ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第35章

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　　〃Oh；　Jad！　Don't　start　again。　I　know　what　you　always…
　　〃Say　it。　Or　I'll　find　my　arrow　again。　I　promised　myself　I'd　put　an　arrow　in　you　the　day　I　shot　Garcia　de　Rada。　Two　pinpricks　hardly　count。〃
　　〃Yes　they　do；〃　he　said。　〃And　those　weren't　pinpricks。〃　He　stopped　at　what　he　read　in　her　expression；　then　said　quietly；　〃I　know　what　you　tell　me。　That　if　I　bed　another　woman　you'll　either　bed　another　man　or　kill　me。〃
　　She　was　smiling；　as　if　encouraging　a　child's　display　of　memory。　〃Good。　And　since　I　don't　want　to　bed　another　man　。。。　？〃　she　prompted。
　　Rodrigo　sighed。　〃You'll　kill　me。　Miranda；　I　know　this。　Will　you　let　me　up？〃
　　She　seemed　to　be　thinking　about　it　at　least；　which　was　a　positive　development。
　　〃No；〃　she　said；　at　length。　〃Not　yet。　I　think　I　like　you　this　way。〃
　　〃What　does　that　mean？〃　he　asked；　alarmed。
　　But　she　had　shifted　forward　from　where　she　was；　beside　him　on　her　knees。　She　looked　appraisingly　down　at　him　a　moment；　then　calmly　tore　open　his　shirt。　His　eyes　widened。　Her　hands　seemed　to　be　busy　with　the　points　and　drawstrings　of　his　trousers。　It　became　difficult　to　breathe。
　　〃Miranda；〃　he　said；　〃there's　a　rock　under　my　back。〃
　　〃Oh　well；〃　she　murmured　with　exaggerated　solicitude；　〃we　can't　have　that；　can　we？〃　But　she　did　reach　under　to　remove　what　turned　out　to　be　a　laughably　small　stone。
　　〃Untie　me；　love。　We'll　do　better　if　I'm　free。〃
　　〃No；　we　won't；〃　said　his　joy；　his　torment；　his　wife；　the　fierce　bright　light　of　his　days。　〃We'll　do　very　well　with　you　exactly　as　you　are。〃
　　She　had　finished　with　his　garments。　She　began　removing　her　own。
　　〃See　what　I　mean？〃　she　said；　smiling　down　at　his　sex。　As　she　spoke；　she　slipped　off　her　black　tunic。　She　was　wearing　nothing　beneath。　Her　small　breasts　were　smooth　and　firm　in　the　torchlight。
　　〃You　see？〃　she　said　again。　He　did；　of　course。
　　Eventually　he　closed　his　eyes；　but　not　before　an　interval　had　passed　during　which　a　number　of　movements　on　her　part　took　place；　bringing　him　to　a　point　where　he　couldn't　have　judged　the　passage　of　time；　or　anything　else　for　that　matter。
　　The　torch　had　burned　out　by　then；　he　knew　that　much。　There　was　nothing　to　see。　Only　to　feel。　Mouth　and　fingers。　Her　teeth；　in　unexpected　places。　The　close；　perfect　shelter　of　her　sex　after　so　long。
　　〃Shall　I　let　you　go？〃　she　asked　eventually；　a　breath　in　his　ear。
　　〃Never；〃　said　Rodrigo；　eyes　still　closed。
　　Still　later；　the　white　moon；　descending；　slanted　through　a　wide　chink　in　the　wall　boards　and　a　beam　of　light　fell　upon　them　both。　He　lay　with　Miranda　upon　him；　her　head　on　his　chest；　her　dark　hair　loose；　cloaking　them　both。　He　felt　the　rise　and　fall　of　her　breathing；　and　drew　in　the　scent　and　the　feel　of　her…intoxicating　as　unmixed　wine。
　　〃Oh；　well；〃　she　murmured；　as　if　continuing　a　dialogue。　〃I　suppose　we　could　use　a　good　doctor。〃
　　〃I　certainly　could；〃　he　said；　with　feeling。
　　That　made　her　laugh。　At　some　point；　though　it　was　hard　to　mark　the　change；　the　laughter　turned　to　tears。　He　could　feel　them　falling　on　his　chest。
　　〃Two　years　is　a　long　time；〃　she　said。　〃Rodrigo；　am　I　being　unfair　to　you？〃
　　〃I　don't　expect　to　be　two　years　without　you；〃　he　said。　〃One　way　or　another。〃
　　She　said　nothing。　Her　tears　fell　in　silence。　He　hesitated；　then　finally　brought　down　his　arms…he　had　worked　free　of　the　bonds　in　the　first　moments　after　being　tied…and　wrapped　them　around　her。
　　〃Oh；　burn　you；　Rodrigo；〃　she　whispered；　when　she　realized　what　he'd　done；　but　she　didn't　say　it　severely　this　time。　A　moment　later；　she　murmured；　dealing　with　the　hardest　sorrow　of　time　passing；　〃They　are　so　young。〃
　　He　stroked　her　hair；　down　and　down　her　back。
　　〃I　know；〃　he　whispered　gently。　〃I　know；　my　love。〃
　　He　had　killed　his　own　first　man　when　he　was　twelve。　He　didn't　tell　her　that。　Not　now。
　　
　　〃Are　they　still　in　the　hut？〃　Fernan　asked。
　　〃Uh…huh；〃　said　Diego。
　　〃What　do　you　think　they're　doing？〃
　　〃Now；　now；〃　said　Ibero　the　cleric　hastily。　〃That　isn't　a　proper　question！〃
　　〃I　couldn't　answer　it；　anyhow；〃　said　Diego；　laughing。　〃Ibero；　you　look　genuinely　formidable；　by　the　way。〃
