I find it most refreshing3 in this heat.”
There was no denying the heat; Ned could feel the silk tunic4 clinging to his chest. Thick, moist aircovered the city like a damp woolen5 blanket, and the riverside had grown unruly as the poor fled theirhot, airless warrens to jostle for sleeping places near the water, where the only breath of wind was tobe found. “That would be most kind,” Ned said, seating himself.
Pycelle lifted a tiny silver bell with thumb and forefinger6 and tinkled7 it gently. A slender youngserving girl hurried into the solar. “Iced milk for the King’s Hand and myself, if you would be sokind, child. Well sweetened.”
As the girl went to fetch their drinks, the Grand Maester knotted his fingers together and rested hishands on his stomach. “The smallfolk say that the last year of summer is always the hottest. It is notso, yet ofttimes it feels that way, does it not? On days like this, I envy you northerners your summersnows.” The heavy jeweled chain around the old man’s neck chinked softly as he shifted in his seat.
“To be sure, King Maekar’s summer was hotter than this one, and near as long. There were fools,even in the Citadel8, who took that to mean that the Great Summer had come at last, the summer thatnever ends, but in the seventh year it broke suddenly, and we had a short autumn and a terrible longwinter. Still, the heat was fierce while it lasted. Oldtown steamed and sweltered by day and camealive only by night. We would walk in the gardens by the river and argue about the gods. I rememberthe smells of those nights, my lord—perfume and sweat, melons ripe to bursting, peaches andpomegranates, nightshade and moonbloom. I was a young man then, still forging my chain. The heatdid not exhaust me as it does now.” Pycelle’s eyes were so heavily lidded he looked half-asleep. “Mypardons, Lord Eddard. You did not come to hear foolish meanderings of a summer forgotten beforeyour father was born. Forgive an old man his wanderings, if you would. Minds are like swords, I dofear. The old ones go to rust9. Ah, and here is our milk.” The serving girl placed the tray betweenthem, and Pycelle gave her a smile. “Sweet child.” He lifted a cup, tasted, nodded. “Thank you. Youmay go.”
When the girl had taken her leave, Pycelle peered at Ned through pale, rheumy eyes. “Now wherewere we? Oh, yes. You asked about Lord Arryn …”
“I did.” Ned sipped10 politely at the iced milk. It was pleasantly cold, but oversweet to his taste.
“If truth be told, the Hand had not seemed quite himself for some time,” Pycelle said. “We had sattogether on council many a year, he and I, and the signs were there to read, but I put them down to thegreat burdens he had borne so faithfully for so long. Those broad shoulders were weighed down by allthe cares of the realm, and more besides. His son was ever sickly, and his lady wife so anxious thatshe would scarcely let the boy out of her sight. It was enough to weary even a strong man, and theLord Jon was not young. Small wonder if he seemed melancholy11 and tired. Or so I thought at thetime. Yet now I am less certain.” He gave a ponderous12 shake of his head.
“What can you tell me of his final illness?”
The Grand Maester spread his hands in a gesture of helpless sorrow. “He came to me one day asking after a certain book, as hale and healthy as ever, though it did seem to me that somethingwas troubling him deeply. The next morning he was twisted over in pain, too sick to rise from bed.
Maester Colemon thought it was a chill on the stomach. The weather had been hot, and the Handoften iced his wine, which can upset the digestion. When Lord Jon continued to weaken, I went tohim myself, but the gods did not grant me the power to save him.”
doften iced his wine, which can upset the digestion. When Lord Jon continued to weaken, I went tohim myself, but the gods did not grant me the power to save him.”
“I have heard that you sent Maester Colemon away.”
The Grand Maester’s nod was as slow and deliberate as a glacier13. “I did, and I fear the Lady Lysawill never forgive me that. Maybe I was wrong, but at the time I thought it best. Maester Colemon islike a son to me, and I yield to none in my esteem14 for his abilities, but he is young, and the youngofttimes do not comprehend the frailty15 of an older body. He was purging16 Lord Arryn with wastingpotions and pepper juice, and I feared he might kill him.”
“Did Lord Arryn say anything to you during his final hours?”
