grrm.astormofswords-第200章

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ights　and　retainers；　a　huge　wheelhouse；　and　a　baggage　train。　No　doubt　some　diligent　servant　had　made　certain　that　the　king's　weapons　went　with　him；　in　case　he　should　desire　any　of　them。
　The　blade　Joff　chose　was　nice　and　plain。　No　goldwork；　no　jewels　in　the　hilt；　no　silver　inlay　on　the　blade。　King　Robert　never　wore　it；　had　likely　forgotten　he　owned　it。　Yet　the　Valyrian　steel　was　deadly　sharp　。　。　。　sharp　enough　to　slice　through　skin；　flesh；　and　muscle　in　one　quick　stroke。　I　am　no　stranger　to　Valyrian　steel。　But　he　had　been；　hadn't　he？　Else　he　would　never　have　been　so　foolish　as　to　pick　Littlefinger's　knife。
　The　why　of　it　still　eluded　him。　Simple　cruelty；　perhaps？　His　nephew　had　that　in　abundance。　It　was　all　Tyrion　could　do　not　to　retch　up　all　the　wine　he'd　drunk；　piss　in　his　breeches；　or　both。　He　squirmed　unfortably。　He　ought　to　have　held　his　tongue　at　breakfast。　The　boy　knows　I　know　now　My　big　mouth　will　be　the　death　of　me；　I　swear　it。
　The　seven　vows　were　made；　the　seven　blessings　invoked；　and　the　seven　promises　exchanged。　When　the　wedding　song　had　been　sung　and　the　challenge　had　gone　unanswered；　it　was　time　for　the　exchange　of　cloaks。　Tyrion　shifted　his　weight　from　one　stunted　leg　to　the　other；　trying　to　see　between　his　father　and　his　uncle　Kevan。　If　the　gods　are　just；　loff　will　make　a　hash　of　this。　He　made　certain　not　to　look　at　Sansa；　lest　his　bitterness　show　in　his　eyes。　You　might　have　knelt；　damn　you。　Would　it　have　been　so　bloody　hard　to　bend　those　stiff　Stark　knees　of　yours　and　let　me　keep　a　little　dignity？
　Mace　Tyrell　removed　his　daughter's　maiden　cloak　tenderly；　while　Joffrey　accepted　the　folded　bride's　cloak　from　his　brother　Tornmen　and　shook　it　out　with　a　flourish。　The　boy　king　was　as　tall　at　thirteen　as　his　bride　was　at　sixteen；　he　would　not　require　a　fool's　back　to　climb　upon。　He　draped　Margaery　in　the　crimson…and…gold　and　leaned　close　to　fasten　it　at　her　throat。　And　that　easily　she　passed　from　her　father's　protection　to　her　husband's。　But　who　will　protect　her　from　loff？　Tyrion　glanced　at　the　Knight　of　Flowers；　standing　with　the　other　Kingsguard。　You　had　best　keep　your　sword　well　honed；　Ser　Loras。
　〃With　this　kiss　I　pledge　my　love！　〃　Joffrey　declared　in　ringing　tones。　When　Margaery　echoed　the　words　he　pulled　her　close　and　kissed　her　long　and　deep。　Rainbow　lights　danced　once　more　about　the　High　Septon's　crown　as　he　solemnly　declared　Joffrey　of　the　Houses　Baratheon　and　Lannister　and　Margaery　of　House　Tyrell　to　be　one　flesh；　one　heart；　one　soul。
　Good；　that's　done　with。　Now　let's　get　back　to　the　bloody　castle　so　I　can　have　a　piss。
　Ser　Loras　and　Ser　Meryn　led　the　procession　from　the　sept　in　their　white　scale　armor　and　snowy　cloaks。　Then　came　Prince　Tommen；　scattering　rose　petals　from　a　basket　before　the　king　and　queen。　After　the　royal　couple　followed　Queen　Cersei　and　Lord　Tyrell；　then　the　bride's　mother　arm…in…arm　with　Lord　Tywin。　The　Queen　of　Thorns　tottered　after　them　with　one　hand　on　Ser　Kevan　Lannister's　arm　and　the　other　on　her　cane；　her　twin　guardsmen　close　behind　her　in　case　she　fell。　Next　came　Ser　Garlan　Tyrell　and　his　lady　wife；　and　finally　it　was　their　turn。
　〃My　lady。〃　Tyrion　offered　Sansa　his　arm。　She　took　it　dutifully；　but　he　could　feel　her　stiffness　as　they　walked　up　the　aisle　together。　She　never　once　looked　down　at　him。
　He　heard　them　cheering　outside　even　before　he　reached　the　doors。　The　mob　loved　Margaery　so　much　they　were　even　willing　to　love　Joffrey　again。　She　had　belonged　to　Renly；　the　handsome　young　prince　who　had　loved　them　so　well　he　had　e　back　from　beyond　the　grave　to　save　them。　And　the　bounty　of　Highgarden　had　e　with　her；　flowing　up　the　roseroad　from　the　south。　The　fools　didn't　seem　to　remember　that　it　had　been　Mace　Tyrell　who　closed　the　roseroad　to　begin　with；　and　made　the　bloody　famine。
　They　stepped　out　into　the　crisp　autumn　air。　〃I　feared　we'd　never　escape；〃　Tyrion　quipped。
　Sansa　had　no　choice　but　to　look　at　him　then。　〃I　。　。　。　yes；　my　lord。　As　you　say。〃　She　looked　sad。　〃it　was　such　a　beautiful　ceremony；　though。〃
