ggk.thelionsofal-rassan-第93章

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　　Ceremonial　battles　between　Ashar　and　Jad　took　place　at　dawn　or　at　day's　end；　in　the　balancing　moments　between　sun　and　stars。　There　was　one　moon　in　the　eastern　sky…the　white　one；　nearly　full。　It　was；　Jehane　thought　bitterly；　irrelevant　to　the　duality　so　harmoniously　shaped　and　decreed。
　　A　handful　of　soldiers　from　each　army　were　on　opposite　sides　of　the　slope　below　them。　She　knew　the　Jaddites。　Rodrigo's　men：　Lain；　Martin；　Ludus。　They　were　not　really　needed　as　guards；　for　Alvar　was　on　the　hill　and　the　traditions　of　heralds　were　being　honored　in　this　campaign。
　　Men　were　like　that；　Jehane　thought；　unable　to　check　the　bitterness　from　rising　again。　This　was　warfare　as　savage　as　could　be　imagined；　but　the　soldiers…even　the　Muwardis…would　defer　to　the　herald's　banner　and　staff。
　　And　they　would　watch　now　like　boys…enraptured；　overawed　by　the　ancient　symbolism…what　was　to　happen　on　the　plain　between　armies。　A　challenge　of　gods！　Each　faith　with　its　great　champion；　its　holy　lion　of　the　battlefield！　Poets　would　write　verses　and　songs；　chant　them　at　feasts　or　in　taverns　or　in　the　dark　under　desert　stars。
　　〃Will　there　ever　be　a　time　when　it　is　not　a　curse　to　be　born　a　woman？〃　Miranda　had　spoken　without　turning　her　head。　〃When　we　can　do　more；〃　she　added；　staring　down　at　the　plain；　〃than　stand　by　and　be　extremely　brave　and　watch　them　die？〃
　　Jehane　said　nothing。　She　could　think　of　no　answer　that　was　adequate。　She　would　not；　before　today；　have　called　her　own　womanhood　a　burden；　aware　that　she'd　been　luckier　than　most…in　her　family；　friends；　in　her　profession。　She　didn't　feel　very　fortunate　today。　Today　she　thought　she　could　agree　with　Miranda　Belmonte。　Standing　on　this　windy　height；　it　was　easy　to　agree。
　　There　came　a　new　sound　below　them。　Both　armies　reacting　to　something。　Loud　cries；　a　banging　of　swords　on　shields。
　　From　opposite　directions；　north　and　south；　two　men　were　riding　towards　each　other　across　the　ground　west　of　Silvenes。
　　No　one　escorted　either　man；　so　no　one　knew　what　it　was　that　Rodrigo　Belmonte　and　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　said　to　each　other　when　they　stopped　their　horses　a　little　distance　apart；　alone　in　the　world。
　　Each　man　dismounted；　however；　after　a　moment；　and　each　turned　his　horse　and　sent　it　cantering　back　the　way　he　had　e　across　the　grass。　Then　they　faced　each　other　again　and　Jehane　could　see　Ammar　say　one　last　thing；　and　Rodrigo　reply。　Then　they　lowered　their　helms。
　　On　that　watching　height　at　day's　windy　end；　she　saw　each　of　them　take　a　round　shield　from　where　it　hung　upon　his　back　and　then　each　of　them　drew　his　sword。
　　There　would　be　an　eagle　on　Rodrigo's　helm；　Ammar's　had　a　pattern　of　vine　leaves。　These　were　things　she　knew　but　could　not　see：　she　was　too　far　away　on　this　hill　and　the　sun　was　wrong；　behind　the　two　men；　and　low。　They　were　almost　silhouettes　against　the　light；　standing　alone。　Even　the　horses　had　finished　running　away　from　them。
　　Is　it　wrong　to　love　two　men；　she　had　asked　the　summer　before；　in　darkness　by　the　river。
　　Without　taking　her　eyes　from　the　plain　below；　Miranda　crossed　her　arms　over　her　breast　as　if　holding　tightly　to　something　there。　Jehane　had　seen　Rodrigo　use　that　same　gesture；　exactly；　in　the　moonlight　of　Orvilla　a　year　ago。　She　wondered；　if　she　and　Ammar　were　granted　enough　time；　would　they；　too；　e　to　share　gestures　like　that？　And　would　they　ever　make　a　child　to　be　loved　as　much　as　the　woman　beside　her　and　the　man　below　loved　their　sons？
　　There　will　never　be　enough　time；　she　had　said　to　Ammar。
