grrm.astormofswords-第215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！


e。　They　must　take　the　gate；　or　they　cannot　pass。
　But　the　gate　was　a　crooked　tunnel　through　the　ice；　smaller　than　any　castle　gate　in　the　Seven　Kingdoms；　so　narrow　that　rangers　must　lead　their　garrons　through　single　file。　Three　iron　grates　closed　the　inner　passage；　each　locked　and　chained　and　protected　by　a　murder　hole。　The　outer　door　was　old　oak；　nine　inches　thick　and　studded　with　iron；　not　easy　to　break　through。　But　Mance　has　mammoths；　he　reminded　himself；　and　giants　as　well。
　〃Must　be　cold　down　there；〃　said　Noye。　〃What　say　we　warm　them　up；　lads？〃　A　dozen　jars　of　lamp　oil　had　been　lined　up　on　the　precipice。　PyP　ran　down　the　line　with　a　torch；　setting　them　alight。　Owen　the　Oaf　followed；　shoving　them　over　the　edge　one　by　one。　Tongues　of　pale　yellow　fire　swirled　around　the　jars　as　they　plunged　downward。　When　the　last　was　gone；　Grenn　kicked　loose　the　chocks　on　a　barrel　of　pitch　and　sent　it　rumbling　and　rolling　over　the　edge　as　well。　The　sounds　below　changed　to　shouts　and　screams；　sweet　music　to　their　ears。
　Yet　still　the　drums　beat　on；　the　trebuchets　shuddered　and　thumped；　and　the　sound　of　skinpipes　came　wafting　through　the　night　like　the　songs　of　strange　fierce　birds。　Septon　Cellador　began　to　sing　as　well；　his　voice　tremulous　and　thick　with　wine。
　Gentle　Mother；　font　of　mercy；　save　our　sons　from　war；　we　pray；　stay　the　swords　and　stay　the　arrows；　let　them　know　。　。　。
　Donal　Noye　rounded　on　him。　〃Any　man　here　stays　his　sword；　I'll　chuck　his　puckered　arse　right　off　this　Wall　。　。　。　starting　with　you；　Septon。　Archers！　Do　we　have　any　bloody　archers？〃
　〃Here；〃　said　Satin。
　〃And　here；〃　said　Mully。　〃But　how　can　I　find　a　target？　It's　black　as　the　inside　of　a　pig's　belly。　Where　are　they？〃
　Noye　pointed　north。　〃Loose　enough　arrows；　might　be　you'll　find　a　few。　At　least　you'll　make　them　fretful。〃　He　looked　around　the　ring　of　firelit　faces。　〃I　need　two　bows　and　two　spears　to　help　me　hold　the　tunnel　if　they　break　the　gate。〃　More　than　ten　stepped　forward；　and　the　smith　picked　his　four。　〃Jon；　you　have　the　Wall　till　I　return。〃
　For　a　moment　Jon　thought　he　had　misheard。　It　had　sounded　as　if　Noye　were　leaving　him　in　mand。　〃My　lord？〃
　〃Lord？　I'm　a　blacksmith。　I　said；　the　Wall　is　yours。〃
　There　are　older　men；　Jon　wanted　to　say；　better　men。　I　am　still　as　green　as　summer　grass。　I'm　wounded；　and　I　stand　accused　of　desertion。　His　mouth　had　gone　bone　dry。　〃Aye；〃　he　managed。
　Afterward　it　would　seem　to　Jon　Snow　as　if　he'd　dreamt　that　night。　Side　by　side　with　the　straw　soldiers；　with　longbows　or　crossbows　clutched　in　half…frozen　hands；　his　archers　launched　a　hundred　flights　of　arrows　against　men　they　never　saw。　From　time　to　time　a　wildling　arrow　came　flying　back　in　answer。　He　sent　men　to　the　smaller　catapults　and　filled　the　air　with　jagged　rocks　the　size　of　a　giant's　fist；　but　the　darkness　swallowed　them　as　a　man　might　swallow　a　handful　of　nuts。　Mammoths　trumpeted　in　the　gloom；　strange　voices　called　out　in　stranger　tongues；　and　Septon　Cellador　prayed　so　loudly　and　drunkenly　for　the　dawn　to　e　that　Jon　was　tempted　to　chuck　him　over　the　edge　himself。　They　heard　a　mammoth　dying　at　their　feet　and　saw　another　lurch　burning　through　the　woods；　trampling　down　men　and　trees　alike。　The　wind　blew　cold　and　colder。　Hobb　rode　up　the　chain　with　cups　of　onion　broth；　and　Owen　and　Clydas　served　them　to　the　archers　where　they　stood；　so　they　could　gulp　them　down　between　arrows。　Zei　took　a　place　among　them　with　her　crossbow。　Hours　of　repeated　jars　and　shocks　knocked　something　loose　on　the　right…hand　trebuchet；　and　its　counterweight　came　crashing　free；　suddenly　and　catastrophically；　wrenching　the　throwing　arm　sideways　with　a　splintering　crash。　The　left…hand　trebuchet　kept　throwing；　but　the　wildlings　had　quickly　learned　to　shun　the　place　where　its　loads　were　landing。
　We　should　have　twenty　trebuchets；　not　two；　and　they　should　be　mounted　on　sledges　and　turntables　so　we　could　move　them。　It　was　a　futile　thought。　He　might　as　well　wish　for　another　thousand　men；　and　maybe　a　dragon　or　three。