　　Their　longtime　cleric's　expression　was　uncertain　for　a　moment；　then　guardedly　pleased。　He　was　indeed　remarkably　altered：　his　face　daubed　with　mud　under　a　black　hat；　garbed　like　an　outlaw；　with　inserts　in　new　riding　boots　to　make　him　taller。
　　Fernan　had　made　Ibero　practice　speaking　in　deep　tones　and　walk　around　in　those　boots　for　days；　to　get　used　to　the　speech　and　the　movement。　Their　cleric　and　tutor　had　been；　improbably；　the　leader　of　the　band　that　captured　Rodrigo。　The　boys　had　remained　out　of　sight；　downriver　with　the　horses。　The　other　outlaws　had　been　ranch　hands；　disguised　as　Ibero　had　been；　under　orders　not　to　speak　a　word。　They　had　gone　back　to　the　pound　already。　Now　the　three　of　them；　two　boys　and　a　holy　man；　sat　together　on　the　dark　grass　under　two　moons　and　the　stars　of　the　summer　night。
　　〃You　really　think　we　deceived　him？〃　the　cleric　asked。
　　〃What？　Papa？　Don't　be　silly；〃　said　Fernan；　with　an　amused　glance。
　　〃He'll　have　figured　it　out　from　at　least　half　a　dozen　things　we　missed；〃　said　Diego　happily。　The　boys　smiled　at　each　other。
　　The　cleric's　face　fell。　〃He　will　have　known　us？　Then　what　was　the　point　of　the　deception？〃
　　〃He'll　tell　us　the　half　a　dozen　things。　We'll　know　better　next　time；〃　Fernan　explained。
　　〃Besides；〃　said　Diego；　〃Mother　wanted　to　stab　him　with　an　arrow。〃
　　〃Ah；〃　said　the　cleric。　〃That's　right。　I　forgot。〃　He　had　been　with　this　family　a　long　time。
　　They　decided　to　ride　back　to　the　ranch　house。　There　was　no　telling　how　long　Rodrigo　and　Miranda　would　remain　in　that　hut。　On　the　way　back　Fernan　began；　predictably；　to　sing。　He　had　an　atrocious　voice；　normally　cause　for　decisive　quelling；　but　neither　of　the　others　plained　that　night。　Under　the　two　moons　the　huge　darkness　was　eased　and　made　weling。　They　could　see　the　mountains　far　in　the　distance　and　the　wide　stretch　of　the　plain　to　north　and　south　and　rolling　west　behind　them　and　then；　a　little　later；　they　caught　sight　of　the　torches　left　burning　on　the　wall　around　the　pound；　to　bring　them　all　home　from　the　night。
　　
Part　III
Seven
　　〃Well　then；〃　said　Almalik　of　Cartada；　the　Lion　of　Al…Rassan；　〃where　is　he？〃
　　The　king　was　angry。　The　signs　were　obvious　to　those　in　the　vast　and　vaulted　chamber。　Beneath　the　horseshoe　arches　with　their　red　and　amber　interplay　of　stone；　men　exchanged　uneasy　glances。　Courtiers　and　artists　in　attendance　upon　a　monarch　known　for　his　changing　moods　learned　quickly　how　to　read　those　changes。　They　watched　as　the　king　snatched　an　orange　from　a　basket　held　by　a　slave　and　began　rapidly　peeling　it　himself　with　his　large；　capable　hands。　Those　same　hands　had　swung　the　sword　that　killed　Ishlik　ibn　Raal　not　three　months　ago　in　this　very　room；　spattering　the　poet's　blood　across　the　mosaic　tiles　and　marble　pillars　and　the　clothing　of　those　standing　too　close　that　day。
　　The　young；　increasingly　acclaimed　Tudescan　poet　had　made　the　mistake　of　inserting　two　lines　from　another　man's　writing　in　his　own　verse；　and　then　denying　that　he'd　done　so　deliberately。　Almalik　of　Cartada；　however；　knew　his　poetry　and　prided　himself　upon　that。　In　the　Al…Rassan　of　the　city…kings　after　the　fall　of　the　Khalifate　a　distinguished　poet　could　confer　anxiously　sought　credibility　upon　a　monarch。
　　And　for　fifteen　years；　Almalik's　principal　counsellor；　and　then　the　formally　declared　advisor　and　guardian　of　his　eldest　son　and　heir；　had　been　that　paragon　of　many　arts；　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　of　Aljais。　Who　had　written；　most　unfortunately　for　Ishlik　ibn　Raal；　the　two　stolen　lines　in　question。　And　of　whom；　at　this　precarious　moment；　three　months　after；　the　king　was　speaking。
　　〃Where　is　he？〃　Almalik　asked　again。
　　The　attendant　court　figures；　some　thirty　of　them　on　this　particular　morning；　found　much　to　interest　them　in　the　geometries　of　the　ceiling　decoration　or　the　mosaics　of　the　floor。　No　one　in　the　room　was　looking　directly　at　the　king；　or　at　the　man　to　whom　he　spoke。　Only　the　one　woman　there；　sitting　among　brightly　colored　cushions　arranged　near　those　of　the　king's　dais；　preserved　an　unperturbed　demeanor；　lightly　plucking　at　her　lute。