grrm.astormofswords-第60章

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。　It　was　cold　and　wet；　he　knew；　but　he　could　scarcely　feel　it　through　all　his　clothing。　He　stared　upward　at　the　pale　white　sky　as　snowflakes　drifted　down　upon　his　stomach　and　his　chest　and　his　eyelids。　The　snow　will　cover　me　like　a　thick　white　blanket。　It　will　be　warm　under　the　snow；　and　if　they　speak　of　me　they'll　have　to　say　I　died　a　man　of　the　Night's　Watch。　I　did。　I　did。　I　did　my　duty。　No　one　can　say　I　forswore　myself。　I'm　fat　and　I'm　weak　and　I'm　craven；　but　I　did　my　duty。
　The　ravens　had　been　his　responsibility。　That　was　why　they　had　brought　him　along。　He　hadn't　wanted　to　go；　he'd　told　them　so；　he'd　told　them　all　what　a　big　coward　he　was。　But　Maester　Aemon　was　very　old　and　blind　besides；　so　they　had　to　send　Sam　to　tend　to　the　ravens。　The　Lord　mander　had　given　him　his　orders　when　they　made　their　camp　on　the　Fist。　〃You're　no　fighter。　We　both　know　that；　boy。　If　it　happens　that　we're　attacked；　don't　go　trying　to　prove　otherwise；　you'll　just　get　in　the　way。　You're　to　send　a　message。　And　don't　e　running　to　ask　what　the　letter　should　say。　Write　it　out　yourself；　and　send　one　bird　to　Castle　Black　and　another　to　the　Shadow　Tower。〃　The　Old　Bear　pointed　a　gloved　finger　right　in　Sam's　face。　〃I　don't　care　if　you're　so　scared　you　foul　your　breeches；　and　I　don't　care　if　a　thousand　wildlings　are　ing　over　the　walls　howling　for　your　blood；　you　get　those　birds　off；　or　I　swear　I'll　hunt　you　through　all　seven　hells　and　make　you　damn　sorry　that　you　didn't。〃　And　Mormont's　own　raven　had　bobbed　its　head　up　and　down　and　croaked；　〃Sorry；　sorry；　sorry。〃
　Sam　was　sorry；　sorry　he　hadn't　been　braver；　or　stronger；　or　good　with　swords；　that　he　hadn't　been　a　better　son　to　his　father　and　a　better　brother　to　Dickon　and　the　girls。　He　was　sorry　to　die　too；　but　better　men　had　died　on　the　Fist；　good　men　and　true；　not　squeaking　fat　boys　like　him。　At　least　he　would　not　have　the　Old　Bear　hunting　him　through　hell；　though。　I　got　the　birds　off。　I　did　that　right；　at　least。　He　had　written　out　the　messages　ahead　of　time；　short　messages　and　simple；　telling　of　an　attack　on　the　Fist　of　the　First　Men；　and　then　he　had　tucked　them　away　safe　in　his　parchment　pouch；　hoping　he　would　never　need　to　send　them。
　When　the　horns　blew　Sam　had　been　sleeping。　He　thought　he　was　dreaming　them　at　first；　but　when　he　opened　his　eyes　snow　was　falling　on　the　camp　and　the　black　brothers　were　all　grabbing　bows　and　spears　and　running　toward　the　ringwall。　Chett　was　the　only　one　nearby；　Maester　Aemon's　old　steward　with　the　face　full　of　boils　and　the　big　wen　on　his　neck。　Sam　had　never　seen　so　much　fear　on　a　man's　face　as　he　saw　on　Chett's　when　that　third　blast　came　moaning　through　the　trees。　〃Help　me　get　the　birds　off；〃　he　pleaded；　but　the　other　steward　had　turned　and　run　off；　dagger　in　hand。　He　has　the　dogs　to　care　for；　Sam　remembered。　Probably　the　Lord　mander　had　given　him　some　orders　as　well。
　His　fingers　had　been　so　stiff　and　clumsy　in　the　gloves；　and　he　was　shaking　from　fear　and　cold；　but　he　found　the　parchment　pouch　and　dug　out　the　messages　he'd　written。　The　ravens　were　shrieking　furiously；　and　when　he　opened　the　Castle　Black　cage　one　of　them　flew　right　in　his　face。　Two　more　escaped　before　Sam　could　catch　one；　and　when　he　did　it　pecked　him　through　his　glove；　drawing　blood。　Yet　somehow　he　held　on　long　enough　to　attach　the　little　roll　of　parchment。　The　warhorn　had　fallen　silent　by　then；　but　the　Fist　rang　with　shouted　mands　and　the　clatter　of　steel。　〃Fly！〃　Sam　called　as　he　tossed　the　raven　into　the　air。
　The　birds　in　the　Shadow　Tower　cage　were　screaming　and　fluttering　about　so　madly　that　he　was　afraid　to　open　the　door；　but　he　made　himself　do　it　anyway。　This　time　he　caught　the　first　raven　that　tried　to　escape。　A　moment　later；　it　was　clawing　its　way　up　through　the　falling　snow；　bearing　word　of　the　attack。
