“沼泽魔鬼的箭射中了当时正在护墙上的他。只不过是擦伤，但是……他们的箭矢喂了毒，箭头上涂了粪便和别的什么更糟糕的东西。我们用沸酒浇过伤口，但那没什么用。”

“He was on the parapets and some bog devil loosed an arrow at him. It was only a graze, but … they poison their shafts, smear the points with shit and worse things. We poured boiling wine into the wound, but it made no difference.”

我没办法和这个“人”谈判。“杀了他”，臭佬命令门卫，“他的心智早已离他而去，剩下只有污血和蛆虫。”

I cannot treat with this thing. “Kill him,” Reek told the guard. “His wits are gone. He’s full of blood and worms.”

门卫目瞪口呆地望着他，“船长大人任命他为指挥官。”

The man gaped at him. “The captain put him in command.”

“当马垂死的时候，你应该送他一程。”

“You’d put a dying horse down.”

“什么马？我从来都没有过马。”

“What horse? I never had no horse.”

我有过。回忆席卷而来。Smlier（席恩以前坐骑的名字）的尖叫听起来就和人类一样。他的鬃毛着了火，眼睛也瞎了，痛苦不堪。他人立起来，胡乱拍打着四蹄。不，不。那不是我的马。臭佬从来都没有过马。“我会替你杀了他。”臭佬拿起拉尔夫。肯宁斜放在盾牌上的剑，他剩下的手指还足以抓牢剑柄。当他挥动利刃划开稻草堆上那个“人”肿胀的喉咙时，黑色的污血与黄色的浓汁从破裂的皮肤里喷涌而出。肯宁猛烈地痉挛了一阵，随后归于平静。一股可怕的恶臭充斥了屋子。臭佬跑到楼梯上，这里的空气潮湿而寒冷，但比较起来要清新得多。门卫跌跌撞撞地跟在他后面，脸色苍白，努力想要止住干呕。臭佬抓住了他的手臂，“谁是第二顺位的指挥官？剩下的人在哪里？”

I did. The memory came back in a rush. Smiler’s screams had sounded almost human. His mane afire, he had reared up on his hind legs, blind with pain, lashing out with his hooves. No, no. Not mine, he was not mine, Reek never had a horse. “I will kill him for you.” Reek snatched up Ralf Kenning’s sword where it leaned against his shield. He still had fingers enough to clasp the hilt. When he laid the edge of the blade against the swollen throat of the creature on the straw, the skin split open in a gout of black blood and yellow pus. Kenning jerked violently, then lay still. An awful stench filled the room. Reek bolted for the steps. The air was damp and cold there, but much cleaner by comparison. The ironman stumbled out after him, white-faced and struggling not to retch. Reek grasped him by the arm. “Who was second-in-command? Where are the rest of the men?”

“在城垛上。要么就在大厅里。不是在睡觉就是在喝酒。如果你愿意的话我会带你去。”

“Up on the battlements, or in the hall. Sleeping, drinking. I’ll take you if you like.”

“现在就去。”拉姆斯大人只给他一天时间。

“Do it now.” Ramsay had only given him a day.

黑石砌就的大厅天护板很高，尽管四处透风仍然充斥着烟雾。石墙上点缀着大片的白色苔藓。很久以前，这里的壁炉曾经熊熊燃烧，然而现在只有一块泥煤在熏黑的炉床里冒着微弱的火苗。一张有着几个世纪历史的雕花大石桌几乎填满了整个房间。那是我曾经坐过的地方，那是我最后一次坐在这里，他回忆道。罗卜坐在桌子的一端，大琼恩坐在他的右边，卢斯波顿坐在左边。The Glovers（谁？）挨着Helman Tallhart，卡史塔克和他的儿子们坐在他们对面。

The hall was dark stone, high ceilinged and drafty, full of drifting smoke, its stone walls spotted by huge patches of pale lichen. A peat fire burned low in a hearth blackened by the hotter blazes of years past. A massive table of carved stone filled the chamber, as it had for centuries. There was where I sat, the last time I was here, he remembered. Robb was at the head of the table, with the Greatjon to his right and Roose Bolton on his left. The Glovers sat next to Helman Tallhart. Karstark and his sons were across from them.