Pycelle wrinkled his brow. “In the last stage of his fever, the Hand called out the name Robertseveral times, but whether he was asking for his son or for the king I could not say. Lady Lysa wouldnot permit the boy to enter the sickroom, for fear that he too might be taken ill. The king did come,and he sat beside the bed for hours, talking and joking of times long past in hopes of raising LordJon’s spirits. His love was fierce to see.”
“Was there nothing else? No final words?”
“When I saw that all hope had fled, I gave the Hand the milk of the poppy, so he should notsuffer. Just before he closed his eyes for the last time, he whispered something to the king and hislady wife, a blessing17 for his son. The seed is strong, he said. At the end, his speech was too slurred18 tocomprehend. Death did not come until the next morning, but Lord Jon was at peace after that. Henever spoke19 again.”
Ned took another swallow of milk, trying not to gag on the sweetness of it. “Did it seem to you thatthere was anything unnatural20 about Lord Arryn’s death?”
“Unnatural?” The aged21 maester’s voice was thin as a whisper. “No, I could not say so. Sad, for acertainty. Yet in its own way, death is the most natural thing of all, Lord Eddard. Jon Arryn rests easynow, his burdens lifted at last.”
“This illness that took him,” said Ned. “Had you ever seen its like before, in other men?”
“Near forty years I have been Grand Maester of the Seven Kingdoms,” Pycelle replied. “Underour good King Robert, and Aerys Targaryen before him, and his father Jaehaerys the Second beforehim, and even for a few short months under Jaehaerys’s father, Aegon the Fortunate, the Fifth of HisName. I have seen more of illness than I care to remember, my lord. I will tell you this: Every case isdifferent, and every case is alike. Lord Jon’s death was no stranger than any other.”
“His wife thought otherwise.”
The Grand Maester nodded. “I recall now, the widow is sister to your own noble wife. If an oldman may be forgiven his blunt speech, let me say that grief can derange22 even the strongest and mostdisciplined of minds, and the Lady Lysa was never that. Since her last stillbirth, she has seen enemiesin every shadow, and the death of her lord husband left her shattered and lost.”
“So you are quite certain that Jon Arryn died of a sudden illness?”
“I am,” Pycelle replied gravely. “If not illness, my good lord, what else could it be?”
“Poison,” Ned suggested quietly.
Pycelle’s sleepy eyes flicked23 open. The aged maester shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Adisturbing thought. We are not the Free Cities, where such things are common. Grand MaesterAethelmure wrote that all men carry murder in their hearts, yet even so, the poisoner is beneathcontempt.” He fell silent for a moment, his eyes lost in thought. “What you suggest is possible, mylord, yet I do not think it likely. Every hedge maester knows the common poisons, and Lord Arryndisplayed none of the signs. And the Hand was loved by all. What sort of monster in man’s fleshwould dare to murder such a noble lord?”
“I have heard it said that poison is a woman’s weapon.”
Pycelle stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It is said. Women, cravens … and eunuchs.” He cleared histhroat and spat25 a thick glob of phlegm onto the rushes. Above them, a raven24 cawed loudly in therookery. “The Lord Varys was born a slave in Lys, did you know? Put not your trust in spiders, mylord.”
That was scarcely anything Ned needed to be told; there was something about Varys that made his flesh crawl. “I will remember that, Maester. And I thank you for your help. I have taken enough ofyour time.” He stood.
fyour time.” He stood.
Grand Maester Pycelle pushed himself up from his chair slowly and escorted Ned to the door. “Ihope I have helped in some small way to put your mind at ease. If there is any other service I mightperform, you need only ask.”
“One thing,” Ned told him. “I should be curious to examine the book that you lent Jon the daybefore he fell ill.”
“I fear you would find it of little interest,” Pycelle said. “It was a ponderous tome by GrandMaester Malleon on the lineages of the great houses.”
“Still, I should like to see it.”
The old man opened the door. “As you wish. I have it here somewhere. When I find it, I shall haveit sent to your chambers26 straightaway.”
“You have been most courteous,” Ned told him. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “Onelast question, if you would be so kind. You mentioned that the king was at Lord Arryn’s bedsidewhen he died. I wonder, was the queen with him?”
