Chapter 15 Chapter 15 Brienne

The stone wall was old and crumbling, but Brienne still felt the hairs on her neck stand on end seeing it stretch across the field. It was behind it that the archers killed poor Cleo Frey, she thought...but after half a mile she passed another stone wall that looked similar, and she began to feel unsure.The rutted road turned seven times and eight times, and the bare brown jungle seemed different from the green trees in memory.Was this the place where Sir Jaime had taken his cousin's sword?Where is the wood where they fought?What about the stream?They hacked at each other in the stream, splashing and splashing, until they attracted the warriors.

"Miss? Ser?" Podrick never seemed to know how to address her. "What are you looking for?" ghost. "A wall I rode past. Nothing." Ser Jaime still had two hands, and I hated him, and all his taunts and jeers. "Be quiet, Podrick, there may be bandits hiding in the woods." The boy looked at the bare brown bushes, the wet leaves, and the muddy road ahead. "I have a sword. I can fight." But not skilled enough.Brienne had no doubts about the boy's courage, just his level of training.Although he is nominally a squire, the people he serves do not help his martial arts.

On the way north from Duskendale, she asked him his story intermittently.It turned out that he came from a side branch of the Pyne family, from some low-ranking son and grandson, who came from a poor family. Derek was later killed in the battle against Greyjoy's Rebellion.When he was four years old, his mother abandoned him, gave him to a relative, and ran away with the tramp singer who let her carry the child.Podrick can no longer remember what his mother looked like. For him, Sir Cedric Payne is the closest to his father's role. However, judging from his stammering narrative, Brienne feels that this Cedric Payne Treat Podrick more like a servant than a son.When Casterly Rock called the vassals to send troops, the knight took him to take care of the horses and clean the armor.Then, Ser Cedric died in the Three Rivers Valley with Lord Tywin's army.

The boy was alone, far away from home, and without money, and had to rely on a fat hedge knight, Sir "Potbelly" Lorimer, who was in Lord Rafford's detachment to guard the baggage. "He who eats eats best," was the mantra of Sir Rorimer, who was finally caught stealing a piece of gammon from Lord Tywin's personal supplies.Tywin Lannister decided to hang him as a lesson to thieves.Podrick had shared the ham with him, and almost shared the rope, but his name had saved him.Ser Kevan Lannister rescued him, and later sent him to his nephew Tyrion as a squire. Ser Cedric taught Podrick how to tend a horse and check a shoe for a stone, and Ser Lorimer taught him how to steal, but neither of them had time to practice swordplay with him.The Imp had at least sent him to train with the master at the Red Keep, but Ser Alan Santagar died in the King's Landing riots, and Podrick's training ended there.

Brienne cuts off two broken branches to use as swords, and tries Podrick's skill.She was pleased to find that the boy was not clumsy with his mouth or hands.However, despite his bravery and focus, he was malnourished, skinny and not strong enough.If he survived the Battle of the Blackwater as he claimed, it could only be because no one targeted him. "You can call yourself a squire," she told him, "but a squire half your age can beat you badly. If you stay with me, you'll go to bed every night with blisters on your hands." , bruised arms, stiff and sore, hard to sleep. You won't like it."

"I like it," insisted the boy, "I like that. Bruises and blisters. I mean, no, but I like it. Sir. Miss." So far, he and Brienne have kept their word.Podrick never complained.Every time a new blister popped up in the sword-holding hand, he couldn't help showing her it with pride.He is also very good at taking care of the horses.No, he's not a squire, she reminded herself, but I'm not a knight either, no matter how much he calls me "Sir."She couldn't send him away because he had nowhere to go, and despite Podrick's repeated claims that he didn't know where Sansa Stark was, it's possible he wasn't aware of what he knew.An occasional word, a vague memory, may be the key to Brienne's goal.

