ggk.asongforarbonne-第93章

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　　He　was　trembling；　in　fact；　confused　and　unsettled　by　his　own　hesitation；　visited；　as　he　had　been　all　day；　by　thoughts　he　would　never　have　entertained　before　this　morning。　Habit　and　fear；　the　pulsions　of　his　discipline；　had　sent　him　riding　north　from　Lussan　at　midday　to　carry　news　to　Cortil　of　what　he　had　seen　on　the　tournament　ground　that　morning。　He　had　stopped　at　a　roadside　inn　for　ale；　and　had　then　lingered　there　absurdly　long；　telling　himself　over　and　over　that　it　was　time　to　get　up　in　the　saddle　again；　that　his　tidings　were　critical；　dangerous；　that　he　was　even　at　risk　of　suspicion　if　he　delayed　too　long。
　　It　was　very　nearly　day's　end；　though；　when　he　left　that　inn；　riding　at　a　gallop　but　not　straining　his　horse。　It　was　a　long　way　to　Cortil；　he　told　himself；　he　had　to　be　careful　not　to　exhaust　his　mount。　In　the　darkness　under　Escoran's　blue　light　he　had　approached　Aubry；　preparing　to　bypass　it　on　the　road　towards　the　pass；　when　he　heard　the　sounds　of　horses　and　shouting　men　and　stopped　at　the　forest's　edge　to　see；　astonishingly；　the　king　he　had　been　riding　north　to　warn。
　　And　he　stayed　up　there　watching；　motionless；　as　they　slaughtered　the　people　of　a　village　and　a　temple　and　rode　away。　He　wasn't　especially　shocked　by　what　the　corans　were　doing　to　the　priestesses；　nor　even；　really；　by　the　burning　of　the　women　after　they　were　done；　though　no　halfway　normal　man　could　really　enjoy　such　a　thing。　That　wasn't　what　kept　him　silent　up　on　the　ridge。　He　had　seen　worse；　or　as　bad　at　any　rate；　in　the　brutal　years　of　war　against　Valensa；　especially　among　the　farms　and　towns　on　either　side　of　the　border。　The　longer　a　war　went　on；　his　father　had　told　him　once；　the　more　terrible　the　things　one　saw；　and　did。　It　seemed　to　him　to　have　been　a　true　thing　to　say；　he　felt　that　way　about　much　of　what　his　father　had　told　him　over　the　years。
　　It　wasn't　even；　though　this　was　a　part　of　it；　the　thrill　he　had　felt　that　morning；　straight　up　his　spine　and　tingling　in　his　hair；　when　Blaise　de　Garsenc　had　raised　the　banner　of　the　kings　above　his　tent　and　gone　forth　to　battle。　He　had　always　thought…and　had　once　or　twice　even　said；　though　only　to　trusted　friends…that　the　youngest　of　the　de　Garsenc　was　much　the　best　of　the　three　of　them。
　　That　wouldn't　have　made　the　difference；　not　in　and　of　itself。　A　coran　in　Gorhaut　learned；　early；　to　keep　his　thoughts　where　they　belonged：　away　from　any　actions　he　might　be　ordered　to　perform。　His　own　sworn　liege　lord　was　Ranald；　duke　of　Garsenc；　and　if　the　duke　took　most　of　his　own　orders　from　the　father　in　Cortil；　well；　the　corans　of　Garsenc　were　not　expected　to　have　any　thoughts　at　all　about　that。
　　He　would　have　gone　down　with　his　tidings；　he　realized　finally；　still　sitting　silently　on　his　horse　long　after　the　king's　pany　had　gone；　watching　the　burning　fires　spread　from　two　of　the　wooden　houses　to　a　third；　if　it　hadn't　been　for　the　one　additional　thing；　drawn　slowly　up　from　his　own　history　during　this　long　day　like　a　bucket　from　a　well。
　　There　was　no　sound　now　save　the　cackle　of　the　flames　and　the　wailing；　very　faint；　of　a　child　or　an　animal　that　was　somehow　not　yet　dead。　After　a　moment　that　crying　also　stopped　and　there　was　only　the　rising　sound　of　wind　and　the　fires；　growing　to　a　roar　as　the　last　of　the　wooden　houses　caught。
　　What　had　kept　him　here；　rooted　to　this　ridge；　watching　his　king　and　liege　lord　and　corans　he　had　known　for　years；　was　the　memory　of　his　father's　last　year。
　　His　own　family　home　had　been　a　small　tract　of　farmland　proudly　entered　in　their　own　name　on　the　baron's　records　since　the　last　plague　had　made　labour　scarce　and　left　too　many　farms　untended。　A　small　bit　of　land；　but　his　father's　own；　after　a　grinding　lifetime　of　brutally　labouring　for　someone　else。　It　had　been　in　the　good　grainlands　in　the　north　of　Gorhaut；　that　farm。　Or；　to　speak　properly　now；　in　the　north　of　what　had　been　Gorhaut。　It　was　Valensa　now；　since　the　treaty　that　had　surrendered　land　kept　safe　by　King　Duergar's　own　sword　and　the　corans　of　the　king　and　the　courage　of　farmers　and　villagers　fighting　for　what　was　theirs。
