grrm.astormofswords-第132部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


he　flaming　sword　leapt　out　to　meet　his　arakh。　The　blades　kissed　and　spun　and　kissed　again。　Then　the　Dothraki's　hair　was　ablaze；　and　a　moment　later　he　was　dead。　She　spied　Ned　too；　fighting　at　the　lightning　lord's　side。　It's　not　fair；　he's　only　a　little　older　than　me；　they　should　have　let　me　fight。
　The　battle　did　not　last　very　long。　The　Brave　panions　still　on　their　feet　soon　died；　or　threw　down　their　swords。　Two　of　the　Dothraki　managed　to　regain　their　horses　and　flee；　but　only　because　Lord　Beric　let　them　go。　〃Let　them　carry　the　word　back　to　Harrenhal；〃　he　said；　with　flaming　sword　in　hand。　〃It　will　give　the　Leech　Lord　and　his　goat　a　few　more　sleepless　nights。〃
　Jack…Be…Lucky；　Harwin；　and　Merrit　o'　Moontown　braved　the　burning　septry　to　search　for　captives。　They　emerged　from　the　smoke　and　flames　a　few　moments　later　with　eight　brown　brothers；　one　so　weak　that　Merrit　had　to　carry　him　across　a　shoulder。　There　was　a　septon　with　them　as　well；　round…shouldered　and　balding；　but　he　wore　black　chainmail　over　his　grey　robes。　〃Found　him　hiding　under　the　cellar　steps；〃　said　Jack；　coughing。
　Thoros　smiled　to　see　him。　〃You　are　Utt。〃
　〃Septon　Utt。　A　man　of　god。〃
　〃What　god　would　want　the　likes　o'　you？〃　growled　Lem。
　〃I　have　sinned；〃　the　septon　wailed。　〃I　know；　I　know。　Forgive　me；　Father。　Oh；　grievously　have　I　sinned。〃
　Arya　remembered　Septon　Utt　from　her　time　at　Harrenhal。　Shagwell　the　Fool　said　he　always　wept　and　prayed　for　forgiveness　after　he'd　killed　his　latest　boy。　Sometimes　he　even　made　the　other　Mummers　scourge　him。　They　all　thought　that　was　very　funny。
　Lord　Beric　slammed　his　sword　into　its　scabbard；　quenching　the　flames。　〃Give　the　dying　the　gift　of　mercy　and　bind　the　others　hand　and　foot　for　trial；〃　he　manded；　and　it　was　done。
　The　trials　went　swiftly。　Various　of　the　outlaws　came　forward　to　tell　of　things　the　Brave　panions　had　done；　towns　and　villages　sacked；　crops　burned；　women　raped　and　murdered；　men　maimed　and　tortured。　A　few　spoke　of　the　boys　that　Septon　Utt　had　carried　off。　The　septon　wept　and　prayed　through　it　all。　〃I　am　a　weak　reed；〃　he　told　Lord　Beric。　〃I　pray　to　the　Warrior　for　strength；　but　the　gods　made　me　weak。　Have　mercy　on　my　weakness。　The　boys；　the　sweet　boys　。　。　。　I　never　mean　to　hurt　them　。　。　。〃
　Septon　Utt　soon　dangled　beneath　a　tall　elm；　swinging　slowly　by　the　neck；　as　naked　as　his　name　day。　The　other　Brave　panions　followed　one　by　one。　A　few　fought；　kicking　and　struggling　as　the　noose　was　tightened　round　their　throats。　One　of　the　crossbowmen　kept　shouting；　〃I　soldier；　I　soldier；〃　in　a　thick　Myrish　accent。　Another　offered　to　lead　his　captors　to　gold；　a　third　told　them　what　a　good　outlaw　he　would　make。　Each　was　stripped　and　bound　and　hanged　in　turn。　Tom　Sevenstrings　played　a　dirge　for　them　on　his　woodharp；　and　Thoros　implored　the　Lord　of　Light　to　roast　their　souls　until　the　end　of　time。
　A　mummer　tree；　Arya　thought　as　she　watched　them　dangle；　their　pale　skins　painted　a　sullen　red　by　the　flames　of　the　burning　septry。　Already　the　crows　were　ing；　appearing　out　of　nowhere。　She　heard　them　croaking　and　cackling　at　one　another；　and　wondered　what　they　were　saying。　Arya　had　not　feared　Septon　Utt　as　much　as　she　did　Rorge　and　Biter　and　some　of　the　others　still　at　Harrenhal；　but　she　was　glad　that　he　was　dead　all　the　same。　They　should　have　hanged　the　Hound　too；　or　chopped　his　head　off。　Instead；　to　her　disgust；　the　outlaws　had　treated　Sandor　Clegane's　burned　arm；　restored　his　sword　and　horse　and　armor；　and　set　him　free　a　few　miles　from　the　hollow　hill。　All　they'd　taken　was　his　gold。
　The　septry　soon　collapsed　in　a　roar　of　smoke　and　flame；　its　walls　no　longer　able　to　support　the　weight　of　its　heavy　slate　roof。　The　eight　brown　brothers　watched　with　resignation。　They　were　all　that　remained；　explained　the　eldest；　who　wore　a　small　iron　hammer　on　a　thong　about　his　neck　to　signify　his　devotion　to　the　Smith。　〃Before　the　war　we　were　four…and…forty；　and　this　was　a　prosperous　place。　We　had　a　dozen　milk　cows　and　a　bull；　a　hundred　beehives；　a　vineyard　and　an　apple　arbor。　But　when　the　lions　came　through　they　took　all　our　wine　and　milk　and　honey；　slaughtered　the　cows；　and　put　our　vineyard　to　the　torch。　After　that　。　。　。　I　have　lost　count　of　our　visitors。　This　false　septon　was　only　the　latest。　There　was　one　monster　。　。　。　we　gave　him　all　our　silver；　but　he　was　certain　we　were　hiding　gold；　so　his　men　killed　us　one　by　one　to　make　Elder　Brother　talk。〃