　　Looking　towards　the　sun；　she　saw　Rodrigo　feint　and　then　swing　his　blade；　hard；　back　the　other　way　and　she　watched　Ammar　parry　that　blow　with　a　movement　of　his　own　sword；　smooth　as　Husari's　silk；　as　a　line　of　verse；　as　a　good　wine　tasted　at　the　end　of　day。　He　turned　the　parry；　seamlessly；　into　a　driving　thrust；　low；　and　Rodrigo…fast　as　a　dream　of　a　hunting　cat…pushed　down　his　shield　and　blocked　it。
　　The　two　men　stepped　back。　They　stood　looking　at　each　other　from　beneath　their　helms；　motionless。　It　had　begun。　Jehane　closed　her　eyes。
　　A　heavy　sound　arose　from　the　armies：　hungry；　needing；　enthralled。
　　Opening　her　eyes　again；　Jehane　saw　that　Husari　had　e　to　stand　beside　her。　He　was　crying；　without　concealment　or　pretense。
　　She　looked　at　him；　and　then　away；　without　speaking。　She　was　afraid　to　attempt　to　say　anything。　She　had　made　a　promise　to　herself。　Had　sworn　she　would　not　weep。　Until　it　was　over。　Until　time　had　run　away　from　them　like　those　horses　on　the　plain。
　　
　　They　were　a　match。　Both　of　them　had　always　known　it。　In　a　way；　the　desperate　exigencies　required　to　stay　alive　now　were　a　good　thing：　they　made　it　harder　for　the　heart　to　intervene　and　cripple　with　its　sorrow。
　　There　were　reasons　for　staying　alive。　There　was　a　woman　on　a　hilltop　east　of　them。　There　was　love。　He　blocked　a　low　thrust；　barely；　cut　forward　with　the　motion…a　difficult　thing…and　was　parried；　elegantly。　Never　a　swordsman　like　this　before。　Never　a　match。　Could　it　be　called　a　dance？　Should　they　embrace？　Were　they　not？
　　One　let　the　body　rule　here；　faster　than　thought；　movements　not　even　imagined；　a　blurring　engaged　by　the　same　when　blades　met。　The　mind　floating　just　above；　out　of　the　way　except　when　it　noticed　something。　A　weakness；　a　faltering。
　　No　faltering　here　at　red　sunset。　He　hadn't　thought　there　would　be。
　　On　that　hilltop　to　the　east　there　was　love。
　　Once；　during　their　campaign　for　Ragosa；　when　they'd　lured　the　old　bandit　ibn　Hassan　into　ambushing　the　parias　party　for　them；　Jehane　had　joined　the　pany　by　the　fire　one　night；　and　had　offered　a　Kindath　song。
Who　knows　love？
Who　says　he　knows　love？
What　is　love；　tell　me。
〃I　know　love；〃
Says　the　littlest　one。
〃Love　is　like　a　tall　oak　tree。〃
〃Why　is　love　a　tall　oak　tree？　Little　one　tell　me。〃
〃Love　is　a　tree
For　the　shelter　it　gives
In　sunshine　or　in　storm。〃
　　He　stumbled　unexpectedly　as　an　attack　pushed　him　back；　swore　as　he　felt　himself　falling。　Too　careless；　distracted。　He　had　seen　that　rock；　had　thought　of　using　it。
　　Twisting　desperately；　he　released　his　shield…behind　him；　the　grip　upwards…and　blocked　his　fall　with　his　freed　left　arm；　palm　braced　hard　on　the　grass；　sword　sweeping　into　position　to　take　the　other　man's　descending　blade　and　turn　it　away。
　　He　let　himself　roll　with　the　weight　of　that　blow　to　the　necessary　place；　reclaimed　the　shield　and　was　up　again…all　in　the　same　smooth　motion。　In　time　to　blunt　the　swift　second　stroke。　Dropped　to　a　knee　then　and　slashed　across；　faster　than　he　should　have　been　able　to。　Almost　got　through　with　that　one；　almost　buried　his　sword。　Didn't。　They　were　a　match。　Both　of　them　had　known。　From　first　meeting　in　Ragosa。　That　garden　with　the　tame　stream。
Who　knows　love？
Who　says　he　knows　love？
What　is　love；　tell　me。
〃I　know　love；〃　Says　the　littlest　one。　〃Love　is　like　a　flower。〃
〃Why　is　love　a　flower？　Little　one　tell　me。〃
〃Love　is　a　flower
For　the　sweetness　it　gives
Before　it　dies　away。〃
　　It　would　have　been　pleasant；　the　thought　came　to　him；　to　be　able　to　lay　down　their　weapons　on　the　darkening　grass。　To　walk　away　from　this　place；　from　what　they　were　being　made　to　do；　past　the　ruins；　along　the　river　and　into　the　woods　beyond。　To　find　a　forest　pool；　wash　their　wounds　and　drink　from　the　cool　water　and　then　sit　beneath　the　trees；　out　of　the　wind；　silent　as　the　summer　night　came　down。
　　Not　in　this　life。
　　He　thought；　then；　of　something　he　could　do　with　his　shield。
　　
