ggk.asongforarbonne-第15章

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　　On　the　other　hand；　the　story　of　Soresina's　very　public　contrition　and　her　open…armed；　kneeling　wele　of　the　poet　was　certainly　going　the　rounds　of　the　castles　and　towns。　That　part　of　the　tale　Evrard　would　encourage　for　all　he　was　worth。　Signe　wondered　if　he'd　bedded　the　woman　after　all。　It　was　possible；　but　it　didn't　much　matter。　On　the　whole；　and　however　improbably；　it　looked　as　if　everyone　might　end　up　happy　in　this　affair。
　　Although　that　optimistic　thought　certainly　didn't　factor　in　the　moods　and　caprices　of　En　Bertran　de　Talair；　who　was；　for　reasons　of　his　own；　currently　bestowing　the　honour　of　his　presence　on　the　doubtlessly　overwhelmed　young　couple　in　Castle　Baude。　Mallin　de　Baude　was　reported　to　be　a　man　of　some　ambition；　he　wanted　to　rise　in　the　world；　to　move　among　the　circles　and　the　councils　of　the　great；　not　remain　mewed　up　in　his　eyrie　among　the　sheep　and　goats　and　terraced　olive　trees　of　his　family　estates。　Well；　the　great　of　the　world；　or　one　of　them　at　any　rate；　had　e　to　him　now。　Mallin　was　probably　about　to　discover　some　of　the　implications　of　his　dreaming。
　　Signe　shook　her　head。　There　was　folly　at　work　here；　she　had　no　doubt。　Bertran　often　essayed　his　wilder　escapades　in　the　spring；　she　had　e　to　that　realization　long　ago。　On　the　other　hand；　she　supposed　it　was　better　that　he　pursue　whatever　it　was　that　had　drawn　him　to　those　high　pastures　near　the　Arimondan　passes　than　the　killing　matters　of　earlier　in　the　year。
　　In　any　case；　she　had　no　real　leisure　to　spend　dwelling　on　such　affairs。　Ariane　ruled　the　Court　of　Love　now。　Signe　had　Gorhaut　to　deal　with；　a　dangerous　peace　signed　in　the　north　and　rather　a　great　deal　more。　And　she　had　to　do　it　alone　now；　with　only　the　memory…the　harvest　and　the　torment　of　my　days…of　Guibor's　voice　to　guide　her　along　the　increasingly　narrow　paths　of　statesmanship。
　　There　was　a　new　fashion　among　the　younger　troubadours　and　nobles…she　even　thought　Ariane　might　approve　of　it：　they　were　writing　and　saying　now　that　it　was　ill…bred；　in　bad　taste　if　not　actually　impossible；　for　a　wife　to　love　her　husband。　That　true　love　had　to　flow　freely　from　choices　made　willingly；　and　marriage　could　never　be　a　matter　of　such　free　choice　for　men　or　women　in　the　society　they　knew。
　　The　world　was　changing。　Guibor　would　have　laughed　at　that　new　conceit　with　her；　and　said　exactly　what　he　thought　of　it；　and　then　he　might　have　taken　her　in　his　arms　and　she　could　have　laced　her　hands　in　his　hair　and　they　would　have　proven　the　young　ones　wrong　in　this；　as　in　so　many　other　things；　within　the　private；　enchanted；　now…broken　circle　of　their　love。
　　She　turned　from　the　window；　from　the　view　of　the　river　below；　from　memories　of　the　past；　and　nodded　to　the　two　young　girls。　It　was　time　to　dress　and　go　down。　Roban　would　be　waiting；　with　all　the　needs　of　the　present；　imperious　in　their　clamour　to　be　addressed；　drowning…as　in　a　flooding　of　the　river…the　lost；　murmuring　voices　of　yesterday。
　　
　　There　was；　of　course；　no　light　where　he　had　chosen　to　keep　watch；　though　there　were　brackets　for　torches　on　the　walls　of　the　stairwell。　It　would　have　been　a　waste　of　illumination；　no　one　had　any　business　ing　up　these　stairs　after　nightfall。
　　Blaise　settled　himself　on　one　of　the　benches　in　the　window　recess　nearest　the　second…floor　landing。　He　could　see　the　stairs　and　hear　any　movement　on　them　but　would　be　hidden　from　anyone　ing　up。　Some　men　would　have　preferred　to　be　visible；　even　torchlit；　here　on　guard；　to　have　their　presence　known　and　so　function　as　a　deterrent　to　anyone　even　contemplating　an　ascent。　Blaise　didn't　think　that　way：　it　was　better；　to　his　mind；　to　have　such　designs　exposed。　If　anyone　was　planning　to　make　their　way　towards　Soresina　de　Baude's　chambers　he　wanted　them　to　try；　so　he　could　see　them　and　know　who　they　were。
　　Though；　in　fact；　he　knew　exactly　who　such　a　person　would　be　tonight　if　there　was　to　be　an　attempt；　and　so　did　Mallin　de　Baude…which　is　why　Blaise　was　on　guard　here；　and　Hirnan；　equally　trusted；　equally　discreet；　was　outside　the　walls　beneath　the　baroness's　window。
