grrm.astormofswords-第127章

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！



　〃Jeyne？〃　Robb　grabbed　the　edge　of　the　table　and　forced　himself　to　stand。　〃Mother；〃　he　said；　〃Grey　Wind　。　。　。〃
　〃Go　to　him。　Now。　Robb；　walk　out　of　here。〃
　Lord　Walder　snorted。　〃And　why　would　I　let　him　do　that？〃
　She　pressed　the　blade　deeper　into　jinglebell's　throat。　The　lackwit　rolled　his　eyes　at　her　in　mute　appeal。　A　foul　stench　assailed　her　nose；　but　she　paid　it　no　more　mind　than　she　did　the　sullen　ceaseless　pounding　of　that　drum；　boom　doom　boom　doom　boom　doom。　Ser　Ryman　and　Black　Walder　were　circling　round　her　back；　but　Catelyn　did　not　care。　They　could　do　as　they　wished　with　her；　imprison　her；　rape　her；　kill　her；　it　made　no　matter。　She　had　lived　too　long；　and　Ned　was　waiting。　It　was　Robb　she　feared　for。
　〃On　my　honor　as　a　Tully；〃　she　told　Lord　Walder；　〃on　my　honor　as　a　Stark；　I　will　trade　your　boy's　life　for　Robb's。　A　son　for　a　son。〃　Her　hand　shook　so　badly　she　was　ringing　Jinglebell's　head。
　Boom；　the　drum　sounded；　boom　doom　boom　doom。　The　old　man's　lips　went　in　and　out。　The　knife　trembled　in　Catelyn's　hand；　slippery　with　sweat。　〃A　son　for　a　son；　heh；〃　he　repeated。　〃But　that's　a　grandson　。　。　。　and　he　never　was　much　use。〃
　A　man　in　dark　armor　and　a　pale　pink　cloak　spotted　with　blood　stepped　up　to　Robb。　〃Jaime　Lannister　sends　his　regards。〃　He　thrust　his　longsword　through　her　son's　heart；　and　twisted。
　Robb　had　broken　his　word；　but　Catelyn　kept　hers。　She　tugged　hard　on　Aegon's　hair　and　sawed　at　his　neck　until　the　blade　grated　on　bone。　Blood　ran　hot　over　her　fingers。　His　little　bells　were　ringing；　ringing；　ringing；　and　the　drum　went　boom　doom　boom。
　Finally　someone　took　the　knife　away　from　her。　The　tears　burned　like　vinegar　as　they　ran　down　her　cheeks。　Ten　flerce　ravens　were　raking　her　face　with　sharp　talons　and　tearing　off　strips　of　flesh；　leaving　deep　furrows　that　ran　red　with　blood。　She　could　taste　it　on　her　lips。
　It　hurts　so　much；　she　thought。　Our　children；　Ned；　all　our　sweet　babes。　Rickon；　Bran；　Arya；　Sansa；　Robb　。　。　。　Robb　。　。　。　please；　Ned；　please；　make　it　stop；　make　it　stop　hurting　。　。　。　The　white　tears　and　the　red　ones　ran　together　until　her　face　was　torn　and　tattered；　the　face　that　Ned　had　loved。　Catelyn　Stark　raised　her　hands　and　watched　the　blood　run　down　her　long　fingers；　over　her　wrists；　beneath　the　sleeves　of　her　gown。　Slow　red　worms　crawled　along　her　arms　and　under　her　clothes。　It　tickles。　That　made　her　laugh　until　she　screamed。　〃Mad；〃　someone　said；　〃she's　lost　her　wits；〃　and　someone　else　said；　〃Make　an　end；〃　and　a　hand　grabbed　her　scalp　just　as　she'd　done　with　Jinglebell；　and　she　thought；　No；　don't；　don't　cut　my　hair；　Ned　loves　my　hair。　Then　the　steel　was　at　her　throat；　and　its　bite　was　red　and　cold。
　
　CHAPTER　52
　ARYA
　