　His　duty　done；　he　finished　dressing　with　clumsy；　frightened　fingers；　donning　his　cap　and　surcoat　and　hooded　cloak　and　buckling　on　his　swordbelt；　buckling　it　real　tight　so　it　wouldn't　fall　down。　Then　he　found　his　pack　and　stuffed　all　his　things　inside；　spare　smallclothes　and　dry　socks；　the　dragonglass　arrowheads　and　spearhead　Jon　had　given　him　and　the　old　horn　too；　his　parchments；　inks；　and　quills；　the　maps　he'd　been　drawing；　and　a　rock…hard　garlic　sausage　he'd　been　saving　since　the　Wall。　He　tied　it　all　up　and　shouldered　the　pack　onto　his　back。　The　Lord　mander　said　I　wasn't　to　rush　to　the　ringwall；　he　recalled；　but　he　said　I　shouldn't　e　running　to　him　either。　Sam　took　a　deep　breath　and　realized　that　he　did　not　know　what　to　do　next。
　He　remembered　turning　in　a　circle；　lost；　the　fear　growing　inside　him　as　it　always　did。　There　were　dogs　barking　and　horses　trumpeting；　but　the　snow　muffled　the　sounds　and　made　them　seem　far　away。　Sam　could　see　nothing　beyond　three　yards；　not　even　the　torches　burning　along　the　low　stone　wall　that　ringed　the　crown　of　the　hill。　Could　the　torches　have　gone　out？　That　was　too　scary　to　think　about。　The　horn　blew　thrice　long；　three　long　blasts　means　Others。　The　white　walkers　of　the　wood；　the　cold　shadows；　the　monsters　of　the　tales　that　made　him　squeak　and　tremble　as　a　boy；　riding　their　giant　ice…spiders；　hungry　for　blood　。　。　。
　Awkwardly　he　drew　his　sword；　and　plodded　heavily　through　the　snow　holding　it。　A　dog　ran　past　barking；　and　he　saw　some　of　the　men　from　the　Shadow　Tower；　big　bearded　men　with　longaxes　and　eight…foot　spears。　He　felt　safer　for　their　pany；　so　he　followed　them　to　the　wall。　When　he　saw　the　torches　still　burning　atop　the　ring　of　stones　a　shudder　of　relief　went　through　him。
　The　black　brothers　stood　with　swords　and　spears　in　hand；　watching　the　snow　fall；　waiting。　Ser　Mallador　Locke　went　by　on　his　horse；　wearing　a　snow…speckled　helm。　Sam　stood　well　back　behind　the　others；　looking　for　Grenn　or　Dolorous　Edd。　If　I　have　to　die；　let　me　die　beside　my　friends；　he　remembered　thinking。　But　all　the　men　around　him　were　strangers；　Shadow　Tower　men　under　the　mand　of　the　ranger　named　Blane。
　〃Here　they　e；〃　he　heard　a　brother　say。
　〃Notch；〃　said　Blane；　and　twenty　black　arrows　were　pulled　from　as　many　quivers；　and　notched　to　as　many　bowstrings。
　〃Gods　be　good；　there's　hundreds；〃　a　voice　said　softly。
　〃Draw；〃　Blane　said；　and　then；　〃hold。〃　Sam　could　not　see　and　did　not　want　to　see。　The　men　of　the　Night's　Watch　stood　behind　their　torches；　waiting　with　arrows　pulled　back　to　their　ears；　as　something　came　up　that　dark；　slippery　slope　through　the　snow。　〃Hold；〃　Blane　said　again；　〃hold；　hold。〃　And　then；　〃Loose。〃
　The　arrows　whispered　as　they　flew。
　A　ragged　cheer　went　up　from　the　men　along　the　ringwall；　but　it　died　quickly。　〃They're　not　stopping；　m'lord；〃　a　man　said　to　Blane；　and　another　shouted；　〃More！　Look　there；　ing　from　the　trees；　〃　and　yet　another　said；　〃Gods　ha'　mercy；　they's　crawling。　They's　almost　here；　they's　on　us！〃　Sam　had　been　backing　away　by　then；　shaking　like　the　last　leaf　on　the　tree　when　the　wind　kicks　up；　as　much　from　cold　as　from　fear。　it　had　been　very　cold　that　night。　Even　colder　than　now　The　snow　feels　almost　warm。　I　feel　better　now　A　little　rest　was　all　I　needed。　Maybe　in　a　little　while　I'll　be　strong　enough　to　walk　again。　In　a　little　while。
　A　horse　stepped　past　his　head；　a　shaggy　grey　beast　with　snow　in　its　mane　and　hooves　crusted　with　ice。　Sam　watched　it　e　and　watched　it　go。　Another　appeared　from　out　of　the　falling　snow；　with　a　man　in　black　leading　it。　When　he　saw　Sam　in　his　path　he　cursed　him　and　led　the　horse　around。　I　wish　I　had　a　horse；　he　thought。　If　I　had　a　horse　I　could　keep　going。　I　could　sit；　and　even　sleep　some　in　the　saddle。　Most　of　their　mounts　had　been　lost　at　the　Fist；　though；　and　those　that　remained　carried　their　food；　their　torches；　and　their　wounded。　Sam　wasn't　wounded。　Only　fat　and　weak；　and　the　greatest　craven　in　the　Seven　Kingdoms。
　He　was　such　a　coward。　Lord　Randyll；　his　father；　had　always　said　so；　and　he　had　been　right。　Sam　was　his　heir；　but　he　had　never　been　worthy；　so　his　father　had　sent　him　away　to　the　Wall。　His　little　brother　Dickon　would　inherit　the　Tarly　lands　and　castle；　and　the　greatsword　Heartsbane　that　the　lords　of　Horn　Hill　had　borne　so　proudly　for　centuries。　He　wondered　whether　Dickon　would　shed　a　tear　for　his　brother　who　died　in　the　snow；　somewhere　off　beyond　the　edge　of　the　world。　Why　should　he？　A　coward'