"Sir? Miss? There's a car ahead," Podrick pointed out. Brienne saw it: it was a two-wheeled wooden ox cart with high sides, and a man and a woman were tugging at the rope, moving along the ruts towards Maiden Springs.Looks like a farmer. "Slow down," she told the boy, "don't teach us to be bandits. Don't talk nonsense, be polite." "Yes, ser. Be polite, miss." The boy seemed quite pleased with the possibility of being taken for a bandit. They trotted up to catch up, the peasant watching them warily, but when Brienne said she meant no harm, they let her walk by. "We had a cow," the old man confided as they marched through the weedy fields of loose mud and charred trees, "but the wolf boy took it." His face was Pulling hard and flushing, "Our daughter was also taken away, alas, did a lot of bad things, but after the battle in Duskendale City, she ran back by herself. The cow didn't, I guess Must be eaten by wolf cubs."

Women have nothing to add.She was twenty years younger than the man, but she didn't say a word, just looked at Brienne like a two-headed calf.This kind of look, "Virgin of Tarth" has seen too much in her life. Although Mrs. Stark treats her generously and kindly, most women are as cruel as men. They have beautiful faces, but mean mouths and laughter. The harsh, cold-eyed ladies hid their contempt behind armor of politeness, and it was hard to say which pained her more.Maybe it's the eyes of commoner women. "The last time I passed by Maiden Spring City, it was in ruins," she told the other party. "The gates of the city were broken down, and most of the houses were burned and looted."

"Oh, rebuilding a little bit now. That Tully, he was a stern man, but far more heroic than Lord Mooton. There was still a small band of bandits in the forest, but far fewer than before. Tully caught the last The bad ones, cut off their heads with his huge sword." He turned his head and spat. "Did you meet any bandits on the road?" "No." Not this time.The farther you are from Duskvale City, the more open the road is, and the passers-by who happened to catch a glimpse of it all disappeared into the woods before they came to the front—except for a tall bearded monk who took about forty followers to the south. barefoot.The inns passing by were either looted and abandoned, or they became military camps.Yesterday they encountered a patrol of Lord Randyll. Horsemen armed with spears and longbows surrounded them. The captain questioned Brienne in every possible way, but finally let them go. "Be careful, woman, next time you meet someone who may not be as righteous as my boys. The Hound led a hundred bandits across the Trident River. It is said that women will be raped if they run into them. Cut off the nipple as a souvenir."

Brienne felt compelled to convey the warning to the farmer and his wife.As a result, he only nodded, and spat again after she finished speaking, "Whether it's a hound, a wolf cub, or a lion, I hope the White Walkers will catch them all. These bandits dare not approach Maiden Spring City, as long as Lord Tully governs there, they dare not." Brienne met Lord Randyll Tarly in King Renly's army. She didn't like him, but she couldn't forget her debt to him.Gods bless, don't disturb him when passing Maidenfountain. "When the war is over, the town will be returned to the Earl of Mooton," she told the farmer. "The King has forgiven the Lord Earl."

"Forgiveness?" the old man laughed. "Why? For sitting in that damned castle of his? He sent his men to fight at Riverrun, and he hid behind it. The Lions ransacked his town, and then the Wolf-cubs, Then came the sellswords, and the lord was just safe within the walls. His brother would never have been so cowardly, you know, and Ser Meath was a brave man, and died at King Robert's hand." More ghosts, Brienne thought. "I'm looking for my sister, a beautiful virgin of thirteen. Have you met her?" "I've never seen a virgin, either beautiful or ugly." No one has seen it.But she had to keep asking. "Mooton's daughter is a virgin," the man continued, "at least until the day of the bridal chamber. These eggs are for the wedding. She is going to marry Tully's son. The cooks need eggs for