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grrm.thehedgeknight-第20部分

小说: grrm.thehedgeknight 字数: 每页4000字

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 〃I yield;〃 the dragon whispered; pale lips barely moving。 Dunk blinked down at him。 For a moment he could not credit what his ears had heard。 Is it done; then? He turned his head slowly from side to side; trying to see。 His vision slit was partly closed by the blow that had smashed in the left side of his face。 He glimpsed Prince Maekar; mace in hand; trying to fight his way to his son's side。 Baelor Breakspear was holding him off。
 Dunk lurched to his feet and pulled Prince Aerion up after him。 Fumbling at the lacings of his helm; he tore it off and flung it away。 At once he was drowned in sights and sounds; grunts and curses; the shouts of the crowd; one stallion screaming while another raced riderless across the field。 Everywhere steel rang on steel。 Raymun and his cousin were slashing at each other in front of the viewing stand; both afoot。 Their shields were splintered ruins; the green apple and the red both hacked to tinder。 One of the Kingsguard knights was carrying a wounded brother from the field。 They both looked alike in their white armor and white cloaks。 The third of the white knights was down; and the Laughing Storm had joined Prince Baelor against Prince Maekar。 Mace; battle…axe; and longsword clashed and clanged; ringing against helm and shield。 Maekar was taking three blows for every one he landed; and Dunk could see that it would be over soon。 I must make an end to it before more of us are killed。
 Prince Aerion made a sudden dive for his morningstar。 Dunk kicked him in the back and knocked him facedown; then grabbed hold of one of his legs and dragged him across the field。 By the time he reached the viewing stand where Lord Ashford sat; the Bright Prince was brown as a privy。 Dunk hauled him onto his feet and rattled him; shaking some of the mud onto Lord Ashford and the fair maid。 〃Tell him!〃
 Aerion Brightfiaine spit out a mouthful of grass and dirt。 〃I withdraw my accusation。〃
 
 Afterward Dunk could not have said whether he walked from the field under his own power or had required help。 He hurt everywhere; and some places worse than others。 I am a knight now in truth? he remembered wondering。 Am I a champion?
 Egg helped him remove his greaves and gorget; and Raymun as well; and even Steely Pate。 He was too dazed to tell them apart。 They were fingers and thumbs and voices。 Pate was the one plaining; Dunk knew。 〃Look what he's done to me armor;〃 he said。 〃All dinted and banged and scratched。 Aye; I ask you; why do I bother? I'll have to cut that mail off him; I fear。〃
 〃Raymun;〃 Dunk said urgently; clutching at his friend's hands。 〃The others。 How did they fare?〃 He had to know。 〃Has anyone died?〃
 〃Beesbury;〃 Raymun said。 〃Slain by Donnel of Duskendale in the first charge。 Ser Humfrey is gravely wounded as well。 The rest of us are bruised and bloody; no more。 Save for you。〃
 〃And them? The accusers?〃
 〃Ser Willem Wylde of the Kingsguard was carried from the field insensate; and I think I cracked a few of my cousin's ribs。 At least I hope so。〃
 〃And Prince Daeron?〃 Dunk blurted。 〃Did he survive?〃
 〃Once Ser Robyn unhorsed him; he lay where he fell。 He may have a broken foot。 His own horse trod on him while running loose about the field。〃
 Dazed and confused as he was; Dunk felt a huge sense of relief。 〃His dream was wrong; then。 The dead dragon。 Unless Aerion died。 He didn't though; did he?〃
 〃No;〃 said Egg。 〃You spared him。 Don't you remember?〃
 〃I suppose。〃 Already his memories of the fight were being confused and vague。 〃One moment I feel drunk。 The next it hurts so bad I know I'm dying。〃
 They made him lie down on his back and talked over him as he gazed up into the roiling grey sky。 It seemed to Dunk that it was still morning。 He wondered how long the fight had taken。
 〃Gods be good; the lance point drove the rings deep into his flesh;〃 he heard Raymun saying。 〃It will mortify unless 。 。 。〃
 〃Get him drunk and pour some boiling oil into it;〃 someone suggested。 〃That's how the maesters do it。〃
 〃Wine。〃 The voice had a hollow metallic ring to it。 〃Not oil; that will kill him; boiling wine。 I'll send Maester Yormwell to have a look at him when he's done tending my brother。〃
 A tall knight stood above him; in black armor dinted and scarred by many blows。 Prince Baelor。 The scarlet dragon on his helm had lost a head; both wings; and most of its tail。 〃Your Grace;〃 Dunk said; 〃I am your man。 Please。 Your man。〃
 〃My man。〃 The black knight put a hand on Raymun's shoulder to steady himself。 〃I need good men; Ser Duncan。 The realm。。。〃 His voice sounded oddly slurred。 Perhaps he'd bit his tongue。
 Dunk was very tired。 It was hard to stay awake。 〃Your man;〃 he murmured once more。
 The prince moved his head slowly from side to side。 〃Ser Raymun。。。 my helm; if you'd be so kind。 Visor。。。 visor's cracked; and my fingers。。。 fingers feel like wood。〃
 〃At once; Your Grace。〃 Raymun took the prince's helm in both hands and grunted。 〃Goodman Pate; a hand。〃
 Steely Pate dragged over a mounting stool。 〃It's crushed down at the back; Your Grace; toward the left side。 Smashed into the gorget。 Good steel; this; to stop such a blow。〃
 〃Brother's mace; most like;〃 Baelor said thickly。 〃He's strong。〃 He winced。 〃That。。。 feels queer; I。。。〃
 〃Here it es。〃 Pate lifted the battered helm away。 〃Gods be good。 Oh gods oh gods oh gods preserve。。。〃
 Dunk saw something red and wet fall out of the helm。 Someone was screaming; high and terrible。 Against the bleak grey sky swayed a tall prince in black armor with only half a skull。 He could see red blood and pale bone beneath and something else; something blue…grey and pulpy。 A queer troubled look passed across Baelor Breakspear's face; like a cloud passing before a sun。 He raised his hand and touched the back of his head with two fingers; oh so lightly。 And then he fell。
 Dunk caught him。 〃Up;〃 they say he said; just as he had with Thunder in the melee; 〃up; up。〃 But he never remembered that afterward; and the prince did not rise。
 
