grrm.astormofswords-第244节

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！


　〃Only　Cat。〃　He　gave　her　a　short；　sharp　shove。
　Lysa　stumbled　backward；　her　feet　slipping　on　the　wet　marble。　And　then　she　was　gone。　She　never　screamed。　For　the　longest　time　there　was　no　sound　but　the　wind。
　Marillion　gasped；　〃You　。　。　。　you　。　。　。〃
　The　guards　were　shouting　outside　the　door；　pounding　with　the　butts　of　their　heavy　spears。　Lord　Petyr　pulled　Sansa　to　her　feet。　〃You're　not　hurt？〃　When　she　shook　her　head；　he　said；　〃Run　let　my　guards　in；　then。　Quick　now；　there's　no　time　to　lose。　This　singer's　killed　my　lady　wife。〃
　
　Epilogue
　
　The　road　up　to　Oldstones　went　twice　around　the　hill　before　reaching　the　summit。　Overgrown　and　stony；　it　would　have　been　slow　going　even　in　the　best　of　times；　and　last　night's　snow　had　left　it　muddy　as　well。　Snow　in　autumn　in　the　riverlands；　it's　unnatural；　Merrett　thought　gloomily。　It　had　not　been　much　of　a　snow；　true；　just　enough　to　blanket　the　ground　for　a　night。　Most　of　it　had　started　melting　away　as　soon　as　the　sun　came　up。　Still；　Merrett　took　it　for　a　bad　omen。　Between　rains；　floods；　fire；　and　war；　they　had　lost　two　harvests　and　a　good　part　of　a　third。　An　early　winter　would　mean　famine　all　across　the　riverlands。　A　great　many　people　would　go　hungry；　and　some　of　them　would　starve。　Merrett　only　hoped　he　wouldn't　be　one　of　them。　I　may；　though。　With　my　luck；　I　just　may。　I　never　did　have　any　luck。
　Beneath　the　castle　ruins；　the　lower　slopes　of　the　hill　were　so　thickly　forested　that　half　a　hundred　outlaws　could　well　have　been　lurking　there。　They　could　be　watching　me　even　now。　Merrett　glanced　about；　and　saw　nothing　but　gorse；　bracken；　thistle；　sedge；　and　blackberry　bushes　between　the　pines　and　grey…green　sentinels。　Elsewhere　skeletal　elm　and　ash　and　scrub　oaks　choked　the　ground　like　weeds。　He　saw　no　outlaws；　but　that　meant　little。　Outlaws　were　better　at　hiding　than　honest　men。
　Merrett　hated　the　woods；　if　truth　be　told；　and　he　hated　outlaws　even　more。　〃Outlaws　stole　my　life；〃　he　had　been　known　to　plain　when　in　his　cups。　He　was　too　often　in　his　cups；　his　father　said；　often　and　loudly。　Too　true；　he　thought　ruefully。　You　needed　some　sort　of　distinction　in　the　Twins；　else　they　were　liable　to　forget　you　were　alive；　but　a　reputation　as　the　biggest　drinker　in　the　castle　had　done　little　to　enhance　his　prospects；　he'd　found。　I　once　hoped　to　be　the　greatest　knight　who　ever　couched　a　lance。　The　gods　took　that　away　from　me。　Why　shouldn't　I　have　a　cup　of　wine　from　time　to　time？　It　helps　my　headaches。　Besides；　my　wife　is　a　shrew；　my　father　despises　me；　my　children　are　worthless。　What　do　I　have　to　stay　sober　for？
　He　was　sober　now；　though。　Well；　he'd　had　two　horns　of　ale　when　he　broke　his　fast；　and　a　small　cup　of　red　when　he　set　out；　but　that　was　just　to　keep　his　head　from　pounding。　Merrett　could　feel　the　headache　building　behind　his　eyes；　and　he　knew　that　if　he　gave　it　half　a　chance　he　would　soon　feel　as　if　he　had　a　thunderstorm　raging　between　his　ears。　Sometimes　his　headaches　got　so　bad　that　it　even　hurt　too　much　to　weep。　Then　all　he　could　do　was　rest　on　his　bed　in　a　dark　room　with　a　damp　cloth　over　his　eyes；　and　curse　his　luck　and　the　nameless　outlaw　who　had　done　this　to　him。