the cake." "Oh." Lord Tarly's son... Little Dickon is getting married.She tried to recall that he seemed to be only eight or ten years old.Brienne herself had been engaged when she was seven years old, to a boy three years her senior, Lord Cullen's youngest son.He is shy and has a mole on his lip.They met only once at the time of their engagement, and two years later he died of the typhoid fever that also claimed the lives of the Countess and their daughters.If he had survived, she would have married him within a year of her menarche, and her whole life would have been completely different.She would not be here now, in a man's armor and with a long sword, after the son of the dead.She was more likely to live in Nightsong, babysitting one child while nursing the other.Brienne thought about it so often, and it made her sad, but also a little comforting. The sun was half hidden behind the clouds, and when they emerged from the blackened bushes, Maidenpool was in front of them, and the bay was a little farther away.The gates had been rebuilt and fortified, and there were crossbowmen walking back and forth on the reddish stone walls.King Tommen's banner fluttered high above the gate tower. On a background of gold and red, the black crowned stag and the golden lion faced each other. The sockeye banner stands only on the hilltop castle. Under the iron gate, they encountered a dozen guards holding halberds.The badges worn by the other party indicated that they belonged to Lord Tully's regiment, but none of them were Tarly's own men: two centaurs, a lightning bolt, a blue beetle and a green arrow... but no hunters of Hornhill.The leader of the opponent had a peacock adorned on his chest, and his bright tail was faded by the sun.The farmer pulled the cart over and he whistled. "What's this? An egg?" He tossed one up, caught it, and grinned, "We took it." The old man protested, "The egg is for Lord Mooton. Make a cake for the wedding." "Let your hen lay more. I haven't eaten eggs in half a year. Here, don't say we don't pay." He threw a handful of copper coins at the old man's feet. The farmer's wife spoke. "Not enough," she said, "never enough." "You haven't changed yet," said the leader. "The eggs, and you, have to come. Boys, she's too young for the old man." Two guards leaned their halberds against the wall , pulling the struggling woman out of the car.The farmer turned gray, but dared not move. Brienne rode forward. "Let her go." Her voice made the guards hesitate for a moment, long enough for the farmer's wife to break free. "None of your business," said one, "keep your mouth shut, girl." Brienne drew her longsword. "Okay," said the leader, "bright guy. I smell bandits. Do you know how Lord Tully dealt with bandits?" He was still holding the eggs in the ox cart, and now he was hard on his hands, and the yolks It seeped out from between the fingers. "Not only do I know how Lord Randyll handles bandits," Brienne said, "but I know how he handles rapists." She was counting on Randyll's name to calm him down, but the boss just shook the egg away and signaled for his men to line up. With a "swipe", a circle of weapons surrounded Brienne. "Yo, what are you talking about, girl? How will Lord Tully deal with..." "...the rapist," a low voice finished, "either be castrated or sent to the Great Wall. Sometimes both are performed simultaneously. He will also cut off the fingers of thieves." A lazy young man walked from the gate tower Strolling out, the sword belt buckled around his waist, and the coat covering his iron armor was originally white, but now it was covered with grass marks and dried blood.His sigil is a dead brown stag hanging from a crossbar. It's him.Hearing his voice was like being punched in the stomach, seeing his face was like being stabbed into the stomach with a sharp knife. "Sir Hyle," she said stiffly. "Better let her go, lads," Ser Hyle Hunt warned, "and here before you is Brienne the Fair, Maiden of Tarth, who killed King Renly and half the Rainbow Guard. As ugly as she is, honestly, no one is uglier... Except maybe you, urinal, but you are born from the cow's ass, so you can be forgiven. Her father is from Tarth 