　Signe　de　Barbentain；　the　countess　of　Arbonne；　〃I　am　so　desperately　happy　to　see　you；　and　so　very　sad　just　now。　So　many　years　we　have　lost；　you　and　I。　There　is　so　much　I　have　to　tell　you。　About　your　father　and　your　mother；　and　then　about　the　grandfather　you　never　knew；　who　would　have　loved　you　with　all　his　heart。〃
　　The　countess　came　closer　then；　moving　almost　hesitantly　into　the　light　of　the　torches；　and　Rinette　saw　that　she　was　crying；　tears　streaming　down　her　face　in　the　cold。　Rinette　rose　quickly；　instinctively；　a　queer　feeling　overtaking　her；　a　constriction　of　the　heart　and　throat。　She　heard　herself　make　a　sound　that　was　very　like　a　child's　cry；　and　she　moved　forward；　almost　running；　into　the　haven　of　her　grandmother's　arms。
　　
　　It　was　full　dark　now　in　the　valley　where　the　battle　had　been。　He　had　waited　patiently；　even　happily；　for　this。　The　moons　would　rise　soon；　both　very　bright　tonight；　spilling　their　rich；　mingled　light。　It　was　time　to　go。　There　were　no　fears　near　where　he　was；　no　soldiers　of　either　army　sleeping　or　on　watch　in　the　cold。
　　He　made　his　way　down　from　branch　to　branch；　surefooted　in　the　dark。　No　one　heard　him；　he　made　no　sound　for　anyone　to　hear。　Once　on　the　ground　he　slipped　away　west；　passing　close　by　the　forest；　going　the　long　way　around　to　where　he　had　left　his　horse　two　days　before；　north　of　the　Arch　of　the　Ancients。
　　The　stallion　was　hungry；　of　course。　He　was　sorry　for　that　but　there　had　been　nothing　to　do　about　it。　He　had　left　food　in　a　sack　nearby　and　he　fed　the　horse　now；　patting　and　rubbing　its　long　neck；　speaking　tenderly。　He　felt　deeply　at　peace；　as　one　with　the　night　and　the　murmuring　trees　all　around　him。　He　knelt；　on　impulse；　and　prayed。
　　There　was　so　much　gratitude　in　his　heart　he　felt　it　might　overflow。　He　had　done　exactly　what　he　had　e　here　to　do。　What　he　had　been　preparing　for…though　in　ignorance；　following　instructions　only…since　the　early　days　of　autumn。
　　It　was　time　to　go　now；　to　be　away　south　before　the　bright　moons　rose。　He　saddled　the　horse　and　mounted　and　began　to　ride。
　　I　want　you　to　learn　a　new　way　of　shooting；　the　High　Priestess　had　told　him　on　the　island　in　the　sea。　And　she　had　sent　him　to　a　place　where　no　one　ever　went；　to　learn　to　do　what　she　wanted　done。　He　had　always　been　able　to　handle　a　bow；　but　what　she　asked　was　odd；　inexplicable。　He　didn't　need　things　explained；　though；　he　was　honoured　beyond　words　to　have　been　chosen。　He　spent　the　whole　of　the　autumn　practising；　learning　to　hit　targets　with　the　high；　arching　trajectories　she　had　specified。　Over　and　over；　day　by　day　as　the　weeks　passed；　he　went　off　alone　to　the　eastern　end　of　the　island　and　practised。
　　He　learned。　He　told　her　one　day　that　he　thought　he　had　mastered　that　new；　strange　shooting　as　best　he　ever　would。　She　sent　him　back　that　very　day　to　begin　again；　the　same　arching　bowshots　aimed　at　the　apex　of　the　sky；　but　now　he　was　to　do　them　while　nestled　in　the　branches　of　a　tree。　He　did　that；　too；　day　after　day；　week　after　week；　as　winter　came　to　Rian's　Island　and　the　first　flocks　of　birds　from　the　north　filled　their　skies。
　　Then；　one　day；　the　High　Priestess　summoned　him　again；　and　alone　in　her　chambers；　with　only　the　white　owl　to　watch　his　face　as　he　reacted　to　what　she　said；　she　told　him　what　his　task　was　to　be；　the　thing　he　had　been　training　to　do。
