Or dead. Buried with his king. “Ah, Robert,” he murmured as his groping hand touched a coldstone wall, his leg throbbing4 with every motion. He remembered the jest the king had shared in thecrypts of Winterfell, as the Kings of Winter looked on with cold stone eyes. The king eats, Robert hadsaid, and the Hand takes the shit. How he had laughed. Yet he had gotten it wrong. The king dies, NedStark thought, and the Hand is buried.
The dungeon6 was under the Red Keep, deeper than he dared imagine. He remembered the oldstories about Maegor the Cruel, who murdered all the masons who labored7 on his castle, so theymight never reveal its secrets.
He damned them all: Littlefinger, Janos Slynt and his gold cloaks, the queen, the Kingslayer,Pycelle and Varys and Ser Barristan, even Lord Renly, Robert’s own blood, who had run when hewas needed most. Yet in the end he blamed himself. “Fool,” he cried to the darkness, “thrice-damnedblind fool.”
Cersei Lannister’s face seemed to float before him in the darkness. Her hair was full of sunlight,but there was mockery in her smile. “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die,” shewhispered. Ned had played and lost, and his men had paid the price of his folly8 with their life’s blood.
When he thought of his daughters, he would have wept gladly, but the tears would not come. Evennow, he was a Stark5 of Winterfell, and his grief and his rage froze hard inside him.
When he kept very still, his leg did not hurt so much, so he did his best to lie unmoving. For howlong he could not say. There was no sun and no moon. He could not see to mark the walls. Ned closedhis eyes and opened them; it made no difference. He slept and woke and slept again. He did not knowwhich was more painful, the waking or the sleeping. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbingdreams of blood and broken promises. When he woke, there was nothing to do but think, and hiswaking thoughts were worse than nightmares. The thought of Cat was as painful as a bed of nettles9.
He wondered where she was, what she was doing. He wondered whether he would ever see her again.
Hours turned to days, or so it seemed. He could feel a dull ache in his shattered leg, an itch10 beneaththe plaster. When he touched his thigh11, the flesh was hot to his fingers. The only sound was hisbreathing. After a time, he began to talk aloud, just to hear a voice. He made plans to keep himselfsane, built castles of hope in the dark. Robert’s brothers were out in the world, raising armies atDragonstone and Storm’s End. Alyn and Harwin would return to King’s Landing with the rest of hishousehold guard once they had dealt with Ser Gregor. Catelyn would raise the north when the wordreached her, and the lords of river and mountain and Vale would join her.
He found himself thinking of Robert more and more. He saw the king as he had been in the flowerof his youth, tall and handsome, his great antlered helm on his head, his warhammer in hand, sittinghis horse like a horned god. He heard his laughter in the dark, saw his eyes, blue and clear asmountain lakes. “Look at us, Ned,” Robert said. “Gods, how did we come to this? You here, and mekilled by a pig. We won a throne together …”
I failed you, Robert, Ned thought. He could not say the words. I lied to you, hid the truth. I let them kill you.
The king heard him. “You stiff-necked fool,” he muttered, “too proud to listen. Can you eat pride,Stark? Will honor shield your children?” Cracks ran down his face, fissures12 opening in the flesh, andhe reached up and ripped the mask away. It was not Robert at all; it was Littlefinger, grinning,mocking him. When he opened his mouth to speak, his lies turned to pale grey moths13 and took wing.
Ned was half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. At first he thought he dreamt them; ithad been so long since he had heard anything but the sound of his own voice. Ned was feverish14 bythen, his leg a dull agony, his lips parched15 and cracked. When the heavy wooden door creaked open,the sudden light was painful to his eyes.
A gaoler thrust a jug16 at him. The clay was cool and beaded with moisture. Ned grasped it with bothhands and gulped17 eagerly. Water ran from his mouth and dripped down through his beard. He drankuntil he thought he would be sick. “How long …?” he asked weakly when he could drink no more.
The gaoler was a scarecrow of a man with a rat’s face and frayed18 beard, clad in a mail shirt and aleather half cape19. “No talking,” he said as he wrenched20 the jug from Ned’s hands.
“Please,” Ned said, “my daughters …” The door crashed shut. He blinked as the light vanished,lowered his head to his chest, and curled up on the straw. It no longer stank of urine and shit. It nolonger smelled at all.
