Chapter 32 Chapter 31 Ed

"I myself kept his spirit last night," said Ser Barristan Selmy, as they looked at the body at the back of the cart. "This child has no one to rely on. He doesn't even have any relatives or friends. I heard that there is only the mother in the Vale of Arryn." In the pale morning light, the young knight looked as if he was sleeping.He was not handsome, but death smoothed his rough features, and the sisters of the Sisters of Silence dressed him in the best velvet tunic, with a high neckline that hid the hole in his throat that had been poked by a spear.Eddard Stark looked into his face and wondered if the boy had lost his life because of him.Before Ned could speak to him, he was shot by Lannister vassals.Is this really just a coincidence?He will probably never know.

"Hugh was a squire to Jon Arryn for four years," Selmy went on, "and the king knighted him in Jon's memory before heading north. The boy was too good to be a knight, It's a pity he's not ready yet." Ned had slept poorly last night, and now he was as tired as the old man around him. "Aren't we the same?" he said. "Aren't we ready to be knights?" "Not ready to face death".Ned draped his bloodstained blue cloak, embroidered with crescent moons, over the child gently.When his mother asked how his son had died, he thought bitterly, they would say he died in the prime minister's honor. "He didn't deserve to die at all. Is war a joke?" Ned turned to face the woman in gray standing beside the cart. She was so tightly wrapped that only her eyes were visible.The silent sisters specialize in dealing with the funeral affairs of the deceased, and it is unlucky to see the face of death. "Take his armor back to the Vale, too, for mother to keep as a keepsake."

"It's worth a fortune," Ser Barristan said. "The boy was made especially for a tourney. Nothing fancy, but really, I wonder if he paid the blacksmith." "He paid dearly yesterday," Ned answered, and he said to the Silent Sister, "Give the armor to his mother. I'll take care of it at the smith." She nodded. Then Ser Barristan walked with Ned to the king's tent.The camp is coming to life, fat grilled sausages sizzling and dripping over firepits, and the air smells of garlic and pepper.Young squires ran about while their masters were just waking up, yawning and stretching for the new day.A cook with a goose under his arm got down on one knee when he saw them. "Good morning, my lord." He murmured, and the goose quacked and pecked at his fingers.The shields displayed outside each tent depict the family crests of the nobles who live there, including the silver eagle of Sea Front City, the nightingale and field of Bryce Cullen, the bunches of grapes of the Redwyne family, and the spotted wild boar, The red bull, the burning tree, the white ram, the triple helix, the purple unicorn, the dancing maiden, the black snake, the twin towers, the horned owl, and finally the pure white coat of arms of the Kingsguard that shone like the dawn.

"The king is going to tourney today," Barristan said as they passed Ser Meryn's shield.The paint on the shield was scratched deep, where Loras Tyrell had unhorsed him yesterday. "Yes," said Ned gravely.Jory had woken him last night to break the news, and it was no wonder he hadn't slept well. Ser Barristan looked sad. "As the saying goes, the beauty of the night will dissipate after dawn, and what you said after waking up from the wine will not count." "That's what it says," Ned agreed, "but it won't work on Robert." Others might reconsider their drunken rhetoric, but Robert Baratheon would remember it well. , and never regret it.

The king's tent was close to the water's edge, surrounded by the gray morning mist of the river.The tent was woven with gold thread, and it was the largest and most magnificent building in the entire camp.Robert's warhammer and a great iron shield emblazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon stood outside the entrance. Ned had hoped the king's hangover would make it all work out, but they were unlucky enough to find Robert drinking beer out of smooth-horned goblets, yelling at two young squires who were scrambling to put his armor on. Call. "Your Majesty," one of them was on the verge of tears. "It's too small to fit on." He slipped his hand, and the gird, which he was trying to get on Robert's thick neck, fell to the floor.

"Seven Hells!" cursed Robert. "Do I have to do it myself? You're both bloody assholes. Pick it up and don't just sit there with your mouth open. Give it to me, Lancel." Pick it up!" The boy jumped to his feet, and the King noticed the new visitor. "Look at these fools, Ned. My wife insisted I take them as squires, and they turned out to be nothing more than good-for-nothings. They can't even help men put on armor. What kind of squires are they? Pigs with clothes on." Ned saw the problem at a glance. "It's not their fault," he told the king. "Robert, you are too fat to wear it."

