grrm.astormofswords-第139部分

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hing　in　his　ear。　Edwyn　wrenched　himself　away　from　her　with　unseemly　violence。　〃No；〃　he　said；　too　loudly。　〃I'm　done　with　dancing　for　the　nonce。〃　Dacey　paled　and　turned　away。　Catelyn　got　slowly　to　her　feet。　What　just　happened　there？　Doubt　gripped　her　heart；　where　an　instant　before　had　been　only　weariness。　It　is　nothing；　she　tried　to　tell　herself；　you　are　seeing　grumkins　in　the　woodpile；　you　are　bee　an　old　silly　woman　sick　with　grief　and　fear。　But　something　must　have　shown　on　her　face。　Even　Ser　Wendel　Manderly　took　note。　〃Is　something　amiss？〃　he　asked；　the　leg　of　lamb　in　his　hands。
　She　did　not　answer　him。　Instead　she　went　after　Edwyn　Frey。　The　players　in　the　gallery　had　finally　gotten　both　king　and　queen　down　to　their　name…day　suits。　With　scarcely　a　moment's　respite；　they　began　to　play　a　very　different　sort　of　song。　No　one　sang　the　words；　but　Catelyn　knew　〃The　Rains　of　Castamere〃　when　she　heard　it。　Edwyn　was　hurrying　toward　a　door。　She　hurried　faster；　driven　by　the　music。　Six　quick　strides　and　she　caught　him。　And　who　are　you；　the　proud　lord　said；　that　I　must　bow　so　low？　She　grabbed　Edwyn　by　the　arm　to　turn　him　and　went　cold　all　over　when　she　felt　the　iron　rings　beneath　his　silken　sleeve。
　Catelyn　slapped　him　so　hard　she　broke　his　lip。　Olyvar；　she　thought；　and　Perwyn；　Alesander；　all　absent。　And　Roslin　wept　。　。　。
　Edwyn　Frey　shoved　her　aside。　The　music　drowned　all　other　sound；　echoing　off　the　walls　as　if　the　stones　themselves　were　playing。　Robb　gave　Edwyn　an　angry　look　and　moved　to　block　his　way　。　。　。　and　staggered　suddenly　as　a　quarrel　sprouted　from　his　side；　just　beneath　the　shoulder。　if　he　screamed　then；　the　sound　was　swallowed　by　the　pipes　and　horns　and　fiddles。　Catelyn　saw　a　second　bolt　pierce　his　leg；　saw　him　fall。　Up　in　the　gallery；　half　the　musicians　had　crossbows　in　their　hands　instead　of　drums　or　lutes。　She　ran　toward　her　son；　until　something　punched　in　the　small　of　the　back　and　the　hard　stone　floor　came　up　to　slap　her。　〃Robb！〃　she　screamed。　She　saw　Smalljon　Umber　wrestle　a　table　off　its　trestles。　Crossbow　bolts　thudded　into　the　wood；　one　two　three；　as　he　flung　it　down　on　top　of　his　king。　Robin　Flint　was　ringed　by　Freys；　their　daggers　rising　and　falling。　Ser　Wendel　Manderly　rose　ponderously　to　his　feet；　holding　his　leg　of　lamb。　A　quarrel　went　in　his　open　mouth　and　came　out　the　back　of　his　neck。　Ser　Wendel　crashed　forward；　knocking　the　table　off　its　trestles　and　sending　cups；　flagons；　trenchers；　platters；　turnips；　beets；　and　wine　bouncing；　spilling；　and　sliding　across　the　floor。
　Catelyn's　back　was　on　fire。　I　have　to　reach　him。　The　Smalljon　bludgeoned　Ser　Raymund　Frey　across　the　face　with　a　leg　of　mutton。　But　when　he　reached　for　his　swordbelt　a　crossbow　bolt　drove　him　to　his　knees。　In　a　coat　of　gold　or　a　coat　of　red；　a　lion　still　has　claws。　She　saw　Lucas　Blackwood　cut　down　by　Ser　Hosteen　Frey。　One　of　the　Vances　was　hamstrung　by　Black　Walder　as　he　was　wrestling　with　Ser　Harys　Haigh。　And　mine　are　long　and　sharp；　my　lord；　as　long　and　sharp　as　yours。　The　crossbows　took　Donnel　Locke；　Owen　Norrey；　and　half　a　dozen　more。　Young　Ser　Benfrey　had　seized　Dacey　Mormont　by　the　arm；　but　Catelyn　saw　her　grab　up　a　flagon　of　wine　with　her　other　hand；　smash　it　full　in　his　face；　and　run　for　the　door。　It　flew　open　before　she　reached　it。　Ser　Ryman　Frey　pushed　into　the　hall；　clad　in　steel　from　helm　to　heel。　A　dozen　Frey　men…at…arms　packed　the　door　behind　him。　They　were　armed　with　heavy　longaxes。