　As　ours　was　not。　〃It　was　long；　I'll　say　that　much。　I　need　to　return　to　the　castle　for　a　good　piss。〃　Tyrion　rubbed　the　stump　of　his　nose。　〃Would　that　I'd　contrived　some　mission　to　take　me　out　of　the　city。　Littlefinger　was　the　clever　one。〃
　Joffrey　and　Margaery　stood　surrounded　by　Kingsguard　atop　the　steps　that　fronted　on　the　broad　marble　plaza。　Ser　Addam　and　his　gold　cloaks　held　back　the　crowd；　while　the　statue　of　King　Baelor　the　Blessed　gazed　down　on　them　benevolently。　Tyrion　had　no　choice　but　to　queue　up　with　the　rest　to　offer　congratulations。　He　kissed　Margaery's　fingers　and　wished　her　every　happiness。　Thankfully；　there　were　others　behind　them　waiting　their　turn；　so　they　did　not　need　to　linger　long。
　Their　litter　had　been　sitting　in　the　sun；　and　it　was　very　warm　inside　the　curtains。　As　they　lurched　into　motion；　Tyrion　reclined　on　an　elbow　while　Sansa　sat　staring　at　her　hands。　She　is　just　as　ely　as　the　Tyrell　girl。　Her　hair　was　a　rich　autumn　auburn；　her　eyes　a　deep　Tully　blue。　Grief　had　given　her　a　haunted；　vulnerable　look；　if　anything；　it　had　only　made　her　more　beautiful。　He　wanted　to　reach　her；　to　break　through　the　armor　of　her　courtesy。　Was　that　what　made　him　speak？　Or　just　the　need　to　distract　himself　from　the　fullness　in　his　bladder？
　〃I　had　been　thinking　that　when　the　roads　are　safe　again；　we　might　journey　to　Casterly　Rock。〃　Far　from　Joffrey　and　my　sister。　The　more　he　thought　about　what　Joff　had　done　to　Lives　of　Four　Kings；　the　more　it　troubled　him。　There　was　a　message　there；　oh　yes。　〃It　would　please　me　to　show　you　the　Golden　Gallery　and　the　Lion's　Mouth；　and　the　Hall　of　Heroes　where　Jaime　and　I　played　as　boys。　You　can　hear　thunder　from　below　where　the　sea　es　in　。　。　。〃
　She　raised　her　head　slowly。　He　knew　what　she　was　seeing；　the　swollen　brutish　brow；　the　raw　stump　of　his　nose；　his　crooked　pink　scar　and　mismatched　eyes。　Her　own　eyes　were　big　and　blue　and　empty。　〃I　shall　go　wherever　my　lord　husband　wishes。〃
　〃I　had　hoped　it　might　please　you；　my　lady。〃
　〃It　will　please　me　to　please　my　lord。〃
　His　mouth　tightened。　What　a　pathetic　little　man　you　are。　Did　you　think　babbling　about　the　Lion's　Mouth　would　make　her　smile？　When　have　you　ever　made　a　woman　smile　but　with　gold？　〃No；　it　was　a　foolish　notion。　Only　a　Lannister　can　love　the　Rock。〃
　〃Yes；　my　lord。　As　you　wish。〃
　Tyrion　could　hear　the　mons　shouting　out　King　Joffrey's　name。　In　three　years　that　cruel　boy　will　be　a　man；　ruling　in　his　own　right　。　。　。　and　every　dwarf　with　half　his　wits　will　be　a　long　way　from　King's　Landing。　Oldtown；　perhaps。　Or　even　the　Free　Cities。　He　had　always　had　a　yen　to　see　the　Titan　of　Braavos。　Perhaps　that　would　please　Sansa。　Gently；　he　spoke　of　Braavos；　and　met　a　wall　of　sullen　courtesy　as　icy　and　unyielding　as　the　Wall　he　had　walked　once　in　the　north。　It　made　him　weary。　Then　and　now。
　They　passed　the　rest　of　the　journey　in　silence。　After　a　while；　Tyrion　found　himself　hoping　that　Sansa　would　say　something；　anything；　the　merest　word；　but　she　never　spoke。　When　the　litter　halted　in　the　castle　yard；　he　let　one　of　the　grooms　help　her　down。　〃We　will　be　expected　at　the　feast　an　hour　hence；　my　lady。　I　will　join　you　shortly。〃　He　walked　off　stiff…legged。　Across　the　yard；　he　could　hear　Margaery's　breathless　laugh　as　Joffrey　swept　her　from　the　saddle。　The　boy　will　be　as　tall　and　strong　as　Jaime　one　day；　he　thought；　and　IT　stifl　be　a　dwarf　beneath　his　feet。　And　one　day　he's　like　to　make　me　even　shorter　。　。　。
　He　found　a　privy　and　sighed　gratefully　as　he　relieved　himself　of　the　morning's　wine。　There　were　times　when　a　piss　felt　near　as　good　as　a　woman；　and　this　was　one。　He　wished　he　could　relieve　himself　of　his　doubts　and　guilts　half　as　easily。
　Podrick　Payne　was　waiting　outside　his　chambers。　〃I　laid　out　your　new　doublet。　Not　here。　On　your　bed。　in　the　bedchamber。〃
　〃Yes；　that's　where　we　keep　the　bed。〃　Sansa　would　be　in　there；　dressing　for　the　feast。　Shae　as　well。　〃Wine；　Pod。〃
　Tyrion　drank　it　in　his　window　seat；　brooding　over　the　chaos　of　the　kitchens　below。　The　sun　had　not　yet　touched　the　top　of　the　castle　wall；　but　he　could　smell　breads　baking　and　meats　roasting。　The　guests　would　soon　be　pouring　into　the　throne　room；　full　of　anticipation；　this　would　be　an　evening　of　son