Robert Baratheon took a swig of his beer, threw his empty horn on the bunk, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said grimly, "Too fat? Too fat, aren't you? You don't like the king Is that how you talk?" Suddenly he laughed like a storm. "Oh, fuck you, Ned, why are you always right?" The two squires smiled nervously, and the king turned to them again. "You, yes, you two, did you hear what the Prime Minister said? The king is too fat for his armor. Get Ser Alan Santagar and tell him I need the pincers to open my breastplate. Hurry up! What are you waiting for?"

The boys hurried out of the tent, tripping over each other on the way.Robert put on a stern look until they were gone, then slumped back in his chair, laughing. Ser Barristan Selmy chuckled too, and even Eddard Stark smiled too.However, he could not ignore the two page boys: they were handsome lads, fair-skinned and well-proportioned.The one with the blond curls was about Sansa's age, and the other was about fifteen, with tawny hair, a little moustache, and emerald green eyes like the Queen's. "Ah, I really want to see the expression on Santaja's face."Robert said, "If he had any brains, he'd send them off to someone else. We'll keep them running all day!"

"These boys," Ned asked him, "are Lannisters?" Robert nodded, wiping tears from his laughter. "Her two cousins, Lord Tywin's brother's son, those dead brothers, I think, they seem to be the living ones, I don't remember. Ned, my wife comes from a big family .” An ambitious family, too, Ned thought.He had no problem with the squires themselves, but he worried when he saw Robert surrounded by the queen's relations day and night.The Lannisters are greedy for power and glory. "I heard that you had trouble with the queen last night?" The joy froze over Robert's face. "That dead woman wants to prevent me from participating in today's group competition. She is still sulking in the castle at the moment. Forget it. Your sister will never humiliate me like this."

"Robert, you don't know Lyanna as well as I do," Ned told him. "You only see her beauty, but not her real hard temper. If she had lived, she would have told you that you and Team fights have nothing to do with it." "Why are you doing this?" The king frowned, "Stark, you are so annoying, I think you have stayed in the north for too long, and the blood in your body is frozen to ice. Tell you, my blood is still boiling ’” He patted his chest for proof. "Don't forget you are king," Ned reminded him. "Sit in that damn iron chair when I should be sitting, can't I have the same emotions as everyone else? Can't I just drink a little wine, have fun with a girl, and enjoy the thrill of riding a horse?" To hell, Ned, I was only trying to beat people."

Ser Barristan Selmy said, "My lord," he said, "it is not right for a king to join a tourney, for it would not be a fair game. Who would lay hands on you?" Robert hadn't expected this. "Well, anyone can do it, damn it. As long as they have the ability. Anyway, the last one standing..." "It must be you," Ned said.He saw at once that Selmy had hit the nail on the head.It would only irritate Robert more if he emphasized the dangers of the contest, and it was a matter of his pride. "Ser Barristan is right. No one in the Seven Kingdoms would risk your anger." The king blushed and stood up abruptly, "You mean those useless cowards will miss on purpose?" "It is conceivable," Ned said.Ser Barristan Selmy nodded quietly in agreement. For some time Robert was too angry to speak.He walked from one side of the tent to the other, turned, and came back again, with a sullen rage on his face.Then he snatched the breastplate from the ground and hurled it at Barristan angrily.Selmy ducked. "Get out," said the king coldly at this moment, "before I kill you." Ser Barristan left at once, and Ned was about to follow, when the king called out, "You don't have to go, Ned." Ned turned to see Robert take his horn again, fill it with beer from the keg in the corner, and hand it to Ned. "Drink," he said abruptly. "I'm not thirsty—" "Drink quickly. This is the king's order." So Ned took the horn and drank it. The beer was dark and strong, so strong that it hurt the eyes. Robert sat down again. "Fuck you, Ned Stark. You