grrm.astormofswords-第175部分

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st　bow　so　low？
　The　Frey　riders　were　struggling　through　the　mud　and　reeds；　but　some　of　them　had　seen　the　wayn。　She　watched　as　three　riders　left　the　main　column；　pounding　through　the　shallows。　Only　a　cat　of　a　different　coat；　that's　all　the　truth　I　know　。　。　。
　Clegane　cut　Stranger　loose　with　a　single　slash　of　his　sword　and　leapt　onto　his　back。　The　courser　knew　what　was　wanted　of　him。　He　pricked　up　his　ears　and　wheeled　toward　the　charging　destriers。　In　a　coat　of　gold　or　a　coat　of　red；　a　lion　still　has　claws。　And　mine　are　long　and　sharp；　my　lord；　as　long　and　sharp　as　yours。　Arya　had　prayed　a　hundred　hundred　times　for　the　Hound　to　die；　but　now　。　。　。　there　was　a　rock　in　her　hand；　slimy　with　mud；　and　she　didn't　even　remember　picking　it　up。　Who　do　I　throw　it　at？
　She　jumped　at　the　clash　of　metal　as　Clegane　turned　aside　the　first　longaxe。　While　he　was　engaged　with　the　first　man；　the　second　circled　behind　him　and　aimed　a　blow　for　the　small　of　his　back。　Stranger　was　wheeling；　so　the　Hound　took　only　a　glancing　blow；　enough　to　rip　a　great　gash　in　his　baggy　peasant's　blouse　and　expose　the　mail　below。　He　is　one　against　three。　Arya　still　clutched　her　rock。　They're　sure　to　kill　him。　She　thought　of　Mycah；　the　butcher's　boy　who　had　been　her　friend　so　briefly。
　Then　she　saw　the　third　rider　ing　her　way。　Arya　moved　behind　the　wayn。　Fear　cuts　deeper　than　swords。　She　could　hear　drums　and　warhorns　and　pipes；　stallions　trumpeting；　the　shriek　of　steel　on　steel；　but　all　the　sounds　seemed　so　far　away。　There　was　only　the　oning　horseman　and　the　longaxe　in　his　hand。　He　wore　a　surcoat　over　his　armor　and　she　saw　the　two　towers　that　marked　him　for　a　Frey。　She　did　not　understand。　Her　uncle　was　marrying　Lord　Frey's　daughter；　the　Freys　were　her　brother's　friends。　〃Don't！〃　she　screamed　as　he　rode　around　the　wayn；　but　he　paid　no　mind。
　When　he　charged　Arya　threw　the　rock；　the　way　she'd　once　thrown　a　crabapple　at　Gendry。　She'd　gotten　Gendry　right　between　the　eyes；　but　this　time　her　aim　was　off；　and　the　stone　caromed　sideways　off　his　temple。　It　was　enough　to　break　his　charge；　but　no　more。　She　retreated；　darting　across　the　muddy　ground　on　the　balls　of　her　feet；　putting　the　wayn　between　them　once　more。　The　knight　followed　at　a　trot；　only　darkness　behind　his　eyeslit。　She　hadn't　even　dented　his　helm。　They　went　round　once；　twice；　a　third　time。　The　knight　cursed　her。　〃You　can't　run　for…〃
　The　axehead　caught　him　square　in　the　back　of　the　head；　crashing　through　his　helm　and　the　skull　beneath　and　sending　him　flying　face　first　from　his　saddle。　Behind　him　was　the　Hound；　still　mounted　on　Stranger。　How　did　you　get　an　axe？　she　almost　asked；　before　she　saw。　One　of　the　other　Freys　was　trapped　beneath　his　dying　horse；　drowning　in　a　foot　of　water。　The　third　man　was　sprawled　on　his　back；　unmoving。　He　hadn't　worn　a　gorget；　and　a　foot　of　broken　sword　jutted　from　beneath　his　chin。
　〃Get　my　helm；〃　Clegane　growled　at　her。
　It　was　stuffed　at　the　bottom　of　a　sack　of　dried　apples；　in　the　back　of　the　wayn　behind　the　pickled　pigs'　feet。　Arya　upended　the　sack　and　tossed　it　to　him。　He　snatched　it　one…handed　from　the　air　and　lowered　it　over　his　head；　and　where　the　man　had　sat　only　a　steel　dog　remained；　snarling　at　the　fires。
　〃My　brother　。　。　。
　〃Dead；〃　he　shouted　back　at　her。　〃Do　you　think　they'd　slaughter　his　men　and　leave　him　alive？〃　He　turned　his　head　back　toward　the　camp。　〃Look。　Look；　damn　you。〃
　The　camp　had　bee　a　battlefield。　No；　a　butcher's　den。　The　flames　from　the　feasting　tents　reached　halfway　up　the　sky。　Some　of　the　barracks　tents　were　burning　too；　and　half　a　hundred　silk　pavilions。　Everywhere　swords　were　singing。　And　now　the　rains　weep　o'er　his　hall；　with　not　a　soul　to　hear。　She　saw　two　knights　ride　down　a　running　man。　A　wooden　barrel　came　crashing　onto　one　of　the　burning　tents　and　burst　apart；　and　the　flames　leapt　twice　as　high。　A　catapult；　she　knew。　The　castle　was　flinging　oil　or　pitch　or　something。
