grrm.astormofswords-第173章

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！


ith　them！〃　Roslin　had　gone　white。　Catelyn　wondered　whether　it　was　the　prospect　of　losing　her　maidenhead　that　frightened　the　girl；　or　the　bedding　itself。　With　so　many　siblings；　she　was　not　like　to　be　a　stranger　to　the　custom；　but　it　was　different　when　you　were　the　one　being　bedded。　On　Catelyn's　own　wedding　night；　Jory　Cassell　had　torn　her　gown　in　his　haste　to　get　her　out　of　it；　and　drunken　Desmond　Grell　kept　apologizing　for　every　bawdy　joke；　only　to　make　another。　When　Lord　Dustin　had　beheld　her　naked；　he'd　told　Ned　that　her　breasts　were　enough　to　make　him　wish　he'd　never　been　weaned。　Poor　man；　she　thought。　He　had　ridden　south　with　Ned；　never　to　return。　Catelyn　wondered　how　many　of　the　men　here　tonight　would　be　dead　before　the　year　was　done。　Too　many；　I　fear。
　Robb　raised　a　hand。　〃if　you　think　the　time　is　meet；　Lord　Walder；　by　all　means　let　us　bed　them。〃
　A　roar　of　approval　greeted　his　pronouncement。　Up　in　the　gallery　the　musicians　took　up　their　pipes　and　horns　and　fiddles　again；　and　began　to　play　〃The　Queen　Took　Off　Her　Sandal；　the　King　Took　Off　His　Crown。〃　Jinglebell。　hopped　from　foot　to　foot；　his　own　crown　ringing。　〃I　hear　Tully　men　have　trout　between　their　legs　instead　of　cocks；〃　Alyx　Frey　called　out　boldly。　〃Does　it　take　a　worm　to　make　them　rise？〃　To　which　Ser　Marq　Piper　threw　back；　〃I　hear　that　Frey　women　have　two　gates　in　place　of　one！〃　and　Alyx　said；　〃Aye；　but　both　are　closed　and　barred　to　little　things　like　you！〃　A　gust　of　laughter　followed；　until　Patrek　Mallister　climbed　up　onto　a　table　to　propose　a　toast　to　Edmure's　one…eyed　fish。　〃And　a　mighty　pike　it　is！〃　he　proclaimed。　〃Nay；　I'll　wager　it's　a　minnow；〃　Fat　Walda　Bolton　shouted　out　from　Catelyn's　side。　Then　the　general　cry　of　〃Bed　them！　Bed　them！〃　went　up　again。
　The　guests　swarmed　the　dais；　the　drunkest　in　the　forefront　as　ever。　The　men　and　boys　surrounded　Roslin　and　lifted　her　into　the　air　whilst　the　maids　and　mothers　in　the　hall　pulled　Edmure　to　his　feet　and　began　tugging　at　his　clothing。　He　was　laughing　and　shouting　bawdy　jokes　back　at　them；　though　the　music　was　too　loud　for　Catelyn　to　hear。　She　heard　the　Greatjon；　though。　〃Give　this　little　bride　to　me；〃　he　bellowed　as　he　shoved　through　the　other　men　and　threw　Roslin　over　one　shoulder。　〃Look　at　this　little　thing！　No　meat　on　her　at　all！〃
　Catelyn　felt　sorry　for　the　girl。　Most　brides　tried　to　return　the　banter；　or　at　least　pretended　to　enjoy　it；　but　Roslin　was　stiff　with　terror；　clutching　the　Greatjon　as　if　she　feared　he　might　drop　her。　She's　crying　too；　Catelyn　realized　as　she　watched　Ser　Marq　Piper　pull　off　one　of　the　bride's　shoes。　I　hope　Edmure　is　gentle　with　the　poor　child。　jolly；　bawdy　music　still　poured　down　from　the　gallery；　the　queen　was　taking　off　her　kirtle　now；　and　the　king　his　tunic。
　She　knew　she　should　join　the　throng　of　women　round　her　brother；　but　she　would　only　ruin　their　fun。　The　last　thing　she　felt　just　now　was　bawdy。　Edmure　would　forgive　her　absence；　she　did　not　doubt；　much　jollier　to　be　stripped　and　bedded　by　a　score　of　lusty；　laughing　Freys　than　by　a　sour；　stricken　sister。
　As　man　and　maid　were　carried　from　the　hall；　a　trail　of　clothing　behind　them；　Catelyn　saw　that　Robb　had　also　remained。　Walder　Frey　was　prickly　enough　to　see　some　insult　to　his　daughter　in　that。　He　should　join　in　Roslin's　bedding；　but　is　it　my　place　to　tell　him　so？　She　tensed；　until　she　saw　that　others　had　stayed　as　well。　Petyr　Pimple　and　Ser　Whalen　Frey　slept　on；　their　heads　on　the　table。　Merrett　Frey　poured　himself　another　cup　of　wine；　while　Jinglebell　wandered　about　stealing　bites　off　the　plates　of　those　who'd　left。　Ser　Wendel　Manderly　was　lustily　attacking　a　leg　of　lamb。　And　of　course　Lord　Walder　was　far　too　feeble　to　leave　his　seat　without　help。　He　will　expect　Robb　to　go；　though。　She　could　almost　hear　the　old　man　asking　why　His　Grace　did　not　want　to　see　his　daughter　naked。　The　drums　were　pounding　again；　pounding　and　pounding　and　pounding。