　　Bertran　de　Talair　had　a　twenty…year　reputation　for　being　exceptionally　determined　and　resourceful　in　pursuit　of　his　seductions。　Also　successful。　Blaise　had　no　real　doubt　that　if　the　troubadour　duke　of　Talair　did　manage　to　make　his　way　to　Soresina's　bed　his　reception　would　be　considerably　different　from　what　Evrard　of　Lussan's　had　been　earlier　in　the　year。
　　He　made　a　sour　face；　thinking　about　that；　and　leaned　back；　putting　his　booted　feet　up　on　the　opposite　bench。　He　knew　it　was　unwise　on　guard　duty　at　night　to　make　himself　too　fortable；　but　he　was　used　to　this　and　didn't　think　he　would　fall　asleep。　He　had　kept　night　watch　over　a　number　of　different　things　in　his　time；　including；　as　it　happened；　the　women's　quarters　in　more　than　one　castle。　Guarding　the　womenfolk；　virtually　imprisoning　them　at　night；　was　a　part　of　the　ordinary　round　of　life　in　Gorhaut。　No　hint　there；　not　even　a　trace；　of　this　subversive　Arbonnais　custom　of　encouraging　poets　to　woo　and　exalt　the　women　of　the　land。　The　lords　of　Gorhaut　knew　how　to　protect　what　was　theirs。
　　Blaise　had　even　felt　a　carefully　concealed　satisfaction　when　Mallin　de　Baude；　after　a　week　of　watching　their　very　distinguished　and　equally　notorious　guest　charm　his　wife；　had　asked　his　hired　northern　mercenary　to　quietly　arrange　protection　for　Soresina's　rooms　during　En　Bertran's　last　night　in　Castle　Baude。　A　balding；　rumpled　poet　like　Evrard　was　one　thing；　evidently；　but　the　most　celebrated　nobleman　in　Arbonne　was　another。　Soresina's　manner　the　past　few　days　had　offered　proof　enough　of　that。
　　Blaise　had　accepted　the　assignment　and　arranged　to　post　Hirnan　outside　without　so　much　as　a　word　of　ment　or　a　flicker　of　expression　on　his　face。　The　truth　was；　he　liked　Mallin　de　Baude　and　would　have　thought　less　of　him　had　the　baron　been　oblivious　or　indifferent　to　the　nuances　that　had　been　shaped　since　de　Talair's　arrival　in　their　midst；　not　long　after　Evrard　had　departed　again。
　　Remarkably　enough；　amusingly　even；　everyone　in　Castle　Baude　seemed　to　have　been　happy　in　the　aftermath　of　the　raid　on　Rian's　Island。　In　part　because　virtually　no　one　knew　there　had　been　a　raid。　As　far　as　the　folk　of　the　castle　and　the　countryside　around　were　concerned；　all　they　knew…all　they　needed　to　know；　Mallin　had　stressed　repeatedly　to　Blaise　and　the　corans…was　that　Evrard　of　Lussan　had　reconsidered　his　position　and　had　returned　to　the　castle；　escorted；　by　pre…arrangement；　by　a　group　of　Mallin's　best　men　and　the　northern　mercenary　who　was　leading　and　training　them　that　season。
　　Hirnan　and　Maffour；　who　apparently　knew　Luth's　grandmother；　had　been　given　the　task　of　conveying　to　her　what　had　happened　to　the　hapless　coran。　They　returned　with　Maffour　grinning　wryly　and　Hirnan　shaking　his　big　head　in　bemusement：　far　from　being　distressed　at　her　loss；　the　woman　had　been　thrilled　by　their　tidings。　Her　grandson　serving　the　goddess　on　Rian's　Island　had　been　a　prophetic　dream　of　hers　years　ago；　the　two　corans　reported。　Blaise　had　lifted　his　eyebrows　in　disbelief；　he　was　clearly　not　going　to　be　able　to　understand　the　Arbonnais　for　a　long　time　yet；　if　ever。　Still；　the　woman's　attitude　was　useful；　an　outcry　of　loss　from　her　would　have　proven　embarrassing。
　　In　the　meantime；　Soresina's　public　reception　of　the　prodigal　poet　had　been　almost　touching　in　its　emotion。　〃There's　an　actress　in　that　one；〃　Maffour　had　whispered　drily　to　Blaise　as　they　stood　to　one　side　of　the　castle　forecourt　and　watched　the　young　baroness　kneel　and　then　rise　to　salute　the　troubadour　with　a　kiss　on　each　cheek　and　a　third　one　on　the　lips。
　　〃There　is　in　all　of　them；〃　Blaise　had　replied　out　of　the　side　of　his　mouth。　Nonetheless；　he　too　had　been　feeling　rather　pleased　that　morning；　a　sensation　that　continued　when　it　became　clear　that　although　Evrard　was　not　going　to　linger　in　Baude　Castle…no　one　really　wanted　him　to…he　seemed　to　have　accepted　his　abduction　with　a　good　humour　that　matched　Mallin's　own。
　　The　poet　offered　one　quickly…fashioned　verse　with　an　elaborately　strung…together　set　of　images　about　emerging　from　a　dark　cave；　drawn　upwards　by　a　glow　of　light　that　turned　out　to　be　the　radiance　of　Soresina　de　Baude。