He could no longer tell the difference between waking and sleeping. The memory came creepingupon him in the darkness, as vivid as a dream. It was the year of false spring, and he was eighteenagain, down from the Eyrie to the tourney at Harrenhal. He could see the deep green of the grass, andsmell the pollen21 on the wind. Warm days and cool nights and the sweet taste of wine. He rememberedBrandon’s laughter, and Robert’s berserk valor22 in the melee23, the way he laughed as he unhorsed menleft and right. He remembered Jaime Lannister, a golden youth in scaled white armor, kneeling on thegrass in front of the king’s pavilion and making his vows24 to protect and defend King Aerys.
Afterward25, Ser Os well Whent helped Jaime to his feet, and the White Bull himself, Lord CommanderSer Gerold Hightower, fastened the snowy cloak of the Kingsguard about his shoulders. All six WhiteSwords were there to welcome their newest brother.
Yet when the jousting26 began, the day belonged to Rhaegar Targaryen. The crown prince wore thearmor he would die in: gleaming black plate with the three-headed dragon of his House wrought27 inrubies on the breast. A plume28 of scarlet29 silk streamed behind him when he rode, and it seemed nolance could touch him. Brandon fell to him, and Bronze Yohn Royce, and even the splendid SerArthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.
Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsingSer Barristan in the final tilt30 to claim the champion’s crown. Ned remembered the moment when allthe smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornishprincess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap. He could see it still: a crownof winter roses, blue as frost.
Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals31 thethorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle32 of blood rundown his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark.
Promise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent33 of winterroses.
“Gods save me,” Ned wept. “I am going mad.”
The gods did not deign34 to answer.
Each time the turnkey brought him water, he told himself another day had passed. At first he wouldbeg the man for some word of his daughters and the world beyond his cell. Grunts35 and kicks were hisonly replies. Later, when the stomach cramps36 began, he begged for food instead. It made no matter;he was not fed. Perhaps the Lannisters meant for him to starve to death. “No,” he told himself. IfCersei had wanted him dead, he would have been cut down in the throne room with his men. Shewanted him alive. Weak, desperate, yet alive. Catelyn held her brother; she dare not kill him or theImp’s life would be forfeit37 as well.
From outside his cell came the rattle38 of iron chains. As the door creaked open, Ned put a hand tothe damp wall and pushed himself toward the light. The glare of a torch made him squint39. “Food,” hecroaked.
“Wine,” a voice answered. It was not the rat-faced man; this gaoler was stouter40, shorter, though he wore the same leather half cape and spiked41 steel cap. “Drink, Lord Eddard.” He thrust a wineskininto Ned’s hands.
The voice was strangely familiar, yet it took Ned Stark a moment to place it. “Varys?” he saidgroggily when it came. He touched the man’s face. “I’m not … not dreaming this. You’re here.” Theeunuch’s plump cheeks were covered with a dark stubble of beard. Ned felt the coarse hair with hisfingers. Varys had transformed himself into a grizzled turnkey, reeking42 of sweat and sour wine. “Howdid you … what sort of magician are you?”
“A thirsty one,” Varys said. “Drink, my lord.”
Ned’s hands fumbled43 at the skin. “Is this the same poison they gave Robert?”
“You wrong me,” Varys said sadly. “Truly, no one loves a eunuch. Give me the skin.” He drank,a trickle of red leaking from the corner of his plump mouth. “Not the equal of the vintage you offeredme the night of the tourney, but no more poisonous than most,” he concluded, wiping his lips. “Here.”
Ned tried a swallow. “Dregs.” He felt as though he were about to bring the wine back up.
“All men must swallow the sour with the sweet. High lords and eunuchs alike. Your hour hascome, my lord.”
“My daughters …”
“The younger girl escaped Ser Meryn and fled,” Varys told him. “I have not been able to find her.
Nor have the Lannisters. A kindness, there. Our new king loves her not. Your older girl is stillbetrothed to Joffrey. Cersei keeps her close. She came to court a few days ago to plead that you bespared. A pity you couldn’t have been there, you would have been touched.” He leaned forwardintently. “I trust you realize that you are a dead man, Lord Eddard?”
“The queen will not kill me,” Ned said. His head swam; the wine was strong, and it had been toolong since he’d eaten. “Cat … Cat holds her brother …”
“The wrong brother,” Varys sighed. “And lost to her, in any case. She let the Imp3 slip through herfingers. I expect he is dead by now, somewhere in the Mountains of the Moon.”