　Dacey　Mormont；　who　seemed　to　be　the　only　woman　left　in　the　hall　besides　Catelyn；　stepped　up　behind　Edwyn　Frey；　and　touched　him　lightly　on　the　arm　as　she　said　something　in　his　ear。　Edwyn　wrenched　himself　away　from　her　with　unseemly　violence。　〃No；〃　he　said；　too　loudly。　〃I'm　done　with　dancing　for　the　nonce。〃　Dacey　paled　and　turned　away。　Catelyn　got　slowly　to　her　feet。　What　just　happened　there？　Doubt　gripped　her　heart；　where　an　instant　before　had　been　only　weariness。　It　is　nothing；　she　tried　to　tell　herself；　you　are　seeing　grumkins　in　the　woodpile；　you　are　bee　an　old　silly　woman　sick　with　grief　and　fear。　But　something　must　have　shown　on　her　face。　Even　Ser　Wendel　Manderly　took　note。　〃Is　something　amiss？〃　he　asked；　the　leg　of　lamb　in　his　hands。
　She　did　not　answer　him。　Instead　she　went　after　Edwyn　Frey。　The　players　in　the　gallery　had　finally　gotten　both　king　and　queen　down　to　their　name…day　suits。　With　scarcely　a　moment's　respite；　they　began　to　play　a　very　different　sort　of　song。　No　one　sang　the　words；　but　Catelyn　knew　〃The　Rains　of　Castamere〃　when　she　heard　it。　Edwyn　was　hurrying　toward　a　door。　She　hurried　faster；　driven　by　the　music。　Six　quick　strides　and　she　caught　him。　And　who　are　you；　the　proud　lord　said；　that　I　must　bow　so　low？　She　grabbed　Edwyn　by　the　arm　to　turn　him　and　went　cold　all　over　when　she　felt　the　iron　rings　beneath　his　silken　sleeve。
　Catelyn　slapped　him　so　hard　she　broke　his　lip。　Olyvar；　she　thought；　and　Perwyn；　Alesander；　all　absent。　And　Roslin　wept　。　。　。
　Edwyn　Frey　shoved　her　aside。　The　music　drowned　all　other　sound；　echoing　off　the　walls　as　if　the　stones　themselves　were　playing。　Robb　gave　Edwyn　an　angry　look　and　moved　to　block　his　way　。　。　。　and　staggered　suddenly　as　a　quarrel　sprouted　from　his　side；　just　beneath　the　shoulder。　if　he　screamed　then；　the　sound　was　swallowed　by　the　pipes　and　horns　and　fiddles。　Catelyn　saw　a　second　bolt　pierce　his　leg；　saw　him　fall。　Up　in　the　gallery；　half　the　musicians　had　crossbows　in　their　hands　instead　of　drums　or　lutes。　She　ran　toward　her　son；　until　something　punched　in　the　small　of　the　back　and　the　hard　stone　floor　came　up　to　slap　her。　〃Robb！〃　she　screamed。　She　saw　Smalljon　Umber　wrestle　a　table　off　its　trestles。　Crossbow　bolts　thudded　into　the　wood；　one　two　three；　as　he　flung　it　down　on　top　of　his　king。　Robin　Flint　was　ringed　by　Freys；　their　daggers　rising　and　falling。　Ser　Wendel　Manderly　rose　ponderously　to　his　feet；　holding　his　leg　of　lamb。　A　quarrel　went　in　his　open　mouth　and　came　out　the　back　of　his　neck。　Ser　Wendel　crashed　forward；　knocking　the　table　off　its　trestles　and　sending　cups；　flagons；　trenchers；　platters；　turnips；　beets；　and　wine　bouncing；　spilling；　and　sliding　across　the　floor。
　Catelyn's　back　was　on　fire。　I　have　to　reach　him。　The　Smalljon　bludgeoned　Ser　Raymund　Frey　across　the　face　with　a　leg　of　mutton。　But　when　he　reached　for　his　swordbelt　a　crossbow　bolt　drove　him　to　his　knees。　In　a　coat　of　gold　or　a　coat　of　red；　a　lion　still　has　claws。　She　saw　Lucas　Blackwood　cut　down　by　Ser　Hosteen　Frey。　One　of　the　Vances　was　hamstrung　by　Black　Walder　as　he　was　wrestling　with　Ser　Harys　Haigh。　And　mine　are　long　and　sharp；　my　lord；　as　long　and　sharp　as　yours。　The　crossbows　took　Donnel　Locke；　Owen　Norrey；　and　half　a　dozen　more。　Young　Ser　Benfrey　had　seized　Dacey　Mormont　by　the　arm；　but　Catelyn　saw　her　grab　up　a　flagon　of　wine　with　her　other　hand；　smash　it　full　in　his　face；　and　run　for　the　door。　It　flew　open　before　she　reached　it。　Ser　Ryman　Frey　pushed　into　the　hall；　clad　in　steel　from　helm　to　heel。　A　dozen　Frey　men…at…arms　packed　the　door　behind　him。　They　were　armed　with　heavy　longaxes。
　〃Mercy！〃　Catelyn　cried；　but　horns　and　drums　and　the　clash　of　steel　smothered　her　plea。　Ser　Ryman　buried　the　head　of　his　axe　in　Dacey's　stomach。　By　then　men　were　pouring　in　the　other　doors　as　well；　mailed　men　in　shaggy　fur　cloaks　with　steel　in　their　hands。　Northmen！　She　took　them　for　rescue　for　half　a　heartbeat；　till　one　of　them　struck　the　Smalljon's　head　off　with　two　huge　blows　of　his　axe。　Hope　blew　out　like　a　candle　in　a　storm。
　In　the　midst　of　slaughter；　the　Lord　of　the　Crossing　sat　on　his　carved　oaken　throne；　watching　greedily。
　There　was　a　dagger　on　the　floor　a　few　feet　away。　Perhaps　it　had　skittered　there　when　the　Smalljon　knocked　the　table　off　its　trestles；　or　perhaps　it　had　fallen　from　the　hand　of　some　dying　man。　Catelyn　cr