按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃But I did not kill him；〃 Bertran said slowly； as if in a trance。 There was something terrible in the words。
Drawing a deep breath； Blaise said carefully； 〃Nor did I； with as much cause； perhaps。 It must not be allowed to matter； Bertran； for either of us。 We have won。 And look； the men of Garsenc are forcing the others to surrender。〃
It was true。 The soldiers of Gorhaut； the crusading army of the god； could be seen throwing down their weapons even as they spoke。 Blaise saw Thierry riding towards them。 He shouted as he approached： 〃We must not kill unarmed men； Bertran。〃
〃Will you tell me why？ I seem to have forgotten。〃 Bertran's eyes were still wild； lost。
〃No you haven't；〃 said Valery from behind his cousin。 They turned to him； his own features were calm again； though Blaise could see that that control was costing Valery a great deal。 〃You haven't forgotten at all。 You just want to forget。 So do I。 Oh； Bertran； so do I； but if we do that we bee what we have just defeated。〃
Blaise had said the same thing once； in the serenity of a council chamber。 This was a battlefield； and there was a kind of madness in the blue eyes of the man Valery was addressing。 Bertran stared coldly for a long moment at his cousin。 Then Blaise saw him shake his head several times； as if trying to slip free of something。 He understood； he understood better than Bertran could have known； how hard it was to move past battle…rage to anything else at all。
But when Bertran turned back to him and to Thierry beside him； Blaise saw that his expression was one he knew。
〃Very well；〃 said the duke of Talair； 〃we will accept their surrender。 There is a last thing that is still to be done； though it might grieve you； Blaise； I don't know。〃 He paused only briefly。 〃Where is the High Elder of Gorhaut？〃
Amazingly； Blaise had managed to push his father from his mind； or perhaps； given all that had now broken into fragments in the world； it wasn't so amazing after all。 He turned towards the knot of men west of them； and standing in their midst…unhorsed but towering above even the tallest man there…he saw his father。
Galbert had removed his helm； or had had it taken from him。 He stood bareheaded in the light of late afternoon。 There was blood on his face and on his blue robe。 A space had been cleared around him and； looking； Blaise realized belatedly where Rudel had gone。 His friend was standing with Galbert inside that space； sword drawn； calmly levelling it at the man who； a little more than half a year ago； had offered him a quarter of a million in gold to kill Bertran de Talair。
This was； Blaise understood finally； one more score being settled； as the sun moved west in the winter sky。 He wondered why his father had not killed himself rather than be given over in this fashion to his enemies。 It was only a brief thought though； that one。 Galbert was not a man to take such a way out； and it was； in any event； an action forbidden by the god。
It seemed to have grown quiet in the valley。 Some clouds appeared in the northwest。 He watched them move across the sun and then away。 It was colder now； late in the day； and in the aftermath of so much exertion。 It seemed to be over though； the clash of weapons had stopped。 Men were moaning； crying out in pain from many parts of the field。 That would go on a long time； Blaise knew。 He shivered。
〃I have a cloak for you。〃 It was Hirnan。 Blaise turned to look at the Arbonnais coran who had been guarding him all afternoon。 They had gone to Rian's Island in the sea once； in springtime； to fetch a poet back。 It had begun there； for Blaise it seemed to have begun there with the High Priestess in the wood； the dark hollows of her eyes； the white owl on her shoulder。
After a moment he nodded his head and Hirnan draped a heavy cloak of a dark purple hue over Blaise's shoulders。 Blaise wondered where he'd got it； purple was the colour of kings。 He had a suspicion though； a guess as to whence that cloak had e。 And that thought made him turn for a moment； away from his father in the ring of swords； to look briefly at Thierry； and then away from him and all the others； back towards the isle in the lake where the women were。
It was just possible； now that the fighting had stopped； to make out individual figures in the valley across the water。 Standing with others on the northern shore of the isle； Ariane could see her husband； from the way he sat his horse it seemed he was all right。 Not far from Thierry she watched Hirnan of Baude lay the purple cloak she had entrusted to him over Blaise de Garsenc's shoulders； and she began to cry。
There was a great deal of weeping taking place now； they did not yet know how many had died； or who。 The countess was not with them here on the strand； she had joined the priestesses and the priests in the temple for a service of thanksgiving。 Ariane knew she ought to be with them； but her thoughts just now； since the blowing of the horns； were entirely of this world。
The small boats were crossing continuously back and forth across the choppy water； they had been doing so all through the battle。 The last messenger had told them that the king of Gorhaut was dead； of a crimson arrow in the eye。 No one knew who had shot that arrow； the priest said； kneeling on the sands of the goddess。 The feathers； he said； had been those of an owl。 The arrow had dropped straight down from the sky。
He had also told them that Urté de Miraval； who had saved them in the end； despite everything； was dying； if he was not already dead。 And these last tiding； for Ariane； meant more than they did to anyone else on the isle or； indeed； anyone else alive。
They meant that the term of an oath she had kept since the end of her childhood was over； a secret she had sworn； to keep was hers to offer to the world。 And it was because of this that she was weeping on that shore； looking north to the valley； at the figure of her husband in his red surcoat and the tall man cloaked in purple beside him； and at the third； smaller man with the two of them； the one who had； so many years ago； surprised a travelling party among the elm trees she could see even now beside the arch to the west。
She moved away from the others on the strand； withdrawing into memory。 There was another boat ing with even newer tidings now； the other women moved anxiously towards it。 Ariane walked a distance west instead and stood alone； gazing at the other shore； the one nearest Miraval。
It had been winter then； too； she remembered； that night twenty…three years ago； with a rain wind lashing the trees and lake when she came to that shore in the dark of night。 Twenty…three years； and oh； it was as yesterday if she let her mind go back。 It was as fierce and hard and terrible as if she were standing there now； thirteen years old； an oath newly sworn； sobbing wildly with grief and terror as she stood on that strand in the shelter of the signal hut。
She had been a child when that night had begun。 A quick； curious； overly indulged young girl。 She had not been young any longer when that long night was done and she watched the pale sun finally e up across the lake and listened to water dripping mournfully from the trees all around。
She had kept her promise。 All these years she had kept the promise sworn to her cousin Aelis； whom she had loved。 She could see herself so clearly even now： the thin； shivering girl riding in a wild storm； white face and black hair lost in the darkness except when the lightning flashed。 And she had been crying； crying in the cruel lashing of the rain。 She was crying again now； all these long years after； weeping for innocence lost； for the dead of that night and the awful burden she had been given then and had carried all these years。
After a long time Ariane wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders and turned away from that western shore and its weight of memory。 She was the duchess of Carenzu； queen of the Court of Love in Arbonne； a woman of power in the world； and there was a great deal to be done。 Starting with the ending of a silence。 Aelis； she thought； whispered it to herself actually； only the name； nothing more than that； realizing as she di