grrm.astormofswords-第185部分

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　He　swiveled；　cursing；　and　loosed　a　shaft　at　the　men　on　the　armory　roof　instead；　but　he　missed　them　as　well。
　By　then　the　east　stables　were　afire　too；　black　smoke　and　wisps　of　burning　hay　pouring　from　the　stalls。　When　the　roof　collapsed；　a　flames　rose　up　roaring；　so　loud　they　almost　drowned　out　the　warhorns　of　the　Thenns。　Fifty　of　them　were　pounding　up　the　kingsroad　in　tight　column；　their　shields　held　up　above　their　heads。　Others　were　swarming　through　the　vegetable　garden；　across　the　flagstone　yard；　around　the　old　dry　well。　Three　had　hacked　their　way　through　the　doors　of　Maester　Aemon's　apartments　in　the　timber　keep　below　the　rookery；　and　a　desperate　fight　was　going　on　atop　the　Silent　Tower；　longswords　against　bronze　axes。　None　of　that　mattered。　The　dance　has　moved　on；　he　thought。
　Jon　hobbled　across　to　Satin　and　grabbed　him　by　the　shoulder。　〃With　me；〃　he　shouted。　Together　they　moved　to　the　north　parapet；　where　the　King's　Tower　looked　down　on　the　gate　and　Donal　Noye's　makeshift　wall　of　logs　and　barrels　and　sacks　of　corn。　The　Therms　were　there　before　them。
　They　wore　halffielms；　and　had　thin　bronze　disks　sewn　to　their　long　leather　shirts。　Many　wielded　bronze　axes；　though　a　few　were　chipped　stone。　More　had　short　stabbing　spears　with　leaf　…shaped　heads　that　gleamed　redly　in　the　light　from　the　burning　stables。　They　were　screaming　in　the　Old　Tongue　as　they　stormed　the　barricade；　jabbing　with　their　spears；　swinging　their　bronze　axes；　spilling　corn　and　blood　with　equal　abandon　while　crossbow　quarrels　and　arrows　rained　down　on　them　from　the　archers　that　Donal　Noye　had　posted　on　the　stair。
　〃What　do　we　do？〃　Satin　shouted。
　〃We　kill　them；〃　Jon　shouted　back；　a　black　arrow　in　his　hand。
　No　archer　could　have　asked　for　an　easier　shot。　The　Thenns　had　their　backs　to　the　King's　Tower　as　they　charged　the　crescent；　clambering　over　bags　and　barrels　to　reach　the　men　in　black。　Both　Jon　and　Satin　chanced　to　choose　the　same　target。　He　had　just　reached　the　top　of　the　barricade　when　an　arrow　sprouted　from　his　neck　and　a　quarrel　between　his　shoulder　blades。　Half　a　heartbeat　later　a　longsword　took　him　in　the　belly　and　he　fell　back　onto　the　man　behind　him。　Jon　reached　down　to　his　quiver　and　found　it　empty　again。　Satin　was　winding　back　his　crossbow。　He　left　him　to　it　and　went　for　more　arrows；　but　he　hadn't　taken　more　than　three　steps　before　the　trap　slammed　open　three　feet　in　front　of　him。　Bloody　hell；　I　never　even　heard　the　door　break。
　There　was　no　time　to　think　or　plan　or　shout　for　help。　Jon　dropped　his　bow；　reached　back　over　his　shoulder；　ripped　Longclaw　from　its　sheath；　and　buried　the　blade　in　the　middle　of　the　first　head　to　pop　out　of　the　tower。　Bronze　was　no　match　for　Valyrian　steel。　The　blow　sheared　right　through　the　Thenn's　helm　and　deep　into　his　skull；　and　he　went　crashing　back　down　where　he'd　e　from。　There　were　more　behind　him；　Jon　knew　from　the　shouting。　He　fell　back　and　called　to　Satin。　The　next　man　to　make　the　climb　got　a　quarrel　through　his　cheek。　He　vanished　too。　〃The　oil；〃　Jon　said。　Satin　nodded。　Together　they　snatched　up　the　thick　quilted　pads　they'd　left　beside　the　fire；　lifted　the　heavy　kettle　of　boiling　oil；　and　dumped　it　down　the　hole　on　the　Therms　below。　The　shrieks　were　as　bad　as　anything　he　had　ever　heard；　and　Satin　looked　as　though　he　was　going　to　be　sick。　Jon　kicked　the　trapdoor　shut；　set　the　heavy　iron　kettle　on　top　of　it；　and　gave　the　boy　with　the　pretty　face　a　hard　shake。　〃Retch　later；〃　Jon　yelled。　〃e。〃
　They　had　only　been　gone　from　the　parapets　for　a　few　moments；　but　everything　below　had　changed。　A　dozen　black　brothers　and　a　few　Mole's　Town　men　still　stood　atop　the　crates　and　barrels；　but　the　wildlings　were　swarming　over　all　along　the　crescent；　pushing　them　back。　Jon　saw　one　shove　his　spear　up　through　Rast's　belly　so　hard　he　lifted　him　into　the　air。　Young　Henly　was　dead　and　Old　Henly　was　dying；　surrounded　by　foes。　He　could　see　Easy　spinning　and　slashing；　laughing　like　a　loon；　his　cloak　flapping　as　he　leapt　from　cask　to　cask。　A　bronze　axe　caught　him　just　below　the　knee　and　the　laughter　turned　into　a　bubbling　shriek。
