grrm.astormofswords-第245节

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st　as　Ser　Hosteen；　his　eldest　full　brother；　who　was　monly　regarded　as　the　strongest　of　Lord　Walder　Frey's　brood。　As　a　boy　he'd　been　packed　off　to　Crakehall　to　serve　his　mother's　family　as　a　page。　When　old　Lord　Sumner　had　made　him　a　squire；　everyone　had　assumed　he　would　be　Ser　Merrett　in　no　more　than　a　few　years；　but　the　outlaws　of　the　Kingswood　Brotherhood　had　pissed　on　those　plans。　While　his　fellow　squire　Jaime　Lannister　was　covering　himself　in　glory；　Merrett　had　first　caught　the　pox　from　a　camp　follower；　then　managed　to　get　captured　by　a　woman；　the　one　called　the　White　Fawn。　Lord　Sumner　had　ransomed　him　back　from　the　outlaws；　but　in　the　very　next　fight　he'd　been　felled　by　a　blow　from　a　mace　that　had　broken　his　helm　and　left　him　insensible　for　a　fortnight。　Everyone　gave　him　up　for　dead；　they　told　him　later。
　Merrett　hadn't　died；　but　his　fighting　days　were　done。　Even　the　lightest　blow　to　his　head　brought　on　blinding　pain　and　reduced　him　to　tears。　Under　these　circumstances　knighthood　was　out　of　the　question；　Lord　Sumner　told　him；　not　unkindly。　He　was　sent　back　to　the　Twins　to　face　Lord　Walder's　poisonous　disdain。
　After　that；　Merrett's　luck　had　only　grown　worse。　His　father　had　managed　to　make　a　good　marriage　for　him；　somehow；　he　wed　one　of　Lord　Darry's　daughters；　back　when　the　Darrys　stood　high　in　King　Aerys's　favor。　But　it　seemed　as　if　he　no　sooner　had　deflowered　his　bride　than　Aerys　lost　his　throne。　Unlike　the　Freys；　the　Darrys　had　been　prominent　Targaryen　loyalists；　which　cost　them　half　their　lands；　most　of　their　wealth；　and　almost　all　their　power。　As　for　his　lady　wife；　she　found　him　a　great　disappointment　from　the　first；　and　insisted　on　popping　out　nothing　but　girls　for　years；　three　live　ones；　a　stillbirth；　and　one　that　died　in　infancy　before　she　finally　produced　a　son。　His　eldest　daughter　had　turned　out　to　be　a　slut；　his　second　a　glutton。　When　Ami　was　caught　in　the　stables　with　no　fewer　than　three　grooms；　he'd　been　forced　to　marry　her　off　to　a　bloody　hedge　knight。　That　situation　could　not　possibly　get　any　worse；　he'd　thought。。　。　until　Ser　Pate　decided　he　could　win　renown　by　defeating　Ser　Gregor　Clegane。　Ami　had　e　running　back　a　widow；　to　Merrett's　dismay　and　the　undoubted　delight　of　every　stablehand　in　the　Twins。
　Merrett　had　dared　to　hope　that　his　luck　was　finally　changing　when　Roose　Bolton　chose　to　wed　his　WaIda　instead　of　one　of　her　slimmer；　elier　cousins。　The　Bolton　alliance　was　important　for　House　Frey　and　his　daughter　had　helped　secure　it；　he　thought　that　must　surely　count　for　something。　The　old　man　had　soon　disabused　him。　〃He　picked　her　because　she's　fat；〃　Lord　Walder　said。　〃You　think　Bolton　gave　a　mummer's　fart　that　she　was　your　whelp？　Think　he　sat　about　thinking；　'Heh；　Merrett　Muttonhead；　that's　the　very　man　I　need　for　a　good…father'？　Your　Walda's　a　sow　in　silk；　that's　why　he　picked　her；　and　I'm　not　like　to　thank　you　for　it。　We'd　have　had　the　same　alliance　at　half　the　price　if　your　little　porkling　put　down　her　spoon　from　time　to　time。〃
