grrm.astormofswords-第28章

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　〃I　had　that　great　honor；　Your　Grace。〃
　〃Did　you　find　him　good　and　gentle？〃
　Whitebeard　did　his　best　to　hide　his　feelings；　but　they　were　there；　plain　on　his　face。　〃His　Grace　was　。　。　。　often　pleasant。〃
　〃Often？〃　Dany　smiled。　〃But　not　always？〃
　〃He　could　be　very　harsh　to　those　he　thought　his　enemies。〃
　〃A　wise　man　never　makes　an　enemy　of　a　king；〃　said　Dany。　〃Did　you　know　my　brother　Rhaegar　as　well？〃
　〃It　was　said　that　no　man　ever　knew　Prince　Rhaegar；　truly。　I　had　the　privilege　of　seeing　him　in　tourney；　though；　and　often　heard　him　play　his　harp　with　its　silver　strings。〃
　Ser　Jorah　snorted。　〃Along　with　a　thousand　others　at　some　harvest　feast。　Next　you'll　claim　you　squired　for　him。〃
　〃I　make　no　such　claim；　ser。　Myles　Mooton　was　Prince　Rhaegar's　squire；　and　Richard　Lonmouth　after　him。　When　they　won　their　spurs；　he　knighted　them　himself；　and　they　remained　his　close　panions。　Young　Lord　Connington　was　dear　to　the　prince　as　well；　but　his　oldest　friend　was　Arthur　Dayne。〃
　〃The　Sword　of　the　Morning！〃　said　Dany；　delighted。　〃Viserys　used　to　talk　about　his　wondrous　white　blade。　He　said　Ser　Arthur　was　the　only　knight　in　the　realm　who　was　our　brother's　peer。〃
　Whitebeard　bowed　his　head。　〃It　is　not　my　place　to　question　the　words　of　Prince　Viserys。〃
　〃King；〃　Dany　corrected。　〃He　was　a　king；　though　he　never　reigned。　Viserys；　the　Third　of　His　Name。　But　what　do　you　mean？〃　His　answer　had　not　been　one　that　she'd　expected。　〃Ser　Jorah　named　Rhaegar　the　last　dragon　once。　He　had　to　have　been　a　peerless　warrior　to　be　called　that；　surely？〃
　〃Your　Grace；〃　said　Whitebeard；　〃the　Prince　of　Dragonstone　was　a　most　puissant　warrior；　but　。　。　。〃
　〃Go　on；〃　she　urged。　〃You　may　speak　freely　to　me。〃
　〃As　you　mand。〃　The　old　man　leaned　upon　his　hardwood　staff；　his　brow　furrowed。　〃A　warrior　without　peer　。　。　。　those　are　fine　words；　Your　Grace；　but　words　win　no　battles。〃
　〃Swords　win　battles；〃　Ser　Jorah　said　bluntly。　〃And　Prince　Rhaegar　knew　how　to　use　one。〃
　〃He　did；　ser；　but　。　。　。　I　have　seen　a　hundred　tournaments　and　more　wars　than　I　would　wish；　and　however　strong　or　fast　or　skilled　a　knight　may　be；　there　are　others　who　can　match　him。　A　man　will　win　one　tourney；　and　fall　quickly　in　the　next。　A　slick　spot　in　the　grass　may　mean　defeat；　or　what　you　ate　for　supper　the　night　before。　A　change　in　the　wind　may　bring　the　gift　of　victory。〃　He　glanced　at　Ser　Jorah。　〃Or　a　lady's　favor　knotted　round　an　arm。〃
　Mormont's　face　darkened。　〃Be　careful　what　you　say；　old　man。〃
　Arstan　had　seen　Ser　Jorah　fight　at　Lannisport；　Dany　knew；　in　the　tourney　Mormont　had　won　with　a　lady's　favor　knotted　round　his　arm。　He　had　won　the　lady　too；　Lynesse　of　House　Hightower；　his　second　wife；　highborn　and　beautiful　。　。　。　but　she　had　ruined　him；　and　abandoned　him；　and　the　memory　of　her　was　bitter　to　him　now。　〃Be　gentle；　my　knight。〃　She　put　a　hand　on　Jorah's　arm。　〃Arstan　had　no　wish　to　give　offense；　I'm　certain。〃