　　It　would　have　been　so　much　better　had　she　been　able　to　hate　the　man　trying　to　kill　Rodrigo。　It　was　this　man；　though；　who　had　given　the　warning　that　saved　Diego's　life。　He　hadn't　had　to　do　that。　He　was　Asharite。　He　was　now　the　mander　of　their　army；　the　ka'id。
　　But　she　had　never；　ever　heard　Rodrigo　speak　of　another　man…not　even　Raimundo；　who　had　died　so　long　ago…the　way　he'd　talked　about　Ammar　ibn　Khairan　during　the　long；　waiting　winter　just　past。　The　way　the　man　sat　a　horse；　handled　a　blade；　a　bow；　devised　strategies；　jested；　spoke　of　history；　geography；　the　properties　of　good　wine。　Even　the　way　he　wrote　poetry。
　　〃Poetry？〃　Miranda　could　remember　saying　to　this　last；　in　the　voice　she　reserved　for　her　most　withering　sarcasm。
　　Rodrigo　had　a　liking　for　verse；　an　ear　for　what　he　heard。　She　did　not；　and　he　knew　it。　He　used　to　torment　her　with　snatches　of　lyrics　in　bed。　She'd　cover　her　head　with　pillows。
　　〃Are　you　in　love　with　this　man？〃　she'd　asked　her　husband　once　in　Fezana　that　winter…more　than　half　jealous；　if　truth　were　told。
　　〃I　suppose　I　am；　in　a　way；〃　Rodrigo　had　replied　after　a　moment。　〃Isn't　it　odd？〃
　　It　wasn't；　really；　Miranda　thought；　on　that　hill　by　Silvenes。　The　low　sun　was　making　it　difficult　to　see　the　two　of　them　now。　There　were　moments　when　she　found　it　impossible　to　tell　them　apart。　She　would　have　thought　she'd　know　Rodrigo　beside　any　man　on　earth；　but　he　was　in　armor　now；　and　far　away；　a　moving　shadow　against　red　light；　and　the　two　men　would　e　together；　circle　and　turn；　very　close；　before　disengaging。　It　was　easy　to　confuse　them　in　these　movements　leading　to　a　death。
　　She　wasn't　ready　to　lose　him。　To　be　alone。
　　It　was　the　wind　that　was　bringing　tears　to　her　eyes。　She　wiped　at　them　with　the　back　of　a　hand；　glancing　sidelong　at　the　other　woman。　Jehane　bet　Ishak　stood　dry…eyed；　white…faced；　never　moving　her　gaze　from　what　was　happening　below。　Miranda　thought　suddenly：　We　have　had　our　years。　I　know　what　it　is　I　will　lose。　She　hasn't　even　had　time　to　gather　memories　against　the　dark。
　　Which　was　the　harder　loss　to　bear？　Were　there　measurements　for　such　things？　Did　it　matter？
　　〃Oh；　love；〃　she　whispered　aloud。　And　then；　to　herself；　a　prayer；　〃Do　not　leave　me　now。〃
　　In　that　moment　she　saw　one　of　them　throw　his　shield。
　　
　　She　would　never　have　thought　there　could　be　beauty　in　something　so　purely　terrifying；　but　she　ought　to　have　known；　remembering　what　they　could　do。　Both　of　them。
　　She　had　seen　them　fight…that　challenge　in　Ragosa；　the　Emin　ha'Nazar；　the　Kindath　Quarter　in　Fezana。　She　ought　to　have　expected　this。
　　Most　of　the　time；　eyes　narrowed　against　the　sun；　Jehane　could　tell　them　apart。　Not　always；　though；　as　they　overlapped　and　merged　and　broke　apart。　They　were　silhouettes　now；　no　more　than　that；　against　the　last　red　disk　of　light。
　　She　suddenly　remembered；　as　if　the　thought　had　somehow　been　given　to　her；　a　cold　night　during　that　campaign　in　the　east　for　Mazur　and　King　Badir。　She'd　heard　the　pany　singing　by　one　of　the　campfires；　to　the　sound　of　Martin's　guitar。　She　had　e　out　from　her　tent；　half　asleep；　wrapped　in　a　cloak。　They　had　made　a　place　for　her　near　the　fire。　Eventually　she　had　sung　a　tune　her　mother　used　to　sing　to　her　in　childhood；　as　Eliane's　own　mother　had　sung　it　for　her。　It　was　such　an　old　song。
　　Both　men　had　been　watching　her　from　across　the　fire　that　night；　Jehane　remembered。　A　strange　memory　now；　but　it　had　e。　She　remembered　the　night；　the　fire；　the　song。
〃Love　is　a　flower
For　the　sweetness　it　gives
Before　it　dies　away。〃
　　The　sun；　red　as　a　flame；　dropped　below　the　western　bank　of　clouds；　underlighting　them；　hanging　on　the　rim　of　the　world。　The　two　men　were　shadow…figures　against　it。　They　circled；　came　together；　circled。　She　could　truly　not　distinguish　them　now；　the　movement