　〃They're　breaking；〃　Satin　said。
　〃No；〃　said　Jon；　〃they're　broken。〃
　It　happened　quickly。　One　mole　fled　and　then　another；　and　suddenly　all　the　villagers　were　throwing　down　their　weapons　and　abandoning　the　barricade。　The　brothers　were　too　few　to　hold　alone。　Jon　watched　them　try　and　form　a　line　to　fall　back　in　order；　but　the　Thenns　washed　over　them　with　spear　and　axe；　and　then　they　were　fleeing　too。　Domish　Dilly　slipped　and　went　down　on　his　face；　and　a　wildling　planted　a　spear　between　his　shoulder　blades。　Kegs；　slow　and　short　of　breath；　had　almost　reached　the　bottom　step　when　a　Therm　caught　the　end　of　his　cloak　and　yanked　him　around　。　。　。　but　a　crossbow　quarrel　dropped　the　man　before　his　axe　could　fall。　〃Got　him；〃　Satin　crowed；　as　Kegs　staggered　to　the　stair　and　began　to　crawl　up　the　steps　on　hands　and　knees。
　The　gate　is　lost。　Donal　Noye　had　closed　and　chained　it；　but　it　was　there　for　the　taking；　the　iron　bars　glimmering　red　with　reflected　firelight；　the　cold　black　tunnel　behind。　No　one　had　fallen　back　to　defend　it；　the　only　safety　was　on　top　of　the　Wall；　seven　hundred　feet　up　the　crooked　wooden　stairs。
　〃What　gods　do　you　pray　to？〃　Jon　asked　Satin。
　〃The　Seven；〃　the　boy　from　Oldtown　said。
　〃Pray；　then；〃　Jon　told　him。　〃Pray　to　your　new　gods；　and　I'll　pray　to　my　old　ones。〃　It　all　turned　here。
　With　the　confusion　at　the　trapdoor；　Jon　had　forgotten　to　fill　his　quiver。　He　limped　back　across　the　roof　and　did　that　now；　and　picked　up　his　bow　as　well。　The　kettle　had　not　moved　from　where　he'd　left　it；　so　it　seemed　as　though　they　were　safe　enough　for　the　nonce。　The　dance　has　moved　on；　and　we're　watching　from　the　gallery；　he　thought　as　he　hobbled　back。　Satin　was　loosing　quarrels　at　the　wildlings　on　the　steps；　then　ducking　down　behind　a　merlon　to　cock　the　crossbow。　He　may　be　pretty；　but　he's　quick。
　The　real　battle　was　on　the　steps。　Noye　had　put　spearmen　on　the　two　lowest　landings；　but　the　headlong　flight　of　the　villagers　had　panicked　them　and　they　had　joined　the　flight；　racing　up　toward　the　third　landing　with　the　Therms　killing　anyone　who　fell　behind。　The　archers　and　crossbowmen　on　the　higher　landings　were　trying　to　drop　shafts　over　their　heads。　Jon　nocked　an　arrow；　drew；　and　loosed；　and　was　pleased　when　one　of　the　wildlings　went　rolling　down　the　steps。　The　heat　of　the　fires　was　making　the　Wall　weep；　and　the　flames　danced　and　shimmered　against　the　ice。　The　steps　shook　to　the　footsteps　of　men　running　for　their　lives。
　Again　Jon　notched　and　drew　and　loosed；　but　there　was　only　one　of　him　and　one　of　Satin；　and　a　good　sixty　or　seventy　Therms　pounding　up　the　stairs；　killing　as　they　went；　drunk　on　victory。　On　the　fourth　landing；　three　brothers　in　black　cloaks　stood　shoulder　to　shoulder　with　longswords　in　their　hands；　and　battle　was　joined　again；　briefly。　But　there　were　only　three　and　soon　enough　the　wildling　tide　washed　over　them；　and　their　blood　dripped　down　the　steps。　〃A　man　is　never　so　vulnerable　in　battle　as　when　he　flees；〃　Lord　Eddard　had　told　Jon　once。　〃A　running　man　is　like　a　wounded　animal　to　a　soldier。　It　gets　his　bloodlust　up。〃　The　archers　on　the　fifth　landing　fled　before　the　battle　even　reached　them。　It　was　a　rout；　a　red　rout。
　〃Fetch　thf　torches；〃　Jon　told　Satin。　There　were　four　of　them　stacked　beside　the　fire；　their　heads　wrapped　in　oily　rags。　There　were　a　dozen　fire　arrows　too。　The　Oldtown　boy　thrust　one　torch　into　the　fire　until　it　was　blazing　brightly；　and　brought　the　rest　back　under　his　arm；　unlit。　He　looked　frightened　again；　as　well　he　might。　Jon　was　frightened　too。
　It　was　then　that　he　saw　Styr。　The　Magnar　was　climbing　up　the　barricade；　over　the　gutted　corn　sacks　and　smashed　barrels　and　the　bodies　of　friends　and　foe　alike。　His　bronze　scale　armor　gleamed　darkly　in　the　firelight。　Styr　had　taken　off　his　helm　to　survey　the　scene　of　his　triumph；　and　the　bald　earless　whoreson　was　smiling。　In　his　hand　was　a　long　weirwood　spear　with　an　ornate　bronze　head。　When　he　saw　the　gate；　he　pointed　the　spear　at　it　and　barked　something　in　the　Old　Tongue　to　the　half…dozen　Therms　around　him。　Too　late；　Jon　thought。　You　should　have　led　your　men　over　the　barricade；　you　might　have　been　able　to　save　a　few　。　。　。