grrm.astormofswords-第10部分

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w；　I　recall；　she　used　to　e　to　the　castle　looking　for　old　shoes　in　need　of　new　soles。　Her　name　was　Tansy；　now　that　I　think　on　it。　Or　was　it　Pansy？　Some　such。　But　she　has　not　e　for　many　years　。　。　。〃
　〃Her　name　was　Violet；〃　said　Catelyn；　who　remembered　the　old　woman　very　well。
　〃Was　it？〃　The　maester　looked　apologetic。　〃My　pardons；　Lady　Catelyn；　but　I　may　not　stay。　Ser　Desmond　has　decreed　that　we　are　to　speak　to　you　only　so　far　as　our　duties　require。〃
　〃Then　you　must　do　as　he　mands。〃　Catelyn　could　not　blame　Ser　Desmond；　she　had　given　him　small　reason　to　trust　her；　and　no　doubt　he　feared　that　she　might　use　the　loyalty　that　many　of　the　folk　of　Riverrun　would　still　feel　toward　their　lord's　daughter　to　work　some　further　mischief。　I　am　free　of　the　war；　at　least；　she　told　herself；　if　only　for　a　little　while。
　After　the　maester　had　gone；　she　donned　a　woolen　cloak　and　stepped　out　onto　the　balcony　once　more。　Sunlight　shimmered　on　the　rivers；　gilding　the　surface　of　the　waters　as　they　rolled　past　the　castle。　Catelyn　shaded　her　eyes　against　the　glare；　searching　for　a　distant　sail；　dreading　the　sight　of　one。　But　there　was　nothing；　and　nothing　meant　that　her　hopes　were　still　alive。
　All　that　day　she　watched；　and　well　into　the　night；　until　her　legs　ached　from　the　standing。　A　raven　came　to　the　castle　in　late　afternoon；　flapping　down　on　great　black　wings　to　the　rookery。　Dark　wings；　dark　words；　she　thought；　remembering　the　last　bird　that　had　e　and　the　horror　it　had　brought。
　Maester　Vyman　returned　at　evenfall　to　minister　to　Lord　Tully　and　bring　Catelyn　a　modest　supper　of　bread；　cheese；　and　boiled　beef　with　horseradish。　〃I　spoke　to　Utherydes　Wayn；　my　lady。　He　is　quite　certain　that　no　woman　by　the　name　of　Tansy　has　ever　been　at　Riverrun　during　his　service。〃
　〃There　was　a　raven　today；　I　saw。　Has　Jaime　been　taken　again？〃　Or　slain；　gods　forbid？
　〃No；　my　lady；　we've　had　no　word　of　the　Kingslayer。〃
　〃Is　it　another　battle；　then？　is　Edmure　in　difficulty？　Or　Robb？　Please；　be　kind；　put　my　fears　at　rest。〃
　〃My　lady；　I　should　not　。　。　。〃　Vyman　glanced　about；　as　if　to　make　certain　no　one　else　was　in　the　room。　〃Lord　Tywin　has　left　the　riverlands。　All's　quiet　on　the　fords。〃
　〃Whence　came　the　raven；　then？〃
　〃From　the　west；〃　he　answered；　busying　himself　with　Lord　Hoster's　bedclothes　and　avoiding　her　eyes。
　〃Was　it　news　of　Robb？〃
　He　hesitated。　〃Yes；　my　lady。〃
　〃Something　is　wrong。〃　She　knew　it　from　his　manner。　He　was　hiding　something　from　her。　〃Tell　me。　Is　it　Robb？　Is　he　hurt？〃　Not　dead；　gods　be　good；　please　do　not　tell　me　that　he　is　dead。
　〃His　Grace　took　a　wound　storming　the　Crag；〃　Maester　Vyman　said；　still　evasive；　〃but　writes　that　it　is　no　cause　for　concern；　and　that　he　hopes　to　return　soon。〃
　〃A　wound？　What　sort　of　wound？　How　serious？〃
　〃No　cause　for　concern；　he　writes。〃
　〃All　wounds　concern　me。　Is　he　being　cared　for？〃
　〃I　am　certain　of　it。　The　maester　at　the　Crag　will　tend　to　him；　I　have　no　doubt。〃
　〃Where　was　he　wounded？〃
　〃My　lady；　I　am　manded　not　to　speak　with　you。　I　am　sorry。〃　Gathering　up　his　potions；　Vyman　made　a　hurried　exit；　and　once　again　Catelyn　was　left　alone　with　her　father。　The　milk　of　the　poppy　had　done　its　work；　and　Lord　Hoster　was　sunk　in　heavy　sleep。　A　thin　line　of　spittle　ran　down　from　one　corner　of　his　open　mouth　to　dampen　his　pillow。　Catelyn　took　a　square　of　linen　and　wiped　it　away　gently。　When　she　touched　him；　Lord　Hoster　moaned。　〃Forgive　me；〃　he　said；　so　softly　she　could　scarcely　hear　the　words。　〃Tansy　。　。　。　blood　。　。　。　the　blood　。　。　。　gods　be　kind　。　。　。〃
　His　words　disturbed　her　more　than　she　could　say；　though　she　could　make　no　sense　of　them。　Blood；　she　thought。　Must　it　all　e　back　to　blood？　Father；　who　was　this　woman；　and　what　did　you　do　to　her　that　needs　so　much　forgiveness？
　That　night　Catelyn　slept　fitfully；　haunted　by　formless　dreams　of　her　children；　the　lost　and　the　dead。　Well　before　the　break　of　day；　she　woke　with　her　father's　words　echoing　in　her　ears。　Sweet　babes；　and　trueborn　。　。　。　why　would　he　say　that；　unless　。　。　。　could　he　have　fathered　a　bastard　on　this　woman　Tansy？　She　could　not　believe　it。　Her　brother　Edmure；　yes；　it　would　not　have　surprised　her　to　learn　that　Edmure　had　a　dozen　natural　children。　But　not　her　father；　not　Lord　Hoster　Tully；　never。