'Evening Star'." The guards laughed, and the halberds scattered. "Can't you catch her, ser?" the boss asked. "Didn't you say she killed Renly?" "Why bother? Renly is a traitor, and so are we, without exception. Fortunately, now that everyone has changed his ways, he has become a loyal and obedient citizen of His Majesty Tommen." The knight waved his hand to signal the peasants to enter the city. "My lord's butler will be glad to see these eggs. You can find him in the bazaar." The old man tapped his forehead with his knuckles. "Thank you very much, my lord. Evidently, you are a true knight. Come, wife." Again they slung the trailer's rigging over their shoulders and rumbled through the gate. Brienne rode in with them, followed by Podrick.Is he a real knight?She frowned as she thought.In town, she reined in the rein, the ruins of the stables on her left, facing a muddy alley.Across from the stables, three half-naked whores whispered on the brothel balcony, one of whom looked a bit like a camp whore she had seen who had come to ask her if she had a hole or a ball in her crotch. "It's also the ugliest horse I've ever seen," Ser Hyle said of Podrick's mount. "I'm surprised you don't ride it, and by the way, miss, why don't you thank me for helping me?" Brienne jumped off the mare with a kick.She was a head taller than Ser Hyle. "Someday, I'll thank you in the team joust, Sir." "Like thanking Red Roland?" Hunter laughed.His laugh was loud and full, but his face was ordinary—she thought it was an honest face until she knew the truth: shaggy brown hair, hazel eyes, a small scar by the left ear, a chin Forked, nose is crooked, but he has a hearty smile, and he often laughs. "Aren't you staying to guard the city gate?" He grimaced at her. "My cousin Alyn has gone off to catch bandits, and will return triumphantly with the Hound's head in his hands, in glory. And I, thanks to you, have been ordered to guard the gates." I hope this pleases you, my beauty, what are you looking for?" "stable." "There's one at the east gate. This one was burned." I can see it myself. "What you told those men . . . I was with King Renly when he died, but it was witchcraft that killed him, ser. By my sword I swear." She put her hand on the hilt, She was ready to fight if Hunter called her a liar to her face. "That's right, it was the Knight of Flowers who killed those Rainbow Guards. With any luck, you might be able to defeat Ser Aamon, who is reckless and lacks stamina. But Royce? No, by the standards of a swordsman, Robert The skill of the Jazz is more than twice as high as yours... But you can't be called a swordsman, right? Is there a saying about a sword girl? I was wondering, what are you talking about in Maiden Spring City?" For my sister, a virgin of thirteen, she almost said it, but Ser Hyle knew she had no sister. "I'm looking for a man at a place called the Stinky Goose Tavern." "I thought Brienne the Beauty didn't need a man." There was a hint of cruelty in his smile. "The Stinky Goose Tavern, it has a proper name... at least the word 'stink'. Well, it's in By the pier, but first you must follow me to see the Earl." Brienne wasn't afraid of Ser Hyle, but he was Randyll Tarly's officer, and a hundred men would come running to protect him if he whistled. "Am I under arrest?" "Why, for Renly? What is he? We've all changed kings since, some twice. No one cares, no one remembers." He put a hand lightly on her arm. "Miss, please come this way." She drew back and avoided, "Don't touch me, thank you." "You finally thanked me." He smiled wryly. The last time I came to Maiden Spring City, the town was a lifeless ruin, empty streets, and burned houses.Now the streets were full of pigs and children, and most of the burned buildings had been pulled down, and the clearings were either planted with vegetables or occupied by the tents of merchants and knights.Houses were being built, stone inns replaced burned wooden ones, slate roofs were added to the sanctuary, and the cool autumn air was filled with the sound of saws and hammers.Men carried lumber on their shoulders through the streets, and quarrymen's wagons drove down muddy alleys, many with the