and Jon Arryn, I love you so much, what did you do to me? You or Jon should be king." "Your Majesty, your name is justified, and you are most qualified to be king." "I told you to drink, not to talk back. Damn you, you made me king, so pay attention when I speak. Look at me, Ned, and see what I've become when I'm king. Look. Gods, I'm too fat to wear my own armor, how could I be like this?" "Robert..." "Now that the king is talking, shut up and drink. I swear to you, I've never been happier in my life than when I fought in battle and won the throne, and I've never been more dead than now that I have the throne. As for Cersei... It's all thanks to Jon Arryn. After losing Lyanna, I wasn't going to marry at all, but Jon said the kingdom needed an heir. He told me Cersei Lannister would be a good match, because if Viserys Targaryen wants to take back the throne, and marrying her will ensure Lord Tywin supports my cause." The king shook his head. "I swear to God I adored the old man, but now I think he's dumber than Moonboy. Oh, Cersei is handsome, yes, but cold... look at her virtuous manner, as if It looks like all the gold in Casterly Rock is hidden between his feet. Oh, if you won't drink, give me the wine." He took the horn cup, drank it down, hiccupped, and wiped his mouth. "Ned, I'm sorry about your daughter, I mean it. It's about the wolf. My son's lying, I'll bet my soul. My son... you love your boy, don't you?" ?” "I love them with all my heart," said Ned. "Ned, let me tell you in secret. More than once I have dreamed of giving up the throne, taking my steed and warhammer, and sailing to the Free Cities, all day long in adventures and brothels. That's the life I should live. Be a mercenary king, and it's no wonder the bards don't love me when the time comes. Do you know why I didn't really do that? Just because I thought of Joffrey sitting on the throne and Cersei chattering around. That's my son, Nay De, how could I raise such a son?" "He's still a child," Ned said awkwardly.He didn't like Prince Joffrey himself, but he could hear the pain in Robert's voice. "Have you forgotten how wild we were at his age?" "If he's wild, I don't worry about it, Ned. You don't know him as well as I do." He sighed, then shook his head. "Ah, maybe you're right, though Jon often despairs of me, I'm Became a good king." Robert frowned at Ned's silence. "At a time like this, you should speak up." "Your Majesty..." Ned began cautiously. Robert patted Ned on the back. "Ah, you just say I'm a good king compared to Aerys? I know you can't lie, Ned Stark, whether it's for love or honor. I'm young anyway, and now I have With your help, everything will change. Let's create a peaceful and prosperous world that will be praised by future generations, and then send all the Lannisters to the seventh hell. I smell bacon. Who do you think will be the champion today? Have you seen Mace Tyrell's kid? Everyone calls him the Knight of Flowers, the kind of son anyone would be proud of. Last tourney he gave the Kingslayer's golden ass a good whack , you should really come and see Cersei's expression at that time, my stomach hurts from laughing. Renly said he has a fourteen-year-old sister, who is as beautiful as Dawn..." They ate breakfast of black bread, poached goose eggs, and fish fried with onions and bacon, sitting at a trestle table by the river.The king's melancholy melted away with the morning mist, and a moment later, eating an orange, he was talking cheerfully of their childhood at the Eyrie. "Remember who gave Jon a bucket of these oranges? But they rotted, so I threw mine at Dax, right on the bridge of his nose. You remember? That pockmarked squire from Redford He threw one too, and Jon didn't even have time to fart, and the halls of the Eyrie were filled with oranges." He laughed heartily, and Ned couldn't help smiling when he thought about it. This was the boy he had grown up with, he thought, this was the Robert Baratheon he knew and loved.If he could prove that the Lannisters were behind the murder of Bran, that they were the murderers of Jon Arryn, this man would listen.At that time, Cersei will be sanctioned, and the "Kingslayer" will also be finished. If Duke Tywin dares to raise an army to make trouble, Robert