tp.wyrd sisters-第52节

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　No；　being　a　king　was　no　laughing　matter。　He　brightened　up　at　the　thought。　There　was　that　to　be　said　about　it。
　And；　after　a　while；　he　fell　asleep。
　
　The　duchess　was　not　asleep。　She　was　currently　halfway　down　the　castle　wall　on　a　rope　of　knotted　sheets；　having　spent　the　previous　day　gradually　chipping　away　the　mortar　around　the　bars　of　her　window　although；　in　truth；　you　could　hack　your　way　out　of　the　average　Lancre　Castle　wall　with　a　piece　of　cheese。　The　fool！　He'd　given　her　cutlery；　and　plenty　of　bedclothes！　That　was　how　these　people　reacted。　They　let　their　fear　do　their　thinking　for　them。　They　were　scared　of　her；　even　when　they　thought　they　had　her　in　their　power　（and　the　weak　never　had　the　strong　in　their　power；　never　truly　in　their　power）。　If　she'd　thrown　herself　in　prison；　she　would　have　found　considerable　satisfaction　in　making　herself　regret　she'd　ever　been　born。　But　they'd　just　given　her　blankets；　and　worried　about　her。
　Well；　she'd　be　back。　There　was　a　big　world　out　there；　and　she　knew　how　to　pull　the　levers　that　made　people　do　what　she　wanted。　She　wouldn't　burden　herself　with　a　husband　this　time；　either。　Weak！　He　was　the　worst　of　them；　no　courage　in　him　to　be　as　bad　as　he　knew　he　was；　inside。
　She　landed　heavily　on　the　moss；　paused　to　catch　her　breath　and　then；　with　the　knife　ready　in　her　hand；　slipped　away　along　the　castle　walls　and　into　the　forest。
　She'd　go　all　the　way　down　to　the　far　border　and　swim　the　river　there；　or　maybe　build　a　raft。　By　morning　she'd　be　too　far　away　for　them　ever　to　find　her；　and　she　doubted　very　much　that　they'd　ever　e　looking。
　Weak！
　She　moved　through　the　forest　with　surprising　speed。　There　were　tracks；　after　all；　wide　enough　for　carts；　and　she　had　a　pretty　good　sense　of　direction。　Besides；　all　she　needed　to　do　was　go　downhill。　If　she　found　the　gorge　then　she　just　had　to　follow　the　flow。
　And　then　there　seemed　to　be　too　many　trees。　There　was　still　a　track；　and　it　went　more　or　less　in　the　right　direction；　but　the　trees　on　either　side　of　it　were　planted　rather　more　thickly　than　one　might　expect　and；　when　she　tried　to　turn　back；　there　was　no　track　at　all　behind　her。　She　took　to　turning　suddenly；　half　expecting　to　see　the　trees　moving；　but　they　were　always　standing　stoically　and　firmly　rooted　in　the　moss。
　She　couldn't　feel　a　wind；　but　there　was　a　sighing　in　the　treetops。
　'All　right；'　she　said；　under　her　breath。　'All　right。　I'm　going　anyway。　I　want　to　go。　But　I　will　be　back。'
　It　was　at　this　point　that　the　track　opened　out　into　a　clearing　that　hadn't　been　there　the　day　before　and　wouldn't　be　there　tomorrow；　a　clearing　in　which　the　moonlight　glittered　off　assembled　antlers　and　fangs　and　serried　ranks　of　glowing　eyes。
　The　weak　banded　together　can　be　pretty　despicable；　but　it　dawned　on　the　duchess　that　an　alliance　of　the　strong　can　be　more　of　an　immediate　problem。
　There　was　total　silence　for　a　few　seconds；　broken　only　by　a　faint　panting；　and　then　the　duchess　grinned；　raised　her　knife；　and　charged　the　lot　of　them。