两打的铁民正坐在桌边饮酒，当他进去的时候有几个人抬起呆滞无神的眼睛看着他。剩下的则视而不见。所有人他都不认识。有几个人穿的斗篷上别着银鳕鱼胸针，那是柯德家的家徽。这个家族是铁群岛上并不引人瞩目的一员，他们的男人被认为是窃贼和懦夫，女人则和自己的父兄上床。因此他的叔叔在率领铁舰队返航时选择将这些人留下来并不令他感到吃惊。这将会令他的工作更加容易。“拉尔夫。肯宁死了。”他宣布，“这里谁说了算？”

Two dozen ironborn sat drinking at the table. A few looked at him with dull, flat eyes when he entered. The rest ignored him. All the men were strangers to him. Several wore cloaks fastened by brooches in the shape of silver codfish. The Codds were not well regarded in the Iron Islands; the men were said to be thieves and cowards, the women wantons who bedded with their own fathers and brothers. It did not surprise him that his uncle had chosen to leave these men behind when the Iron Fleet went home. This will make my task that much easier. “Ralf Kenning is dead,” he said. “Who commands here?”

正在饮酒的众人茫然地盯着他。一个人大笑起来。另一个轻蔑地吐了口唾沫。最后一个柯德家的人答道：“是哪位问的？”

The drinkers stared at him blankly. One laughed. Another spat. Finally one of the Codds said, “Who asks?”

“巴隆大人的儿子。”臭佬，我的名字是臭佬，臭佬，臭佬，押韵脸颊。“我奉霍伍德勋爵和恐怖堡继承人拉姆斯波顿大人之名前来此地，他在临冬城之战后俘虏了我。他的大军就在你们北方，他父亲的大军在你们南方。然而拉姆斯大人决定表示仁慈，如果你们能在太阳下山之前献出卡林湾。”他拿出了他们交给他的信并把它扔到那群酒鬼面前的桌子上。

“Lord Balon’s son.” Reek, my name is Reek, it rhymes with cheek. “I am here at the command of Ramsay Bolton, Lord of the Hornwood and heir to the Dreadfort, who captured me at Winterfell. His host is north of you, his father’s to the south, but Lord Ramsay is prepared to be merciful if you yield Moat Cailin to him before the sun goes down.” He drew out the letter that they’d given him and tossed it on the table before the drinkers.

一个人捡起那封信，玩弄着那上面粉红色的蜡封。然后他说道：“一张羊皮纸？这可真TMD好。我们需要的是奶酪和肉。”

One of them picked it up and turned it over in his hands, picking at the pink wax that sealed it. After a moment he said, “Parchment. What good is that? It’s cheese we need, and meat.”

“我们需要的是钢铁”，旁边的一位老人说道，他的左手是木质假肢，“剑，战斧，还有弓，上百张弓，还有用它们射箭的人。”

“Steel, you mean,” said the man beside him, a greybeard whose left arm ended in a stump. “Swords. Axes. Aye, and bows, a hundred more bows, and men to loose the arrows.”

“别说什么【铁民决不投降】，”臭佬发话了，“去和我爸扯这些淡去吧。巴隆大人在劳勃王打破了他的城墙的时候屈膝求饶，另外他也已经死了。如果你不肯投降随你的便”，他指了指那封信，“打开蜡封，读读那些内容。那是保证你们安全的条款，拉姆斯波顿大人亲手写的。放下你们的剑，跟我出去，拉姆斯大人会给你们食物，然后送你们去磐石海岸，在那里会有一艘船接你们回家。除非你们死掉。”

“Ironborn do not surrender,” said a third voice.

“这算是威胁吗？”一位柯德家的人向前挪动了脚步。一个大块头的男人，有着死白的肤色，突出的眼球和宽大的嘴，看上去好像他父亲是和一条鱼生了他。但是他仍然佩戴着长剑。“达庚。柯德绝不屈服。”

“Tell that to my father. Lord Balon bent the knee when Robert broke his wall. Elsewise he would have died. As you will if you do not yield.” He gestured at the parchment. “Break the seal. Read the words. That is a safe conduct, written in Lord Ramsay’s own hand. Give up your swords and come with me, and his lordship will feed you and give you leave to march unmolested to the Stony Shore and find a ship for home. Elsewise you die.”

不，请你听，你必须听。只要想想如果他没能规劝守军投降就悄悄回到兵营的话拉姆斯大人会怎样对他就会让他尿了裤子。臭佬，臭佬，押韵侧漏（我故意的…）。“这就是你的答案？”这句话在他听起来可真是蠢。“这条鳕鱼是代表你们全体讲话吗？”

“Is that a threat?” One of the Codds pushed to his feet. A big man, but pop-eyed and wide of mouth, with dead white flesh. He looked as if his father had sired him on a fish, but he still wore a longsword. “Dagon Codd yields to no man.”

那个他认识的门卫看起来不太确定。“维克塔里昂大人命令我们坚守，他确实是这样命令的，我亲耳听到的。守住这里直到我回来，他是这样对肯宁讲的。”

No, please, you have to listen. The thought of what Ramsay would do to him if he crept back to camp without the garrison’s surrender was almost enough to make him piss his breeches. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with leak. “Is that your answer?” The words rang feebly in his ears. “Does this codfish speak for all of you?”