striding hunter's badge on their chests. "The soldiers are rebuilding the town," she said in amazement. "They'd rather roll dice, drink, and fuck women, but Lord Randyll doesn't make it easy for idlers." She thought she would be taken into the castle, but instead Hunter led her to the busy docks.There, Brienne was delighted, to find that merchant ships were back at Maidenpool, a galley, a barque, and a huge ketch, and about twenty small fishing boats.There are still many fishermen in the bay.If I'm empty-handed at the Goose Tavern, I can take the boat, she made up her mind.It was a short flight to Gulltown, and the Eyrie from there was fairly easy. Lord Tarly was presiding over the trial when they found him in the fish market. A high platform was set up by the water, and the Earl sat on it and looked down at the suspects.To his left stood a long gallows with enough rope for twenty men.At this moment, there were four corpses hanging on the rack, one of which was relatively fresh, and the other three had obviously been around for some time.Some daring crow was picking a sliver of flesh from the rotting carcass, and the others were scattered by the gathering crowd.The townspeople were expecting to see someone hanged. Lord Mooton sat on the dais with Lord Randyll, pale and flaccid, in a white tunic and red breeches, with an ermine cloak fastened at the shoulder with a red gold salmon-shaped brooch; Tarly was quite different, He was clad in mail and boiled leather over a breastplate of gray steel, and protruding from behind his left shoulder was the hilt of a great sword, Broken Heart, the pride of his family. A young man in a sackcloth cloak and a dirty tunic was on trial. "I did no harm, my lord," Brienne heard him say, "but took what the monks left when they fled. If you want to Cut off my finger, so do it." "According to the custom, thieves have to cut off a finger," Lord Tarly replied sternly, "but stealing from the sept is stealing from the gods, and the crime is added to the crime." He turned to the captain of the guard. "Seven fingers. Be careful to leave two thumbs." "Seven roots?" The thief's face turned pale.Guards grabbed him, and he resisted feebly, as if crippled.Watching him, Brienne couldn't help but think of Ser Jaime, and the moment Zorro's arakh fell, and his screams. Next came a baker who was accused of mixing sawdust into his flour.Lord Landau fined him fifty silver deer coins.The baker swears to God that he has not so much money, and his lordship declares that a penny would be replaced by a whip.Behind him was a haggard, dark-looking prostitute who was accused of infecting four Tully soldiers with canker sores. "Wash the private parts with lye first, and then throw them into the dungeon." Tully ordered.As the whore was dragged away sobbing, his lordship saw Brienne at the edge of the crowd, standing between Podrick and Ser Hyle.He frowned at her, but didn't show the slightest bit of recognition. Next came a sailor from the brig, and his accuser was one of Lord Mooton's archers, with bandaged hands and a salmon on his chest. "My lord, the bastard stabbed my hand with a dagger. He said I cheated at craps." Lord Tarly looked away from Brienne, studying the man in front of him. "Did you cheat?" "No, my lord. I definitely haven't." "Steal, one finger; lie, hang. Show me the dice." "Dice?" The archer looked at Mooton, but the lord stared at the fishing boat.The archer swallowed. "Maybe I...those are my lucky dice, yes, I..." Tully had heard enough. "Cut off his little finger. He can choose which hand. Drive a nail through the palm of the other hand." He stood up. "That's it. Let the rest go back to the dungeon. I'll deal with it tomorrow." He turned and waved to Ser Hale, Brienne followed behind. "My lord." Standing in front of him, she felt like an eight-year-old girl again. "Miss, why... come here?" "I was sent out to find...to search..." She hesitated to say. "I don't know how to find the name? Did you kill Lord Renly?" "No." Tully weighed her words.He's judging me like he's judging everyone else. "No," he said at last, "you just let him die." He died in my arms, his life blood soaking my clothes.Brienne was