　　The　goddess；　she　told　him；　will　sometimes　intercede　for　us；　but　she　always　wants　to　see　that　we　have　tried　to　aid　ourselves。　He　understood　that；　it　made　sense　to　him。　In　the　natural　world　a　deer　might　e　to　you；　but　only　if　you　were　out　in　the　forest；　upwind　and　silent；　not　if　you　stayed　at　home　on　a　bench　before　the　fire。　She　told　him　then…and　her　words　made　him　begin　to　tremble　with　awe…where　he　was　to　go；　and　she　even　described　the　tree　he　would　claim　before　the　armies　came　to　the　valley　by　Lake　Dierne。
　　He　was　to　wait　in　that　tree；　the　High　Priestess　told　him；　her　hands　clasped　together　in　her　lap；　for　a　moment　that　might　e　if　Rian　offered　them　her　grace…a　moment　when　he　might　kill　the　king　of　Gorhaut。　No　man　or　woman；　she　told　him；　not　even　any　priest　or　priestess；　knew　what　he　was　being　sent　to　do。　No　one　was　ever　to　know。　He　had　knelt　before　her　then　and　sworn　the　holiest　oath　he　knew。　He　had　felt　her　strong　fingers　on　his　head　as　she　granted　him　her　blessing。
　　Then　she　had　given　him　his　arrows；　crimson　dyed；　fletched　with　crimson　owl　feathers；　and　he'd　concealed　them　in　a　covered　quiver　and　had　himself　taken　by　boat　to　land。　He　bought　a　good　horse　with　money　she　had　given　him　and　rode；　travelling　swiftly　by　day　and　night；　until　he　came　to　the　valley　of　which　she　had　told　him。　Arriving　at　twilight；　before　either　of　the　armies　had　e；　he　saw　the　tree　she　had　so　clearly　described　to　him；　and　he　climbed　it　in　the　darkness　and　settled　in　to　wait。
　　The　soldiers　had　e　the　next　day。　Battle　began　that　afternoon。　Late　in　the　day；　when　En　Urté　de　Miraval　had　brought　his　corans　sweeping　down　the　ridge　from　the　west；　the　king　of　Gorhaut　had　battled　Duke　Urté　and　had　swept　off　his　dented　helmet　and　hurled　it　away　after　taking　a　blow　in　that　bat。
　　It　was　exactly　as　he　had　been　told　it　might　be。　He　offered　his　heart's　most　fervent　prayer；　speaking　the　words　aloud；　though　softly；　and　he　lifted　his　bow　from　where　he　sat　among　the　branches　of　that　tree　above　the　valley；　and　he　sent　a　crimson　arrow　almost　straight　up　into　the　bright　sky　along　the　high　pathway　of　Rian；　the　soaring　arch　he　had　mastered　through　those　solitary　weeks　and　months　on　the　island。
　　He　was　not　greatly　surprised；　only　humbled　and　full　of　gratitude；　beyond　any　words　he　could　ever　have　enpassed；　when　he　saw　that　arrow　strike　the　king　of　Gorhaut　in　the　eye　and　end　his　life。
　　After　that　it　had　been　a　matter　of　waiting　silently；　hidden　in　the　branches　of　his　tree；　for　darkfall；　and　then　slipping　away　unseen。
　　In　time；　as　he　rode；　he　left　the　lake　behind。　Not　long　after；　white　Vidonne　rose　in　the　eastern　sky　lighting　the　road　that　stretched　away　before　him　to　the　south。　There　was　no　one　else　in　sight。　He　was　not　weary　at　all。　He　felt　exalted；　blessed。　I　could　die　now；　he　thought。
　　The　wind　had　lessened　with　the　rising　of　the　moon。　It　wasn't　even　cold　any　more；　and　he　was　heading　south　with　a　full　heart　to　where　it　was　never　truly　cold；　where　there　were　flowers　throughout　the　year　by　the　sweet　grace　of　Rian。　When　the　blue　moon　also　rose；　following　the　white　one　up　the　sky；　he　could　restrain　himself　no　longer。　Luth　of　Baude；　who　was　Luth　of　Rian's　Island　since　being　taken　in　exchange　for　a　poet　last　spring；　and　who　thought　he　might　even　be　found　worthy　now　to　be　consecrated　a　priest　of　the　goddess　in　her　sanctuary；　began　to　sing。
