grrm.astormofswords-第147章

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nd　I　are　very　little；　aren't　we？〃　She　patted　Sansa's　hair　again　and　said；　〃Well；　off　with　you；　child；　and　try　to　be　merrier。　Now　where　have　my　guardsmen　gone？　Left；　Right；　where　are　you？　e　help　me　to　the　dais。〃
　Although　evenfall　was　still　an　hour　away；　the　throne　room　was　already　a　blaze　of　light；　with　torches　burning　in　every　sconce。　The　guests　stood　along　the　tables　as　heralds　called　out　the　names　and　titles　of　the　lords　and　ladies　making　their　entrance。　Pages　in　the　royal　livery　escorted　them　down　the　broad　central　aisle。　The　gallery　above　was　packed　with　musicians；　drummers　and　pipers　and　fiddlers；　strings　and　horns　and　skins。
　Tyrion　clutched　Sansa's　arm　and　made　the　walk　with　a　heavy　waddling　stride。　He　could　feel　their　eyes　on　him；　picking　at　the　fresh　new　sear　that　had　left　him　even　uglier　than　he　had　been　before。　Let　them　look；　he　thought　as　he　hopped　up　onto　his　seat。　Let　them　stare　and　whisper　until　they've　had　their　fill；　I　will　not　hide　myself　for　their　sake。　The　Queen　of　Thorns　followed　them　in；　shuffling　along　with　tiny　little　steps。　Tyrion　wondered　which　of　them　looked　more　absurd；　him　with　Sansa　or　the　wizened　little　woman　between　her　seven…foot…tall　twin　guardsmen。
　Joffrey　and　Margaery　rode　into　the　throne　room　on　matched　white　chargers。　Pages　ran　before　them；　scattering　rose　petals　under　their　hooves。　The　king　and　queen　had　changed　for　the　feast　as　well。　Joffrey　wore　striped　black…and…crimson　breeches　and　a　cloth…of…gold　doublet　with　black　satin　sleeves　and　onyx　studs。　Margaery　had　exchanged　the　demure　gown　that　she　had　worn　in　the　sept　for　one　much　more　revealing；　a　confection　in　pale　green　samite　with　a　tight…laced　bodice　that　bared　her　shoulders　and　the　tops　of　her　small　breasts。　Unbound；　her　soft　brown　hair　tumbled　over　her　white　shoulders　and　down　her　back　almost　to　her　waist。　Around　her　brows　was　a　slim　golden　crown。　Her　smile　was　shy　and　sweet。　A　lovely　girl；　thought　Tyrion；　and　a　kinder　fate　than　my　nephew　deserves。
　The　Kingsguard。　escorted　them　onto　the　dais；　to　the　seats　of　honor　beneath　the　shadow　of　the　Iron　Throne；　draped　for　the　occasion　in　long　silk　streamers　of　Baratheon　gold；　Lannister　crimson；　and　Tyrell　green。　Cersei　embraced　Margaery　and　kissed　her　cheeks。　Lord　Tywin　did　the　same；　and　then　Lancel　and　Ser　Kevan。　Joffrey　received　loving　kisses　from　the　bride's　father　and　his　two　new　brothers；　Loras　and　Garlan。　No　one　seemed　in　any　great　rush　to　kiss　Tyrion。　When　the　king　and　queen　had　taken　their　seats；　the　High　Septon　rose　to　lead　a　prayer。　At　least　he　does　not　drone　as　badly　as　the　last　one；　Tyrion　consoled　himself。
　He　and　Sansa　had　been　seated　far　to　the　king's　right；　beside　Ser　Garlan　Tyrell　and　his　wife；　the　Lady　Leonette。　A　dozen　others　sat　closer　to　Joffrey；　which　a　pricklier　man　might　have　taken　for　a　slight；　given　that　he　had　been　the　King's　Hand　only　a　short　time　past。　Tyrion　would　have　been　glad　if　there　had　been　a　hundred。
　〃Let　the　cups　be　filled！〃　Joffrey　proclaimed；　when　the　gods　had　been　given　their　due。　His　cupbearer　poured　a　whole　flagon　of　dark　Arbor　red　into　the　golden　wedding　chalice　that　Lord　Tyrell　had　given　him　that　morning。　The　king　had　to　use　both　hands　to　lift　it。　〃To　my　wife　the　queen！〃
　〃Margaery！〃　the　hall　shouted　back　at　him。　〃Margaery！　Margaery！　To　the　queen！〃　A　thousand　cups　rang　together；　and　the　wedding　feast　was　well　and　truly　begun。　Tyrion　Lannister　drank　with　the　rest；　emptying　his　cup　on　that　first　toast　and　signaling　for　it　to　be　refilled　as　soon　as　he　was　seated　again。