　〃As　you　say；　Khaleesi。〃　Ser　Jorah's　voice　was　grudging。
　Dany　turned　back　to　the　squire。　〃I　know　little　of　Rhaegar。　Only　the　tales　Viserys　told；　and　he　was　a　little　boy　when　our　brother　died。　What　was　he　truly　like？〃
　The　old　man　considered　a　moment。　〃Able。　That　above　all。　Determined；　deliberate；　dutiful；　single…minded。　There　is　a　tale　told　of　him　。　。　。　but　doubtless　Ser　Jorah　knows　it　as　well。〃
　〃I　would　hear　it　from　you。〃
　〃As　you　wish；〃　said　Whitebeard。　〃As　a　young　boy；　the　Prince　of　Dragonstone　was　bookish　to　a　fault。　He　was　reading　so　early　that　men　said　Queen　Rhaella　must　have　swallowed　some　books　and　a　candle　whilst　he　was　in　her　womb。　Rhaegar　took　no　interest　in　the　play　of　other　children。　The　maesters　were　awed　by　his　wits；　but　his　father's　knights　would　jest　sourly　that　Baelor　the　Blessed　had　been　born　again。　Until　one　day　Prince　Rhaegar　found　something　in　his　scrolls　that　changed　him。　No　one　knows　what　it　might　have　been；　only　that　the　boy　suddenly　appeared　early　one　morning　in　the　yard　as　the　knights　were　donning　their　steel。　He　walked　up　to　Ser　Willem　Darry；　the　master…at…arms；　and　said；　'I　will　require　sword　and　armor。　It　seems　I　must　be　a　warrior。〃'
　〃And　he　was！〃　said　Dany；　delighted。
　〃He　was　indeed。〃　Whitebeard　bowed。　〃My　pardons；　Your　Grace。　We　speak　of　warriors；　and　I　see　that　Strong　Belwas　has　arisen。　I　must　attend　him。〃
　Dany　glanced　aft。　The　eunuch　was　climbing　through　the　hold　amidships；　nimble　for　all　his　size。　Belwas　was　squat　but　broad；　a　good　fifteen　stone　of　fat　and　muscle；　his　great　brown　gut　crisscrossed　by　faded　white　scars。　He　wore　baggy　pants；　a　yellow　silk　bellyband；　and　an　absurdly　tiny　leather　vest　dotted　with　iron　studs。　〃Strong　Belwas　is　hungry！〃　he　roared　at　everyone　and　no　one　in　particular。　〃Strong　Belwas　will　eat　now！〃　Turning；　he　spied　Arstan　on　the　forecastle。　〃Whitebeard！　You　will　bring　food　for　Strong　Belwas！〃
　〃You　may　go；〃　Dany　told　the　squire。　He　bowed　again；　and　moved　off　to　tend　the　needs　of　the　man　he　served。
　Ser　Jorah　watched　with　a　frown　on　his　blunt　honest　face。　Mormont　was　big　and　burly；　strong　of　jaw　and　thick　of　shoulder。　Not　a　handsome　man　by　any　means；　but　as　true　a　friend　as　Dany　had　ever　known。　〃You　would　be　wise　to　take　that　old　man's　words　well　salted；〃　he　told　her　when　Whitebeard　was　out　of　earshot。
　〃A　queen　must　listen　to　all；〃　she　reminded　him。　〃The　highborn　and　the　low；　the　strong　and　the　weak；　the　noble　and　the　venal。　One　voice　may　speak　you　false；　but　in　many　there　is　always　truth　to　be　found。〃　She　had　read　that　in　a　book。