　〃e　with　me。〃　Sandor　Clegane　reached　down　a　hand。　〃We　have　to　get　away　from　here；　and　now。〃　Stranger　tossed　his　head　impatiently；　his　nostrils　flaring　at　the　scent　of　blood。　The　song　was　done。　There　was　only　one　solitary　drum；　its　slow　monotonous　beats　echoing　across　the　river　like　the　pounding　of　some　monstrous　heart。　The　black　sky　wept；　the　river　grumbled；　men　cursed　and　died。　Arya　had　mud　in　her　teeth　and　her　face　was　wet。　Rain。　It's　only　rain。　That's　all　it　is。　〃We're　here；〃　she　shouted。　Her　voice　sounded　thin　and　scared；　a　little　girl's　voice。　〃Robb's　just　in　the　castle；　and　my　mother。　The　gate's　even　open。〃　There　were　no　more　Freys　riding　out。　I　came　so　far。　〃We　have　to　go　get　my　mother。〃
　〃Stupid　little　bitch。〃　Fires　glinted　off　the　snout　of　his　helm；　and　made　the　steel　teeth　shine。　〃You　go　in　there；　you　won't　e　out。　Maybe　Frey　will　let　you　kiss　your　mother's　corpse。〃
　〃Maybe　we　can　save　her　。　。　。〃
　〃Maybe　you　can。　I'm　not　done　living　yet。〃　He　rode　toward　her；　crowding　her　back　toward　the　wayn。　〃Stay　or　go；　she…wolf。　Live　or　die。　Your…〃
　Arya　spun　away　from　him　and　darted　for　the　gate。　The　portcullis　was　ing　down；　but　slowly。　I　have　to　run　faster。　The　mud　slowed　her；　though；　and　then　the　water。　Run　fast　as　a　wolf。　The　drawbridge　had　begun　to　lift；　the　water　running　off　it　in　a　sheet；　the　mud　falling　in　heavy　clots。　Faster。　She　heard　loud　splashing　and　looked　back　to　see　Stranger　pounding　after　her；　sending　up　gouts　of　water　with　every　stride。　She　saw　the　longaxe　too；　still　wet　with　blood　and　brains。　And　Arya　ran。　Not　for　her　brother　now；　not　even　for　her　mother；　but　for　herself。　She　ran　faster　than　she　had　ever　run　before；　her　head　down　and　her　feet　churning　up　the　river；　she　ran　from　him　as　Mycah　must　have　run。
　His　axe　took　her　in　the　back　of　the　head。
　
　CHAPTER　53
　TYRION
　
　They　supped　alone；　as　they　did　so　often。　〃The　pease　are　overcooked；〃　his　wife　ventured　once。　〃No　matter；〃　he　said。　〃So　is　the　mutton。〃
　It　was　a　jest；　but　Sansa　took　it　for　criticism。　〃I　am　sorry；　my　lord。〃
　〃Why？　Some　cook　should　be　sorry。　Not　you。　The　pease　are　not　your　province；　Sansa。〃
　〃I　。　。　。　I　am　sorry　that　my　lord　husband　is　displeased。〃
　〃Any　displeasure　I'm　feeling　has　naught　to　do　with　pease。　I　have　Joffrey　and　my　sister　to　displease　me；　and　my　lord　father；　and　three　hundred　bloody　Dornishmen。〃　He　had　settled　Prince　Oberyn　and　his　lords　in　a　cornerfort　facing　the　city；　as　far　from　the　Tyrells　as　he　could　put　them　without　evicting　them　from　the　Red　Keep　entirely。　It　was　not　nearly　far　enough。　Already　there　had　been　a　brawl　in　a　Flea　Bottom　pot…shop　that　left　one　Tyrell　man…at…arms　dead　and　two　of　Lord　Gargalen's　scalded；　and　an　ugly　confrontation　in　the　yard　when　Mace　Tyrell's　wizened　little　mother　called　Ellaria　Sand　〃the　serpent's　whore。〃　Every　time　he　chanced　to　see　Oberyn　Martell　the　prince　asked　when　the　justice　would　be　served。　Overcooked　pease　were　the　least　of　Tyrion's　troubles；　but　he　saw　no　point　in　burdening　his　young　wife　with　any　of　that。　Sansa　had　enough　griefs　of　her　own。
　〃The　pease　suffice；〃　he　told　her　curtly。　〃They　are　green　and　round；　what　more　can　one　expect　of　pease？　Here；　I'll　have　another　serving；　if　it　please　my　lady。〃　He　beckoned；　and　Podrick　Payne　spooned　so　many　pease　onto　his　plate　that　Tyrion　lost　sight　of　his　mutton。　That　was　stupid；　he　told　himself。　Now　I　have　to　eat　them　all；　or　she'll　be　sorry　all　over　again。
　The　supper　ended　in　a　strained　silence；　as　so　many　of　their　suppers　did。　Afterward；　as　Pod　was　removing　the　cups　and　platters；　Sansa　asked　Tyrion　for　leave　to　visit　the　godswood。
　〃As　you　wish。〃　He　had　bee　accustomed　to　his　wife's　nightly　devotions。　She　prayed　at　the　royal　sept　as　well；　and　often　lit　candles　to　Mother；　Maid；　and　Crone。　Tyrion　found　all　this　piety　excessive；　if　truth　be　told；　but　in　her　place　he　might　want　the　help　of　the　gods　as　well。　〃I　confess；　I　know　little　of　the　old　gods；〃　he　said；　trying　to　be　pleasant。　〃Perhaps　someday　you　might　enlighten　me。　I　could　even　acpany　you。〃
　〃No；〃　Sansa　said　at　once。　〃You　。　。　。　you　are　kind　to　offer；　but　。　。　。　there　are　no　devotions；　my　lord。　No　priests　or　songs　or　candles。　Only　trees；　and　silent　prayer。　You　would　be　bored。〃
　〃No　doubt　you're　right。〃　She　knows　me　better　than　I　thought。　〃Though　the　sound　of　rustling　leaves　might　be　a　pleasant　change　from　so