grrm.astormofswords-第220部分

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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　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　pu