　The　front　ranks　of　the　massed　creatures　opened　to　let　her　pass；　and　then　closed　in　again。　Even　the　rabbits。
　The　kingdom　exhaled。
　
　On　the　moors　under　the　very　shadow　of　the　peaks　the　mighty　nocturnal　chorus　of　nature　had　fallen　silent。　The　crickets　had　ceased　their　chirping；　the　owls　had　hooted　themselves　into　silence；　and　the　wolves　had　other　matters　to　attend　to。
　There　was　a　song　that　echoed　and　boomed　from　cliff　to　cliff；　and　resounded　up　the　high　hidden　valleys；　causing　miniature　avalanches。　It　funnelled　along　the　secret　tunnels　under　glaciers；　losing　all　meaning　as　it　rang　between　the　walls　of　ice。
　To　find　out　what　was　actually　being　sung　you　would　have　to　go　all　the　way　back　down　to　the　dying　fire　by　the　standing　stone；　where　the　cross…resonances　and　waves　of　conflicting　echoes　focused　on　a　small；　elderly　woman　who　was　waving　an　empty　bottle。
　'…with　a　snail　if　you　slow　to　a　crawl；　but　the　hedgehog…'
　'It　tastes　better　at　the　bottom　of　the　bottle；　doesn't　it；'　Magrat　said；　trying　to　drown　out　the　chorus。
　'That's　right；'　said　Granny；　draining　her　cup。
　'Is　there　any　more？'
　'I　think　Gytha　finished　it；　by　the　sound　of　it。'
　They　sat　on　the　fragrant　heather　and　stared　up　at　the　moon。
　'Well；　we've　got　a　king；'　said　Granny。　'And　there's　an　end　of　it。'
　'It's　thanks　to　you　and　Nanny；　really；'　said　Magrat；　and　hiccupped。
　'Why？'
　'None　of　them　would　have　believed　me　if　you　hadn't　spoken　up。'
　'Only　because　we　was　asked；'　said　Granny。
　'Yes；　but　everyone　knows　witches　don't　lie；　that's　the　important　thing。　I　mean；　everyone　could　see　they　looked　so　alike；　but　that　could　have　been　coincidence。　You　see；'　Magrat　blushed；　'I　looked　up　droit　de　seigneur。　Goodie　Whemper　had　a　dictionary。'
　Nanny　Ogg　stopped　singing。
　'Yes；'　said　Granny　Weatherwax。　'Well。'
　Magrat　became　aware　of　an　unfortable　atmosphere。
　'You　did　tell　the　truth；　didn't　you？'　she　said。　'They　really　are　brothers；　aren't　they？'
　'Oh　yes；'　said　Gytha　Ogg。　'Definitely。　I　saw　to　his　mother　when　your　…　when　the　new　king　was　born。　And　to　the　queen　when　young　Tomjon　was　born；　and　she　told　me　who　his　father　was。'
　'Gytha！'
　'Sorry。'
　The　wine　was　going　to　her　head；　but　the　wheels　in　Magrat's　mind　still　managed　to　turn。
　'Just　a　minute；'　she　said。
　'I　remember　the　Fool's　father；'　said　Nanny　Ogg；　speaking　slowly　and　deliberately。　'Very　personable　young　man；　he　was。　He　didn't　get　on　with　his　dad；　you　know；　but　he　used　to　visit　sometimes。　To　see　old　friends。'
　'He　made　friends　easily；'　said　Granny。
　'Among　the　ladies；'　agreed　Nanny。　'Very　athletic；　wasn't　he？　Could　climb　walls　like　nobody's　business；　I　remember　hearing。'
　'He　was　very　popular　at　court；'　said　Granny。　'I　know　that　much。'
　'Oh；　yes。　With　the　queen；　at　any　rate。'
　'The　king　used　to　go　out　hunting　such　a　lot；'　said　Granny。
　'It　was　that　droit　of　his；'　said　Nanny。　'Always　out　and　about　with　it；　he　was。　Hardly　ever　home　o'nights。'
　'Just　a　minute；'　Magrat　repeated。
　They　looked　at　her。
　'Yes？'　said　Granny。
　'You　told　everyone　they　were　brothers　and　that　Verence　was　the　older！'
　'That's　right。'