“嗯”，那个独臂的老人说道，“这便是他所说的。他回去参加选王会，但他发誓他将戴着浮木冠回来，带领着上千的军队。”

The guard who had met him at the door seemed less certain. “Victarion commanded us to hold, he did. I heard him with my own ears. Hold here till I return, he told Kenning.”

“我叔叔不会回来了。”臭佬告诉他们。“选王会加冕了他的弟弟攸伦，而鸦眼有另一场战争要打。你以为我叔叔很重视你们？他当你们一钱不值。你们只不过是被他扔下等死的累赘而已。他抛弃你们就好像涉水上岸时刮掉靴子上污泥。”

“Aye,” said the one-armed man. “That’s what he said. The kingsmoot called, but he swore that he’d be back, with a driftwood crown upon his head and a thousand men behind him.”

这些话触动了听众们。他可以从他们的眼睛里看出这一点，当他们彼此张望的时候，当他们对着酒杯皱眉的时候。他们都在担心自己被遗弃了，这念头引导着我令他们确信了这一点。这里没有铁群岛著名首领的亲属，也没有伟大家族的血脉。他们都是奴仆和盐妾的儿子。

“My uncle is never coming back,” Reek told them. “The kingsmoot crowned his brother Euron, and the Crow’s Eye has other wars to fight. You think my uncle values you? He doesn’t. You are the ones he left behind to die. He scraped you off the same way he scrapes mud off his boots when he wades ashore.”

“如果我们投降，我们就能离开？”独臂老人问道，“这信上都说了些什么？”他用手肘轻轻推了推那个羊皮纸卷，它的蜡封仍然完好无损。

Those words struck home. He could see it in their eyes, in the way they looked at one another or frowned above their cups. They all feared they’d been abandoned, but it took me to turn fear into certainty. These were not the kin of famous captains nor the blood of the great Houses of the Iron Islands. These were the sons of thralls and salt wives.

“你们自己看吧，”他回答。但他几乎确定在场的没有人识字。“拉姆斯大人对俘虏将信守承诺，只要你们同样对他信守承诺。”他只不过会取走几根脚趾，手指或是其他什么东西。他还可能割了我的舌头，或者剥掉我腿上的皮，从脚后跟直到大腿根。“放下你们的剑向他臣服，你们就可以活命。”

“If we yield, we walk away?” said the one-armed man. “Is that what it says on this here writing?” He nudged the roll of parchment, its wax seal still unbroken.

“骗子！”达庚柯德抽出了他的长剑，“你是个变色龙。我们凭什么要听信你的承诺？”

“Read it for yourself,” he answered, though he was almost certain that none of them could read. “Lord Ramsay treats his captives honorably so long as they keep faith with him.” He has only taken toes and fingers and that other thing, when he might have had my tongue, or peeled the skin off my legs from heel to thigh. “Yield up your swords to him, and you will live.”

他喝醉了，臭佬确信。这个酒桶正在发言。“相信你想要相信的。我带来了拉姆斯大人的消息。现在我必须回去他身边。我将品尝以野猪肉和萝卜烹制的美味晚餐，就着浓烈的红酒。跟我一起回去的人将共享这盛宴，而留下的人将在一天内死去。恐怖堡伯爵将率领着他的骑士从堤道进攻，同时他的儿子也带着自己的军队从北面夹击。那就不会有慈悲。战死的人是幸运的，还活着的人会被留给沼泽魔鬼。

“Liar.” Dagon Codd drew his longsword. “You’re the one they call Turncloak. Why should we believe your promises?”

“够了！”达庚。柯德咆哮着，“你以为你能吓倒铁民吗？滚！在你滚回你主人身边前我要切开你的肚子，把你的内脏挖出来，还要让你亲自把它们吃掉！”

He is drunk, Reek realized. The ale is speaking. “Believe what you want. I have brought Lord Ramsay’s message. Now I must return to him. We’ll sup on wild boar and neeps, washed down with strong red wine. Those who come with me will be welcome at the feast. The rest of you will die within a day. The Lord of the Dreadfort will bring his knights up the causeway, whilst his son leads his own men down on you from the north. No quarter will be granted. The ones that die fighting will be the lucky ones. Those who live will be given to the bog devils.”

他或许还想说更多，但是突然间他的目光变得呆滞。随着一声闷响他的前额中间钉上了一柄飞斧。柯德的剑从手指间滑脱了，他像上钩的鱼一般猛地抽搐，随后他裂开的脸撞在了桌子上。

“Enough,” snarled Dagon Codd. “You think you can frighten ironborn with words? Begone. Run back to your master before I open your belly, pull your entrails out, and make you eat them.”