　Just　thinking　about　it　made　him　anxious。　He　could　no　wise　afford　a　headache　now。　If　I　bring　Petyr　back　home　safely；　all　my　luck　will　change。　He　had　the　gold；　all　he　needed　to　do　was　climb　to　the　top　of　Oldstones；　meet　the　bloody　outlaws　in　the　ruined　castle；　and　make　the　exchange。　A　simple　ransom。　Even　he　could　not　muck　it　up　。　。　。　unless　he　got　a　headache；　one　so　bad　that　it　left　him　unable　to　ride。　He　was　supposed　to　be　at　the　ruins　by　sunset；　not　weeping　in　a　huddle　at　the　side　of　the　road。　Merrett　rubbed　two　fingers　against　his　temple。　Once　more　around　the　hill；　and　there　I　am。　When　the　message　had　e　in　and　he　had　stepped　forward　to　offer　to　carry　the　ransom；　his　father　had　squinted　down　and　said；　〃You；　Merrett？　〃　and　started　laughing　through　his　nose；　that　hideous　heh　heh　heh　laugh　of　his。　Merrett　practically　had　to　beg　before　they'd　give　him　the　bloody　bag　of　gold。
　Something　moved　in　the　underbrush　along　the　side　of　the　road。　Merrett　reined　up　hard　and　reached　for　his　sword；　but　it　was　only　a　squirrel。　〃Stupid；〃　he　told　himself；　shoving　the　sword　back　in　its　scabbard　without　ever　having　gotten　it　out。　〃Outlaws　don't　have　tails。　Bloody　hell；　Merrett；　get　hold　of　yourself。〃　His　heart　was　thumping　in　his　chest　as　if　he　were　some　green　boy　on　his　first　campaign。　As　if　this　were　the　kingswood　and　it　was　the　old　Brotherhood　I　was　going　to　face；　not　the　lightning　lord's　sorry　lot　of　brigands。　For　a　moment　he　was　tempted　to　trot　right　back　down　the　hill　and　find　the　nearest　alehouse。　That　bag　of　gold　would　buy　a　lot　of　ale；　enough　for　him　to　forget　all　about　Petyr　Pimple。　Let　them　hang　him；　he　brought　this　on　himself。　It's　no　more　than　he　deserves；　wandering　off　with　some　bloody　camp　follower　like　a　stag　in　rut。
　His　head　had　begun　to　pound；　soft　now；　but　he　knew　it　would　get　worse。　Merrett　rubbed　the　bridge　of　his　nose。　He　really　had　no　right　to　think　so　ill　of　Petyr。　I　did　the　same　myself　when　I　was　his　age。　In　his　case　all　it　got　him　was　a　pox；　but　still；　he　shouldn't　condemn。　Whores　did　have　charms；　especially　if　you　had　a　face　like　Petyr's。　The　poor　lad　had　a　wife；　to　be　sure；　but　she　was　half　the　problem。　Not　only　was　she　twice　his　age；　but　she　was　bedding　his　brother　Walder　too；　if　the　talk　was　true。　There　was　always　lots　of　talk　around　the　Twins；　and　only　a　little　was　ever　true；　but　in　this　case　Merrett　believed　it。　Black　Walder　was　a　man　who　took　what　he　wanted；　even　his　brother's　wife。　He'd　had　Edwyn's　wife　too；　that　was　mon　knowledge；　Fair　Walda　had　been　known　to　slip　into　his　bed　from　time　to　time；　and　some　even　said　he'd　known　the　seventh　Lady　Frey　a　deal　better　than　he　should　have。　Small　wonder　he　refused　to　marry。　Why　buy　a　cow　when　there　were　udders　all　around　begging　to　be　milked？
　Cursing　under　his　breath；　Merrett　jammed　his　heels　into　his　horse's　flanks　and　rode　on　up　the　hill。　As　tempting　as　it　was　to　drink　the　gold　away；　he　knew　that　if　he　didn't　e　back　with　Petyr　Pimple；　he　had　as　well　not　e　back　at　all。