　The　first　dish　was　a　creamy　soup　of　mushrooms　and　buttered　snails；　served　in　gilded　bowls。　Tyrion　had　scarcely　touched　the　breakfast；　and　the　wine　had　already　gone　to　his　head；　so　the　food　was　wele。　He　finished　quickly。　One　done；　seventy…six　to　e。　Seventy…seven　dishes；　while　there　are　still　starving　children　in　this　city；　and　men　who　would　kill　for　a　radish。　They　might　not　love　the　Tyrells　half　so　well　if　they　could　see　us　now　。　。　。
　Sansa　tasted　a　spoonful　of　soup　and　pushed　the　bowl　away。　〃Not　to　your　liking；　my　lady？〃　Tyrion　asked。
　〃There's　to　be　so　much；　my　lord。　I　have　a　little　tummy。〃　She　fiddled　nervously　with　her　hair　and　looked　down　the　table　to　where　Joffrey　sat　with　his　Tyrell　queen。
　Does　she　wish　it　were　her　in　Margaery's　place？　Tyrion　frowned。　Even　a　child　should　have　better　sense。　He　turned　away；　wanting　distraction；　but　everywhere　he　looked　were　women；　fair　fine　beautiful　happy　women　who　belonged　to　other　men。　Margaery；　of　course；　smiling　sweetly　as　she　and　Joffrey　shared　a　drink　from　the　great　seven…sided　wedding　chalice。　Her　mother　Lady　Alerie；　silver…haired　and　handsome；　still　proud　beside　Mace　Tyrell。　The　queen's　three　young　cousins；　bright　as　birds。　Lord　Merryweather's　dark…haired　Myrish　wife　with　her　big　black　sultry　eyes。　Ellaria　Sand　among　the　Dornishmen　（Cersei　had　placed　them　at　their　own　table；　just　below　the　dais　in　a　place　of　high　honor　but　as　far　from　the　Tyrells　as　the　width　of　the　hall　would　allow）；　laughing　at　something　the　Red　Viper　had　told　her。
　And　there　was　one　woman；　sitting　almost　at　the　foot　of　the　third　table　on　the　left　。　。　。　the　wife　of　one　of　the　Fossoways；　he　thought；　and　heavy　with　his　child。　Her　delicate　beauty　was　in　no　way　diminished　by　her　belly；　nor　was　her　pleasure　in　the　food　and　frolics。　Tyrion　watched　as　her　husband　fed　her　morsels　off　his　plate。　They　drank　from　the　same　cup；　and　would　kiss　often　and　unpredictably。　Whenever　they　did；　his　hand　would　gently　rest　upon　her　stomach；　a　tender　and　protective　gesture。
　He　wondered　what　Sansa　would　do　if　he　leaned　over　and　kissed　her　right　now。　Flinch　away；　most　likely。　Or　be　brave　and　suffer　through　it；　as　was　her　duty。　She　is　nothing　if　not　dutiful；　this　wife　of　mine。　If　he　told　her　that　he　wished　to　have　her　maidenhead　tonight；　she　would　suffer　that　dutifully　as　well；　and　weep　no　more　than　she　had　to。
　He　called　for　more　wine。　By　the　time　he　got　it；　the　second　course　was　being　served；　a　pastry　coffyn　filled　with　pork；　pine　nuts；　and　eggs。　Sansa　ate　no　more　than　a　bite　of　hers；　as　the　heralds　were　summoning　the　first　of　the　seven　singers。
　Grey…bearded　Hamish　the　Harper　announced　that　he　would　perform　〃for　the　ears　of　gods　and　men；　a　song　ne'er　heard　before　in　all　the　Seven　Kingdoms。〃　He　called　it　〃Lord　Renly's　Ride。〃
　His　fingers　moved　across　the　strings　of　the　high　harp；　filling　the　throne　room　with　sweet　sound。　〃From　his　throne　of　bones　the　Lord　of　Death　looked　down　on　the　murdered　lord；〃　Hamish　began；　and　went　on　to　tell　how　Renly；　repenting　his　attempt　to　usurp　his　nephew's　crown；　had　defied　the　Lord　of　Death　himself　and　crossed　back　to　the　land　of　the　living　to　defend　the　realm　against　his　brother。
　And　for　this　poor　Symon　wound　up　in　a　bowl　of　brown；　Tyrion　mused。　Queen　Margaery　was　teary…eyed　by　the　end；　when　the　shade　of　brave　Lord　Renly　flew　to　Highgarden　to　steal　one　last　look　at　his　true　love's　face。　〃Renly　Baratheon　never　repented　of　anything　in　his　life；〃　the　Imp　told　Sansa；　〃but　if　I'm　any　judge；　Hamish　just　won　himself　a　gilded　lute。〃
　The　Harper　also　gave　them　several　more　familiar　songs。　〃A　Rose　of　Gold〃　was　for　the　Tyrells；　no　doubt；　as　〃The　Rains　of　Castamere〃　was　meant　to　flatter　his　father。　〃Maiden；　Mother；　and　Crone〃　delighted　the　High　Septon；　and　〃My　Lady　Wife〃　pleased　all　the　little　girls　with　romance　in　their　hearts；　and　no　doubt　some　little　boys　as　well。　Tyrion　listened　with　half　a　ear；　as　he　sampled　sweetcorn　fritters　and　hot　oatbread　baked　with　bits　of　date；　apple；　and　orange；　and　gnawed　on　the　rib　of　a　wild　boar。