　Could　Tansy　be　some　pet　name　he　called　Lysa；　the　way　he　called　me　Cat？　Lord　Hoster　had　mistaken　her　for　her　sister　before。　You'll　have　others；　he　said。　Sweet　babes；　and　trueborn。　Lysa　had　miscarried　five　times；　twice　in　the　Eyrie；　thrice　at　King's　Landing　。　。　。　but　never　at　Riverrun；　where　Lord　Hoster　would　have　been　at　hand　to　fort　her。　Never；　unless　。　。　。　unless　she　was　with　child；　that　first　time　。　。　。
　She　and　her　sister　had　been　married　on　the　same　day；　and　left　in　their　father's　care　when　their　new　husbands　had　ridden　off　to　rejoin　Robert's　rebellion。　Afterward；　when　their　moon　blood　did　not　e　at　the　accustomed　time；　Lysa　had　gushed　happily　of　the　sons　she　was　certain　they　carried。　〃Your　son　will　be　heir　to　Winterfell　and　mine　to　the　Eyrie。　Oh；　they'll　be　the　best　of　friends；　like　your　Ned　and　Lord　Robert。　They'll　be　more　brothers　than　cousins；　truly；　I　just　know　it。〃　She　was　so　happy。
　But　Lysa's　blood　had　e　not　long　after；　and　all　the　joy　had　gone　out　of　her。　Catelyn　had　always　thought　that　Lysa　had　simply　been　a　little　late；　but　if　she　had　been　with　child　。　。　。
　She　remembered　the　first　time　she　gave　her　sister　Robb　to　hold；　small；　red…faced；　and　squalling；　but　strong　even　then；　full　of　life。　No　sooner　had　Catelyn　placed　the　babe　in　her　sister's　arms　than　Lysa's　face　dissolved　into　tears。　Hurriedly　she　had　thrust　the　baby　back　at　Catelyn　and　fled。
　If　she　had　lost　a　child　before；　that　might　explain　Father's　words；　and　much　else　besides　。　。　。　Lysa's　match　with　Lord　Arryn　had　been　hastily　arranged；　and　Jon　was　an　old　man　even　then；　older　than　their　father。　An　old　man　without　an　heir。　His　first　two　wives　had　left　him　childless；　his　brother's　son　had　been　murdered　with　Brandon　Stark　in　King's　Landing；　his　gallant　cousin　had　died　in　the　Battle　of　the　Bells。　He　needed　a　young　wife　if　House　Arryn　was　to　continue　。　。　。　a　young　wife　known　to　be　fertile。
　Catelyn　rose；　threw　on　a　robe；　and　descended　the　steps　to　the　darkened　solar　to　stand　over　her　father。　A　sense　of　helpless　dread　filled　her。　〃Father；〃　she　said；　〃Father；　I　know　what　you　did。〃　She　was　no　longer　an　innocent　bride　with　a　head　full　of　dreams。　She　was　a　widow；　a　traitor；　a　grieving　mother；　and　wise；　wise　in　the　ways　of　the　world。　〃You　made　him　take　her；〃　she　whispered。　〃Lysa　was　the　price　Jon　Arryn　had　to　pay　for　the　swords　and　spears　of　House　Tully。〃
　Small　wonder　her　sister's　marriage　had　been　so　loveless。　The　Arryns　were　proud；　and　prickly　of　their　honor。　Lord　Jon　might　wed　Lysa　to　bind　the　Tullys　to　the　cause　of　the　rebellion；　and　in　hopes　of　a　son；　but　it　would　have　been　hard　for　him　to　love　a　woman　who　came　to　his　bed　soiled　and　unwilling。　He　would　have　been　kind；　no　doubt；　dutiful；　yes；　but　Lysa　needed　warmth。
　The　next　day；　as　she　broke　her　fast；　Catelyn　asked　for　quill　and　paper　and　began　a　letter　to　her　sister　in　the　Vale　of　Arryn。　She　told　Lysa　of　Bran　and　Rickon；　struggling　with　the　words；　but　mostly　she　wrote　of　their　father。　His　thoughts　are　all　of　the　wrong　he　did　you；　now　that　his　time　grows　short。　Maester　Vyman　says　he　dare　not　make　the　milk　of　the　poppy　any　stronger。　It　is　time　for　Father　to　lay　down　his　sword　and　shield。　It　is　time　for　him　to　rest。　Yet　he　fights　on　grimly；　will　not　yield。　It　is　for　your　sake；　I　think。　He　needs　your　forgiveness。　The　war　has　made　the　road　from　the　Eyrie　to　Riverrun　dangerous　to　travel；　I　know；　but　surely　a　strong　force　of　knights　could　see　you　safely　through　the　Mountains　of　the　Moon？　A　hundred　men；　or　a　thousand？　And　if　you　cannot　e；　will　you　not　write　him　at　least？　A　few　words　of　love；　so　he　might　die　in　peace？　Write　what　you　will；　and　I　shall　read　it　to　him；　and　ease　his　way。
　Even　as　she　set　the　quill　aside　and　asked　for　sealing　wax；　Catelyn　sensed　that　the　letter　was　like　to　be　too　little　and　too　late。　Maester　Vyman　did　not　believe　Lord　Hoster　would　linger　long　enough　for　a　raven　to　reach　the　Eyrie　and　return。　Though　he　has　said　much　the　same　before　。　。　。　Tully　men　did　not　surrender　easily；　no　matter　the　odds