　　He　was　not　a　musician；　not　a　very　good　singer　at　all；　he　knew　that。　But　songs　were　not　only　for　those　who　could　perform　them　with　artistry。　He　knew　that；　too。　And　so　Luth　lifted　his　voice　without　shame；　feeling　a　deep　richness；　a　glory　in　the　night；　as　he　galloped　his　horse　down　the　winding；　empty　road　to　the　south；　past　farm　and　castle；　village　and　field　and　forest；　under　the　risen　moons　and　the　stars　above　Arbonne。
　　
　　　From　the　vidan　of　the　troubadour；　Lisseut　of　Vezét　。。。　
　　Lisseut；　who　was　one　of　the　first　and　perhaps　the　greatest　of　the　woman　troubadours　of　Arbonne；　was　of　reputable　birth；　the　daughter　of　an　olive　merchant　whose　lands　lay　to　the　easy　of　the　coastal　town　of　Vezét。　She　was　of　middling　height　for　a　woman；　with　brown…coloured　hair　and　pleasing　features。　Her　disposition　was　said　to　have　been　forthright　in　youth；　and　this　trait　appears　to　have　remained　with　her　all　her　life。　Her　mother's　brother　was　himself　a　joglar　of　some　small　repute；　and　it　was　he　who　first　noticed　in　the　young　Lisseut　a　purity　of　voice　that　led　him　to　take　her　under　his　tutelage　and　train　her　in　the　craft　and　art　of　the　joglars。　It　was　not　long；　however；　before　Lisseut　had　greatly　outstripped　her　uncle　in　renown　。。。　
　　It　was　in　the　time　after　the　Battle　of　Lake　Dierne；　when　Arbonne　was　saved　from　the　peril　of　invasion　from　the　north；　that　Lisseut's　prowess　moved　into　the　realm　of　the　troubadours　and　the　shaping　of　her　own　songs。　Her　'Lament　for　sweet　music　gone；'　mourning　two　of　her　slain　panions；　was　her　first；　and　perhaps　her　most　celebrated　song。　It　became；　in　a　short　time；　the　anthem　for　all　who　had　died　in　that　war　。。。　
　　Lisseut　was　close　in　friendship　all　her　days　with　the　great　King　Blaise　of　Gorhaut；　and　also　with　both　his　first　wife　and　his　second；　and　many　are　of　the　view　that　her　'Elegy　for　the　crown　of　all　kings'　written　at　the　time　of　the　death　of　King　Blaise　is　her　most　acplished　and　moving　work　。。。　Lisseut　of　Vezét　never　married；　though　she　had；　as　all　know；　one　child；　Aurelian；　who　will　surely　need　no　introduction　for　those　reading　or　hearing　these　words。　Many　tales　were　spread　during　Lisseut's　life　and　after　her　passage　to　Rian　with　respect　to　a　person　of　the　very　highest　renown　who　might　have　been　he　father　of　her　son；　but　it　is　not　our　intent　to　repeat　such　idle　speculations　here；　only　those　truths　as　may　be　ascertained　with　some　certainty　after　all　the　years　that　have　gone　past　since　that　time　。。。　
　　
　　…　…　…
　　Guy　Gavriel　Kay　is　the　author　of　the　international　bestseller　Tigana　and　the　acclaimed　Fionavar　Tapestry；　prising　The　Summer　Tree；　The　Wandering　Fire；　and　The　Darkest　Road。　Translated　into　eight　languages；　the　trilogy　has　won　awards　and　accolades　all　over　the　world　and　was　named　by　David　Pringle　in　Modern　Fantasy：　The　100　Best　Novels　as　one　of　the　best　fantasy　sequences　of　all　time。　Previous　to　this；　Kay　was　retained　by　the　estate　of　J。R。R。　Tolkien　to　work　with　Christopher　Tolkien　in　the　editorial　construction　of　the　posthumously　published　The　Silmarillion。