Guy Gavriel Kay
A Song for Arbonne
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 1992
The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
A SONG FOR ARBONNE. Copyright © Guy Gavriel Kay 1992.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.
Source ISBN: 9780007342051
Ebook Edition © JUNE 2011 ISBN: 9780007352029
Version 2014-12-18
This book is dedicated, with love,
to the memory of my father,
Dr. Samuel K. Kay,
whose skill and compassion as a surgeon were
enhanced all his life by a love for language and
literature—a love he conveyed to his sons, among
so many other gifts.
Cover Page
Title Page Guy Gavriel Kay A Song for Arbonne
Copyright
Dedication This book is dedicated, with love, to the memory of my father, Dr. Samuel K. Kay, whose skill and compassion as a surgeon were enhanced all his life by a love for language and literature—a love he conveyed to his sons, among so many other gifts.
A Note on Pronunciation
Map Map
Prologue
On a morning in the springtime of the year, when…
Part One: Spring
Chapter I
There was very little wind, which was a blessing. Pale…
Chapter II
Some mornings, as today, she woke feeling amazingly young, happy…
Chapter III
Ademar, king of Gorhaut, slowly turns away from the diverting…
Part Two: Midsummer
Chapter IV
Walking briskly through the crowded streets, calling cheerful replies to…
Chapter V
It wasn’t, of course. It wasn’t the same man; the…
Chapter VI
Lisseut, if asked in the midst of that swirling, suddenly…
Chapter VII
Even when he saw the peacocks in the extravagantly lit…
Chapter VIII
The crimson-clad guard of Carenzu took Lisseut through the late…
Part Three: Autumn
Chapter IX
On the bright, mild morning in autumn when her life…
Chapter X
Roban, the chancellor of Arbonne, had had an intensely trying…
Chapter XI
‘A challenge!’ shouted the trovaritz from Aulensburg. The tavern was…
Chapter XII
‘I hope you realize I do not want her back,’…
Chapter XIII
Tournaments in Arbonne and duels performed in the presence of…
Chapter XIV
The blue moon is full tonight, Ranald realizes belatedly, lending…
Part Four: Winter
Chapter XV
On the night appointed there was fog at Garsenc Castle.…
Chapter XVI
Roche the priest was in disgrace on Rian’s Island in…
Chapter XVII
The identical message by a different messenger came to the…
Chapter XVIII
The battle that ended Gorhaut and Arbonne as the world…
Chapter XIX
Blaise was unaware for the first part of his ride…
Keep Reading
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Guy Gavriel Kay
Credits
About the Publisher
It will likely be evident to the reader that the French language has provided the basis for most of the proper names herein. There is one caveat to this. Historically, the language of what is now the south of France (Provence or Languedoc or Aquitaine), unlike modern French, normally involved the pronunciation of a final ‘s’. I have followed this, and, accordingly, names such as Aelis or Cauvas ought to have their final consonant sounded.
From the vidan of the troubadour, Anselme of Cauvas …
Anselme, who has ever been acknowledged as the first and perhaps the greatest of all the troubadours of Arbonne, was of modest birth, the youngest son of a clerk in the castle of a baron near Cauvas. He was of middling height, dark haired, with a quiet manner in speech that was nonetheless wondrously pleasing to all who heard him. While yet tender in years, he showed great skill and interest in music and was invited to join the celebrated choir of the Cauvas sanctuary of the god. It was not long, however, before he felt the beginnings of a desire to make music very different from that acceptable in the service of the god, or indeed of the goddess Rian in her temples. And so Anselme left the comforts of the chapel and choir to make his way alone among the villages and castles of Arbonne, offering his new songs shaped of tunes and words such as he had heard sung by the common folk in their own speech.
He was later brought into the household of Duke Raimbaut de Vaux and honoured there, and in time his prowess came to the attention of Count Folquet himself, and Anselme was invited to pass a winter in Barbentain. From that time was Anselme’s fortune assured, and the fate of the troubadours of Arbonne likewise made sure, for Anselme swiftly rose high in the friendship and trust of Count Folquet and in the esteem and very great affection of the noble Countess Dia. They honoured him for his music and his wit, and also for his discretion and cleverness, which led the count to employ him in many hazardous tasks of diplomacy beyond the borders of Arbonne.
In time, Count Folquet himself, under the tutelage of Anselme of Cauvas, began to make his own songs, and from that day it may be said that the art and reputation of the troubadours has never been diminished or endangered in Arbonne, and has indeed grown and flourished in all the known countries of the world …
On a morning in the springtime of the year, when the snows of the mountains were melting and the rivers swift in their running, Aelis de Miraval watched her husband ride out at dawn to hunt in the forest west of their castle, and shortly after that she took horse herself, travelling north and east along the shores of the lake towards the begetting of her son.
She did not ride alone or secretly; that would have been folly beyond words. Though she was young and had always been headstrong, Aelis had never been a fool and would not be one now, even in love.
Читать дальше