　〃How　did　the　eight　of　you　survive？〃　asked　Anguy　the　Archer。
　〃I　am　ashamed；〃　the　old　man　said。　〃It　was　me。　When　it　came　my　turn　to　die；　I　told　them　where　our　gold　was　hidden。〃
　〃Brother；〃　said　Thoros　of　Myr；　〃the　only　shame　was　not　telling　them　at　once。〃
　The　outlaws　sheltered　that　night　in　the　brewhouse　beside　the　little　river。　Their　hosts　had　a　cache　of　food　hidden　beneath　the　floor　of　the　stables；　so　they　shared　a　simple　supper；　oaten　bread；　onions；　and　a　watery　cabbage　soup　tasting　faintly　of　garlic。　Arya　found　a　slice　of　carrot　floating　in　her　bowl；　and　counted　herself　lucky。　The　brothers　never　asked　the　outlaws　for　names。　They　know；　Arya　thought。　How　could　they　not？　Lord　Beric　wore　the　lightning　bolt　on　breastplate；　shield；　and　cloak；　and　Thoros　his　red　robes；　or　what　remained　of　them。　One　brother；　a　young　novice；　was　bold　enough　to　tell　the　red　priest　not　to　pray　to　his　false　god　so　long　as　he　was　under　their　roof。　〃Bugger　that；〃　said　Lem　Lemoncloak。　〃He's　our　god　too；　and　you　owe　us　for　your　bloody　lives。　And　what's　false　about　him？　Might　be　your　Smith　can　mend　a　broken　sword；　but　can　he　heal　a　broken　man？〃
　〃Enough；　Lem；〃　Lord　Beric　manded。　〃Beneath　their　roof　we　will　honor　their　rules。〃
　〃The　sun　will　not　cease　to　shine　if　we　miss　a　prayer　or　two；〃　Thoros　agreed　mildly。　〃I　am　one　who　would　know。〃
　Lord　Beric　himself　did　not　eat。　Arya　had　never　seen　him　eat；　though　from　time　to　time　he　took　a　cup　of　wine。　He　did　not　seem　to　sleep；　either。　His　good　eye　would　often　close；　as　if　from　weariness；　but　when　you　spoke　to　him　it　would　flick　open　again　at　once。　The　Marcher　lord　was　still　clad　in　his　ratty　black　cloak　and　dented　breastplate　with　its　chipped　enamel　lightning。　He　even　slept　in　that　breastplate。　The　dull　black　steel　hid　the　terrible　wound　the　Hound　had　given　him；　the　same　way　his　thick　woolen　scarf　concealed　the　dark　ring　about　his　throat。　But　nothing　hid　his　broken　head；　all　caved　in　at　the　temple；　or　the　raw　red　pit　that　was　his　missing　eye；　or　the　shape　of　the　skull　beneath　his　face。
　Arya　looked　at　him　warily；　remembering　all　the　tales　told　of　him　in　Harrenhal。　Lord　Beric　seemed　to　sense　her　fear。　He　turned　his　head；　and　beckoned　her　closer。　〃Do　I　frighten　you；　child？〃
　〃No。〃　She　chewed　her　lip。　〃Only　。　。　。　well　。　。　。　I　thought　the　Hound　had　killed　you；　but　。　。　。〃
　〃A　wound；〃　said　Lem　Lemoncloak。　〃A　grievous　wound；　aye；　but　Thoros　healed　it。　There's　never　been　no　better　healer。〃
　Lord　Beric　gazed　at　Lem　with　a　queer　look　in　his　good　eye　and　no　look　at　all　in　the　other；　only　scars　and　dried　blood。　〃No　better　healer；〃　he　agreed　wearily。　〃Lem；　past　time　to　change　the　watch；　I'd　think。　See　to　it；　if　you'd　be　so　good。〃
　〃Aye；　m'lord。〃　Lem's　big　yellow　cloak　swirled　behind　him　as　he　strode　out　into　the　windy　night。
　〃Even　brave　men　blind　themselves　sometimes；　when　they　are　afraid　to　see；〃　Lord　Beric　said　when　Lem　was　gone。　〃Thoros；　how　many　times　have　you　brought　me　back　now？〃
　The　red　priest　bowed　his　head。　〃It　is　R'hllor　who　brings　you　back；　my　lord。　The　Lord　of　Light。　I　am　only　his　instrument。〃
　〃How　many　times？〃　Lord　Beric　insisted。
　〃Six；〃　Thoros　said　reluctantly。　〃And　each　time　is　harder。　You　have　grown　reckless；　my　lord。　Is　death　so　very　sweet？〃
　〃Sweet？　No；　my　friend。　Not　sweet。〃
　〃Then　do　not　court　it　so。　Lord　Tywin　leads　from　the　rear。　Lord　Stannis　as　well。　You　would　be　wise　to　do　the　same。　A　seventh　death　might　mean　the　end　of　both　of　us。〃
　Lord　Beric　touched　the　spot　above　his　left　ear　where　his　temple　was　caved　in。　〃Here　is　where　Ser　Burton　Crakehall　broke　helm　and　head　with　a　blow　of　his　mace。〃　He　unwound　his　scarf；　exposing　the　black　bruise　that　encircled　his　neck。　〃Here　the　mark　the　manticore　made　at　Rushing　Falls。　He　seized　a　poor　beekeeper　and　his　wife；　thinking　they　were　mine；　and　let　it　be　known　far　and　wide　that　he　would　h