grrm.astormofswords-第91节

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g　all　before　it。　Even　down　at　the　foot　of　the　ridge；　some　chunks　came　spinning　through　the　trees　and　rolling　down　the　slope。　Jon　grabbed　Ygritte　and　pulled　her　down　to　shield　her；　and　one　of　the　Therms　was　struck　in　the　face　by　a　chunk　that　broke　his　nose。
　And　when　they　looked　up　Jarl　and　his　team　were　gone。　Men；　ropes；　stakes；　all　gone；　nothing　remained　above　six　hundred　feet。　There　was　a　wound　in　the　Wall　where　the　climbers　had　clung　half　a　heartbeat　before；　the　ice　within　as　smooth　and　white　as　polished　marble　and　shining　in　the　sun。　Far　far　below　there　was　a　faint　red　smear　where　someone　had　smashed　against　a　frozen　pinnace。
　The　Wall　defends　itself；　Jon　thought　as　he　pulled　Ygritte　back　to　her　feet。
　They　found　Jarl　in　a　tree；　impaled　upon　a　splintered　branch　and　still　roped　to　the　three　men　who　lay　broken　beneath　him。　One　was　still　alive；　but　his　legs　and　spine　were　shattered；　and　most　of　his　ribs　as　well。　〃Mercy；〃　he　said　when　they　came　upon　him。　One　of　the　Therms　smashed　his　head　in　with　a　big　stone　mace。　The　Magnar　gave　orders；　and　his　men　began　to　gather　fuel　for　a　pyre。
　The　dead　were　burning　when　Grigg　the　Goat　reached　the　top　of　the　Wall。　By　the　time　Errok's　four　had　joined　them；　nothing　remained　of　Jarl　and　his　team　but　bone　and　ash。
　The　sun　had　begun　to　sink　by　then；　so　the　climbers　wasted　little　time。　They　unwound　the　long　coils　of　hemp　they'd　had　looped　around　their　chests；　tied　them　all　together；　and　tossed　down　one　end。　The　thought　of　trying　to　climb　five　hundred　feet　up　that　rope　filled　Jon　with　dread；　but　Mance　had　planned　better　than　that。　The　raiders　Jarl　had　left　below　uncasked　a　huge　ladder；　with　rungs　of　woven　hemp　as　thick　as　a　man's　arm；　and　tied　it　to　the　climbers'　rope。　Errok　and　Grigg　and　their　men　grunted　and　heaved；　pulled　it　up；　staked　it　to　the　top；　then　lowered　the　rope　again　to　haul　up　a　second　ladder。　There　were　five　altogether。
　When　all　of　them　were　in　place；　the　Magnar　shouted　a　brusque　mand　in　the　Old　Tongue；　and　five　of　his　Therms　started　up　together。　Even　with　the　ladders；　it　was　no　easy　climb。　Ygritte　watched　them　struggle　for　a　while。　〃I　hate　this　Wall；〃　she　said　in　a　low　angry　voice。　〃Can　you　feel　how　cold　it　is？〃
　〃It's　made　of　ice；〃　Jon　pointed　out。
　〃You　know　nothing；　Jon　Snow。　This　wall　is　made　o'　blood。〃
　Nor　had　it　drunk　its　fill。　By　sunset；　two　of　the　Therms　had　fallen　from　the　ladder　to　their　deaths；　but　they　were　the　last。　It　was　near　midnight　before　Jon　reached　the　top。　The　stars　were　out　again；　and　Ygritte　was　trembling　from　the　climb。　〃I　almost　fell；〃　she　said；　with　tears　in　her　eyes。　〃Twice。　Thrice。　The　Wall　was　trying　t'　shake　me　off；　I　could　feel　it。〃　one　of　the　tears　broke　free　and　trickled　slowly　down　her　cheek。
　〃The　worst　is　behind　us。〃　Jon　tried　to　sound　confident。　〃Don't　be　frightened。〃　He　tried　to　put　an　arm　around　her。
　Ygritte　slammed　the　heel　of　her　hand　into　his　chest；　so　hard　it　stung　even　through　his　layers　of　wool；　mail；　and　boiled　leather。　〃I　wasn't　frightened。　You　know　nothing；　Jon　Snow。〃