　　He　had　fought　at　Iersen　Bridge　himself。　Fought　and　won　in　ice　and　blood　among　the　army　of　Gorhaut；　though　grieving　solely　for　his　king　after　swords　were　sheathed　and　spears　laid　aside。　A　season　later；　no　more　than　that；　back　in　the　south　at　Garsenc　Castle　where　he　served　the　young　duke　as　an　anointed　coran；　to　the　vast　pride　of　his　family；　he　had　learned　that　his　parents；　along　with　all　the　other　farmers　and　the　inhabitants　of　entire　villages　of　the　north；　were　being　told　to　pack　and　travel　south　to　wherever　they　would；　wherever　they　could　find　shelter。
　　It　was　only　for　a　time；　they　were　advised　by　the　messengers　of　the　new　king；　Ademar。　The　new　king；　in　his　wisdom；　had　taken　thought　for　them；　the　messengers　said…there　would　be　wider；　richer　lands　for　all　of　them　very　soon。　In　the　meantime；　his　father's　lifelong　dream　and　prayer　of　his　own　farm　was　gone；　handed　over　to　the　Valensans　they　had　been　fighting　for　fifty　years。　Just　like　that。
　　His　parents　had　actually　been　among　the　fortunate；　in　a　way　of　thinking；　finding　a　place　with　his　mother's　sister's　husband　east　of　Cortil；　working　for　someone　else　again；　but　with　a　roof　over　their　heads　at　least。　He　had　seen　his　father　twice　there；　but　though　the　old　man　said　little　at　the　best　of　times；　after　the　northern　fashion；　his　eyes　didn't　convey　any　sense　of　good　fortune　to　his　son。
　　Everyone　knew　where　the　promised　new　lands　were　supposed　to　be。　It　was　mon　talk　in　the　country　as　much　as　in　the　taverns　and　castles。　His　father　had　said　only　one　thing　about　that；　at　the　end　of　his　second　visit；　his　last；　to　the　farmyard　hut　that　was　now　his　parents'　home。
　　They　had　been　walking　out　together；　he　and　his　father；　at　twilight；　looking　out　over　the　grey　moorland　in　a　drizzle　of　rain。　〃What；〃　his　father　had　said；　turning　aside　to　spit　into　the　mud；　〃do　I　know　about　olive　trees？〃
　　His　son　had　not　replied。　He　had　watched　the　thin　rain　falling　on　the　moor。　There　was　nothing　to　say。　Nothing；　that　is；　that　would　not　be　treason；　or　a　lie。
　　This　morning；　though；　on　a　challenge　ground　in　Arbonne　under　a　clear　sky　he　had　heard　the　younger　son　of　Garsenc　name　Ademar　a　traitor　and　claim　the　throne　of　Gorhaut　before　lords　and　ladies　of　all　six　countries。　And　the　simple　truth　was；　he　realized　finally；　sitting　his　horse　on　that　ridge　above　a　burning　hamlet；　he　agreed　with　Blaise　de　Garsenc。　His　father　would　have　felt　the　same　way；　he　knew　with　certainty；　though　he　would　never　have　put　such　a　thought　into　words。　They　were　people　of　Gorhaut；　their　lives　and　lands　charged　to　the　protection　of　the　king…and　their　safety　and　history　and　trust　had　been　given　away　by　him　with　a　signed　piece　of　paper。　It　was　said　that　Galbert　the　High　Elder　had　been　behind　the　whole　thing。　That　he　wanted　to　destroy　Arbonne　because　of　the　goddess　they　had　down　here。　He　didn't　know　much　about　that　or　very　much　care；　but　he　had　seen　his　father　destroyed　by　living　on　another　man's　farm　far　from　the　northern　lands　he　had　known　all　his　life。
　　His　father　had　died　at　the　end　of　that　same　summer；　taking　to　his　bed　one　morning；　the　scribe's　letter　had　said；　and　passing　to　the　god　four　days　after　without　any　last　word　spoken。　He　had　not　appeared　to　be　in　great　pain；　the　scribe　wrote。　His　mother　had　made　her　mark　at　the　end；　after　the　part　wishing　him　all　best　fortune。　He　still　carried　it；　that　letter。
　　He　looked　down　a　last　time　on　the　burning　of　Aubry。　He　drew　a　long　breath；　finally　clear　in　his　mind；　though　not　any　the　less　afraid　for　that。　When　he　began　to　ride　again　it　was　south；　the　way　he　had　e；　carrying　a　different　message；　grim　with　fire　and　death　and　with　more　of　each　to　e；　certain　as　mortal　man　was　born　to　die。
　　He　had　actually　made　his　choice；　he　realized；　on　the　evening　of　that　last　walk　with　his　father　in　the　rain。　He　had　had　no　way　to　put　that　decision　into　action。　Now　he　did。
　　He　put　spurs　to　his　horse；　leaving　the　fires　of　Aubry　behind　him。　His　eyes　were　on　the　empty　road　before　him；　seeing　how　bright　and　strange　it　had　bee　in　the　mingling　of　the　moons。
　　
　　Blaise　hadn't　been　happy　about　it；　but　the　priestess　and　the　physician；　agreeing　w