　The　feast　tents　were　behind　them　now。　They　squished　over　wet　clay　and　torn　grass；　out　of　the　light　and　back　into　the　gloom。　Ahead　loomed　the　castle　gatehouse。　She　could　see　torches　moving　on　the　walls；　their　flames　dancing　and　blowing　in　the　wind。　The　light　shone　dully　against　the　wet　mail　and　helms。　More　torches　were　moving　on　the　dark　stone　bridge　that　joined　the　Twins；　a　column　of　them　streaming　from　the　west　bank　to　the　east。
　〃The　castle's　not　closed；〃　Arya　said　suddenly。　The　sergeant　had　said　it　would　be；　but　he　was　wrong。　The　portcullis　was　being　drawn　upward　even　as　she　watched；　and　the　drawbridge　had　already　been　lowered　to　span　the　swollen　moat。　She　had　been　afraid　that　Lord　Frey's　guardsmen　would　refuse　to　let　them　in。　For　half　a　heartbeat　she　chewed　her　lip；　too　anxious　to　smile。
　The　Hound　reined　up　so　suddenly　that　she　almost　fell　off　the　wayn。　〃Seven　bloody　buggering　hells；〃　Arya　heard　him　curse；　as　their　left　wheel　began　to　sink　in　soft　mud。　The　wayn　tilted　slowly。　〃Get　dovm；〃　Clegane　roared　at　her；　slamming　the　heel　of　his　hand　into　her　shoulder　to　knock　her　sideways。　She　landed　light；　the　way　Syrio　had　taught　her；　and　bounced　up　at　once　with　a　face　full　of　mud。　〃Why　did　you　do　that？〃　she　screamed。　The　Hound　had　leapt　down　as　well。　He　tore　the　seat　off　the　front　of　the　wayn　and　reached　in　for　the　swordbelt　he'd　hidden　beneath　it。
　It　was　only　then　that　she　heard　the　riders　pouring　out　the　castle　gate　in　a　river　of　steel　and　fire；　the　thunder　of　their　destriers　crossing　the　drawbridge　almost　lost　beneath　the　drumming　from　the　castles。　Men　and　mounts　wore　plate　armor；　and　one　in　every　ten　carried　a　torch。　The　rest　had　axes；　longaxes　with　spiked　heads　and　heavy　bone…crushing　armorsmashing　blades。
　Somewhere　far　off　she　heard　a　wolf　howling。　It　wasn't　very　loud　pared　to　the　camp　noise　and　the　music　and　the　low　ominous　growl　of　the　river　running　wild；　but　she　heard　it　all　the　same。　Only　maybe　it　wasn't　her　ears　that　heard　it。　The　sound　shivered　through　Arya　like　a　knife；　sharp　with　rage　and　grief。　More　and　more　riders　were　emerging　from　the　castle；　a　column　four　wide　with　no　end　to　it；　knights　and　squires　and　freeriders；　torches　and　longaxes。　And　there　was　noise　ing　from　behind　as　well。
　When　Arya　looked　around；　she　saw　that　there　were　only　two　of　the　huge　feast　tents　where　once　there　had　been　three。　The　one　in　the　middle　had　collapsed。　For　a　moment　she　did　not　understand　what　she　was　seeing。　Then　the　flames　went　licking　up　from　the　fallen　tent；　and　now　the　other　two　were　collapsing；　heavy　oiled　cloth　settling　down　on　the　men　beneath。　A　flight　of　fire　arrows　streaked　through　the　air。　The　second　tent　took　fire；　and　then　the　third。　The　screams　grew　so　loud　she　could　hear　words　through　the　music。　Dark　shapes　moved　in　front　of　the　flames；　the　steel　of　their　armor　shining　orange　from　afar。
　A　battle；　Arya　knew。　It's　a　battle。　And　the　riders　。　。　。