“If that is true, slit44 my throat and have done with it.” He was dizzy from the wine, tired andheartsick.
“Your blood is the last thing I desire.”
Ned frowned. “When they slaughtered45 my guard, you stood beside the queen and watched, and saidnot a word.”
“And would again. I seem to recall that I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by Lannisterswords.” The eunuch looked at him curiously46, tilting47 his head. “When I was a young boy, before Iwas cut, I traveled with a troupe48 of mummers through the Free Cities. They taught me that each manhas a role to play, in life as well as mummery. So it is at court. The King’s Justice must be fearsome,the master of coin must be frugal49, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be valiant50 … and themaster of whisperers must be sly and obsequious51 and without scruple52. A courageous53 informer wouldbe as useless as a cowardly knight54.” He took the wineskin back and drank.
Ned studied the eunuch’s face, searching for truth beneath the mummer’s scars and false stubble.
He tried some more wine. This time it went down easier. “Can you free me from this pit?”
“I could … but will I? No. Questions would be asked, and the answers would lead back to me.”
Ned had expected no more. “You are blunt.”
“A eunuch has no honor, and a spider does not enjoy the luxury of scruples55, my lord.”
“Would you at least consent to carry a message out for me?”
“That would depend on the message. I will gladly provide you with paper and ink, if you like.
And when you have written what you will, I will take the letter and read it, and deliver it or not, asbest serves my own ends.”
“Your own ends. What ends are those, Lord Varys?”
“Peace,” Varys replied without hesitation56. “If there was one soul in King’s Landing who was trulydesperate to keep Robert Baratheon alive, it was me.” He sighed. “For fifteen years I protected himfrom his enemies, but I could not protect him from his friends. What strange fit of madness led you totell the queen that you had learned the truth of Joffrey’s birth?”
“The madness of mercy,” Ned admitted.
“Ah,” said Varys. “To be sure. You are an honest and honorable man, Lord Eddard. Ofttimes Iforget that. I have met so few of them in my life.” He glanced around the cell. “When I see what honesty and honor have won you, I understand why.”
Ned Stark laid his head back against the damp stone wall and closed his eyes. His leg wasthrobbing. “The king’s wine … did you question Lancel?”
“Oh, indeed. Cersei gave him the wineskins, and told him it was Robert’s favorite vintage.” Theeunuch shrugged57. “A hunter lives a perilous58 life. If the boar had not done for Robert, it would havebeen a fall from a horse, the bite of a wood adder59, an arrow gone astray … the forest is the abbatoir ofthe gods. It was not wine that killed the king. It was your mercy.”
Ned had feared as much. “Gods forgive me.”
“If there are gods,” Varys said, “I expect they will. The queen would not have waited long in anycase. Robert was becoming unruly, and she needed to be rid of him to free her hands to deal with hisbrothers. They are quite a pair, Stannis and Renly. The iron gauntlet and the silk glove.” He wiped hismouth with the back of his hand. “You have been foolish, my lord. You ought to have heededLittlefinger when he urged you to support Joffrey’s succession.”
“How … how could you know of that?”
Varys smiled. “I know, that’s all that need concern you. I also know that on the morrow the queenwill pay you a visit.”
Slowly Ned raised his eyes. “Why?”
“Cersei is frightened of you, my lord … but she has other enemies she fears even more. Herbeloved Jaime is fighting the river lords even now. Lysa Arryn sits in the Eyrie, ringed in stone andsteel, and there is no love lost between her and the queen. In Dorne, the Martells still brood on themurder of Princess Elia and her babes. And now your son marches down the Neck with a northernhost at his back.”
“Robb is only a boy,” Ned said, aghast.
“A boy with an army,” Varys said. “Yet only a boy, as you say. The king’s brothers are the onesgiving Cersei sleepless60 nights … Lord Stannis in particular. His claim is the true one, he is known forhis prowess as a battle commander, and he is utterly61 without mercy. There is no creature on earth halfso terrifying as a truly just man. No one knows what Stannis has been doing on Dragonstone, but Iwill wager62 you that he’s gathered more swords than seashells. So here is Cersei’s nightmare: whileher father and brother spend their power battling Starks and Tullys, Lord Stannis will land, proclaimhimself king, and lop off her son’s curly blond head … and her own in the bargain, though I trulybelieve she cares more about the boy.”