will mercilessly smash Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident River. He was completely knocked out.He could see it all clearly. It had been a long time since Eddard Stark had such a pleasant meal, and his smile eased afterwards, until the tourney continued. Ned followed the king into the tournament.He had previously agreed to accompany Sansa to watch the championship match.Septa Mordane was unwell today, and his daughter was determined not to miss the final jousting.When he escorted Robert to the throne room, he found Cersei Lannister deliberately absent, and the seat next to the king was empty.This added to his hope. He pushed his way through the crowd to his daughter just as the horn blew for the first joust of the day.Sansa was so absorbed in watching the arena that she didn't notice him coming. Sandor Clegane appeared first on the field, wearing smoke-gray battle armor and an olive-green cloak.That cloak and his hound helmet were his only adornments. "A hundred gold dragons for Kingslayer," Littlefinger announced as Jaime Lannister entered the arena on his elegant blood-brown steed.The horse was in ringmail of gilt, and Jaime himself was gold from head to toe, and his lance was hewn from golden wood from the Summer Isles. "I mean," Lord Renly called back, "I see 'The Hound' is very hungry this morning." "Even if a dog is hungry, it knows not to bite its master's hand." Littlefinger retorted coldly. Sandor Clegane snapped his mask back on and took his place.Ser Jaime blew a kiss to one of the ladies in the crowd, before gently pulling off his visor and riding to the edge of the ring.The two lowered their spears. Nothing would have pleased Ned better than to see them both lose, while Sansa watched with wide-eyed eagerness.The two horses began to run at full speed, and the makeshift stands shook.The Hound was on horseback, leaning forward, his lance rock-steady, but Jaime moved away a moment before the engagement, and Clegane's lance was dislodged unscathed by his lion-striped gold shield. , I was stabbed straight in the face.The wood chips were scattered, and the "Hound" wobbled on the horse's back and almost fell.Sansa gasped.There was a rough applause from the crowd. "I should think about what to do with your money," Littlefinger said to Lord Renly. The Hound managed to hold his body and did not fall. He reined in sharply, turned around, and rode back to the sidelines to prepare for the second round.Jaime Lannister dropped the broken gun for a new spear, and played a joke on the squire.The Hound clamped the horse's belly hard, and rode forward, and the Lannister rode to meet him.This time when Jaime shifted, Sandor Clegane moved to his side.The two spears exploded at the same time, but when the wood fell to the ground, the reddish-brown horse ran off to graze alone without its owner.Ser Jaime Lannister was rolling in the mud, gold shining, his helm dented. Sansa said, "I knew the Hound would win." Littlefinger heard this. "If you know the winner of the second round, tell me before Lord Renly plucks me to pieces," he called to her.Ned couldn't help smiling. "It's a pity that the little devil is not here," said Lord Renly, "otherwise I would have won twice as much." Jaime Lannister got to his feet, but his ornate lion helmet was knocked on one side and dented when it fell, so that he could not get it off.The audience pointed and booed again and again, and the nobles and ladies couldn't help laughing. Among the din, what Ned could hear most clearly was King Robert's burst of laughter, louder than anyone else.In the end, they had to send someone to lead the blind and stumbling "Lion of Lannister" to the blacksmith. By this time Gregor Clegane had taken his place on the sidelines.He was the tallest and strongest man Eddard Stark had ever seen.Robert Baratheon and his two brothers were big, and The Hound was big, and Hodor, a simple stable boy in Winterfell, was much taller than them, but with Compared with the knight called "Magic Mountain" in front of him, he was a lot shorter than him.He was nearly eight feet tall, with broad shoulders and arms as thick as small tree trunks.His mount looked like a toy horse under his armored feet, and his spear looked like a broomstick. Ser Gregor