是独臂老人掷出了斧头。他站起身来，手里还有另外一柄飞斧。“还有人想死吗？”他问其他人。“大声讲，我能看到。”鲜血在柯德的头颅四周汇聚，猩红色的细流沿着石壁的缝隙蔓延开来。“我想活着。我不想呆在这个地方烂掉。”

He might have said more, but suddenly his eyes gaped wide. A throwing axe sprouted from the center of his forehead with a solid thunk. Codd’s sword fell from his fingers. He jerked like a fish on a hook, then crashed face-first onto the table.

一个人喝了一大口啤酒。还有一个在用酒洗手指上的血，刚才血流到了他所坐的地方。没有人讲话。当独臂老人把飞斧插回皮带，臭佬知道他赢了。他几乎觉得自己又变成一个“人”了。拉姆斯大人会对我感到满意的。

It was the one-armed man who’d flung the axe. As he rose to his feet he had another in his hand. “Who else wants to die?” he asked the other drinkers. “Speak up, I’ll see you do.” Thin red streams were spreading out across the stone from the pool of blood where Dagon Codd’s head had come to rest. “Me, I mean to live, and that don’t mean staying here to rot.”

他用两只手拉下海怪的旗帜，动作因为那些失去的手指而显得很笨拙。但感谢那些拉姆斯大人留给他的手指。在铁民们准备离开之前又花掉了大半个下午。这里的铁民比他之前所认为的要多——门卫塔有四十七个，酒鬼塔有十八个。有两个已经垂死，没有任何希望生还；还有五个虚弱到不能走路。仍有五十八个准备充分，随时可以战斗。即便他们如此虚弱，仍然足以在拉姆斯大人进攻卡林湾时杀死三倍数量的敌人。所以他很明智地派了我来这里。在爬上马背准备带领他那衣衫褴褛的破烂队伍穿过沼泽回到北方人的营地时，臭佬这样对自己说。“把你们的武器留在这里。”他告诉他的囚犯们，“剑，弓，还有匕首。任何进入视线内的武装人员都会被杀掉。”

One man took a swallow of ale. Another turned his cup over to wash away a finger of blood before it reached the place where he was seated. No one spoke. When the one-armed man slid the throwing axe back through his belt, Reek knew he had won. He almost felt a man again. Lord Ramsay will be pleased with me.

归程花费了三倍于臭佬独自一人前来的时间。他们为四个不能走路的人准备了简陋的轿子，而剩下的那一个则由他儿子背着，所有这些都拖慢了队伍。所有铁民都充分意识到自己现在沼泽魔鬼的毒箭前暴露无遗。如果我死了——臭佬只希望那个弓手能射的准些——希望能死的迅速干净。一个人类应有的死亡，不要遭受拉尔夫。肯宁曾遭受的苦难。

He pulled down the kraken banner with his own two hands, fumbling some because of his missing fingers but thankful for the fingers that Lord Ramsay had allowed him to keep. It took the better part of the afternoon before the ironborn were ready to depart. There were more of them than he would have guessed—forty-seven in the Gatehouse Tower and another eighteen in the Drunkard’s Tower. Two of those were so close to dead there was no hope for them, another five too weak to walk. That still left fifty-eight who were fit enough to fight. Weak as they were, they would have taken three times their own number with them if Lord Ramsay had stormed the ruins. He did well to send me, Reek told himself as he climbed back onto his stot to lead his ragged column back across the boggy ground to where the northmen were encamped. “Leave your weapons here,” he told the prisoners. “Swords, bows, daggers. Armed men will be slain on sight.”

那个独臂老人一瘸一拐地走在队伍最前面。他说他的名字是Adrack Humble，他在大威克岛有一个老婆和三个盐妾。“她们中有三个在我们出发时已经怀孕”，他自夸道，“而且我家人往往生双胞胎。我回去后第一件事就是数数我有了几个新儿子。我或许会用您的名字命名其中一个，我的大人。”

It took them thrice as long to cover the distance as it had taken Reek alone. Crude litters had been patched together for four of the men who could not walk; the fifth was carried by his son, upon his back. It made for slow going, and all the ironborn were well aware of how exposed they were, well within bowshot of the bog devils and their poisoned arrows. If I die, I die. Reek only prayed the archer knew his business, so death would be quick and clean. A man’s death, not the end Ralf Kenning suffered.

