ggk.asongforarbonne-第21章

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　　With　what　consequences？
　　Blaise　sighed　and　accepted　the　return　passing　of　the　seguignac　from　the　duke。　The　flask　gleamed　palely　in　the　moonlight；　there　were　intricate　designs　upon　it；　most　likely　the　work　of　Gotzland　master　smiths。　It　had　probably　cost　more　than　Blaise's　monthly　wages　here　in　Baude。
　　There　really　was　no　point　in　crying　out　now；　and　he　knew　it。　Soresina　de　Baude　had　chosen　to　do…as　Bertran　had　said…exactly　as　she　wished。　It　was　over　now；　and　unless　he；　Blaise；　stirred　up　an　alarm　and　roused　the　castle　it　would　probably　be　over　with　little　consequence　for　anyone。
　　It　was　just　the　dishonesty　of　it　all　that　bothered　him；　the　image…yet　another…of　a　woman's　duplicity　and　a　man's　idle；　avid　pursuit　of　pleasure　at　another's　expense。　He　had　somehow　hoped　for　more　of　Duke　Bertran　de　Talair　than　this　picture　of　a　jaded　seducer　putting　all　his　energy　into　achieving　a　single　night　with　a　yellow…haired　woman　married　to　someone　else。
　　But　he　wouldn't　raise　the　alarm。　Bertran　and　Soresina　had　counted　on　that；　he　knew。　It　angered　him；　the　easy　assumption　that　his　behaviour　could　be　anticipated；　but　he　wasn't　enough　provoked　to　change　his　mind　simply　to　spite　them。　People　died　when　spite　like　that　was　indulged。
　　His　head　was　hurting　at　back　and　side　both；　two　sets　of　hammers　vying　with　each　other　to　see　which　could　cause　him　more　distress。　The　seguignac　helped　though；　seguignac；　he　decided　sagely；　wiping　at　his　mouth；　might　actually　help　with　a　great　many　matters　of　grief　or　loss。
　　He　turned　to　the　duke　to　say　as　much；　but　stopped；　wordless；　at　what　he　saw　in　the　other's　unguarded　face。　The　scarred；　ironic；　worldly　face　of　the　troubadour　lord　of　Talair。
　　〃Twenty…three　years；〃　Bertran　de　Talair　said　a　moment　later；　half　to　himself；　his　eyes　on　the　moon　in　the　window。　〃So　much　longer　than　I　thought　I　would　live；　actually。　And　the　god　knows；　and　sweet　Rian　knows　I've　tried；　but　in　twenty…three　years　I've　never　yet　found　a　woman　to　equal　her；　or　take　away　the　memory；　even　for　a　night。〃
　　Feeling　hopelessly　out　of　his　element　in　the　face　of　this；　Blaise　felt　an　unexpected　moment　of　pity　for　Soresina　de　Baude；　with　her　unbound　hair　and　her　white　silk　night　robe　in　the　room　above　them。　Unable　to　summon　any　words　at　all；　suspecting　that　none　that　he　could　ever　think　of　would　be　remotely　adequate　to　what　he　had　just　heard；　he　simply　reached　back　across　the　stairway　and　offered　the　seguignac。
　　After　a　moment　En　Bertran's　ringed　hand　reached　out　for　it　in　the　moonlight。　De　Talair　drank　deeply；　then　he　drew　the　stopper　from　some　recess　of　his　clothing　and　capped　the　flask。　He　rose　slowly；　almost　steady　on　his　feet　and；　not　bothering　with　another　candle；　started　down　the　winding　stairway　without　another　word　or　a　glance　back。　He　was　already　lost　to　sight　in　the　darkness　before　the　first　curve　took　him　away。　Blaise　heard　his　quiet　footsteps　going　down；　and　then　those；　too；　were　gone　and　there　was　only　silence　and　the　moon　slowly　passing　from　the　narrow　window；　leaving　behind　the　stars。
　　
　　CHAPTER　3
　　Ademar；　king　of　Gorhaut；　slowly　turns　away　from　the　diverting　if　extremely　messy　struggle　taking　place　in　front　of　the　throne　between　the　carefully　maimed　hound　and　the　three　cats　that　have　been　set　upon　it。　Not　even　acknowledging　the　half…clothed　woman　kneeling　on　the　stone　floor　in　front　of　him　with　his　sex　in　her　mouth；　he　looks　narrowly　over　at　the　man　who　has　just　spoken；　interrupting　this　double　amusement。
　　〃We　are　not　certain　we　heard　you　correctly；〃　the　king　says　in　his　unexpectedly　high　voice。　The　tone　however　is　one　his　court　has　e　to　know　well　in　little　over　a　year。　Not　a　few　of　the　fifty　or　so　men　assembled　in　the　audience　chamber　in　the　king's　palace　at　Cortil　offer　silent　thanks　to　Corannos　that　they　are　not　the　recipients　of　that　gaze　or　that　tone。　The　handful　of　women　present　might　have　different　thoughts；　but　the　women　do　not　matter　in　Gorhaut。