did not live at court like his brother.He was a solitary man, and rarely left his domain except in battle or tournaments.He was with Duke Tywin when King's Landing fell. He was seventeen years old. Although he had just become a knight, he was already famous for his tall stature and unrivaled ferocity.Some say it was Gregor who smashed the baby Prince Aegon Targaryen against a wall and killed him, and that he raped the baby's mother, Princess Elia of Dorne, and finally Only one sword kills her.Of course, no one dared to mention these words in front of him. Ned Stark did not remember speaking to him, but Gregor had fought alongside thousands of other knights when Balon Greyjoy's rebellion was put down.He looked at him uneasily.Ned himself did not believe rumors easily, but the rumors about Ser Gregor seemed unlikely.He is about to marry for the third time, and there are all sorts of horrible rumors behind the deaths of his first two wives.It is said that his castle is a gloomy place, servants disappear inexplicably, and even dogs dare not enter the hall.His younger sister died mysteriously when he was young, his younger brother was mutilated by fire, and his father died in a hunting accident.Gregor inherited the family castle, property, and house estate.On the day he received the inheritance, his younger brother Sandor left home to join the Lannister family as a warrior. It is said that he has never returned, not even a visit. There was a murmur of murmurs from the crowd as the Knight of Flowers entered, and he heard Sansa whisper eagerly, "Oh, he is so beautiful." The silver armor, polished to a dazzling silver, is inlaid with pairs of black vines and small blue forget-me-nots.Thousands of throats gasped at once as Ned and the rest of the audience realized that the blue flowers were made of sapphire.The cloak on the boy's shoulders was heavy, and it was woven with real forget-me-nots. Hundreds of flowers were sewed on the wool cloak just like that. His mount was as slender as his man, a handsome gray mare, swift and swift.Ser Gregor's big stallion neighed at her scent.The young man from Gaoting flicked his feet lightly, and his mount jumped left and right like a nimble dancer.Sansa grabbed his arm. "Father, don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," she said.Ned saw her wearing the rose Ser Loras had given her yesterday.Jory told him all that had happened yesterday. "They're holding tournament guns," he told his daughter, "and they'll break into pieces when they hit each other, so no one will be hurt." As he said this, he thought of the boy in the van wearing a crescent moon cloak The corpse, the words seemed hollow. Ser Gregor had little control over his mount.The horse screamed and neighed, stomped and shook its head.The Mountain kicked it viciously with its steel-armored foot, and the horse reared up, nearly throwing him. The Knight of Flowers saluted the king, rode to the edge of the arena, lowered his lance, and took his position.Ser Gregor pulled the reins and pulled the reins for a long time to get the horse to the starting line, and then it all started suddenly.The Mountain's horses galloped and galloped furiously forward, while the fillies sprinted as smooth as silk.Ser Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just there, and in an eye blink, the Mountain was riding high. Then he fell down.Because he was really too big, he even pulled the horse down, and the horse armor rolled into a ball. Ned heard cheers, cheers, whistles, gasps of horror, murmurs of excitement, and above all, the gruff, raspy laugh of The Hound.The Knight of Flowers reined in on the opposite side of the field, and didn't even break his spear.When he lifted his mask and smiled, the sapphires all over his body blinked in the sun, and the audience went crazy for him. In the middle of the field, Ser Gregor Clegane let go of his reins and stirrups at last, and rose to his feet in a rage.He jerked off his helmet and threw it to the ground, his face sullen and angry, his hair hanging down over his eyes. "Bring the sword," he called to the squire, who hurried up to hand it to him.At this moment his mount also stood up. Gregor Clegane slashed his horse so hard it nearly chopped off its head.The cheers