grrm.astormofswords-第106部分

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　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　hang　them　both　unless　I　gave　myself　up　to　him。　When　I　did　he　hanged　them　anyway；　and　me　on　the　gibbet　between　them。〃　He　lifted　a　finger　to　the　raw　red　pit　of　his　eye。　〃Here　is　where　the　Mountain　thrust　his　dirk　through　my　visor。〃　A　weary　smile　brushed　his　lips。　〃That's　thrice　I　have　died　at　the　hands　of　House　Clegane。　You　would　think　that　I　might　have　learned　。　。　。〃
　It　was　a　jest；　Arya　knew；　but　Thoros　did　not　laugh。　He　put　a　hand　on　Lord　Beric's　shoulder。　〃Best　not　to　dwell　on　it。〃
　〃Can　I　dwell　on　what　I　scarce　remember？　I　held　a　castle　on　the　Marches　once；　and　there　was　a　woman　I　was　pledged　to　marry；　but　I　could　not　find　that　castle　today；　nor　tell　you　the　color　of　that　woman's　hair。　Who　knighted　me；　old　friend？　What　were　my　favorite　foods？　It　all　fades。　Sometimes　I　think　I　was　born　on　the　bloody　grass　in　that　grove　of　ash；　with　the　taste　of　fire　in　my　mouth　and　a　hole　in　my　chest。　Are　you　my　mother；　Thoros？〃
　Arya　stared　at　the　Myrish　priest；　all　shaggy　hair　and　pink　rags　and　bits　of　old　armor。　Grey　stubble　covered　his　cheeks　and　the　sagging　skin　beneath　his　chin。　He　did　not　look　much　like　the　wizards　in　Old　Nan's　stories；　but　even　so　。　。　。
　〃Could　you　bring　back　a　man　without　a　head？〃　Arya　asked。　〃Just　the　once；　not　six　times。　Could　you？〃
　〃I　have　no　magic；　child。　Only　prayers。　That　first　time；　his　lordship　had　a　hole　right　through　him　and　blood　in　his　mouth；　I　knew　there　was　no　hope。　So　when　his　poor　torn　chest　stopped　moving；　I　gave　him　the　good　god's　own　kiss　to　send　him　on　his　way。　I　filled　my　mouth　with　fire　and　breathed　the　flames　inside　him；　down　his　throat　to　lungs　and　heart　and　soul。　The　last　kiss　it　is　called；　and　many　a　time　I　saw　the　old　priests　bestow　it　on　the　Lord's　servants　as　they　died。　I　had　given　it　a　time　or　two　myself；　as　all　priests　must。　But　never　before　had　I　felt　a　dead　man　shudder　as　the　fire　filled　him；　nor　seen　his　eyes　e　open。　It　was　not　me　who　raised　him；　my　lady。　It　was　the　Lord。　R'hllor　is　not　done　with　him　yet。　Life　is　warmth；　and　warmth　is　fire；　and　fire　is　God's　and　God's　alone。〃
　Arya　felt　tears　well　in　her　eyes。　Thoros　used　a　lot　of　words；　but　all　they　meant　was　no；　that　much　she　understood。
　〃Your　father　was　a　good　man；〃　Lord　Beric　said。　〃Harwin　has　told　me　much　of　him。　For　his　sake；　I　would　gladly　forgo　your　ransom；　but　we　need　the　gold　too　desperately。〃
　She　chewed　her　lip。　That's　true；　I　guess。　He　had　given　the　Hound's　gold　to　Greenbeard　and　the　Huntsman　to　buy　provisions　south　of　the　Mander；　she　knew。　〃The　last　harvest　burned；　this　one　is　drowning；　and　winter　will　soon　be　on　us；〃　she　had　heard　him　say　when　he　sent　them　off。　〃The　smallfolk　need　grain　and　seed；　and　we　need　blades　and　horses。　Too　many　of　my　men　ride　rounseys；　drays；　and　mules　against　foes　mounted　on　coursers　and　destriers。〃
　Arya　didn't　know　how　much　Robb　would　pay　for　her；　though。　He　was　a　king　now；　not　the　boy　she'd　left　at　Winterfell　with　snow　melting　in　his　hair。　And　if　he　knew　the　things　she'd　done；　the　stableboy　and　the　guard　at　Harrenhal　and　all　〃What　if　my　brother　doesn't　want　to　ransom　me？〃
　〃Why　would　you　think　that？〃　asked　Lord　Beric。
　〃Well；〃　Arya　said；　〃my　hair's　messy　and　my　nails　are　dirty　and　my　feet　are　all　hard。〃　Robb　wouldn't　care　about　that；　probably；　but　her　mother　would。　Lady　Catelyn　always　wanted　her　to　be　like　Sansa；　to　sing　and　dance　and　sew　and　mind　her　courtesies。　just　thinking　of　it　made　Arya　try　to　b　her　hair　with　her　fingers；　but　it　was　all　tangles　and　mats；　and　all　she　did　was　tear　some　out。　〃I　ruined　that　gown　that　Lady　Smallwood　gave　me；　and　I　don't　sew　so　good。〃　She　chewed　her　lip。　〃I　don't　sew　very　well；　I　mean。　Septa　Mordane　used　to　say　I　had　a　blacksmith's　hands。〃
　Gendry　hooted。　〃Those　soft　little　things？〃　he　called　out。　〃You　couldn't　even　hold　a　hammer。〃
　〃I　could　if　I　wanted！〃　she　snapped　at　him。
　Thoros　chuckled。　〃Your　brother　will　pay；　child。　Have　no　fear　on　that　count。〃
　〃Yes；　but　what　if　he　won't？〃　she　insisted。
　Lord　Beric　sighed。　〃Then　I　will　send　you　to　Lady　Smallwood　for　a　time；　or　perhaps　to　mine　own　castle　of　Blackhaven。　But　that