“Why, no,” Pycelle said. “She and the children were making the journey to Casterly Rock, incompany with her father. Lord Tywin had brought a retinue27 to the city for the tourney on PrinceJoffrey’s name day, no doubt hoping to see his son Jaime win the champion’s crown. In that he wassadly disappointed. It fell to me to send the queen word of Lord Arryn’s sudden death. Never have Isent off a bird with a heavier heart.”
“Dark wings, dark words,” Ned murmured. It was a proverb Old Nan had taught him as a boy.
“So the fishwives say,” Grand Maester Pycelle agreed, “but we know it is not always so. WhenMaester Luwin’s bird brought the word about your Bran, the message lifted every true heart in thecastle, did it not?”
“As you say, Maester.”
“The gods are merciful.” Pycelle bowed his head. “Come to me as often as you like, Lord Eddard.
I am here to serve.”
Yes, Ned thought as the door swung shut, but whom?
On the way back to his chambers, he came upon his daughter Arya on the winding29 steps of theTower of the Hand, windmilling her arms as she struggled to balance on one leg. The rough stone hadscuffed her bare feet. Ned stopped and looked at her. “Arya, what are you doing?”
“Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours.” Her hands flailed30 at the air to steadyherself.
Ned had to smile. “Which toe?” he teased.
“Any toe,” Arya said, exasperated31 with the question. She hopped32 from her right leg to her left,swaying dangerously before she regained33 her balance.
“Must you do your standing34 here?” he asked. “It’s a long hard fall down these steps.”
“Syrio says a water dancer never falls.” She lowered her leg to stand on two feet. “Father, willBran come and live with us now?”
“Not for a long time, sweet one,” he told her. “He needs to win his strength back.”
Arya bit her lip. “What will Bran do when he’s of age?”
Ned knelt beside her. “He has years to find that answer, Arya. For now, it is enough to know thathe will live.” The night the bird had come from Winterfell, Eddard Stark35 had taken the girls to thecastle godswood, an acre of elm and alder36 and black cottonwood overlooking the river. The heart treethere was a great oak, its ancient limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines; they knelt before it to offertheir thanksgiving, as if it had been a weirwood. Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya severalhours later, curling up in the grass under Ned’s cloak. All through the dark hours he kept his vigilalone. When dawn broke over the city, the dark red blooms of dragon’s breath surrounded the girlswhere they lay. “I dreamed of Bran,” Sansa had whispered to him. “I saw him smiling.”
“He was going to be a knight37,” Arya was saying now. “A knight of the Kingsguard. Can he stillbe a knight?”
“No,” Ned said. He saw no use in lying to her. “Yet someday he may be the lord of a greatholdfast and sit on the king’s council. He might raise castles like Brandon the Builder, or sail a shipacross the Sunset Sea, or enter your mother’s Faith and become the High Septon.” But he will never run beside his wolf again, he thought with a sadness too deep for words, or lie with a woman, orhold his own son in his arms.
rhold his own son in his arms.
Arya cocked her head to one side. “Can I be a king’s councillor and build castles and become theHigh Septon?”
“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and yoursons will be knights38 and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.”
Arya screwed up her face. “No,” she said, “that’s Sansa.” She folded up her right leg and resumedher balancing. Ned sighed and left her there.
Inside his chambers, he stripped off his sweat-stained silks and sluiced39 cold water over his headfrom the basin beside the bed. Alyn entered as he was drying his face. “My lord,” he said, “LordBaelish is without and begs audience.”
“Escort him to my solar,” Ned said, reaching for a fresh tunic, the lightest linen40 he could find.
“I’ll see him at once.”
Littlefinger was perched on the window seat when Ned entered, watching the knights of theKingsguard practice at swords in the yard below. “If only old Selmy’s mind were as nimble as hisblade,” he said wistfully, “our council meetings would be a good deal livelier.”
“Ser Barristan is as valiant41 and honorable as any man in King’s Landing.” Ned had come to havea deep respect for the aged, white-haired Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
“And as tiresome,” Littlefinger added, “though I daresay he should do well in the tourney. Lastyear he unhorsed the Hound, and it was only four years ago that he was champion.”