　〃Mercy！〃　Catelyn　cried；　but　horns　and　drums　and　the　clash　of　steel　smothered　her　plea。　Ser　Ryman　buried　the　head　of　his　axe　in　Dacey's　stomach。　By　then　men　were　pouring　in　the　other　doors　as　well；　mailed　men　in　shaggy　fur　cloaks　with　steel　in　their　hands。　Northmen！　She　took　them　for　rescue　for　half　a　heartbeat；　till　one　of　them　struck　the　Smalljon's　head　off　with　two　huge　blows　of　his　axe。　Hope　blew　out　like　a　candle　in　a　storm。
　In　the　midst　of　slaughter；　the　Lord　of　the　Crossing　sat　on　his　carved　oaken　throne；　watching　greedily。
　There　was　a　dagger　on　the　floor　a　few　feet　away。　Perhaps　it　had　skittered　there　when　the　Smalljon　knocked　the　table　off　its　trestles；　or　perhaps　it　had　fallen　from　the　hand　of　some　dying　man。　Catelyn　crawled　toward　it。　Her　limbs　were　leaden；　and　the　taste　of　blood　was　in　her　mouth。　I　will　kill　Walder　Frey；　she　told　herself。　jinglebell　was　closer　to　the　knife；　hiding　under　a　table；　but　he　only　cringed　away　as　she　snatched　up　the　blade。　I　Mll　kill　the　old　man；　I　can　do　that　much　at　least。
　Then　the　tabletop　that　the　Smalljon　had　flung　over　Robb　shifted　；　and　her　son　struggled　to　his　knees。　He　had　an　arrow　in　his　side；　a　second　in　his　leg；　a　third　through　his　chest。　Lord　Walder　raised　a　hand；　and　the　music　stopped；　all　but　one　drum。　Catelyn　heard　the　crash　of　distant　battle；　and　closer　the　wild　howling　of　a　wolf。　Grey　Wind；　she　remembered　too　late。　〃Heh；〃　Lord　Walder　cackled　at　Robb；　〃the　King　in　the　North　arises。　Seems　we　killed　some　of　your　men；　Your　Grace。　Oh；　but　I'll　make　you　an　apology；　that　will　mend　them　all　again；　heh。…
　Catelyn　grabbed　a　handful　of　jinglebell　Frey's　long　grey　hair　and　dragged　him　out　of　his　hiding　place。　〃Lord　Walder！〃　she　shouted。　〃LORD　WALDER！〃　The　drum　beat　slow　and　sonorous；　doom　boom　doom。　〃Enough；〃　said　Catelyn。　〃Enough；　I　say。　You　have　repaid　betrayal　with　betrayal；　let　it　end。〃　When　she　pressed　her　dagger　to　jinglebell's　throat；　the　memory　of　Bran's　sickroom　came　back　to　her；　with　the　feel　of　steel　at　her　own　throat。　The　drum　went　boom　doom　boom　doom　boom　doom。　〃Please；〃　she　said。　〃He　is　my　son。　My　first　son；　and　my　last。　Let　him　go。　Let　him　go　and　I　swear　we　will　forget　this　。　。　。　forget　all　you've　done　here。　I　swear　it　by　the　old　gods　and　new；　we　。　。　。　we　will　take　no　vengeance　。　。　。〃
　Lord　Walder　peered　at　her　in　mistrust。　〃Only　a　fool　would　believe　such　blather。　D'you　take　me　for　a　fool；　my　lady？〃
　〃I　take　you　for　a　father。　Keep　me　for　a　hostage；　Edmure　as　well　if　you　haven't　killed　him。　But　let　Robb　go。〃
　〃No。　〃　Robb's　voice　was　whisper　faint。　〃Mother；　no　。　。　。
　〃Yes。　Robb；　get　up。　Get　up　and　walk　out；　please；　please。　Save　yourself　。　。　。　if　not　for　me；　for　Jeyne。〃
　〃Jeyne？〃　Robb　grabbed　the　edge　of　the　table　and　forced　himself　to　stand。　〃Mother；〃　he　said；　〃Grey　Wind　。　。　。〃
　〃Go　to　him。　Now。　Robb；　walk　out　of　here。〃
　Lord　Walder　snorted。　〃And　why　would　I　let　him　do　that？〃
　She　pressed　the　blade　deeper　into　jinglebell's　throat。　The　lackwit　rolled　his　eyes　at　her　in　mute　appeal。　A　foul　stench　assailed　her　nose；　but　she　paid　it　no　more　mind　than　she　did　the　sullen　ceaseless　pounding　of　that　drum；　boom　doom　boom　doom　boom　doom。　Ser　Ryman　and　Black　Walder　were　circling　round　her　back；　but　Catelyn　did　not　care。　They　could　do　as　they　wished　with　her；　imprison　her；　rape　her；　kill　her；　it　made　no　matter。　She　had　lived　too　long；　and　Ned　was　waiting。　It　was　Robb　she　feared　for。
