grrm.astormofswords-第180节

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　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　filled　his　cup　full　up　with　spite；〃　sang　Galyeon。　〃My　brother　once　ruled　seven　kingdoms；　he　said　to　his　harridan　wife。　Ill　take　what　was　his　and　make　it　all　mine。　Let　his　son　feel　the　point　of　my　knife。〃
　〃A　brave　young　boy　with　hair　of　gold；〃　his　players　chanted；　as　a　woodharp　and　a　fiddle　began　to　play。
　〃if　I　am　ever　Hand　again；　the　first　thing　I'll　do　is　hang　all　the　singers；〃　said　Tyrion；　too　loudly。
　Lady　Leonette　laughed　lightly　beside　him；　and　Ser　Garlan　leaned　over　to　say；　〃A　valiant　deed　unsung　is　no　less　valiant。〃
　〃The　dark　lord　assembled　his　legions；　they　gathered　around　him　like　crows。　And　thirsty　for　blood　they　boarded　their　ships　。　。　。〃
　〃　。　。　。　and　cut　off　poor　Tyrion's　nose；〃　Tyrion　finished。
　Lady　Leonette　giggled。　〃Perhaps　you　should　be　a　singer；　my　lord。　You　rhyme　as　well　as　this　Galyeon。〃
　〃No；　my　lady；〃　Ser　Garlan　said。　〃My　lord　of　Lannister　was　made　to　do　great　deeds；　not　to　sing　of　them。　But　for　his　chain　and　his　wildfire；　the　foe　would　have　been　across　the　river。　And　if　Tyrion's　wildlings　had　not　slain　most　of　Lord　Stannis's　scouts；　we　would　never　have　been　able　to　take　him　unawares。〃
　His　words　made　Tyrion　feel　absurdly　grateful；　and　helped　to　mollify　him　as　Galyeon　sang　endless　verses　about　the　valor　of　the　boy　king　and　his　mother；　the　golden　queen。
　〃She　never　did　that；〃　Sansa　blurted　out　suddenly。
　〃Never　believe　anything　you　hear　in　a　song；　my　lady。〃　Tyrion　summoned　a　serving　man　to　refill　their　wine　cups。
　Soon　it　was　full　night　outside　the　tall　windows；　and　still　Galyeon　sang　on。　His　song　had　seventy…seven　verses；　though　it　seemed　more　like　a　thousand。　One　for　every　guest　in　the　hall。　Tyrion　drank　his　way　through　the　last　twenty　or　so；　to　help　resist　the　urge　to　stuff　mushrooms　in　his　ears。　By　the　time　the　singer　had　taken　his　bows；　some　of　the　guests　were　drunk　enough　to　begin　providing　unintentional　entertainments　of　their　own。　Grand　Maester　Pycelle　fell　asleep　while　dancers　from　the　Summer　Isles　swirled　and　spun　in　robes　made　of　bright　feathers　and　smoky　silk。　Roundels　of　elk　stuffed　with　ripe　blue　cheese　were　being　brought　out　when　one　of　Lord　Rowan's　knights　stabbed　a　Dornishman。　The　gold　cloaks　dragged　them　both　away；　one　to　a　cell　to　rot　and　the　other　to　get　sewn　up　by　Maester　Ballabar。
　Tyrion　was　toying　with　a　leche　of　brawn；　spiced　with　cinnamon；　cloves；　sugar；　and　almond　milk；　when　King　Joffrey　lurched　suddenly　to　his　feet。　〃Bring　on　my　royal　jousters！〃　he　shouted　in　a　voice　thick　with　wine；　clapping　his　hands　together。
　My　nephew　is　drunker　than　I　am；　Tyrion　thought　as　the　gold　cloaks　opened　the　great　doors　at　the　end　of　the　hall。　From　where　he　sat；　he　could　only　see　the　tops　of　two　striped　lances　as　a　pair　of　riders　entered　side　by　side。　A　wave　of　laughter　followed　them　down　the　center　aisle　toward　the　king。　They　must　be　riding　ponies；　he　concluded　。　。　。　until　they　came　into　full　view。
　The　jousters　were　a　pair　of　dwarfs。　One　was　mounted　on　an　ugly　grey　dog；　long　of　leg