rj.theshadowrising-第202部分

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d　the　panions　riding　with　that　banner　still。　This　time　he　did　not　see　the　missing　faces；　only　those　who　were　still　there。　Verin　and　Alanna　on　their　horses；　with　Tomas　and　Ihvon　riding　close　behind。　Old　Bili　Congar　waving　a　jug　that　surely　held　ale；　or　better　yet　brandy；　and　Cenn　Buie　as　gnarled　as　ever　if　bruised；　and　Jac　al'Seen　with　an　arm　around　his　wife；　and　his　sons　and　daughters　around　him　with　their　wives　and　husbands。　Raen　and　Ila；　still　with　the　babes　on　their　backs。　More。　Faces　he　did　not　know　at　all；　men　who　must　be　from　Deven　Ride　and　the　farms　down　there。　Boys　and　girls　running　among　them；　laughing。
　　　　　　　They　fanned　out　to　either　side；　forming　a　great　hollow　circle　with　the　Watch　Hill　men；　Faile　and　him　at　its　center。　Everyone　avoided　the　dying　Fades；　but　it　was　as　if　they　did　not　see　the　Shadowspawn　lying　everywhere；　only　the　pair　on　Stepper。　Silently　they　watched；　until　Perrin　began　to　feel　nervous。　Why　doesn't　somebody　say　something？　Why　are　they　staring　like　that？
　　　　　　　The　Whitecloaks　appeared；　riding　slowly　out　of　the　village　in　their　long　gleaming　column　of　fours；　Dain　Bornhald　at　their　head　with　Jaret　Byar。　Every　white　cloak　shone　as　though　freshly　laundered；　every　lance　slanted　at　precisely　the　same　angle。　Sullen　mutters　rose；　but　people　moved　aside　to　let　them　enter　the　circle。
　　　　　　　Bornhald　raised　a　gauntleted　hand；　halting　the　column　in　a　jingle　of　bridles　and　creak　of　saddles；　when　he　faced　Perrin。　〃It　is　done；　Shadowspawn。〃　Byar's　mouth　quivered　on　the　brink　of　a　snarl；　but　Bornhald's　face　never　changed；　his　voice　never　rose。　〃The　Trollocs　are　done　here。　As　we　agreed；　I　arrest　you　now　for　Darkfriend　and　murderer。〃
　　　　　　　〃No！〃　Faile　twisted　around　to　stare　up　at　Perrin；　eyes　angry。　〃What　does　he　mean；　as　you　agreed？〃
　　　　　　　Her　words　were　nearly　drowned　by　the　roar　from　every　side。　〃No！　No！〃　and　〃You　will　not　take　him！〃　and　〃Goldeneyes！〃
　　　　　　　Keeping　his　gaze　on　Bornhald；　Perrin　lifted　a　hand；　and　silence　descended　slowly。　When　all　was　quiet；　he　said；　〃I　said　I　would　not　resist；　if　you　aided。〃　Surprising；　how　calm　his　voice　was；　inside　he　seethed　with　a　slow；　cold　anger。　〃If　you　aided；　Whitecloak。　Where　were　you？〃　The　man　did　not　answer。
　　　　　　　Daise　Congar　stepped　out　from　the　encircling　throng　with　Wit；　who　clung　to　her　as　if　he　never　intended　to　let　go　of　her　again。　For　that　matter；　her　stout　arm　was　wrapped　around　Wit's　shoulders　in　much　the　same　fashion。　They　made　an　odd　picture　as　she　planted　her　pitchfork…polearm　firmly；　her　the　taller　by　a　head　and　holding　her　considerably　smaller　husband　as　though　she　meant　to　protect　him。　〃They　were　on　the　Green；〃　she　announced　loudly；　〃all　lined　up　and　sitting　their　horses　pretty　as　girls　ready　for　a　dance　at　Sunday。　They　never　stirred。　It　was　that　that　made　us　e。。。〃　A　fierce　murmur　of　agreement　rippled　from　the　women。　〃。　。　。　when　we　saw　you　were　about　to　be　overrun；　and　they　just　sat　there　like　bumps　on　a　log！〃
　　　　　　　Bornhald　did　not　take　his　eyes　from　Perrin　for　an　instant；　he　did　not　even　blink。　〃Did　you　think　I　would　trust　you？〃　he　sneered。　〃Your　plan　only　failed　because　these　others　arrived　…　yes？　…　and　you　can　claim　no　part　in　that。〃　Faile　shifted；　without　looking　away　from　the　man；　Perrin　laid　a　finger　across　her　lips　just　as　she　opened　her　mouth。　She　bit　him　…　hard　…　but　she　did　not　say　anything。　Bornhald's　voice　finally　began　to　rise。　〃I　will　see　you　hang；　Shadowspawn。　I　will　see　you　hang；　whatever　it　takes！　I　will　see　you　dead　if　the　world　burns！〃　The　last　came　as　a　shout。　Byar's　sword　slid　a　hand　of　bare　steel　from　its　scabbard；　a　massive　Whitecloak　behind　him　…　Farran；　Perrin　thought　his　name　was　…　drew　his　pletely；　with　a　pleased　smile　rather　than　Byar's　toothy　snarl。