　〃Hear　my　voice　then；　Your　Grace；〃　the　exile　said。　〃This　Arstan　Whitebeard　is　playing　you　false。　He　is　too　old　to　be　a　squire；　and　too　well　spoken　to　be　serving　that　oaf　of　a　eunuch。〃
　That　does　seem　queer；　Dany　had　to　admit。　Strong　Belwas　was　an　ex…slave；　bred　and　trained　in　the　fighting　pits　of　Meereen。　Magister　Illyrio　had　sent　him　to　guard　her；　or　so　Belwas　claimed；　and　it　was　true　that　she　needed　guarding。　The　Usurper　on　his　Iron　Throne　had　offered　land　and　lordship　to　any　man　who　killed　her。　One　attempt　had　been　made　already；　with　a　cup　of　poisoned　wine。　The　closer　she　came　to　Westeros；　the　more　likely　another　attack　became。　Back　in　Qarth；　the　warlock　Pyat　Pree　had　sent　a　Sorrowful　Man　after　her　to　avenge　the　Undying　she'd　burned　in　their　House　of　Dust。　Warlocks　never　forgot　a　wrong；　it　was　said；　and　the　Sorrowful　Men　never　failed　to　kill。　Most　of　the　Dothraki　would　be　against　her　as　well。　Khal　Drogo's　kos　led　khalasars　of　their　own　now；　and　none　of　them　would　hesitate　to　attack　her　own　little　band　on　sight；　to　slay　and　slave　her　people　and　drag　Dany　herself　back　to　Vaes　Dothrak　to　take　her　proper　place　among　the　withered　crones　of　the　dosh　khaleen。　She　hoped　that　Xaro　Xhoan　Daxos　was　not　an　enemy；　but　the　Qartheen　merchant　had　coveted　her　dragons。　And　there　was　Quaithe　of　the　Shadow；　that　strange　woman　in　the　red　lacquer　mask　with　all　her　cryptic　counsel。　Was　she　an　enemy　too；　or　only　a　dangerous　friend？　Dany　could　not　say。
　Ser　forah　saved　me　from　the　poisoner；　and　Arstan　Whitebeard　from　the　manticore。　Perhaps　Strong　Belwas　voll　save　me　from　the　next。　He　was　huge　enough；　with　arms　like　small　trees　and　a　great　curved　arakh　so　sharp　he　might　have　shaved　with　it；　in　the　unlikely　event　of　hair　sprouting　on　those　smooth　brown　cheeks。　Yet　he　was　childlike　as　well。　As　a　protector；　he　leaves　much　to　be　desired。　Thankfully；　I　have　Ser　forah　and　my　bloodriders。　And　my　dragons；　never　forget。　In　time；　the　dragons　would　be　her　most　formidable　guardians；　just　as　they　had　been　for　Aegon　the　Conqueror　and　his　sisters　three　hundred　years　ago。　just　now；　though；　they　brought　her　more　danger　than　protection。　In　all　the　world　there　were　but　three　living　dragons；　and　those　were　hers；　they　were　a　wonder；　and　a　terror；　and　beyond　price。
　She　was　pondering　her　next　words　when　she　felt　a　cool　breath　on　the　back　of　her　neck；　and　a　loose　strand　of　her　silver…gold　hair　stirred　against　her　brow。　Above；　the　canvas　creaked　and　moved；　and　suddenly　a　great　cry　went　up　from　all　over　Balerion。　〃Wind！〃　the　sailors　shouted。　〃The　wind　returns；　the　wind！〃
　Dany　looked　up　to　where　the　great　cog's　sails　rippled　and　belled　as　the　lines　thrummed　and　tightened　and　sang　the　sweet　song　they　had　missed　so　for　six　long　days。　Captain　Groleo　rushed　aft；　shouting　mands。　The　Pentoshi　were　scramb