“Stannis Baratheon is Robert’s true heir,” Ned said. “The throne is his by rights. I would welcomehis ascent63.”
Varys tsked. “Cersei will not want to hear that, I promise you. Stannis may win the throne, but onlyyour rotting head will remain to cheer unless you guard that tongue of yours. Sansa begged sosweetly, it would be a shame if you threw it all away. You are being given your life back, if you’lltake it. Cersei is no fool. She knows a tame wolf is of more use than a dead one.”
“You want me to serve the woman who murdered my king, butchered my men, and crippled myson?” Ned’s voice was thick with disbelief.
“I want you to serve the realm,” Varys said. “Tell the queen that you will confess your viletreason, command your son to lay down his sword, and proclaim Joffrey as the true heir. Offer todenounce Stannis and Renly as faithless usurpers. Our green-eyed lioness knows you are a man ofhonor. If you will give her the peace she needs and the time to deal with Stannis, and pledge to carryher secret to your grave, I believe she will allow you to take the black and live out the rest of yourdays on the Wall, with your brother and that baseborn son of yours.”
The thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only hecould see the boy again, sit and talk with him … pain shot through his broken leg, beneath the filthygrey plaster of his cast. He winced64, his fingers opening and closing helplessly. “Is this your ownscheme,” he gasped65 out at Varys, “or are you in league with Littlefinger?”
That seemed to amuse the eunuch. “I would sooner wed66 the Black Goat of Qohor. Littlefinger is thesecond most devious67 man in the Seven Kingdoms. Oh, I feed him choice whispers, sufficient so thathe thinks I am his … just as I allow Cersei to believe I am hers.”
“And just as you let me believe that you were mine. Tell me, Lord Varys, who do you trulyserve?”
Varys smiled thinly. “Why, the realm, my good lord, how ever could you doubt that? I swear it by my lost manhood. I serve the realm, and the realm needs peace.” He finished the last swallow ofwine, and tossed the empty skin aside. “So what is your answer, Lord Eddard? Give me your wordthat you’ll tell the queen what she wants to hear when she comes calling.”
fwine, and tossed the empty skin aside. “So what is your answer, Lord Eddard? Give me your wordthat you’ll tell the queen what she wants to hear when she comes calling.”
“If I did, my word would be as hollow as an empty suit of armor. My life is not so precious to meas that.”
“Pity.” The eunuch stood. “And your daughter’s life, my lord? How precious is that?”
A chill pierced Ned’s heart. “My daughter …”
“Surely you did not think I’d forgotten about your sweet innocent, my lord? The queen mostcertainly has not.”
“No,” Ned pleaded, his voice cracking. “Varys, gods have mercy, do as you like with me, butleave my daughter out of your schemes. Sansa’s no more than a child.”
“Rhaenys was a child too. Prince Rhaegar’s daughter. A precious little thing, younger than yourgirls. She had a small black kitten she called Balerion, did you know? I always wondered whathappened to him. Rhaenys liked to pretend he was the true Balerion, the Black Dread68 of old, but Iimagine the Lannisters taught her the difference between a kitten and a dragon quick enough, the daythey broke down her door.” Varys gave a long weary sigh, the sigh of a man who carried all thesadness of the world in a sack upon his shoulders. “The High Septon once told me that as we sin, sodo we suffer. If that’s true, Lord Eddard, tell me … why is it always the innocents who suffer most,when you high lords play your game of thrones? Ponder it, if you would, while you wait upon thequeen. And spare a thought for this as well: The next visitor who calls on you could bring you breadand cheese and the milk of the poppy for your pain … or he could bring you Sansa’s head.
“The choice, my dear lord Hand, is entirely69 yours.”
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1
stank
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| n. (英)坝，堰，池塘 动词stink的过去式 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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fissures
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| n.狭长裂缝或裂隙( fissure的名词复数 )；裂伤；分歧；分裂v.裂开( fissure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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pollen
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| n.[植]花粉 | |
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valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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melee
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| n.混战；混战的人群 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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jousting
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| （骑士）骑马用长矛比武( joust的现在分词 ) | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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cramps
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| n. 抽筋, 腹部绞痛, 铁箍 adj. 狭窄的, 难解的 v. 使...抽筋, 以铁箍扣紧, 束缚 | |
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forfeit
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| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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stouter
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| 粗壮的( stout的比较级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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adder
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| n.蝰蛇；小毒蛇 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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67
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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68
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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