turned into screams in an instant.The horse fell to its knees and died screaming, and Gregor walked towards Ser Loras Tyrell on the sidelines with his bloody sword in his hand. "Get him!" Ned yelled, but his words were lost in the roar.Everyone was yelling and Sansa was crying. Everything happened so fast.The Knight of Flowers called for a sword too, but Ser Gregor pushed his squire away and reached for the reins.The filly reared up, smelling blood, and Loras Tyrell nearly fell off her horse.Ser Gregor, sword in both hands, struck the boy in the chest so hard that he flew from the saddle in an instant.The frightened mount ran away, and Ser Loras passed out on the mud.Just as Gregor raised his sword to strike a fatal blow, a hoarse voice warned him: "Don't touch him." Immediately afterwards, a hand wearing a steel gauntlet wrenched him away from the boy. The "Mountain" turned in silent rage and struck with all his astonishing strength, but the Hound took the blow and let go.For an unknown amount of time afterward, the two of them stood there, back and forth, while the others hurriedly helped the dizzy Loras Tyrell to a safe place.Three times Ned saw Ser Gregor lash the hound helm, but Sandor never struck his brother's unprotected head. At last it was the voice of the king that quelled the confusion... the voice of the king and twenty warriors.Jon Arryn had said that a commander needed a voice that would work on the battlefield, and Robert had proved it on the Trident, and he used it now. "In the name of your king," he roared, "stop me now!" The Hound immediately knelt down on one knee when he heard the words, Sir Gregor's slash missed, and then he regained his senses.He dropped his sword and shot Robert a look.The king was surrounded by the Kingsguard, and a dozen knights and guards.He pushed Barristan Selmy away, turned and strode away without a word. "Let him go," said Robert.That was the end of the matter. "Is the Hound champion now?" Sansa asked Ned. "No," he told her, "the Hound and the Knight of Flowers must fight again." But Sansa was right.A few minutes later, Ser Loras Tyrell walked back into the arena in a plain linen coat and said to Sandor Clegane, "I owe you my life, and the victory is yours, my lord." "I'm not some 'Lord Sir,'" replied the Hound, but he accepted the win, the prize money, and perhaps the first crowd affection he'd ever received in his life.When he left the venue and returned to the tent, the crowd cheered and cheered for him. Ned and Sansa are on their way to the archery range, followed by Littlefinger, Lord Renly and several others. "Tyrell must have known that the mare was in heat," said Littlefinger. "I swear to God the boy planned it. Gregor has always favored big, bad-tempered, wild horses with little discipline." He reasoned with interest. Ser Barristan Selmy disagreed. "There's no honor in such a trick," said the old man stubbornly. "No honor, but enough to win twenty thousand dragons." Lord Renly smiled. That afternoon, a young man named Anguy from the frontiers of Dorne defeated Sir Balon Swann and Jalabah Thor in the final of the hundred-pace shooting after eliminating other shorter-range opponents, and took off his arrow. Champion.Ned had sent Alyn to ask him if he would be interested in taking a place in the Hand's Guards, but the boy, basking in wine and victory and riches beyond his wildest dreams, had declined the errand. The group competition lasted three hours.A total of nearly forty people participated, most of whom were freeriders, hedge knights, and newly appointed squires who wanted to seek fame.Armed with blunt weapons, they fought each other in the mud-splattered and blood-splattered field. For a while they formed a small team to fight against the enemy, and in a blink of an eye they fought among themselves and killed each other. .The victor was Thoros from Myr, the red-robed monk with a shaved head and a madman in his hand, holding a flaming sword.He had been a joust before, for the other knights' horses were terrified of his flaming sword, but he was not afraid of anything.The final list of casualties included two broken legs, a shattered collarbone, a dozen battered fingers, two horses that had to be disposed of, and too many cuts, sprains, and