　　　　　　　They　froze　as　quivers　rattled　to　arrows　being　drawn；　and　bows　came　up　all　around　the　circle；　fletchings　drawn　to　ear；　every　broadhead　shaft　pointed　at　a　Whitecloak。　Up　and　down　the　thick　column；　high…cantled　saddles　creaked　as　men　shifted　uneasily。　Bornhald　showed　no　sign　of　fear；　and　he　did　not　smell　of　it；　either；　his　scent　was　all　hate。　He　ran　almost　fevered　eyes　over　the　Two　Rivers　folk　encircling　his　men　and　returned　them　to　Perrin　just　as　hot　and　hate…filled。
　　　　　　　Perrin　motioned　downward；　and　tension　was　let　off　bowstrings　reluctantly；　bows　lowered　slowly。　〃You　would　not　help。〃　His　voice　was　cold　iron；　anvil…hard。　〃Since　you　came　to　the　Two　Rivers；　the　help　you've　given　has　been　almost　accidental。　You　never　really　cared　if　people　were　burned　out；　killed；　so　long　as　you　could　find　somebody　to　call　Darkfriend。〃　Bornhald　shivered；　though　his　eyes　still　burned。　〃It　is　time　for　you　to　go。　Not　just　from　Emond's　Field。　It　is　time　for　you　to　gather　up　your　Whitecloaks　and　leave　the　Two　Rivers。　Now；　Bornhald。　You　are　going　now。〃
　　　　　　　〃I　will　see　you　hang　one　day；〃　Bornhald　said　softly。　He　jerked　his　hand　for　the　column　to　follow　and　booted　his　horse　forward　as　if　he　meant　to　ride　Perrin　over。
　　　　　　　Perrin　moved　Stepper　aside；　he　wanted　these　men　gone；　not　more　killing。　Let　the　man　have　a　final　gesture　of　defiance。
　　　　　　　Bornhald　never　turned　his　head；　but　hollow…cheeked　Byar　stared　silent　hate　at　Perrin；　and　Farran　seemed　to　look　at　him　with　regret　for　some　reason。　The　others　kept　their　eyes　front　as　they　passed　in　a　jingle　of　tack　and　the　clop　of　hooves。　Silently　the　circle　opened　to　let　them　out；　heading　north。
　　　　　　　A　knot　of　ten　or　twelve　men　approached　Perrin　on　foot；　some　in　mismatched　bits　and　pieces　of　old　armor；　all　grinning　anxiously；　as　the　last　of　the　Whitecloaks　went　by。　He　did　not　recognize　any　of　them。　A　wide…nosed；　leathery…faced　fellow　seemed　to　be　their　leader；　his　white　hair　bare　but　a　rusty　mail　shirt　covering　him　to　the　knees；　though　the　collar　of　a　farmer's　coat　poked　up　around　his　neck。　He　bowed　awkwardly　over　his　bow。　〃Jerinvar　Barstere；　my　Lord　Perrin。　Jer；　they　call　me。〃　He　spoke　hurriedly；　as　if　afraid　of　being　interrupted。　〃Pardon　for　bothering　you。　Some　of　us　will　see　the　Whitecloaks　along；　if　that's　all　right　with　you。　A　good　many　want　to　get　on　home；　even　if　we　can't　get　there　before　dark。　There's　as　many　Whitecloaks　again　in　Watch　Hill；　but　they　would　not　e。　Had　orders　to　hold　fast；　they　said。　Bunch　of　fools；　if　you　ask　me；　and　we're　more　than　tired　of　having　them　around；　poking　their　noses　into　people's　houses　and　trying　to　make　you　accuse　your　neighbor　of　something。　We'll　see　them　off；　if　that's　all　right　with　you。〃　He　gave　Faile　an　abashed　look；　ducking　his　broad　chin；　but　the　flow　of　words　did　not　slow。　〃Pardon；　my　Lady　Faile。　Didn't　mean　to　bother　you　and　your　lord。　Just　wanted　to　let　him　know　we're　with　him。　A　fine　woman　you　have　there；　my　Lord。　A　fine　woman。　No　offense　meant；　my　Lady。　Well；　we've　daylight　still；　and　talk　shears　no　sheep。　Pardon　for　bothering　you；　my　Lord　Perrin。　Pardon；　my　Lady　Faile。〃　He　bowed　again；　imitated　by　the　others；　and　they　hurried　away　with　him　herding　them；　muttering　at　them；　〃No　time　for　us　to　be　bothering　the　lord　and　his　lady。　There's　work　to　do　yet。〃
