ggk.thelionsofal-rassan- 第18节

　　
Four
　　The　small…farmers　of　Orvilla；　twelve　of　them；　had　e　to　the　city　together　with　their　laden　mules　and　they　left　Fezana　together　when　the　market　closed　at　midday。　One　or　two　might　have　been　inclined　to　stay　and　gawk　at　the　soldiers　strolling　arrogantly　about　the　town；　but　that　would　have　meant　travelling　back　to　the　village　without　the　protection　of　the　larger　group。　In　unsettled　country　so　near　to　the　no…man's…land；　and　in　unsettled　times；　the　pleasures　of　loitering　in　the　city…or；　in　the　case　of　some　of　the　men；　visiting　an　interesting　suburb　just　outside　the　northern　walls…could　not　outweigh　the　real　need　for　the　security　of　numbers。
　　Well　before　the　sundown　prayers　they　had　all　been　safely　back　in　Orvilla　with　the　goods　they　had　obtained　at　the　market　in　exchange　for　their　weekly　produce。　As　a　consequence；　none　of　them　had　any　knowledge　of　what　happened　in　Fezana　that　day。　They　would　learn　of　it　later；　by　then　it　would　matter　rather　less。　They　would　have　a　catastrophe　of　their　own　to　deal　with。
　　The　raiders　from　the　north…even　ignorant　villagers　could　recognize　Jaddite　horsemen…swept　down　upon　Orvilla　at　precisely　the　moment　the　blue　moon　rose　to　join　the　white　one　in　the　summer　sky。　It　was　too　precisely　calculated　not　to　be　a　deliberate　timing；　though　to　what　purpose　no　one　could　imagine；　after。　Perhaps　a　whim。　There　was　nothing　whimsical　about　what　happened　when　the　horsemen…at　least　fifty　of　them…broke　through　or　leaped　over　the　wooden　fence　that　encircled　the　houses　and　outbuildings　of　the　village。　Some　twenty　families　lived　in　Orvilla。　There　were　a　handful　of　old　swords；　a　few　rusting　spears。　A　number　of　mules。　One　ox。　Three　horses。　Aram　ibn　Dunash；　whose　house　was　by　the　water　mill　on　the　stream；　had　a　bow　that　had　been　his　father's。
　　He　was　the　first　man　to　die；　trying　to　nock　an　arrow　with　shaking　hands　as　a　screaming　rider　bore　down　upon　him。　The　horseman's　pike　took　Aram　in　the　chest　and　carried　him　into　the　wall　of　his　own　home。　His　wife；　unwisely；　screamed　from　inside。　The　horseman；　hearing　that；　leaped　from　his　mount　and　strode　into　the　tiny　house。　He　was　already　unbuckling　his　belt　as　he　ducked　through　the　low　door。
　　A　number　of　houses　were　quickly　fired；　and　the　munal　barn。　There　was　straw　in　the　barn　and　in　midsummer　it　was　dry。　The　structure　went　up　in　flames　with　a　roar。　The　fire　must　have　been　visible　as　far　away　as　Fezana。
　　Ziri　ibn　Aram；　who　liked　to　sleep　on　the　roof　of　the　barn　in　summer；　leaped　down　just　in　time。　The　barn　was　on　the　far　side　of　the　village　from　the　mill　and　the　stream。　He　was　spared　seeing　his　father　die。　Nor　had　he　observed　the　horseman　striding　into　the　home　where　his　pregnant　mother　and　sisters　were。　Ziri　was　fourteen　years　old。　He　would　have　tried　to　kill　the　man　with　his　hands。　He　would　have　died；　of　course。　As　it　was；　he　landed　awkwardly　at　the　feet　of　a　laughing　Jaddite　who　was　using　the　flat　of　his　sword　to　round　up　all　those　not　killed　in　the　first　moments　of　the　attack。　There　weren't　very　many　of　them；　Ziri　realized；　looking　desperately　around　for　his　family　amid　the　smoke。　Perhaps　twenty　people；　in　all；　seemed　to　be　still　alive；　from　a　village　of　more　than　twice　that　number。　It　was　difficult　to　tell　amid　the　flames。　Orvilla　was　being　consumed　in　an　inferno　of　fire。
　　For　the　raiders；　it　was　a　disappointing　exercise　in　some　ways。　There　was；　predictably；　no　one　worth　ransoming；　not　even　a　country　wadji；　who　might　have　fetched　a　price。　Even　the　brief　flurry　of　bat　had　been　laughable。　The　pathetically　armed　farmers　had　offered　nothing　in　the　way　of　opposition　or　training　for　battle。　There　were　women　of　course；　but　one　didn't　have　to　ride　this　far　in　the　heat　of　summer　to　find　peasant　women　for　sport。　Only　when　one　man　suggested　spread…eagling　the　surviving　men…the　women　were　being　taken　back　north；　of　course…did　the　prospect　of　a　diversion　belatedly　emerge。　This　was；　after　all；　Al…Rassan。　The　half…naked　wretches　herded　together　like　cattle　or　sheep　were　infidels。　This　raid　could　almost　be　seen　as　an　act　of　piety。