啊，命名为臭佬。他想。要是他淘气就切掉他的脚趾，让他吃老鼠。他回过头吐了口口水。拉尔夫。肯宁或许才是比较幸运的那个。他想。

The one-armed man walked at the head of the procession, limping heavily. His name, he said, was Adrack Humble, and he had a rock wife and three salt wives back on Great Wyk. “Three of the four had big bellies when we sailed,” he boasted, “and Humbles run to twins. First thing I’ll need to do when I get back is count up my new sons. Might be I’ll even name one after you, m’lord.”

当拉姆斯大人军营出现在地平线上的时候，青灰色的天空凄凄沥沥地下起了小雨，一位哨兵注视着臭佬一行人静静地通过。空气中弥漫着篝火被雨水浇灭后散发的潮湿烟气。一列骑手在一位盾牌上有马头纹饰的贵族带领下来到他们身后。臭佬知道他是谁，Ryswell大人的一个儿子。Roger或者是Rickard。他分不清这两个人。“这就是全部？”栗色公马背上的骑手问道。

Aye, name him Reek, he thought, and when he’s bad you can cut his toes off and give him rats to eat. He turned his head and spat, and wondered if Ralf Kenning hadn’t been the lucky one.

“所有还没死的，我的大人。”

A light rain had begun to piss down out of the slate-grey sky by the time Lord Ramsay’s camp appeared in front of them. A sentry watched them pass in silence. The air was full of drifting smoke from the cookfires drowning in the rain. A column of riders came wheeling up behind them, led by a lordling with a horsehead on his shield. One of Lord Ryswell’s sons, Reek knew. Roger, or maybe Rickard. He could not tell the two of them apart. “Is this all of them?” the rider asked from atop a chestnut stallion.

“我以为会有更多人。我们曾三次进攻，三次都被他们赶了回来。”

“All who weren’t dead, my lord.”

我们是铁民，臭佬想到。骄傲油然而生，在一瞬间他又成了一位王子，巴隆大王的儿子，派克岛的血脉。然而甚至只是想想这些都是危险的。他必须想起他的名字。臭佬。我的名字是臭佬，押韵虚弱。

“I thought there would be more. We came at them three times, and three times they threw us back.”

他们就这样站在营地外面直到一群猎犬的狂吠宣告了拉姆斯大人的到来。whoresbane（女支女克星？这谁？）跟在后面，还带着半打他的收藏品。Skinner（剥皮者？），Sour Alyn，Damon Dance-for-Me，the Walders Big，Little也跟来了（没一个认识的，囧）。猎犬群集在他们周围，向着这些陌生人呲着牙低吼。私生子的女孩儿们，臭佬想，然后他记起来当拉姆斯大人在场的时候绝对，绝对，绝对不能提那个词。

We are ironborn, he thought, with a sudden flash of pride, and for half a heartbeat he was a prince again, Lord Balon’s son, the blood of Pyke. Even thinking was dangerous, though. He had to remember his name. Reek, my name is Reek, it rhymes with weak.

臭佬滚鞍下马，屈膝下跪。“我的大人，卡林湾是您的了，它最后的守卫都在这里。”

They were just outside the camp when the baying of a pack of hounds told of Lord Ramsay’s approach. Whoresbane was with him, along with half a dozen of his favorites, Skinner and Sour Alyn and Damon Dance-for-Me, and the Walders Big and Little too. The dogs swarmed around them, snapping and snarling at the strangers. The Bastard’s girls, Reek thought, before he remembered that one must never, never, never use that word in Ramsay’s presence.

“好少。我本来希望能有更多人。他们是相当顽强的敌人。”拉姆斯大人的白眼珠闪闪发光。“你们一定饿坏了。达蒙，Alyn，去照顾他们。给他们红酒和浓啤酒，还有任何他们能吃得下的食物。Skinner，让学士们给他们疗伤。”

Reek swung down from his saddle and took a knee. “My lord, Moat Cailin is yours. Here are its last defenders.”

“好的，我的大人。”

“So few. I had hoped for more. They were such stubborn foes.” Lord Ramsay’s pale eyes shone. “You must be starved. Damon, Alyn, see to them. Wine and ale, and all the food that they can eat. Skinner, show their wounded to our maesters.”

有几个铁民在蹒跚地走向营地中间的篝火之前咕哝着对拉姆斯大人表示了感谢，有一位柯德家的人甚至试图去亲吻拉姆斯大人的戒指，但那些猎犬在他靠近前把他赶了回来，Alison还咬掉了他耳朵上的一大块肉。然而当鲜血顺着他的脖子流下来的时候，他还在不停地一边鞠躬一边奉承拉姆斯大人的仁慈。

“Aye, my lord.”