taken aback. "It's witchcraft. I will never..." "You never?" His voice was whipped. "Yes, you should never put on your armor, never wear your sword, never leave your father's halls. This is war, not a Harvest Ball. By Gods, I should send you back to Tarth. " "If you dare to do this, you are ready to be questioned by the king." Whenever she tried to appear brave and fearless, her voice changed to a squeaky little girl's voice. "Podrick, I have a piece of parchment in my bag. Take it to your lord." Tully took the letter and frowned.He moved his lips as he read. "Working for the king. What is it?" Lie, go to the gallows. "San—Sansa Stark." "If the Stark girl had been here, I'd have found out. I bet she'd fled back to the North, taking refuge with one of her father's subjects. Well, she'd better choose the right one." "She might go to the Vale," Brienne heard herself blurt out, "to her aunt." Lord Randle glanced at her contemptuously. "Lady Lysa is dead, pushed off the hill by some singer, and now Littlefinger controls the Eyrie...but not for long. There's no way the lords of the Vale will bow their knees to a clown who can only count pennies." Give it back to her. "Go where you like, do what you like...but don't come to me for justice if you're raped. It's all due to your own stupidity." He glanced at Ser Hyle. "And you, ser, you're supposed to guard the gates. I put you in charge there, don't I?" "Yes, my lord," said Hyle Hunter, "but I think—" "You think too much." Lord Tully strode away. Lysa Tully is dead.Brienne stood at the foot of the gallows, holding the precious parchment in her hand.The crowd dispersed and the crow returned to continue the feast.Pushed down a hill by a singer.Did the crow feast on Lady Catelyn's sister? "You mentioned the Goose Tavern, miss," said Sir Hyle, "and if you want me to take you—" "Go back to your gate." Annoyance flitted across his face.An ordinary face, not an honest face. "If you really think so—" "That's what I thought." "It was just a game to pass the time. We meant no harm." He said hesitantly. "You see, Ben's dead, hacked to death on the Blackwater. Fallow and Will the Stork Dead. Mark Mullendall's injury cost him half his arm." Good, Brienne wanted to say, good, he deserved it.She remembered Mullendoyle sitting outside the tent with his monkey on his shoulder, in a little chain mail, making faces with him.What had Catelyn Stark called them that night at Bitterbridge?Knights of summer.Now that autumn is here, they wither like leaves... She turned her back to Hyle Hunter, "Podrick, come here." The boy led their horses and trotted after them. "Are we going to find that place? The Stinky Goose Tavern?" "I'll look for it. You go to the stable by the east gate and ask the groom if there is an inn where we can stay overnight." "Yes, sir. Miss." Podrick walked, staring at the ground, kicking rocks now and then. "Do you know where it is? The Goose Tavern? I mean, the Goose Tavern." "have no idea." "He said he would take us. The knight. Ser Kyle." "Hale." "Hale. What did he do to you, ser? Oh no, miss." The kid may be clumsy, but he's not stupid. "When King Renly gathered his court at Highgarden, some people played a joke on me. Ser Hyle was among them. It was a cruel game, and it hurt, and it was not chivalrous." She paused. "The east gate is over there. Wait for me there." "Yes, miss. Ser." The Stinky Goose Tavern had no sign, and it took her nearly an hour to find it.It was at the bottom of a barn where old horses were butchered, and it was going down a flight of wooden steps.The cellar was dimly lit and the ceiling was so low that Brienne bumped her head against a beam when she went in.There were no geese inside, just a few scattered stools, and a long bench leaning against the dirt wall.The tables were old gray wine barrels, many holes riddled with moths.As expected, there was a stench everywhere, which her nose told her was a mixture of red wine, damp, and mold, with a hint of latrines and graveyards. There were only three drinking Tyroshi sailors in the corner, each with forked green and red beards, talking to each other in low voices.They looked at her briefly, one of them said