abrasions to count.Ned was exceedingly glad Robert hadn't been there. During the dinner that day, Ed Stark felt unprecedented optimism and hope for the future.Robert was in good spirits, the Lannisters were absent, and even his two daughters were delighted.Jory brought Arya over to sit with them, and Sansa happily offered to talk to her sister. "What a tourney," she exclaimed. "You should come. How's your dance?" "I'm so sore," Arya happily reported on her progress, proudly showing off a large purple bruise on her leg. "I think you must be a terrible dancer," said Sansa suspiciously. Sansa then went to hear a troupe of singers sing a suite of ballads called "A Dance with the Dragon," while Ned inspected the youngest daughter's bruises himself. "I hope Forel hasn't been too harsh on you." Arya stood on one foot, which she had been getting better at lately. "Syrio said every injury is a lesson and every lesson makes us stronger." Ned frowned.Syrio Forel is well known, and his flamboyant Braavosi style fits well with Arya's slender sword, however... a few days ago she was dangling around with a black silk scarf over her eyes Go, tell him that Syrio taught her to sense her surroundings with her ears, her nose, and her skin.Before that, he asked her to practice rolling back and forth again. "Arya, do you really want to keep learning?" She nodded. "Tomorrow we start catching cats." "Catch the cat," sighed Ned. "Perhaps I shouldn't have hired this Braavosian to teach you. If you like, I'll ask Jory to take over and let him teach. Or I can talk to Barristan." Let me tell you, when he was young, he was the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms." "I don't want them," Arya said, "I want Syrio." Ned ran a hand through his hair.In fact, any passable instructor could teach Arya the basics of chopping and parrying, without all the blindfolded walking, somersaulting, and one-legged hopping tricks.But he knew his little girl too well to argue with her stubborn jaw that it was useless. "Then Syrio." She'd get tired of it sooner or later anyway. "But you must be careful." "I will," she assured him solemnly, and hopped smoothly from right foot to left foot. That night, after he took his daughters back to the city, sent them to bed, and watched Sansa, who was full of daydreams, and Arya, who was covered with wounds, sleeping peacefully, Ned stepped up to the top of the Prime Minister's Tower. Return to your own living room.It was warm during the day, so that the room was now very gloomy.Ned went to the window and opened the heavy catch, letting in the cool evening breeze.Across the vast atrium, he noticed the flickering candlelight in Littlefinger's window.It was past midnight, but far away by the river the noise was just beginning to subside a little. He took out the dagger and examined it carefully.Littlefinger's knife, lost to Tyrion Lannister in a tournament bet, is used to kill Bran in his sleep.Why?Why did the dwarf want Bran to die?How could anyone want to put Bran to death? He vaguely felt that the dagger and Bran's fall were all related to the murder of Jon Arryn, but the truth of Jon's death was like a mystery, and he still had no clue.Lord Stannis did not return to King's Landing for the tourney, and Lysa Arryn hid behind the high walls of the Eyrie, silent.Jon's squire was dead, and Jory was still prowling the whorehouses.Besides Robert's bastard son, what clues does he have on his hands? There was no doubt that the weapons master's sullen apprentice was the king's son, and Ned knew that.The features of House Baratheon were clearly stamped on his face, evidenced by his jaw, eyes and black hair.Renly was too young to have a son that old, and Stannis was too cold and honorable to do such a thing.Gendry must be of Robert's kind. Even so, what could he discover from it?The king's children spread throughout the seven kingdoms.He had publicly admitted an illegitimate child about Bran's age, the boy's mother was a nobleman, and he was now adopted by Duke Renly's deputy castellan of Storm's End. Ned also remembered Robert's first child, a daughter he had borne in the Vale, when he himself was still a child.It was a lovely little girl, and the young lord of Storm's End doted on her very much. Even though