　〃Why　are　you　crying；　then？〃
　〃Not　for　fear！〃　She　kicked　savagely　at　the　ice　beneath　her　with　a　heel；　chopping　out　a　chunk。　〃I'm　crying　because　we　never　found　the　Horn　of　Winter。　We　opened　half　a　hundred　graves　and　let　all　those　shades　loose　in　the　world；　and　never　found　the　Horn　of　Joramun　to　bring　this　cold　thing　down！〃
　
　CHAPTER　31
　JAIME
　
　His　hand　burned。
　Still；　still；　long　after　they　had　snuffed　out　the　torch　they'd　used　to　sear　his　bloody　stump；　days　after；　he　could　still　feel　the　fire　lancing　up　his　arm；　and　his　fingers　twisting　in　the　flames；　the　fingers　he　no　longer　had。
　He　had　taken　wounds　before；　but　never　like　this。　He　had　never　known　there　could　be　such　pain。　Sometimes；　unbidden；　old　prayers　bubbled　from　his　lips；　prayers　he　learned　as　a　child　and　never　thought　of　since；　prayers　he　had　first　prayed　with　Cersei　kneeling　beside　him　in　the　sept　at　Casterly　Rock。　Sometimes　he　even　wept；　until　he　heard　the　Mummers　laughing。　Then　he　made　his　eyes　go　dry　and　his　heart　go　dead；　and　prayed　for　his　fever　to　burn　away　his　tears。　Now　I　know　how　Tyrion　has　felt；　all　those　times　they　laughed　at　him。
　After　the　second　time　he　fell　from　the　saddle；　they　bound　him　tight　to　Brienne　of　Tarth　and　made　them　share　a　horse　again。　One　day；　instead　of　back　to　front；　they　bound　them　face…to…face。　〃The　lovers；〃　Shagwell　sighed　loudly；　〃and　what　a　lovely　sight　they　are。　'Twould　be　cruel　to　separate　the　good　knight　and　his　lady。〃　Then　he　laughed　that　high　shrill　laugh　of　his；　and　said；　〃Ah；　but　which　one　is　the　knight　and　which　one　is　the　lady？〃
　If　I　had　my　hand；　you'd　learn　that　soon　enough；　Jaime　thought。　His　arms　ached　and　his　legs　were　numb　from　the　ropes；　but　after　a　while　none　of　that　mattered。　His　world　shrunk　to　the　throb　of　agony　that　was　his　phantom　hand；　and　Brienne　pressed　against　him。　She's　warm；　at　least；　he　consoled　himself；　though　the　wench's　breath　was　as　foul　as　his　own。
　His　hand　was　always　between　them。　Urswyck　had　hung　it　about　his　neck　on　a　cord；　so　it　dangled　down　against　his　chest；　slapping　Brienne's　breasts　as　Jaime　slipped　in　and　out　of　consciousness。　His　right　eye　was　swollen　shut；　the　wound　inflamed　where　Brienne　had　cut　him　during　their　fight；　but　it　was　his　hand　that　hurt　the　most。　Blood　and　pus　seeped　from　his　stump；　and　the　missing　hand　throbbed　every　time　the　horse　took　a　step。
　His　throat　was　so　raw　that　he　could　not　eat；　but　he　drank　wine　when　they　gave　it　to　him；　and　water　when　that　was　all　they　offered。　Once　they　handed　him　a　cup　and　he　quaffed　it　straight　away；　trembling；　and　the　Brave　panions　burst　into　laughter　so　loud　and　harsh　it　hurt　his　ears。　〃That's　horse　piss　you're　drinking；　Kingslayer；〃　Rorge　told　him。　Jaime　was　so　thirsty　he　drank　it　anyway；　but　afterward　he　retched　it　all　back　up。　They　made　Brienne　wash　the　vomit　out　of　his　beard；　just　as　they　made　her　clean　him　up　when　he　soiled　himself　in　the　saddle。