something, and the rest laughed.A plank spanned the two barrels, and the shopkeeper stood behind them.She was a plump, pale, bald woman with large breasts hanging limply under a dirty baggy coat.The man looked as if the gods had made it out of raw flour. Brienne didn't dare to ask for water here, she bought a glass of red wine, "I'm looking for a man named Smart Dick." "Dick Crabble. He comes almost every night." The woman glanced at Brienne's sword and armor. "If you want to kill him, go elsewhere. We don't want to mess with Lord Tully." "I want to talk to him. How do you think I'm going to kill him?" The woman shrugged. "I'd appreciate it if you nodded when he came in." "How grateful?" Brienne placed a pentacle on the board in front of her, and sat down in a dark corner with a clear view of the stairs. She tasted the wine and it was greasy with a hair floating in it.The hope of finding Sansa was as small as this strand of hair, she thought as she picked it out.Following Sir Dontos' line proved fruitless.Where the hell are you, Miss Sansa?Did you run back to Winterfell, or are you with your husband?Podrick seemed to think she was with her husband, but Brienne wasn't going to look across the Narrow Sea, not even speaking the language.There, I had to grunt and gesticulate to make myself understood and to appear even more of a monster.They would laugh at me, as they did in Highgarden.Recalling the past, a blush crept up her cheeks. After Renly was crowned, the Maiden of Tarth rode all the way across the Frontier to join the army.The king greeted her in person, with all the courtesy, to welcome her to serve, as his lords and knights did not.Brienne hadn't expected a warm welcome; she was prepared for indifference, mockery, and hostility. She had had enough of them.But what puzzled her this time was not the contempt of the majority, but the kindness of the few.The Maiden of Tarth had been engaged three times, but had never been courted until she came to Highgarden. Big Ben Bush was first, one of the few men in Renly's camp who were taller than her.Not only did he send his servants to polish her armor, but he also gave her a silver horn.Sir Edmund Ambrose went one step further, bringing her flowers and inviting her to ride with him.Sir Hale Hunter was even more enthusiastic than the previous two. He gave her a beautifully illustrated book containing hundreds of stories of gallantry and chivalry. He fed her horses with apples and carrots, and sent her A blue silk plume adorning the helmet.He told her gossip about the camp and made her smile with his sharp tongue.He even trains with her one day, and that's more important to her than anything else. She thought it was because of him that other people became polite.Not just being polite.At the dinner table, people rushed to sit beside her, poured her wine and passed sweet rolls.Sir Rickard Farrow plays and sings love songs on his banjo outside her tent; Sir Hugh Bisbury presents her with a jar of honey labeled "Sweet as Daughter of Tarth", Mark Mullen Doyle kept her entertained with his quirky monkey, black and white, from the Summer Isles, and a hedge knight named Will "The Stork" offered to rub her shoulders. Brienne rejected him, rejected everyone.One night, Ser Owen Inchefey caught her and forced her to kiss him, and she kicked her ass into the fire.Afterwards, she looked at herself in the mirror.The face was as broad and large as ever, with freckles, protruding teeth, thick lips, and a thick jaw, and it was ugly.All she wanted was to be a knight and serve King Renly, but now... She wasn't the only woman in the camp, the humblest camp whore was prettier than she, and Lord Tyrell entertained King Renly at the castle every night, fair maidens and lovely ladies to music from flutes and harps and harps. The horns danced.Why are you so nice to me?Whenever a strange knight courts her, she wants to scream, what do you want? Randyll Tarly had solved the mystery by sending two of his henchmen to summon her to his tent.Earlier his youngest son Dickon had told his lord what they had said when he heard the four knights laughing as they saddled up. They set a gamble. The game was initiated by