　She　had　no　more　time　to　watch　the　tents　then。　With　the　river　overflowing　its　banks；　the　dark　swirling　waters　at　the　end　of　the　drawbridge　reached　as　high　as　a　horse's　belly；　but　the　riders　splashed　through　them　all　the　same；　spurred　on　by　the　music。　For　once　the　same　song　was　ing　from　both　castles。　I　know　this　song；　Arya　realized　suddenly。　Tom　o'　Sevens　had　sung　it　for　them；　that　rainy　night　the　outlaws　had　sheltered　in　the　brewhouse　with　the　brothers。　And　who　are　you；　the　proud　lord　said；　that　I　must　bow　so　low？
　The　Frey　riders　were　struggling　through　the　mud　and　reeds；　but　some　of　them　had　seen　the　wayn。　She　watched　as　three　riders　left　the　main　column；　pounding　through　the　shallows。　Only　a　cat　of　a　different　coat；　that's　all　the　truth　I　know　。　。　。
　Clegane　cut　Stranger　loose　with　a　single　slash　of　his　sword　and　leapt　onto　his　back。　The　courser　knew　what　was　wanted　of　him。　He　pricked　up　his　ears　and　wheeled　toward　the　charging　destriers。　In　a　coat　of　gold　or　a　coat　of　red；　a　lion　still　has　claws。　And　mine　are　long　and　sharp；　my　lord；　as　long　and　sharp　as　yours。　Arya　had　prayed　a　hundred　hundred　times　for　the　Hound　to　die；　but　now　。　。　。　there　was　a　rock　in　her　hand；　slimy　with　mud；　and　she　didn't　even　remember　picking　it　up。　Who　do　I　throw　it　at？
　She　jumped　at　the　clash　of　metal　as　Clegane　turned　aside　the　first　longaxe。　While　he　was　engaged　with　the　first　man；　the　second　circled　behind　him　and　aimed　a　blow　for　the　small　of　his　back。　Stranger　was　wheeling；　so　the　Hound　took　only　a　glancing　blow；　enough　to　rip　a　great　gash　in　his　baggy　peasant's　blouse　and　expose　the　mail　below。　He　is　one　against　three。　Arya　still　clutched　her　rock。　They're　sure　to　kill　him。　She　thought　of　Mycah；　the　butcher's　boy　who　had　been　her　friend　so　briefly。
　Then　she　saw　the　third　rider　ing　her　way。　Arya　moved　behind　the　wayn。　Fear　cuts　deeper　than　swords。　She　could　hear　drums　and　warhorns　and　pipes；　stallions　trumpeting；　the　shriek　of　steel　on　steel；　but　all　the　sounds　seemed　so　far　away。　There　was　only　the　oning　horseman　and　the　longaxe　in　his　hand。　He　wore　a　surcoat　over　his　armor　and　she　saw　the　two　towers　that　marked　him　for　a　Frey。　She　did　not　understand。　Her　uncle　was　marrying　Lord　Frey's　daughter；　the　Freys　were　her　brother's　friends。　〃Don't！〃　she　screamed　as　he　rode　around　the　wayn；　but　he　paid　no　mind。
　When　he　charged　Arya　threw　the　rock；　the　way　she'd　once　thrown　a　crabapple　at　Gendry。　She'd　gotten　Gendry　right　between　the　eyes；　but　this　time　her　aim　was　off；　and　the　stone　caromed　sideways　off　his　temple。　It　was　enough　to　break　his　charge；　but　no　more。　She　retreated；　darting　across　the　muddy　ground　on　the　balls　of　her　feet；　putting　the　wayn　between　them　once　more。　The　knight　followed　at　a　trot；　only　darkness　behind　his　eyeslit。　She　hadn't　even　dented　his　helm。　They　went　round　once；　twice；　a　third　time。　The　knight　cursed　her。　〃You　can't　run　for…〃