　'And　you　let　everyone　believe　that…'
　Granny　Weatherwax　pulled　her　shawl　around　her。
　'We're　bound　to　be　truthful；'　she　said。　'But　there's　no　call　to　be　honest。'
　'No；　no；　what　you're　saying　is　that　the　King　of　Lancre　isn't　really…'
　'What　I'm　saying　is；'　said　Granny　firmly；　'that　we've　got　a　king　who　is　no　worse　than　most　and　better　than　many　and　who's　got　his　head　screwed　on　right…'
　'Even　if　it　is　against　the　thread；'　said　Nanny。
　'…and　the　old　king's　ghost　has　been　laid　to　rest　happy；　there's　been　an　enjoyable　coronation　and　some　of　us　got　mugs　we　weren't　entitled　to；　them　being　only　for　the　kiddies　and；　all　in　all；　things　are　a　lot　more　satisfactory　than　they　might　be。　That's　what　I'm　saying。　Never　mind　what　should　be　or　what　might　be　or　what　ought　to　be。　It's　what　things　are　that's　important。'
　'But　he's　not　really　a　king！'
　'He　might　be；'　said　Nanny。
　'But　you　just　said…'
　'Who　knows？　The　late　queen　wasn't　very　good　at　counting。　Anyway；　he　doesn't　know　he　isn't　royalty。'
　'And　you're　not　going　to　tell　him；　are　you？'　said　Granny　Weatherwax。
　Magrat　stared　at　the　moon；　which　had　a　few　clouds　across　it。
　'No；'　she　said。
　'Right；　then；'　said　Granny。　'Anyway；　look　at　it　like　this。　Royalty　has　to　start　somewhere。　It　might　as　well　start　with　him。　It　looks　as　though　he　means　to　take　it　seriously；　which　is　a　lot　further　than　most　of　them　take　it。　He'll　do。'
　Magrat　knew　she　had　lost。　You　always　lost　against　Granny　Weatherwax；　the　only　interest　was　in　seeing　exactly　how。　'But　I'm　surprised　at　the　two　of　you；　I　really　am；'　she　said。　'You're　witches。　That　means　you　have　to　care　about　things　like　truth　and　tradition　and　destiny；　don't　you？'
　'That's　where　you've　been　getting　it　all　wrong；'　said　Granny；　'Destiny　is　important；　see；　but　people　go　wrong　when　they　think　it　controls　them。　It's　the　other　way　around。'
　'Bugger　destiny；'　agreed　Nanny。
　Granny　glared　at　her。
　'After　all；　you　never　thought　being　a　witch　was　going　to　be　easy；　did　you？'
　'I'm　learning；'　said　Magrat。　She　looked　across　the　moor；　where　a　thin　rind　of　dawn　glowed　on　the　horizon。
　'I　think　I'd　better　be　off；'　she　said。　'It's　getting　early。'
　'Me　too；'　said　Nanny　Ogg。　'Our　Shirl　frets　if　I'm　not　home　when　she　es　to　get　my　breakfast。'
　Granny　carefully　scuffed　over　the　remains　of　the　fire。
　'When　shall　we　three　meet　again？'　she　said。　'Hmm？'
　The　witches　looked　at　one　another　sheepishly。
　'I'm　a　bit　busy　next　month；'　said　Nanny。　'Birthdays　and　such。　Er。　And　the　work　has　really　been　piling　up　with　all　this　hurly…burly。　You　know。　And　there's　all　the　ghosts　to　think　about。'
　'I　thought　you　sent　them　back　to　the　castle；'　said　Granny。
　'Well；　they　didn't　want　to　go；'　said　Nanny　vaguely。　'To　be　honest；　I've　got　used　to　them　around　the　place。　They're　pany　of　an　evening。　They　hardly　scream　at　all；　now。'
　'That's　nice；'　said　Granny。　'What　about　you；　Magrat？'
　'There　always　seems　to　be　such　a　lot　to　do　at　this　time　of　year；　don't　you　find？'　said　Magrat。
　'Quite；'　said　Granny　Weatherwax；　pleasantly。　'It's　no　good　getting　yourself　tied　down　to　appointments　all　the　time；　is　it？　Le