three young knights: Ambrose, Bush, and Hyle Hunter, all of whom were directly subordinate to Tully.As word spread around the camp, others joined in.Each person must first hand over a golden dragon to participate in the competition, and no matter who gets her virginity, all the money will belong to this person. "I ended their game," Tully told her. "Some...challengers...have less honor than others, and as the stakes grow, it's only a matter of time before someone uses force." "They're all knights," she was stunned. "Anointed knights." "And both are respectable. It's your fault." His accusation made her flinch. "I never...my lord, I never egged them on." "You're instigating them by staying here. A woman who behaves like a camp prostitute can't be blamed for treating her like a camp prostitute. The military camp is not a place for young girls to stay. If you still consider your own virtue or family honor, then Time to take off your armor at once and go home and ask your father to find you a husband." "I have come to fight," she insisted. "I will be a knight." "The gods make men fight and women bear children," said Landau Tarly. "Women's battlefield is in the birthing bed." Someone came down the cellar stairs.Brienne pushed her glass aside and saw a scrawny, shabby man with a pointed face and dirty brown hair stalking into the Goose Tavern.He cast a quick glance at the Tyroshi sailors, then stared at Brienne for a long time, before finally walking up to the plank. "Red wine," he said, "don't put horse urine in it, thanks." The woman looked at Brienne and nodded. "I'll buy you a drink," she cried, "for a message." The other party looked at her warily. "A piece of news? I know a lot of news." He sat down on the stool opposite her. "Tell me, miss, which one you want to hear, and Dick Dick will tell you." "I heard you tricked a clown." The ragged man sipped his wine thoughtfully. "Maybe. Maybe not." The original coat of arms had been torn from his worn and faded tight coat. "Who told you to come?" "King Robert." She placed a silver stag on the barrel between them.It had Robert's head on one side and a crowned stag on the other. "Really?" The man smiled and picked up the silver coin, and the silver coin spun. "I like to see the king dance, hey-hey-hey-ho. Yes, maybe I've seen that clown you say." "Is there a girl with him?" "Two girls." He replied immediately. "Two girls?" Arya the other? "Well," said the man, "to be honest, I haven't seen the two sweethearts in person, I just know that he wants three people on the boat." "Where are you going by boat?" "The other side of the sea, if I remember correctly." "Do you remember what he looked like?" “一个小丑。”银币旋转的速度开始减慢，他一把抓起，银币消失在他手中。“一个担惊受怕的小丑。” “为什么担惊受怕？” 他耸耸肩，“他没讲过，但老伙计机灵狄克嗅得出恐惧的味道。他差不多每晚都来，请水手们喝酒，讲笑话，唱小曲。只有某天晚上，一些胸口有猎人图案的人闯进来，你那小丑的脸色变得像牛奶一样苍白，他赶紧住嘴，一声不吭，直到他们离开。”他将凳子挪近。“塔利派士兵沿码头巡逻，监视每一艘来往船只。要找鹿，去树林；要坐船，上码头。你那小丑不敢上码头，因此我才提议帮忙。” "help?" “帮这个忙的价钱可不止一枚银鹿。” “告诉我，我就再给你一枚。” “先让我看看，”他说。于是她把另一枚银币放到桶上。他先让银币旋转起来，然后微笑着抓住。“一个不能去找船的人需要让船来找他。我告诉他，我知道这种情况会在哪里发生。一个隐秘的地方。” 布蕾妮起了鸡皮疙瘩。“走私者的山洞？你让小丑去找走私者？” “他和那两个女孩，”他嘻嘻窃笑，“嗯，只不过，我让他们去的地方有一阵子没船了。大概三十年吧。”他挠挠鼻子。“你跟这小丑啥关系？” “那两个女孩是我妹妹。” “哦，是吗？可怜的小东西。我也有过一个妹妹，她原本骨瘦如柴，膝盖骨都突出来了，但后来她长出一对奶子，然后某位骑士之子忽然发现她两腿之间颇具吸引力。上次我见到她时，她正要去君临谋生。” “你让他们去了哪里？” 他又耸耸肩。“这个嘛，我不记得了。” “哪里？”布蕾妮在木板上又拍下一枚银鹿。 他用食指将银币弹回给她，“一个鹿找不到的地方……龙或许可以。” 银子买不到消息，她意识到，金龙或许行，或许不行。钢铁更可靠。布蕾妮摸摸匕首，最后还是把手伸进钱袋，找出一枚金币，放到桶上。 "where?" 衣衫褴褛的人抓起金币咬了咬。“太棒了。这下我想起来了，蟹爪半岛，从这儿往北去是一大片荒凉的山丘和沼泽，碰巧我是在那里出生，在那里长大的。我本名狄克·克莱勃，虽然大多数人管我叫机灵狄克。” 她没把自己的名字告诉他，“蟹爪半岛上的什么地方？” “轻语堡。你一定听说过克莱伦斯·克莱勃吧。” "No." 这似乎让他很惊讶，“我说的可是克莱伦斯·克莱勃爵士！知道吗？我有他的血统。他身高八尺，强壮得能单手拔起一棵松树，扔出半里地。没有一匹马承受得了他的重量，因此他骑野牛。” “他跟走私者的山洞有什么关系？” “他老婆是个森林女巫。克莱伦斯爵士每杀一个人，就会把脑袋提回家，叫他老婆亲吻人头的嘴唇，好让其复活。这些人都是领主、巫师、著名的骑士跟海盗，其中一个还是暮谷城的国王呢。他们统统作了老克莱勃的谋士，既然只有脑袋，说话声音便不可能太大，但也从不闭嘴。想想吧，假如你是颗脑袋，就只能靠说话打发时间，因此克莱勃的城堡被称为轻语堡——至今仍然如此，尽管它成为废墟已有一千年了。那是个孤独的地方，轻语堡。”机灵狄克将金币灵巧地在指关节之间翻滚。“一条孤零零的龙，如果有十条……” “十枚金龙是一大笔钱。你当我是傻瓜？” “不，但我可以带你去找小丑。”金币来来回回地翻滚。“带你去轻语堡，小姐。” 布蕾妮不喜欢他摆弄金币的方式。然而……“假如找到我妹妹，六枚金龙。找到小丑，两枚。什么也没找到，就什么也没有。” 克莱勃耸耸肩。“六枚不错。六枚可以。” too fast.在他将金币藏起来之前，她扣住他，“别耍花招。我可不是好惹的。” 她松手之后，克莱勃揉着手腕。“妈的，该死，”他喃喃道，“你弄疼我了。” “我很抱歉。我妹妹是个十三岁的处女。我必须找到她，以免——” “——以免哪位骑士把那活儿插进她的洞里。好，我明白了，她一定会没事，因为机灵狄克跟你是一伙。 明天天亮时分在东门边碰头，给我弄匹马。 "