 Baelor of House Targaryen; Prince of Dragonstone; Hand of the King; Protector of the Realm; and heir apparent to the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros; went to the fire in the yard of Ashford Castle on the north bank of River Cockleswent。 Other great houses might choose to bury their dead in the dark earth or sink them in the cold green sea; but the Targaryens were the blood of the dragon; and their ends were writ in flame。
 He had been the finest knight of his age; and some argued that he should have gone to face the dark clad in mail and plate; a sword in his hand。 In the end; though; his royal father's wishes prevailed; and Daeron II had a peaceable nature。 When Dunk shuffled past Baelor's bier; the prince wore a black velvet tunic with the three…headed dragon picked out in scarlet thread upon his breast。 Around his throat was a heavy gold chain。 His sword was sheathed by his side; but he did wear a helm; a thin golden helm with an open visor so men could see his face。
 Valarr; the Young Prince; stood vigil at the foot of the bier while his father lay in state。 He was a shorter; slimmer; handsomer version of his sire; without the twice…broken nose that had made Baelor seem more human than royal。 Valarr's hair was brown; but a bright streak of silver…gold ran through it。 The sight of it reminded Dunk of Aerion; but he knew that was not fair。 Egg's hair was growing back as bright as his brother's; and Egg was a decent enough lad; for a prince。
 When he stopped to offer awkward sympathies; well larded with thanks; Prince Valarr blinked cool blue eyes at him and said; 〃My father was only nine…and…thirty。 He had it in him to be a great king; the greatest since Aegon the Dragon。 Why would the gods take him; and leave you?〃 He shook his head。 〃Begone with you; Ser Duncan。 Begone。〃
 Wordless; Dunk limped from the castle; down to the camp by the green pool。 He had no answer for Valarr。 Nor for the questions he asked himself。 The maesters and the boiling wine had done their work; and his wound was healing cleanly; though there would be a deep puckered scar between his left arm and his nipple。 He could not see the wound without thinking of Baelor。 He saved me once with his sword; and once with a

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