　The　axehead　caught　him　square　in　the　back　of　the　head；　crashing　through　his　helm　and　the　skull　beneath　and　sending　him　flying　face　first　from　his　saddle。　Behind　him　was　the　Hound；　still　mounted　on　Stranger。　How　did　you　get　an　axe？　she　almost　asked；　before　she　saw。　One　of　the　other　Freys　was　trapped　beneath　his　dying　horse；　drowning　in　a　foot　of　water。　The　third　man　was　sprawled　on　his　back；　unmoving。　He　hadn't　worn　a　gorget；　and　a　foot　of　broken　sword　jutted　from　beneath　his　chin。
　〃Get　my　helm；〃　Clegane　growled　at　her。
　It　was　stuffed　at　the　bottom　of　a　sack　of　dried　apples；　in　the　back　of　the　wayn　behind　the　pickled　pigs'　feet。　Arya　upended　the　sack　and　tossed　it　to　him。　He　snatched　it　one…handed　from　the　air　and　lowered　it　over　his　head；　and　where　the　man　had　sat　only　a　steel　dog　remained；　snarling　at　the　fires。
　〃My　brother　。　。　。
　〃Dead；〃　he　shouted　back　at　her。　〃Do　you　think　they'd　slaughter　his　men　and　leave　him　alive？〃　He　turned　his　head　back　toward　the　camp。　〃Look。　Look；　damn　you。〃
　The　camp　had　bee　a　battlefield。　No；　a　butcher's　den。　The　flames　from　the　feasting　tents　reached　halfway　up　the　sky。　Some　of　the　barracks　tents　were　burning　too；　and　half　a　hundred　silk　pavilions。　Everywhere　swords　were　singing。　And　now　the　rains　weep　o'er　his　hall；　with　not　a　soul　to　hear。　She　saw　two　knights　ride　down　a　running　man。　A　wooden　barrel　came　crashing　onto　one　of　the　burning　tents　and　burst　apart；　and　the　flames　leapt　twice　as　high。　A　catapult；　she　knew。　The　castle　was　flinging　oil　or　pitch　or　something。
　〃e　with　me。〃　Sandor　Clegane　reached　down　a　hand。　〃We　have　to　get　away　from　here；　and　now。〃　Stranger　tossed　his　head　impatiently；　his　nostrils　flaring　at　the　scent　of　blood。　The　song　was　done。　There　was　only　one　solitary　drum；　its　slow　monotonous　beats　echoing　across　the　river　like　the　pounding　of　some　monstrous　heart。　The　black　sky　wept；　the　river　grumbled；　men　cursed　and　died。　Arya　had　mud　in　her　teeth　and　her　face　was　wet。　Rain。　It's　only　rain。　That's　all　it　is。　〃We're　here；〃　she　shouted。　Her　voice　sounded　thin　and　scared；　a　little　girl's　voice。　〃Robb's　just　in　the　castle；　and　my　mother。　The　gate's　even　open。〃　There　were　no　more　Freys　riding　out。　I　came　so　far。　〃We　have　to　go　get　my　mother。〃
　〃Stupid　little　bitch。〃　Fires　glinted　off　the　snout　of　his　helm；　and　made　the　steel　teeth　shine。　〃You　go　in　there；　you　won't　e　out。　Maybe　Frey　will　let　you　kiss　your　mother's　corpse。〃
　〃Maybe　we　can　save　her　。　。　。〃
　〃Maybe　you　can。　I'm　not　done　living　yet。〃　He　rode　toward　her；　crowding　her　back　toward　the　wayn。　〃Stay　or　go；　she…wolf。　Live　or　die。　Your…〃
　Arya　spun　away　from　him　and　darted　for　the　gate。　The　portcullis　was　ing　down；　but　slowly。　I　have　to　run　faster。　The　mud　slowed　her；　though；　and　then　the　water。　Run　fast　as　a　wolf。　The　drawbridge　had　begun　to　lift；　t