　One　damp　cold　morning　when　he　was　feeling　slightly　stronger；　a　madness　took　hold　of　him　and　he　reached　for　the　Dornishman's　sword　with　his　left　hand　and　wrenched　it　clumsily　from　its　scabbard。　Let　them　kill　me；　he　thought；　so　long　as　I　die　fighting；　a　blade　in　hand。　But　it　was　no　good。　Shagwell　came　hopping　from　leg　to　leg；　dancing　nimbly　aside　when　Jaime　slashed　at　him。　Unbalanced；　he　staggered　forward；　hacking　wildly　at　the　fool；　but　Shagwell　spun　and　ducked　and　darted　until　all　the　Mummers　were　laughing　at　Jaime's　futile　efforts　to　land　a　blow。　When　he　tripped　over　a　rock　and　stumbled　to　his　knees；　the　fool　leapt　in　and　planted　a　wet　kiss　atop　his　head。
　Rorge　finally　flung　him　aside　and　kicked　the　sword　from　Jaime's　feeble　fingers　as　he　tried　to　bring　it　up。　〃That　wath　amuthing；　Kingthlayer；〃　said　Vargo　Hoat；　〃but　if　you　try　it　again；　I　thall。　take　your　other　hand；　or　perhapth　a　foot。〃
　Jaime　lay　on　his　back　afterward；　staring　at　the　night　sky；　trying　not　to　feel　the　pain　that　snaked　up　his　right　arm　every　time　he　moved　it。　The　night　was　strangely　beautiful。　The　moon　was　a　graceful　crescent；　and　it　seemed　as　though　he　had　never　seen　so　many　stars。　The　King's　Crown　was　at　the　zenith；　and　he　could　see　the　Stallion　rearing；　and　there　the　Swan。　The　Moonmaid；　shy　as　ever；　was　half…hidden　behind　a　pine　tree。　How　can　such　a　night　be　beautiful？　he　asked　himself。　Why　would　the　stars　want　to　look　down　on　such　as　me？
　〃Jaime；〃　Brienne　whispered；　so　faintly　he　thought　he　was　dreaming　it。　〃Jaime；　what　are　you　doing？〃
　〃Dying；〃　he　whispered　back。
　〃No；〃　she　said；　〃no；　you　must　live。〃
　He　wanted　to　laugh。　〃Stop　telling　me　what　do；　wench。　I'll　die　if　it　pleases　me。〃
　〃Are　you　so　craven？〃
　The　word　shocked　him。　He　was　Jaime　Lannister；　a　knight　of　the　Kingsguard；　he　was　the　Kingslayer。　No　man　had　ever　called　him　craven。　Other　things　they　called　him；　yes；　oathbreaker；　liar；　murderer。　They　said　he　was　cruel；　treacherous；　reckless。　But　never　craven。　〃What　else　can　I　do；　but　die？〃
　〃Live；〃　she　said；　〃live；　and　fight；　and　take　revenge。〃　But　she　spoke　too　loudly。　Rorge　heard　her　voice；　if　not　her　words；　and　came　over　to　kick　her；　shouting　at　her　to　hold　her　bloody　tongue　if　she　wanted　to　keep　it。
　Craven；　Jaime　thought；　as　Brienne　fought　to　stifle　her　moans。　Can　it　be？　They　took　my　sword　hand。　Was　that　all　I　was；　a　sword　hand？　Gods　be　good；　is　it　true？
　The　wench　had　the　right　of　it。　He　could　not　die。　Cersei　was　waiting　for　him。　She　would　have　need　of　him。　And　Tyrion；　his　little　brother；　who　loved　him　for　a　lie。　And　his　enemies　were　waiting　too；　the　Young　Wolf　who　had　beaten　him　in　the　Whispering　Wood　and　killed　his　men　around　him；　Edmure　Tully　who　had　kept　him　in　darkness　and　chains；　these　Brave　panions。
　When　morning　came；　he　made　himself　eat。　They　fed　him　a　mush　of　oats；　horse　food；　but　he　forced　down　every　spoon。　He　ate　again　at　evenfall；　and　the　next　day。　Live；　he　told　himself　harshly；　when　the　mush　was　like　to　gag　him；　live　for　Cersei；　live　for　Tyrion。　Live　for　vengeance。　A　Lannister　always　pays　his　debts。　His　missing　hand　throbbed　and　burned　and　stank。　When　I　reach　King's　Landing　I'll　have　a　new　hand　forged；　a　golden　hand；　and　one　day　I'll　use　it　to　rip　out　Vargo　Hoat's　throat。
　The　days　and　the　nights　blurred　together　in　a　haze　of　pain。　He　would　sleep　in　the　saddle；　pressed