he had lost interest in the child's mother long ago, he still went to play with his daughter every day.And whether Ned likes it or not, he is always taken as a companion.It occurred to him that the girl must be seventeen or eighteen by now, older than Robert had been when she was born, and that was odd to think. Cersei would not be pleased that her lord was saving seeds everywhere, but in the end it made no difference whether the king had one illegitimate child or a hundred, after all, according to law and custom, the rights of heirs born of concubines are extremely limited.Neither Gendry, nor the girl in the Vale, nor the boy of Storm's End, could threaten the child born to Robert and the queen... His thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. "My lord, someone wants to see you," Harwin called, "and he won't give his name." "Let him in," said Ned wondered. The visitor was stout, wearing muddy tattered boots, a thick brown robe made of extremely rough material, his face was covered by a hooded cloak, and his hands were hidden in overlapping sleeves. "Who are you?" Ned asked. "I am your friend." The masked man said in a strangely low voice. "Lord Stark, we have to talk alone." Curiosity trumped wariness. "Harwin, you step back first," he ordered.The visitor raised his cloak only after the door closed, leaving only the two of them in the room. "Lord Varys?" Ned said in surprise. “史塔克大人，”瓦里斯彬彬有礼地道，然后自己坐了下来。“不知可否麻烦您给我点喝的？” 奈德倒了两杯夏日红，递给瓦里斯一杯。“打扮成这样，恐怕我在你鼻子底下也认不出来。”他难以置信地说。除了丝绸、天鹅绒和最上等的锦缎，他从来没见太监穿过其他质料的衣服。太监向来一身紫丁香味，然而眼前此人却浑身汗臭。 “我正希望如此。”瓦里斯道，“绝不能让别人知道我们私下密谈的事。您的一举一动，王后都监视得很紧。这酒好极了，谢谢您。” “你是怎么通过我其他守卫的？”奈德问。波瑟和凯恩派驻塔外，埃林则守在楼梯口。 “红堡里有些密道只有幽灵和蜘蛛才知道。”瓦里斯歉然微笑，“我不会打扰您太久，大人，不过有些事您必须知情。您是御前首相，但国王却是蠢才一个。”太监从前的甜腻语调不再，取而代之的是轻细且锐利如鞭的口气。“我知道他是您的挚友，但蠢才就是蠢才……而且恐怕是个注定要完蛋的蠢才，除非您能救他。今天差一点就让他们得逞，他们原本计划在团体比武时谋害他。” 好半晌奈德震惊得说不出话。“他们指谁？” 瓦里斯啜了口酒，“如果连这个都还要我告诉你，那我看你比劳勃还蠢，而我显然站错了队。” “兰尼斯特，”奈德道，“王后……不，我不相信，即使瑟曦也不可能做出这种事，她明明就叫他不要参加！” “她禁止他参加，而且是当着他弟弟，当着他手下骑士，以及半数廷臣的面说的。说真的，敢问您知道什么更好的方法，可以逼得国王不得不参加团体比武？您倒是说说看。” 奈德只觉得反胃。太监说得没错，叫劳勃不准做这，不该做那，绝对不可以如此这般，那就跟催促他没两样。“就算他真的下场，谁敢动手打国王？” 瓦里斯耸耸肩。“总共有四十来个家伙参加，兰尼斯特家势力又大。场子里乱成那样，马叫个不停，到处有人折手断脚，再加上索罗斯挥着他那把怪里怪气的火焰剑，要真有人不小心碰到国王陛下，你能说那是蓄意谋杀吗？”他起身去拿酒壶，替自己再度斟满。“等生米煮成熟饭，凶手肯定是一副悲痛得难以自已的模样。我连他怎么哭都可以想像。真叫人难过哟。不过那位雍容华贵又慈悲为怀的寡妇一定会同情他，搀扶这可怜虫站起来，然后轻轻一吻给予原谅，到时候咱们好心肠的乔佛里国王除了宽恕他还能怎么办呢。”太监抓抓脸颊。“或者瑟曦会叫伊林爵士把他的头给砍了。这样兰尼斯特家比较保险，只是可怜了他们的同伙。” 奈德怒火中烧。“你既然知道这起阴谋，为何一声不吭？” “我的手下是打听消息的探子，不是舞刀弄剑的武士哪。” “那至少也该早点跟我说。” “哦，是嘛？这我承认。不过就算我说了又如何，好让您立刻冲到国王面前向他禀报，是不是？等劳勃听说了这些诡计他又会怎么做呢？我倒是挺好奇。” 奈德仔细想想。“他会咒他们通通滚蛋，然后照样参赛，让他们知道他不怕。” 瓦里斯一摊手：“艾德大人，我再向您承认一件事吧。我想看看您听了会有何反应。您问我怎么不事先跟您说，我的回答是：因为我不信任您，大人。” “你不信任我？”这次奈德真的大吃一惊。 “艾德大人，红堡里住了两种人。”瓦里斯道，“一种忠于王国，一种忠于自己。今天早上以前，我不敢判定您属于哪一种……所以我等着瞧……现在我清清楚楚地知道了。”他浅浅一笑，刹那间他私下的表情和在公众场合的表情合而为一。“我渐渐开始了解王后为何这么怕您了。呵，我总算见识到了。” “你才是她应该怕的人。”奈德道。 “不，我的身份很清楚。国王利用我，但他为此感到羞耻。咱们劳勃是个雄赳赳气昂昂的大勇士，这种男子气概的人最不屑的就是鸡鸣狗盗和太监之流。要是哪天瑟曦在他耳边嘀咕说'把他杀了吧'，伊林·派恩转眼间就会砍了我这颗头，到时候谁会替可怜的瓦里斯哀伤呢？天南地北，没有人会为蜘蛛歌唱啊。”他伸出软绵绵的手碰碰奈德。“可史塔克大人您就不一样了……我猜想……不，我很清楚……他决不会杀您，即使是为了王后，这或许便是我们的救赎所在哟。” 这真是太过火了。有好一会儿艾德·史塔克只想回到临冬城，只想要北方的简单明了，那里的敌人就是寒冬和长城外的野人。“劳勃一定还有其他值得信赖的盟友，”他辩驳道，“比如他亲弟弟，还有他——” “——他老婆？”瓦里斯替他说完，同时露出锐利伤人的微笑。“他两个弟弟是痛恨兰尼斯特没错，但恨王后和爱国王不见得是同一回事，您说是罢？巴利斯坦爵士爱的是他的荣誉，派席尔国师爱惜他得来不易的职位，小指头呢，小指头只爱小指头他自己。” “那御林铁卫——” “不过是纸老虎罢了，”太监说，“史塔克大人，您就别一副震惊的模样了。詹姆·兰尼斯特固然是个宣过誓的白骑士，但我们都知道他发的誓有几分斤两。莱安·雷德温和龙骑士伊蒙王子披白袍的日子早过去啦。如今的七铁卫里，只有巴利斯坦·赛尔弥爵士有真本领，然而赛尔弥老矣。柏洛斯爵士和马林爵士都是王后死心塌地的走狗，另外几个我看也好不到哪里去。是的，大人，若真要动刀动枪，您将会是劳勃·拜拉席恩惟一的朋友。” “我得让劳勃知道，”奈德道，“假如你所言非虚，即便只有一半属实，国王本人都应该立刻知情。” “那请问咱们的证据何在？难道要我和他们当面对质？要我的小小鸟儿与王后、弑君者，与国王的亲弟弟和他满朝重臣，东西境守护，以及凯岩城所有的势力为敌？您干脆直接叫伊林爵士来砍我头吧，那样比较省事。我知道说了会有什么下场。” “若你所言属实，他们只会静待时机，准备再次发难。” “那还用说，”瓦里斯道，“只怕会很快。艾德大人，您让他们寝食难安哪。但我的小小鸟儿会仔细倾听，咱们俩联手，或许能洞烛先机，就你我两个。”他站起身，拉上斗篷遮住脸。“谢谢您的酒，今天就到此为止，其他以后再谈。下次您在朝廷里见到我，请千万别忘了用上您以前那种轻蔑的态度。我想这应该很容易。” 他走到门边时，奈德叫道：“瓦里斯，”太监回过头。“琼恩·艾林是怎么死的？” “我还在想你什么时候才会问起这个。” "tell me." “那东西叫'里斯之泪'，非常罕见，价格高昂。其味道清甜如水，不留一点痕迹。当时我就在这个房间里恳求艾林大人叫人先尝过食物，自己再吃，可他不肯听，还告诉我：只有不配做人的东西才会想到这种事。” 奈德急切地想知道事情始末。“谁下的毒？” “显然是某个与他很亲近，常和他一起同桌共餐的朋友，噢，但是哪一个呢？可疑的对象太多了。艾林大人是个和蔼可亲又值得信赖的人哪。”太监叹道：“不过倒确有这么个孩子，他的一切都是琼恩·艾林给的，但当艾林的寡妇带着一家大小逃回鹰巢城时，他却选择了留在君临，并很快飞黄腾达。看到年轻人有发展，我总是高兴的。”他的话锋重归锐利，每个字都像挥出的一鞭。“他在比武大会上想必塑造了自己英勇的形象，穿着那身闪亮的新盔甲，还有那件弯月披风。只可惜他死不逢时，您还来不及问他就……” 奈德觉得自己仿佛也给下了毒。“原来是那个侍从，”他说，“修夫爵士。”真是谜中有谜，错综复杂。奈德脑中怦怦作响。“为什么？为什么选在这个时候？琼恩·艾林已经当了十四年的首相，他到底做了什么，逼得他们非杀他不可？” “他问得太多了。”瓦里斯说着溜出门。