　Donal　Noye　did　not　return；　nor　any　of　them　who'd　gone　down　with　him　to　hold　that　black　cold　tunnel。　The　Wall　is　mine；　Jon　reminded　himself　whenever　he　felt　his　strength　flagging。　He　had　taken　up　a　longbow　himself；　and　his　fingers　felt　crabbed　and　stiff；　half…frozen。　His　fever　was　back　as　well；　and　his　leg　would　tremble　uncontrollably；　sending　a　white…hot　knife　of　pain　right　through　him。　One　more　arrow；　and　I'll　rest；　he　told　himself；　half　a　hundred　times。　Just　one　more。　Whenever　his　quiver　was　empty；　one　of　the　orphaned　moles　would　bring　him　another。　One　more　quiver；　and　I'm　done。　It　couldn't　be　long　until　the　dawn。
　When　morning　came；　none　of　them　quite　realized　it　at　first。　The　world　was　still　dark；　but　the　black　had　turned　to　grey　and　shapes　were　beginning　to　emerge　half　…seen　from　the　gloom。　Jon　lowered　his　bow　to　stare　at　the　mass　of　heavy　clouds　that　covered　the　eastern　sky。　He　could　see　a　glow　behind　them；　but　perhaps　he　was　only　dreaming。　He　notched　another　arrow。
　Then　the　rising　sun　broke　through　to　send　pale　lances　of　light　across　the　battleground。　Jon　found　himself　holding　his　breath　as　he　looked　out　over　the　half…mile　swath　of　cleared　land　that　lay　between　the　Wall　and　the　edge　of　the　forest。　In　half　a　night　they　had　turned　it　into　a　wasteland　of　blackened　grass；　bubbling　pitch；　shattered　stone；　and　corpses。　The　carcass　of　the　burned　mammoth　was　already　drawing　crows。　There　were　giants　dead　on　the　ground　as　well；　but　behind　them　。　。　。
　Someone　moaned　to　his　left；　and　he　heard　Septon　Cellador　say；　〃Mother　have　mercy；　oh。　Oh；　oh；　oh；　Mother　have　mercy。〃
　Beneath　the　trees　were　all　the　wildlings　in　the　world；　raiders　and　giants；　wargs　and　skinchangers；　mountain　men；　salt　sea　sailors；　ice　river　cannibals；　cave　dwellers　with　dyed　faces；　dog　chariots　from　the　Frozen　Shore；　Hornfoot　men　with　their　soles　like　boiled　leather；　all　the　queer　wild　folk　Mance　had　gathered　to　break　the　Wall。　This　is　not　your　land；　Jon　wanted　to　shout　at　them。　There　is　no　place　for　you　here；　Go　away。　He　could　hear　Tormund　Giantsbane　laughing　at　that。　〃You　know　nothing；　Jon　Snow；〃　Ygritte　would　have　said。　He　flexed　his　sword　hand；　opening　and　closing　the　fingers；　though　he　knew　full　well　that　swords　would　not　e　into　it　up　here。
　He　was　chilled　and　feverish；　and　suddenly　the　weight　of　the　longbow　was　too　much。　The　battle　with　the　Magnar　had　been　nothing；　he　realized；　and　the　night　fight　less　than　nothing；　only　a　probe；　a　dagger　in　the　dark　to　try　and　catch　them　unprepared。　The　real　battle　was　only　now　beginning。
　〃I　never　knew　there　would　be　so　many；〃　Satin　said。
　Jon　had。　He　had　seen　them　before；　but　not　like　this；　not　drawn　up　in　battle　array。　On　the　march　the　wildling　column　had　sprawled　over　long　leagues　like　some　enormous　worm；　but　you　never　saw　all　of　it　at　once。　But　now　。　。　。
　〃Here　they　e；〃　someone　said　in　a　hoarse　voice。
　Mammoths　centered　the　wildling　line；　he　saw；　a　hundred　or　more　with　giants　on　their　backs　clutching　mauls　and　huge　stone　axes。　More　giants　loped　beside　them；　pushing　along　a　tree　trunk　on　great　wooden　wheels；　its　end　sharpened　to　a　point。　A　ram；　he　thought　bleakly。　If　the　gate　still　stood　below；　a　few　kisses　from　that　thing　would　soon　turn　it　into　splinters。　On　either　side　of　the　giants　came　a　wave　of　horsemen　in　boiled　leather　harness　with　fire…hardened　lances；　a　mass　of　running　archers；　hundreds　of　foot　with　spears；　slings；　clubs；　and　leathern　shields。　The　bone　chariots　from　the　Frozen　Shore　clattered　forward　on　the　flanks；　bouncing　over　rocks　and　roots　behind　teams　of　huge　white　dogs。　The　fury　of　the　wild；　Jon　thought　as　he　listened　to　the　skirl　of　skins；　to　the　dogs　barking　and　baying；　the　mammoths　trumpeting；　the　free　folk　whistling　and　screaming；　the　giants　roaring　in　the　Old　Tongue。　Their　drums　echoed　off　the　ice　like　rolling　thunder。
　He　could　feel　the　despair　all　around　him。　〃There　must　be　a　hundred　thousand；〃　Satin　wailed。　〃How　can　we　stop　so　many？〃
　〃The　Wall　will　stop　them；〃　Jon　heard　himself　say。　He　turned　and　said　it　again；　louder。　〃The　Wall　will　stop　them。　The　Wall　defends　itself。〃　Hollow　words；　but　he　needed　to　say　them；　almost　as　much　as　his　brothers　needed　to　hear　them。　〃Mance　wants　to　unman　us　with　his　numbers。　Does　he　think　we're　stup