　The　final　humiliation　had　been　delivered　with　a　smile；　when　Lame　Lothar　had　summoned　him　to　discuss　his　role　in　Roslin's　wedding。　〃We　must　each　play　our　part；　according　to　our　gifts；〃　his　half…brother　told　him。　〃You　shall　have　one　task　and　one　task　only；　Merrett；　but　I　believe　you　are　well　suited　to　it。　I　want　you　to　see　to　it　that　Greatjon　Umber　is　so　bloody　drunk　that　he　can　hardly　stand；　let　alone　fight。〃
　And　even　that　I　failed　at。　He'd　cozened　the　huge　northman　into　drinking　enough　wine　to　kill　any　three　normal　men；　yet　after　Roslin　had　been　bedded　the　Greatjon　still　managed　to　snatch　the　sword　of　the　first　man　to　accost　him　and　break　his　arm　in　the　snatching。　It　had　taken　eight　of　them　to　get　him　into　chains；　and　the　effort　had　left　two　men　wounded；　one　dead；　and　poor　old　Ser　Leslyn　Haigh　short　half　a　ear。　When　he　couldn't　fight　with　his　hands　any　longer；　Umber　had　fought　with　his　teeth。
　Merrett　paused　a　moment　and　closed　his　eyes。　His　head　was　throbbing　like　that　bloody　drum　they'd　played　at　the　wedding；　and　for　a　moment　it　was　all　he　could　do　to　stay　in　the　saddle。　I　have　to　go　on；　he　told　himself。　If　he　could　bring　back　Petyr　Pimple；　surely　it　would　put　him　in　Ser　Ryman's　good　graces。　Petyr　might　be　a　whisker　on　the　hapless　side；　but　he　wasn't　as　cold　as　Edwyn；　nor　as　hot　as　Black　Walder。　The　boy　will　be　grateful　for　my　part；　and　his　father　will　see　that　I'm　loyal；　a　man　worth　having　about。
　But　only　if　he　was　there　by　sunset　with　the　gold。　Merrett　glanced　at　the　sky。　Right　on　time；　He　needed　something　to　steady　his　hands。　He　pulled　up　the　waterskin　hung　from　his　saddle；　uncorked　it；　and　took　a　long　swallow。　The　wine　was　thick　and　sweet；　so　dark　it　was　almost　black；　but　gods　it　tasted　good。
　The　curtain　wall　of　Oldstones　had　once　encircled　the　brow　of　the　hill　like　the　crown　on　a　king's　head。　Only　the　foundation　remained；　and　a　few　waist…high　piles　of　crumbling　stone　spotted　with　lichen。　Merrett　rode　along　the　line　of　the　wall　until　he　came　to　the　place　where　the　gatehouse　would　have　stood。　The　ruins　were　more　extensive　here；　and　he　had　to　dismount　to　lead　his　palfrey　through　them。　In　the　west；　the　sun　had　vanished　behind　a　bank　of　low　clouds。　Gorse　and　bracken　covered　the　slopes；　and　once　inside　the　vanished　walls　the　weeds　were　chest　high。　Merrett　loosened　his　sword　in　its　scabbard　and　looked　about　warily；　but　saw　no　outlaws。　Could　I　have　e　on　the　wrong　day？　He　stopped　and　rubbed　his　temples　with　his　thumbs；　but　that　did　nothing　to　ease　the　pressure　behind　his　eyes。　Seven　bloody　hells　。　。　。
　From　somewhere　deep　within　the　castle；　faint　music　came　drifting　through　the　trees。
　Merrett　found　himself　shivering；　despite　his　cloak。　He　pulled　open　his　waterskin　and　had　another　drink　of　wine。　I　could　just　get　back　on　my　horse；　ride　to　Oldtown；　and　drink　the　gold　away。　No　good　ever　came　from　dealing　with　outlaws。　That　vile　little　bitch　Wenda　had　burned　a　fawn　into　the　cheek　of　his　arse　while　she　had　him　captive。　No　wonder　his　wife　despised　him。　I　have　to　go　through　with　this。　Petyr　Pimple　might　be　Lord　of　the　Crossing　one　day；　Edwyn　has　no　sons　and　Black　Walder's　only　got　bastards。　Petyr　will　remember　who　came　to　get　him。　He　took　another　swallow；　corked　the　skin　up；　and　led　his　palfrey　through　broken　stones；　gorse；　and　thin　wind…whipped　trees；　following　the　sounds　to　what　had　been　the　castle　ward。