　Lord　Walder　would　soon　turn　two…and…ninety。　His　ears　had　started　to　go；　his　eyes　were　almost　gone；　and　his　gout　was　so　bad　that　he　had　to　be　carried　everywhere。　He　could　not　possibly　last　much　longer；　all　his　sons　agreed。　And　when　he　goes；　everything　will　change；　and　not　for　the　better。　His　father　was　querulous　and　stubborn；　with　an　iron　will　and　a　wasp's　tongue；　but　he　did　believe　in　taking　care　of　his　own。　All　of　his　own；　even　the　ones　who　had　displeased　and　disappointed　him。　Even　the　ones　whose　names　he　can't　remember；　Once　he　was　gone；　though　。　。　。
　When　Ser　Stevron　had　been　heir；　that　was　one　thing。　The　old　man　had　been　grooming　Stevron　for　sixty　years；　and　had　pounded　it　into　his　head　that　blood　was　blood。　But　Stevron　had　died　whilst　campaigning　with　the　Young　Wolf　in　the　west…〃of　waiting；　no　doubt；〃　Lame　Lothar　had　quipped　when　the　raven　brought　them　the　news…and　his　sons　and　grandsons　were　a　different　sort　of　Frey。　Stevron's　son　Ser　Ryman　stood　to　inherit　now；　a　thick…witted；　stubborn；　greedy　man。　And　after　Ryman　came　his　own　sons；　Edwyn　and　Black　Walder；　who　were　even　worse。　〃Fortunately；〃　Lame　Lothar　once　said；　〃they　hate　each　other　even　more　than　they　hate　us。〃
　Merrett　wasn't　certain　that　was　fortunate　at　all；　and　for　that　matter　Lothar　himself　might　be　more　dangerous　than　either　of　them。　Lord　Walder　had　ordered　the　slaughter　of　the　Starks　at　Roslin's　wedding；　but　it　had　been　Lame　Lothar　who　had　plotted　it　out　with　Roose　Bolton；　all　the　way　down　to　which　songs　would　be　played。　Lothar　was　a　very　amusing　fellow　to　get　drunk　with；　but　Merrett　would　never　be　so　foolish　as　to　turn　his　back　on　him。　In　the　Twins；　you　learned　early　that　only　full　blood　siblings　could　be　trusted；　and　them　not　very　far。
　It　was　like　to　be　every　son　for　himself　when　the　old　man　died；　and　every　daughter　as　well。　The　new　Lord　of　the　Crossing　would　doubtless　keep　on　some　of　his　uncles；　nephews；　and　cousins　at　the　Twins；　the　ones　he　happened　to　like　or　trust；　or　more　likely　the　ones　he　thought　would　prove　useful　to　him。　The　rest　of　us　he'll　shove　out　to　fend　for　ourselves。
　The　prospect　worried　Merrett　more　than　words　could　say。　He　would　be　forty　in　less　than　three　years；　too　old　to　take　up　the　life　of　a　hedge　knight　。　。　。　even　if　he'd　been　a　knight；　which　as　it　happened　he　wasn't。　He　had　no　land；　no　wealth　of　his　own。　He　owned　the　clothes　on　his　back　but　not　much　else；　not　even　the　horse　he　was　riding。　He　wasn't　clever　enough　to　be　a　maester；　pious　enough　to　be　a　septon；　or　savage　enough　to　be　a　sellsword。　The　gods　gave　me　no　gift　but　birth；　and　they　stinted　me　there。　What　good　was　it　to　be　the　son　of　a　rich　and　powerful　House　if　you　were　the　ninth　son？　When　you　took　grandsons　and　great…grandsons　into　account；　Merrett　stood　a　better　chance　of　being　chosen　High　Septon　than　he　did　of　inheriting　the　Twins。
　I　have　no　luck；　he　thought　bitterly。　I　have　never　had　any　bloody　luck。　He　was　a　big　man；　broad　around　the　chest　and　shoulders　if　only　of　middling　height。　in　the　last　ten　years　he　had　grown　soft　and　fleshy；　he　knew；　but　when　he'd　been　younger　Merrett　had　been　almost　as　robust　as　Ser　Hosteen；　his　eldest　fu