The question of who might win the tourney interested Eddard Stark not in the least. “Is there areason for this visit, Lord Petyr, or are you here simply to enjoy the view from my window?”
Littlefinger smiled. “I promised Cat I would help you in your inquiries42, and so I have.”
That took Ned aback. Promise or no promise, he could not find it in him to trust Lord PetyrBaelish, who struck him as too clever by half. “You have something for me?”
“Someone,” Littlefinger corrected. “Four someones, if truth be told. Had you thought to questionthe Hand’s servants?”
Ned frowned. “Would that I could. Lady Arryn took her household back to the Eyrie.” Lysa haddone him no favor in that regard. All those who had stood closest to her husband had gone with herwhen she fled: Jon’s maester, his steward43, the captain of his guard, his knights and retainers.
“Most of her household,” Littlefinger said, “not all. A few remain. A pregnant kitchen girl hastilywed to one of Lord Renly’s grooms44, a stablehand who joined the City Watch, a potboy dischargedfrom service for theft, and Lord Arryn’s squire45.”
“His squire?” Ned was pleasantly surprised. A man’s squire often knew a great deal of hiscomings and goings.
“Ser Hugh of the Vale,” Littlefinger named him. “The king knighted the boy after Lord Arryn’sdeath.”
“I shall send for him,” Ned said. “And the others.”
Littlefinger winced46. “My lord, step over here to the window, if you would be so kind.”
“Why?”
“Come, and I’ll show you, my lord.”
Frowning, Ned crossed to the window. Petyr Baelish made a casual gesture. “There, across theyard, at the door of the armory47, do you see the boy squatting48 by the steps honing a sword with anoilstone?”
“What of him?”
“He reports to Varys. The Spider has taken a great interest in you and all your doings.” He shiftedin the window seat. “Now glance at the wall. Farther west, above the stables. The guardsman leaningon the ramparts?”
Ned saw the man. “Another of the eunuch’s whisperers?”
“No, this one belongs to the queen. Notice that he enjoys a fine view of the door to this tower, thebetter to note who calls on you. There are others, many unknown even to me. The Red Keep is full ofeyes. Why do you think I hid Cat in a brothel?”
Eddard Stark had no taste for these intrigues49. “Seven hells,” he swore. It did seem as though theman on the walls was watching him. Suddenly uncomfortable, Ned moved away from the window.
“Is everyone someone’s informer in this cursed city?”
“Scarcely,” said Littlefinger. He counted on the fingers on his hand. “Why, there’s me, you, theking … although, come to think on it, the king tells the queen much too much, and I’m less thancertain about you.” He stood up. “Is there a man in your service that you trust utterly50 andcompletely?”
“Yes,” said Ned.
“In that case, I have a delightful51 palace in Valyria that I would dearly love to sell you,”
Littlefinger said with a mocking smile. “The wiser answer was no, my lord, but be that as it may.
Send this paragon52 of yours to Ser Hugh and the others. Your own comings and goings will be noted,but even Varys the Spider cannot watch every man in your service every hour of the day.” He startedfor the door.
“Lord Petyr,” Ned called after him. “I … am grateful for your help. Perhaps I was wrong todistrust you.”
Littlefinger fingered his small pointed28 beard. “You are slow to learn, Lord Eddard. Distrusting mewas the wisest thing you’ve done since you climbed down off your horse.”
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refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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forefinger
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tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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melancholy
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ponderous
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glacier
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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frailty
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purging
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| 清洗； 清除； 净化； 洗炉 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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slurred
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| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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aged
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derange
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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spat
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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flailed
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| v.鞭打( flail的过去式和过去分词 )；用连枷脱粒；（臂或腿）无法控制地乱动；扫雷坦克 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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standing
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stark
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alder
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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sluiced
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| v.冲洗( sluice的过去式和过去分词 )；（指水）喷涌而出；漂净；给…安装水闸 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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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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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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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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armory
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| n.纹章，兵工厂，军械库 | |
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48
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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49
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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50
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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51
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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52
paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
参考例句： |
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