　　With　an　elaborate　casualness　that　fools　no　one；　Duke　Ranald　de　Garsenc　reaches　for　his　ale　and　drinks　deeply　before　answering。　To　his　credit；　the　more　attentive　eyes　among　the　court　note；　de　Garsenc's　hand　is　steady　as　he　sets　the　heavy　flagon　down　again。　Looking　across　the　wooden　trestle　table　at　the　king；　he　lifts　his　voice。　〃I　understand　you　were　talking　about　Arbonne　this　morning。　I　simply　said；　why　don't　you　marry　the　bitch？　She's　a　widow；　she's　heirless；　what　could　be　simpler？〃
　　The　king's　extremely　large；　ringless　hands　descend　absently　to　first　loop　themselves　in　the　long　black　hair　and　then　to　briefly　encircle　the　ceaselessly　working　throat　of　the　girl　on　her　knees　in　front　of　him。　He　never　actually　looks　down　at　her　though。　Beyond　her；　the　old　hound　has　now　fallen；　it　is　lying　on　one　side　panting　raggedly；　blood　streaming　from　a　great　many　wounds。　The　cats；　starved　for　five　days；　are　avidly　beginning　to　feed。　Ademar　smiles　thinly　for　a　moment；　watching；　and　then　makes　a　sudden　moue　of　distaste　as　the　dog's　entrails　begin　to　spill　onto　the　floor。　He　gestures；　and　the　handlers　spring　forward　to　seize　the　four　animals　and　bear　them　from　the　room。　The　cats；　ravenous　and　deranged；　make　high…pitched　shrieking　sounds　that　can　be　heard　even　after　the　doors　at　the　far　end　have　closed　behind　them。　The　smell　of　blood　and　wet　fur　lingers；　mixed　with　stinging　smoke　from　the　fires　and　spilled　beer　on　the　tables　where　the　high　lords　of　Gorhaut　are　permitted　by　ancient　custom　to　sit　and　drink　in　the　presence　of　their　liege。
　　Their　liege　closes　his　eyes　at　just　that　moment。　His　large；　well…knit　body　stiffens　and　an　expression　of　pleased　surprise　crosses　his　fair…skinned；　full…bearded　features。　There　is　an　awkward　silence　in　the　room　as　courtiers　see　reason　to　scrutinize　their　fingernails　or　the　dark　beams　of　the　ceiling。　With　a　sigh；　Ademar　slumps　back　on　the　throne。　When　he　opens　his　eyes　again　it　is　to　look；　as　he　always　does　when　this　particular　amusement　reaches　its　climax；　at　the　women　of　his　court；　gathered　near　the　windows　to　the　left　of　the　throne。　The　more　discreet　among　them　are　looking　assiduously　down　and　away。　One　or　two　are　visibly　disfited。　One　or　two　others　are　equally　flushed；　but　for　what　seem　to　be　different　reasons；　and　these　are　the　ones　whose　eyes　gaze　boldly　back　at　Ademar's。　Screening　the　king's　lower　body　with　her　own；　the　kneeling　woman　attends　to　the　points　and　drawstrings　of　his　garments　and　carefully　smoothes　his　breeches　and　hose　before　tilting　her　head　up　for　permission　to　withdraw。
　　Slouching　back　in　his　throne；　Ademar　of　Gorhaut　looks　down　at　her　for　the　first　time。　With　an　indolent　finger　he　traces　the　contours　of　her　lips。　He　smiles；　the　same　thin　smile　as　before。　〃Attend　to　the　duke　of　Garsenc；〃　he　says。　〃My　father's　former　champion　seems　a　man　sorely　in　need　of　the　ministrations　of　a　proper　woman。〃　The　girl；　expressionless；　rises　and　paces　gracefully　across　the　floor　towards　the　man　who　had　interrupted　the　king's　pleasure　for　a　moment　before。　There　is　a　ripple　of　coarse　laughter　in　the　room；　Ademar　grins；　acknowledging　it。　Beside　the　window　one　woman　turns　away　suddenly　to　look　out　over　the　misty　grey　of　the　landscape。　Ademar　of　Gorhaut　notices　that。　He　notices　a　great　deal；　his　court　has　e　to　realize　in　the　short　period　of　his　reign。
　　〃My　lady　Rosala；〃　the　king　says；　〃turn　not　away　from　us。　We　covet　the　sunshine　of　your　countenance　on　a　day　so　dreary　as　this。　And　it　may　be　your　husband　will　be　well　pleased　to　have　you　learn　a　new　skill　as　you　watch。〃
　　The　woman　called　Rosala；　tall；　yellow…haired　and　visibly　with　child；　delays　a　long　moment　before　obeying　the　mand　and　turning　back　to　the　room。　She　nods　her　head　formally　in　response　to　the　king's　words　but　does　not　speak。　The　other　girl　has　by　now　slipped　under　the　long　table　and　can　be　seen　settling　herself　in　front　of　Duke　Ranald　de　Garsenc。　The　duke's　colour　is　suddenly　high。　He　avoids　looking　towards　the　side　of　the　room　where　his　wife　stands　among　the　women。　A　few　of　the　lesser　courtiers；　bright…eyed　with　amusement　and　malice；　have　strolled　over　to　stand　by　his　shoulder；　glancing　downwards　with　an　intense　simulation　of　interest　at　what　is　now　taking　place　beneath　the　table。　Ranald　stares　straight　ahead；　looking　at　no　one。　This　amusemen