　Fallen　leaves　lay　thick　upon　the　ground；　like　soldiers　after　some　great　slaughter。　A　man　in　patched；　faded　greens　was　sitting　crosslegged　atop　a　weathered　stone　sepulcher；　fingering　the　strings　of　a　woodharp。　The　music　was　soft　and　sad。　Merrett　knew　the　song。　High　in　the　halls　of　the　kings　who　are　gone；　fenny　would　dance　with　her　ghosts　。　。　。
　〃Get　off　there；〃　Merrett　said。　〃You're　sitting　on　a　king。〃
　〃Old　Tristifer　don't　mind　my　bony　arse。　The　Hammer　of　justice；　they　called　him。　Been　a　long　while　since　he　heard　any　new　songs。〃　The　outlaw　hopped　down。　Trim　and　slim；　he　had　a　narrow　face　and　foxy　features；　but　his　mouth　was　so　wide　that　his　smile　seemed　to　touch　his　ears。　A　few　strands　of　thin　brown　hair　were　blowing　across　his　brow。　He　pushed　them　back　with　his　free　hand　and　said；　〃Do　you　remember　me；　my　lord？〃
　〃No。〃　Merrett　frowned。　〃Why　would　I？〃
　〃I　sang　at　your　daughter's　wedding。　And　passing　well；　I　thought。　That　Pate　she　married　was　a　cousin。　We're　all　cousins　in　Sevenstreams。　Didn't　stop　him　from　turning　niggard　when　it　was　time　to　pay　me。〃　He　shrugged。　〃Why　is　it　your　lord　father　never　has　me　play　at　the　Twins？　Don't　I　make　enough　noise　for　his　lordship？　He　likes　it　loud；　I　have　been　hearing。〃
　〃You　bring　the　gold？〃　asked　a　harsher　voice；　behind　him。
　Merrett's　throat　was　dry。　Bloody　outlaws；　always　hiding　in　the　bushes。　It　had　been　the　same　in　the　kingswood。　You'd　think　you'd　caught　five　of　them；　and　ten　more　would　spring　from　nowhere。
　When　he　turned；　they　were　all　around　him；　an　ill…favored　gaggle　of　leathery　old　men　and　smooth…cheeked　lads　younger　than　Petyr　Pimple；　the　lot　of　them　clad　in　roughspun　rags；　boiled　leather；　and　bits　of　dead　men's　armor。　There　was　one　woman　with　them；　bundled　up　in　a　hooded　cloak　three　times　too　big　for　her。　Merrett　was　too　flustered　to　count　them；　but　there　seemed　to　be　a　dozen　at　the　least；　maybe　a　score。
　〃I　asked　a　question。〃　The　speaker　was　a　big　bearded　man　with　crooked　green　teeth　and　a　broken　nose；　taller　than　Merrett；　though　not　so　heavy　in　the　belly。　A　halffielm　covered　his　head；　a　patched　yellow　cloak　his　broad　shoulders。　〃Where's　our　gold？〃
　〃in　my　saddlebag。　A　hundred　golden　dragons。〃　Merrett　cleared　his　throat。　〃You'll　get　it　when　I　see　that　Petyr…〃
　A　squat　one…eyed　outlaw　strode　forward　before　he　could　finish；　reached　into　the　saddlebag　bold　as　you　please；　and　found　the　sack。　Merrett　started　to　grab　him；　then　thought　better　of　it。　The　outlaw　opened　the　drawstring；　removed　a　coin；　and　bit　it。　〃Tastes　right。〃　He　hefted　the　sack。　〃Feels　right　too。〃
　They're　going　to　take　the　gold　and　keep　Petyr　too；　Merrett　thought　in　sudden　panic。　〃That's　the　whole　ransom。　All　you　asked　for。〃　His　palms　were　sweating。　He　wiped　them　on　his　breeches。　〃Which　one　of　you　is　Beric　Dondarrion？　〃　Dondarrion　had　been　a　lord　before　he　turned　outlaw；　he　might　still　be　a　man　of　honor。
　〃Why；　that　would　be　me；〃　said　the　one…