当最后一个人也离开之后，拉姆斯大人回过头对着臭佬微笑。拉姆斯伸出手臂绕过他的后颈紧紧拥抱他，贴过脸来在他的面颊上吻了一下（YOOOOOOOOOooooooooo！），并且耳语道：“臭佬，我的老朋友。他们的真的把你当成他们的王子？这些血腥的白痴，这些铁民，简直连神都要发笑。”

A few of the ironborn muttered thanks before they shambled off toward the cookfires in the center of the camp. One of the Codds even tried to kiss Lord Ramsay’s ring, but the hounds drove him back before he could get close, and Alison took a chunk of his ear. Even as the blood streamed down his neck, the man bobbed and bowed and praised his lordship’s mercy.

“他们想要的只是回家，我的主人。”

When the last of them were gone, Ramsay Bolton turned his smile on Reek. He clasped him by the back of the head, pulled his face close, kissed him on his cheek, and whispered, “My old friend Reek. Did they really take you for their prince? What bloody fools, these ironmen. The gods are laughing.”

“那么你想要什么？我的臭佬？”拉姆斯大人温柔地轻声细语，好像他是他的情人。他的呼吸有着红酒和丁香的香气，非常甜蜜。“英勇的功绩值得奖励。我不能把你的脚趾和手指接回去，但是无疑我能给你一些你想要的东西。想要我给你自由吗？让你从对我的服务中解脱出来，和那些铁民一起回到你们那冰冷大海中的荒凉岛屿，恢复王子的身份？或者你更愿意作我的忠实仆人？”

“All they want is to go home, my lord.”

仿佛有一把冰冷的剃刀抵在他的脊梁上。要当心，他对自己说，要非常，非常地当心。他不喜欢拉姆斯大人像个贵族一样微笑，不喜欢他闪烁的眼睛，不喜欢他嘴角边喷溅的唾沫之前他必须看着这些（才给点好脸就皮痒了！！！）。你不是王子。你是臭佬，仅仅是臭佬，臭佬，押韵丑陋。给他答案，他想要的答案。

“And what do you want, my sweet Reek?” Ramsay murmured, as softly as a lover. His breath smelled of mulled wine and cloves, so sweet. “Such valiant service deserves a reward. I cannot give you back your fingers or your toes, but surely there is something you would have of me. Shall I free you instead? Release you from my service? Do you want to go with them, return to your bleak isles in the cold grey sea, be a prince again? Or would you sooner stay my leal serving man?”

“我的大人，”他说道，“我的位置就在这里，跟您在一起。我是您的臭佬。我只想要服侍您。我想要…我只想要一皮囊的红酒，这足够作为我的臭佬…红酒，您最浓烈的红酒，一个人所能畅饮的最大量的红酒……”

A cold knife scraped along his spine. Be careful, he told himself, be very, very careful. He did not like his lordship’s smile, the way his eyes were shining, the spittle glistening at the corner of his mouth. He had seen such signs before. You are no prince. You’re Reek, just Reek, it rhymes with freak. Give him the answer that he wants.

拉姆斯大人大笑起来。“你不是一个“人”，臭佬，你只是“我的人”。你会得到你的红酒。瓦德，去拿些红酒来。不要害怕，我不会把你送回地老去，我以波顿家的名义发誓。我会把你当做我的小狗，每天给都你肉吃，还要给你留下足够多的牙齿好让你能咬得动。我允许你和我的女孩儿们睡在一起。Ben，你能不能给他做个项圈？（噗嗤！）”

“My lord,” he said, “my place is here, with you. I’m your Reek. I only want to serve you. All I ask … a skin of wine, that would be reward enough for me … red wine, the strongest that you have, all the wine a man can drink …”

“我会做一个，我的大人。”老Ben Bones说道。

Lord Ramsay laughed. “You’re not a man, Reek. You’re just my creature. You’ll have your wine, though. Walder, see to it. And fear not, I won’t return you to the dungeons, you have my word as a Bolton. We’ll make a dog of you instead. Meat every day, and I’ll even leave you teeth enough to eat it. You can sleep beside my girls. Ben, do you have a collar for him?”

那个老头能作得比现在这个更好的。在这个夜晚，这里除了这个项圈，还有一张破毯子，外加半只鸡。为了这半只鸡臭佬必须必须从狗嘴里把它抢下来，但这是自从离开临冬城以来他吃得最好的一顿。

“I’ll have one made, m’lord,” said old Ben Bones.

还有红酒。这红酒既浑浊有酸臭，不过很浓烈。臭佬像条狗一样蹲在狗群中，狂饮直到头昏脑胀，干呕不止。他擦了擦嘴，继续狂饮。

The old man did better than that. That night, besides the collar, there was a ragged blanket too, and half a chicken. Reek had to fight the dogs for the meat, but it was the best meal he’d had since Winterfell.