　Thereafter　dishes　and　diversions　succeeded　one　another　in　a　staggering　profusion；　buoyed　along　upon　a　flood　of　wine　and　ale。　Hamish　left　them；　his　place　taken　by　a　smallish　elderly　bear　who　danced　clumsily　to　pipe　and　drum　while　the　wedding　guests　ate　trout　cooked　in　a　crust　of　crushed　almonds。　Moon　Boy　mounted　his　stilts　and　strode　around　the　tables　in　pursuit　of　Lord　Tyrell's　ludicrously　fat　fool　Butterbumps；　and　the　lords　and　ladies　sampled　roast　herons　and　cheese…and…onion　pies。　A　troupe　of　Pentoshi　tumblers　performed　cartwheels　and　handstands；　balanced　platters　on　their　bare　feet；　and　stood　upon　each　other's　shoulders　to　form　a　pyramid。　Their　feats　were　acpanied　by　crabs　boiled　in　fiery　eastern　spices；　trenchers　filled　with　chunks　of　chopped　mutton　stewed　in　almond　milk　with　carrots；　raisins；　and　onions；　and　fish　tarts　fresh　from　the　ovens；　served　so　hot　they　burned　the　fingers。
　Then　the　heralds　summoned　another　singer；　Collio　Quaynis　of　Tyrosh；　who　had　a　vermilion　beard　and　an　accent　as　ludicrous　as　Symon　had　promised。　Collio　began　with　his　version　of　〃The　Dance　of　the　Dragons；〃　which　was　more　properly　a　song　for　two　singers；　male　and　female。　Tyrion　suffered　through　it　with　a　double　helping　of　honey…ginger　partridge　and　several　cups　of　wine。　A　haunting　ballad　of　two　dying　lovers　amidst　the　Doom　of　Valyria　might　have　pleased　the　hall　more　if　Collio　had　not　sung　it　in　High　Valyrian；　which　most　of　the　guests　could　not　speak。　But　〃Bessa　the　Barmaid〃　won　them　back　with　its　ribald　lyrics。　Peacocks　were　served　in　their　plumage；　roasted　whole　and　stuffed　with　dates；　while　Collio　summoned　a　drummer；　bowed　low　before　Lord　Tywin；　and　launched　into　〃The　Rains　of　Castamere。〃
　If　I　have　to　hear　seven　versions　of　that；　I　may　go　down　to　Flea　Bottom　and　apologize　to　the　stew。　Tyrion　turned　to　his　wife。　〃So　which　did　you　prefer？〃
　Sansa　blinked　at　him。　〃My　lord？〃
　〃The　singers。　Which　did　you　prefer？〃
　；'I　。　。　。　I'm　sorry；　my　lord。　I　was　not　listening。〃
　She　was　not　eating；　either。　〃Sansa；　is　aught　amiss？〃　He　spoke　without　thinking；　and　instantly　felt　the　fool。　All　her　kin　are　slaughtered　and　she's　wed　to　me；　and　I　wonder　what's　amiss。
　〃No；　my　lord。〃　She　looked　away　from　him；　and　feigned　an　unconvincing　interest　in　Moon　Boy　pelting　Ser　Dontos　with　dates。
　Four　master　pyromancers　conjured　up　beasts　of　living　flame　to　tear　at　each　other　with　flery　claws　whilst　the　serving　men　ladeled　out　bowls　of　blandissory；　a　mixture　of　beef　broth　and　boiled　wine　sweetened　with　honey　and　dotted　with　blanched　almonds　and　chunks　of　capon。　Then　came　some　strolling　pipers　and　clever　dogs　and　sword　swallowers；　with　buttered　pease；　chopped　nuts；　and　slivers　of　swan　poached　in　a　sauce　of　saffron　and　peaches。　（〃Not　swan　again；〃　Tyrion　muttered；　remembering　his　supper　with　his　sister　on　the　eve　of　battle。）　A　juggler　kept　a　half…dozen　swords　and　axes　whirling　through　the　air　as　skewers　of　blood　sausage　were　brought　sizzling　to　the　tables；　a　juxtaposition　that　Tyrion　thought　passing　clever；　though　not　perhaps　in　the　best　of　taste。
　The　heralds　blew　their　trumpets。　〃To　sing　for　the　golden　lute；〃　one　cried；　〃we　give　you　Galyeon　of　Cuy。〃
　Galyeon　was　a　big　barrel…chested　man　with　a　black　beard；　a　bald　head；　and　a　thunderous　voice　that　filled　every　corner　of　the　throne　room。　He　brought　no　fewer　than　six　musicians　to　play　for　him。　〃Noble　lords　and　ladies　fair；　I　sing　but　one　song　for　you　this　night；〃　he　announced。　〃It　is　the　song　of　the　Blackwater；　and　how　a　realm　was　saved。〃　The　drummer　began　a　slow　ominous　beat。
　〃The　dark　lord　broodedhigh　in　his　tower；〃　Galyeon　began；　〃in　a　castle　as　black　as　the　night。〃
　〃Black　was　his　hair　and　black　was　his　soul；〃　the　musicians　chanted　in　unison。　A　flute　came　in。
　〃He　feasted　on　bloodlust　and　envy；　and　f