　〃On　my　honor　as　a　Tully；〃　she　told　Lord　Walder；　〃on　my　honor　as　a　Stark；　I　will　trade　your　boy's　life　for　Robb's。　A　son　for　a　son。〃　Her　hand　shook　so　badly　she　was　ringing　Jinglebell's　head。
　Boom；　the　drum　sounded；　boom　doom　boom　doom。　The　old　man's　lips　went　in　and　out。　The　knife　trembled　in　Catelyn's　hand；　slippery　with　sweat。　〃A　son　for　a　son；　heh；〃　he　repeated。　〃But　that's　a　grandson　。　。　。　and　he　never　was　much　use。〃
　A　man　in　dark　armor　and　a　pale　pink　cloak　spotted　with　blood　stepped　up　to　Robb。　〃Jaime　Lannister　sends　his　regards。〃　He　thrust　his　longsword　through　her　son's　heart；　and　twisted。
　Robb　had　broken　his　word；　but　Catelyn　kept　hers。　She　tugged　hard　on　Aegon's　hair　and　sawed　at　his　neck　until　the　blade　grated　on　bone。　Blood　ran　hot　over　her　fingers。　His　little　bells　were　ringing；　ringing；　ringing；　and　the　drum　went　boom　doom　boom。
　Finally　someone　took　the　knife　away　from　her。　The　tears　burned　like　vinegar　as　they　ran　down　her　cheeks。　Ten　flerce　ravens　were　raking　her　face　with　sharp　talons　and　tearing　off　strips　of　flesh；　leaving　deep　furrows　that　ran　red　with　blood。　She　could　taste　it　on　her　lips。
　It　hurts　so　much；　she　thought。　Our　children；　Ned；　all　our　sweet　babes。　Rickon；　Bran；　Arya；　Sansa；　Robb　。　。　。　Robb　。　。　。　please；　Ned；　please；　make　it　stop；　make　it　stop　hurting　。　。　。　The　white　tears　and　the　red　ones　ran　together　until　her　face　was　torn　and　tattered；　the　face　that　Ned　had　loved。　Catelyn　Stark　raised　her　hands　and　watched　the　blood　run　down　her　long　fingers；　over　her　wrists；　beneath　the　sleeves　of　her　gown。　Slow　red　worms　crawled　along　her　arms　and　under　her　clothes。　It　tickles。　That　made　her　laugh　until　she　screamed。　〃Mad；〃　someone　said；　〃she's　lost　her　wits；〃　and　someone　else　said；　〃Make　an　end；〃　and　a　hand　grabbed　her　scalp　just　as　she'd　done　with　Jinglebell；　and　she　thought；　No；　don't；　don't　cut　my　hair；　Ned　loves　my　hair。　Then　the　steel　was　at　her　throat；　and　its　bite　was　red　and　cold。
　
　CHAPTER　52
　ARYA
　
　The　feast　tents　were　behind　them　now。　They　squished　over　wet　clay　and　torn　grass；　out　of　the　light　and　back　into　the　gloom。　Ahead　loomed　the　castle　gatehouse。　She　could　see　torches　moving　on　the　walls；　their　flames　dancing　and　blowing　in　the　wind。　The　light　shone　dully　against　the　wet　mail　and　helms。　More　torches　were　moving　on　the　dark　stone　bridge　that　joined　the　Twins；　a　column　of　them　streaming　from　the　west　bank　to　the　east。
　〃The　castle's　not　closed；〃　Arya　said　suddenly。　The　sergeant　had　said　it　would　be；　but　he　was　wrong。　The　portcullis　was　being　drawn　upward　even　as　she　watched；　and　the　drawbridge　had　already　been　lowered　to　span　the　swollen　moat。　She　had　been　afraid　that　Lord　Frey's　guardsmen　would　refuse　to　let　them　in。　For　half　a　heartbeat　she　chewed　her　lip；　too　anxious　to　smile。
　The　Hound　reined　up　so　suddenly　that　she　almost　fell　off　the　wayn。　〃Seven　bloody　buggering　hells；〃　Arya　heard　him　curse；　as　their　left　wheel　began　to　sink　in　soft　mud。　The　wayn　tilted　slowly。　〃Get　dovm；〃　Clegane　roared　at　her；　slamming　the　heel　of　his　hand　into　her　shoulder　to　knock　her　sideways。　She　landed　light；　the　way　Syrio　had　taught　her；　and　bounced　up　at　once　with　a　face　full　of　mud。　〃Why　did　you　do　that？〃　she　screamed。　The　Hound　had　leapt　down　as　well。　He　tore　the　seat　off　the　front　of　the　wayn　and　reached　in　for　the　swordbelt　he'd　hidden　beneath　it。
　It　was　only　then　that　she　heard　the　riders　pouring　out　the　castle　gate　in　a　river　of　steel　and　fire；