　　　　　　　〃Who　was　that？〃　Perrin　said；　a　trifle　stunned　by　the　torrent；　Daise　and　Cenn　together　could　not　talk　that　much。　〃Do　you　know　him；　Faile？　From　Watch　Hill？〃
　　　　　　　〃Master　Barstere　is　the　Mayor　of　Watch　Hill；　and　the　others　are　the　Village　Council。　The　Watch　Hill　Women's　Circle　will　be　sending　a　delegation　down　under　their　Wisdom　once　they're　certain　it　is　safe。　To　see　if　'this　Lord　Perrin'　is　right　for　the　Two　Rivers；　they　say；　but　they　all　wanted　me　to　show　them　how　to　curtsy　to　you；　and　the　Wisdom；　Edelle　Gaelin；　is　bringing　you　some　of　her　dried…apple　tarts。〃
　　　　　　　〃Oh；　burn　me！〃　he　breathed。　It　was　spreading。　He　knew　he　should　have　stamped　it　down　hard　in　the　beginning。　〃Don't　call　me　that！〃　he　shouted　after　the　departing　men。　〃I'm　a　blacksmith！　Do　you　hear　me？　A　blacksmith！〃　Jer　Barstere　turned　to　wave　at　him　and　nod　before　hurrying　the　others　on。
　　　　　　　Chortling；　Faile　tugged　at　his　beard。　〃You　are　a　sweet　fool；　my　Lord　Blacksmith。　It　is　too　late　to　turn　back　now。〃　Suddenly　her　smile　became　truly　wicked。　〃Husband；　is　there　any　possibility　you　might　be　alone　with　your　wife　any　time　soon？　Marriage　seems　to　have　made　me　as　bold　as　a　Domani　gall！　I　know　you　must　be　tired；　but　…〃　She　cut　off　with　a　small　shriek　and　clung　to　his　coat　as　he　booted　Stepper　to　a　gallop　toward　the　Winespring　Inn。　For　once　the　cheers　that　followed　did　not　bother　him　at　all。
　　　　　　　〃Goldeneyes！　Lord　Perrin！　Goldeneyes！〃
　
　　　　　　　From　the　thick　branch　of　a　leafy　oak　on　the　edge　of　the　Westwood；　Ordeith　stared　at　Emond's　Field；　a　mile　to　the　south。　It　was　impossible。　Scourge　them。　Flay　them。　Everything　had　been　going　according　to　plan。　Even　Isam　had　played　into　his　hands。　Why　did　the　fool　stop　bringing　Trollocs？　He　should　have　brought　in　enough　to　turn　the　Two　Rivers　black　with　them！　Spittle　dripped　from　his　lips；　but　he　did　not　notice；　any　more　than　he　realized　that　his　hand　was　fumbling　at　his　belt。　Harry　them　till　their　hearts　burst！　Harrow　them　into　the　ground　screaming！　All　planned　to　pull　Rand　al'Thor　to　him；　and　it　came　to　this！　The　Two　Rivers　had　not　even　been　scratched。　A　few　farms　burned　did　not　count；　nor　a　few　farmers　butchered　alive　for　Trolloc　cookpots。　I　want　the　Two　Rivers　to　burn；　burn　so　the　fire　lives　in　men's　memories　for　a　thousand　years！
　　　　　　　He　studied　the　banner　waving　over　the　village；　and　the　one　not　that　far　below　him。　A　scarlet　wolfhead　on　scarlet…bordered　white；　and　a　red　eagle。　Red　for　the　blood　the　Two　Rivers　must　shed　to　make　Rand　al'Thor　howl。　Manetheren。　That's　meant　to　be　Manetheren's　banner。　Someone　had　told　them　of　Manetheren；　had　they？　What　did　these　fools　know　of　the　glories　of　Manetheren？　Manetheren。　Yes。　There　was　more　than　one　way　to　scourge　them。　He　laughed　so　hard　he　nearly　fell　out　of　the　oak　before　he　realized　that　he　was　not　holding　on　with　both　hands；　that　one　gripped　his　belt　where　a　dagger　should　have　hung。　The　laugh　twisted　into　a　snarl　as　he　stared　at　that　hand。　The　White　Tower　held　what　had　been　stolen　from　him。　What　was　his　by　right　as　old　as　the　Trolloc　Wars。
　　　　　　　He　let　himself　drop　to　the　ground；　and　scrambled　onto　his　horse　before　looking　at　his　panions。　His　hounds。　The　thirty　or　so　Whitecloaks　remaining　no　longer　wore　their　white　cloaks；　of　course。　Rust　spotted　their　dull　plate…and…mail；　an