然后他闭眼躺下，等醒来的时候发现狗在舔他的胡子。夜空中镰刀般的新月刺破厚重的乌云。黑暗中某个地方传来男人的惨叫声。他把狗退到一边，翻了个身继续睡觉。

And the wine … the wine was dark and sour, but strong. Squatting amongst the hounds, Reek drank until his head swam, retched, wiped his mouth, and drank some more. Afterward he lay back and closed his eyes. When he woke a dog was licking vomit from his beard, and dark clouds were scuttling across the face of a sickle moon. Somewhere in the night, men were screaming. He shoved the dog aside, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

第二天清晨，拉姆斯大人派出三名骑兵沿堤道南下告知他的父亲道路已经通畅。在门卫塔塔顶，在臭佬降下派克岛的金色海怪旗的地方。波顿家的剥皮人旗帜高高飘扬。沿着朽坏的栈道，一排木桩深深地插进沼泽地，上面钉着剥了皮的尸体，溃烂的，鲜红的，湿漉漉的尸体。六十三具尸体，臭佬知道，六十三个人都在这里。其中一具有着一截断臂，还有一具的嘴里塞着那卷羊皮纸，上面的蜡封仍旧完好无损。

The next morning Lord Ramsay dispatched three riders down the causeway to take word to his lord father that the way was clear. The flayed man of House Bolton was hoisted above the Gatehouse Tower, where Reek had hauled down the golden kraken of Pyke. Along the rotting-plank road, wooden stakes were driven deep into the boggy ground; there the corpses festered, red and dripping. Sixty-three, he knew, there are sixty-three of them. One was short half an arm. Another had a parchment shoved between its teeth, its wax seal still unbroken.

三天后，卢斯波顿大军的先头部队穿越了卡林湾的废墟，以及那六十三个可怕的哨兵。四百个穿着蓝色和灰色军服的弗雷家骑兵，阳光穿透云层映射在他们的矛尖上闪闪发亮。老弗雷大人的两个儿子率领着这支队伍。其中一个雄壮有力，生了一副突出的强壮下颚，粗壮的手臂肌肉虬结。另一个则是秃顶，尖鼻子上的那两只靠得过近的眼睛透着饥渴，一小撮棕色的胡须很难遮住瘦弱的下巴。这是Hosteen和Aenys，臭佬在知道自己名字以前就认得他们。Hosteen是头公牛，并不易怒，但一旦发火就谁也拦不住，被称为是老瓦德大人麾下最凶猛的战士。Aenys更加年长，也更加残忍，而且更加聪明——更像是一位指挥官而不是战士。这两个人都是经验丰富的军人。

Three days later, the vanguard of Roose Bolton’s host threaded its way through the ruins and past the row of grisly sentinels—four hundred mounted Freys clad in blue and grey, their spearpoints glittering whenever the sun broke through the clouds. Two of old Lord Walder’s sons led the van. One was brawny, with a massive jut of jaw and arms thick with muscle. The other had hungry eyes close-set above a pointed nose, a thin brown beard that did not quite conceal the weak chin beneath it, a bald head. Hosteen and Aenys. He remembered them from before he knew his name. Hosteen was a bull, slow to anger but implacable once roused, and by repute the fiercest fighter of Lord Walder’s get. Aenys was older, crueler, and more clever—a commander, not a swordsman. Both were seasoned soldiers.

北方人紧跟在前锋后面，他们破碎的旗帜在风中招展。臭佬注视着他们通过。大部分都是步兵，而且人数是如此之少。他还记得少狼主麾下的那支南征大军，在临冬城的冰原狼旗下行进。接近两万名手持剑和矛的战士着追随少狼主离开故乡投入战争，如今回来的十不存二，而且绝大多数是恐怖堡的人马。

The northmen followed hard behind the van, their tattered banners streaming in the wind. Reek watched them pass. Most were afoot, and there were so few of them. He remembered the great host that marched south with Young Wolf, beneath the direwolf of Winterfell. Twenty thousand swords and spears had gone off to war with Robb, or near enough to make no matter, but only two in ten were coming back, and most of those were Dreadfort men.