　　〃He's　right！〃　another　man　shouted。　〃Spread　the　bastards　on　their　own　beams；　then　spread　their　women　another　way！〃　There　was　laughter。
　　With　some　speed　and　even　a　measure　of　efficiency　amid　the　chaos　of　fire　the　raiders　began　gathering　and　constructing　wooden　beams。　The　night　had　begun　to　show　promise　of　entertainment。　They　had　plenty　of　nails。　Meant　for　shoeing　any　horses　they　took　on　the　raid；　they　would　do　as　well　for　hammering　men　to　wood。
　　They　had　just　selected　the　first　of　the　peasants　for　nailing…a　blank…faced　boy　who　would　doubtless　have　grown　up　to　kill　innocent　men　and　women　north　of　the　tagra　lands…when　someone　shrieked　a　grievously　tardy　warning。
　　A　whirlwind　of　men　on　horses　thundered　in　among　them；　twisting　between　the　fires；　carrying　swords　and　using　them。　Most　of　the　raiders　had　dismounted　by　then；　many　had　laid　down　their　weapons　to　prepare　the　diagonal　beams　for　nailing　the　Asharites。　They　were　easy　prey。　As　easy　as　the　villagers　had　been　for　them。
　　The　raiders　were　men　of　breeding　though；　not　lice…ridden　outlaw　brigands。　They　knew　how　these　things　were　done；　even　in　Al…Rassan。　Peasants　were　one　thing…on　both　sides　of　the　no…man's…land…but　men　of　means　and　status　were　another。　All　over　the　hamlet　of　Orvilla；　Jaddites　began　throwing　up　their　hands　in　submission　and　loudly　voicing　the　well…known　cry：　〃Ransom！　Ransom！〃
　　Those　who　were　killed　in　the　first　sweep　of　the　new　horsemen　must　have　died　in　astonished　disbelief。　This　was　not　supposed　to　happen。　If；　before　they　were　dispatched；　they　realized　who　had　e；　that　astonishment　would　likely　have　been　redoubled；　but　these　are　not　things　one　can　know；　with　any　certainty；　of　the　dead。
　　
　　Alvar　hadn't　given　the　matter　any　real　thought；　but　he　had　certainly　never　imagined　that　the　first　man　he　killed　in　Al…Rassan　would　be　from　Valledo。　The　man　wasn't　even　on　his　horse　at　the　time。　In　a　way；　that　didn't　feel　right；　but　Lain　Nunez's　instructions　had　been　precise：　kill　them　until　you　hear　the　order　to　stop。　Every　man　was　fair　game　except　the　stocky；　black…haired　one　who　would　be　leading　them。　He　was　to　be　left　for　the　Captain。
　　The　Captain　was　in　a　terrifying　state。　He　had　been　from　the　moment　the　three　riders　from　Fezana　came　into　the　camp　with　their　story。　The　fat　merchant…Abenmuza；　he　called　himself…had　told　them　what　the　king　of　Cartada　had　ordered　done　in　Fezana　that　day。　Searching　for　clues　as　to　how　to　react；　Alvar　had　looked　to　his　leaders。　If　Lain　Nunez　had　seemed　indifferent　to　the　bloody　tale；　almost　as　if　he'd　expected　such　foul　deeds　here　in　Al…Rassan；　Ser　Rodrigo's　expression　told　a　different　story。　He'd　said　nothing　though；　when　the　merchant　finished；　save　to　ask　the　doctor…her　name　was　Jehane…if　she　had　ever　served　with　a　military　pany。
　　〃I　have　not；〃　she'd　murmured　calmly；　〃though　I'd　consider　it　some　other　time。　For　now；　I　have　my　own　route　to　follow。　I'm　happy　to　leave　Husari　ibn　Musa〃…which　was　evidently　the　right　way　to　say　the　name…〃in　your　pany　to　pursue　his　affairs　and　perhaps　your　own。　I'll　be　away；　with　your　leave；　in　the　morning。〃
　　That　unhurried　answer；　elegantly　spoken；　went　some　ways　to　breaking　Alvar's　heart。　He　was　already　half　in　love　before　she　spoke。　He　thought　the　doctor　was　beautiful。　Her　hair…what　he　could　see　of　it　beneath　the　blue　stole　wrapped　about　her　shoulders　and　head…was　a　rich；　dark　brown。　Her　eyes　were　enormous；　unexpectedly　blue　in　the　firelight。　Her　voice　was　the　voice　Alvar　thought　he　would　like　to　hear　speaking　when　he　died；　or　for　the　rest　of　his　life。　She　was　worldly；　astonishingly　poised；　even　here　in　the　darkness　with　fifty　riders　from　the　north。　She　would　think　him　a　child；　Alvar　knew；　and　looking　at　her；　he　felt　like　one。
　　They　never　knew　what　the　Captain　would　have　replied　to　her；　or　even　if　he　had　been　intending　a　serious　invitation　that　she　join　them；　because　just　then　Martin　said　sharply；　〃There's　fire。　To　the　west！〃
　　〃What　will　be　there？〃　the　Captain　said　to　the　three　Fezanans　as　they　all　turned　to　look。　The　flames　were　spreading　already；　and　they　weren't　very　far　away。
　　It　was　the　woman　doctor；　not　the　merchant；　who　answered。　〃A　village。　Orvilla。　I　have　patients　the