在队列中间最拥挤的地方，一个人穿着黑灰色的板甲和血红色的皮罩衫，他的护胸甲被锻造成一张在痛苦中哀嚎的人脸的形状。他的肩上披着粉色的羊斗篷，上面绣着斑斑鲜血。长长的红绸流苏从紧紧关闭的头盔上披洒下来。这样泽地人的毒箭就杀不了卢斯波顿，臭佬在刚看到那人时心想。一辆由六匹重挽马拉的带封闭车厢的四轮马车紧随在那人身后行进，发出吱吱呀呀的噪音。马车前后都有十字弓手保护着。蓝黑色的天鹅绒帷幕把车里的乘客和围观者的视线隔绝开来。

Back where the press was thickest at the center of the column rode a man armored in dark grey plate over a quilted tunic of blood-red leather. His rondels were wrought in the shape of human heads, with open mouths that shrieked in agony. From his shoulders streamed a pink woolen cloak embroidered with droplets of blood. Long streamers of red silk fluttered from the top of his closed helm. No crannogman will slay Roose Bolton with a poisoned arrow, Reek thought when he first saw him. An enclosed wagon groaned along behind him, drawn by six heavy draft horses and defended by crossbowmen, front and rear. Curtains of dark blue velvet concealed the wagon’s occupants from watching eyes.

在更远处是是辎重车队。满载着给养和战利品的货车隆隆驶过，然后是挤满伤员的马车。在队伍末端，是更多的弗雷家的军队，至少有一千人，也许更多。弓箭手，长矛手，拿着镰刀和尖头木棒的民兵，自由骑手和骑射手，此外还有上百名骑士。

Farther back came the baggage train—lumbering wayns laden with provisions and loot taken in the war, and carts crowded with wounded men and cripples. And at the rear, more Freys. At least a thousand, maybe more: bowmen, spearmen, peasants armed with scythes and sharpened sticks, freeriders and mounted archers, and another hundred knights to stiffen them.

当拉姆斯大人大步向前去迎接他的父亲的时候，臭佬戴着项圈，拴着锁链，破衣烂衫地和其他狗一起跟在拉姆斯大人脚边。可是当黑甲的骑士摘掉头盔，露出的却是一张拉姆斯大人不认识的面孔。拉姆斯大人的笑容一瞬间凝固在脸上，紧接着怒容满面：“这TMD算什么？戏弄我吗？”

Collared and chained and back in rags again, Reek followed with the other dogs at Lord Ramsay’s heels when his lordship strode forth to greet his father. When the rider in the dark armor removed his helm, however, the face beneath was not one that Reek knew. Ramsay’s smile curdled at the sight, and anger flashed across his face. “What is this, some mockery?”

“只是小心罢了”，出现在四轮马车帷幕后面的卢斯波顿轻声说道。

“Just caution,” whispered Roose Bolton, as he emerged from behind the curtains of the enclosed wagon.

恐怖堡伯爵（应该是公爵了？）与他的私生子并没有太多相似之处。他的脸刮的很干净，皮肤光滑，虽然称不上英俊过人但也绝非相貌平平。长期的战斗并没有给他留下伤痕。尽管年过四十，仍然没什么皱纹，在他身上几乎看不出岁月流逝。他的嘴唇很薄，抿在一起的话就几乎看不到了。他仿佛是永恒不变的存在，在卢斯波顿的脸上，喜悦和愤怒的表现几乎完全一样。眼睛是他和拉姆斯唯一相似的地方。他的眼睛像冰一样，臭佬很想知道卢斯波顿是否曾经哭泣，如果是的话，当眼泪流过他的面颊时是一种怎样的感觉呢？

The Lord of the Dreadfort did not have a strong likeness to his bastard son. His face was clean-shaved, smooth-skinned, ordinary, not handsome but not quite plain. Though Roose had been in battles, he bore no scars. Though well past forty, he was as yet unwrinkled, with scarce a line to tell of the passage of time. His lips were so thin that when he pressed them together they seemed to vanish altogether. There was an agelessness about him, a stillness; on Roose Bolton’s face, rage and joy looked much the same. All he and Ramsay had in common were their eyes. His eyes are ice. Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks?

有一个叫席恩葛雷乔伊的男孩儿曾经非常喜欢拿波顿大人开玩笑，当他们和罗卜史塔克一起开会的时候。他嘲弄波顿大人细软的嗓音，还编造关于水蛭的笑话。那时他一定是发了疯、这绝不是一个可以拿来开玩笑的男人。你只要看上波顿大人一眼，就知道他的一个小指头里的残忍就比全体弗雷加起来还要多。

Once, a boy called Theon Greyjoy had enjoyed tweaking Bolton as they sat at council with Robb Stark, mocking his soft voice and making japes about leeches. He must have been mad. This is no man to jape with. You had only to look at Bolton to know that he had more cruelty in his pinky toe than all the Freys combined.

“父亲。”拉姆斯大人在波顿大人面前跪下。

“Father.” Lord Ramsay knelt before his sire.

卢斯波顿大人审视了他一会儿，“你长高了。”接着他转过身帮助两位年轻女士从四轮马车上下来。

Lord Roose studied him for a moment. “You may rise.” He turned to help two young women down from inside the wagon.

第一位又矮又胖，生了一张红色的大圆脸，貂皮兜帽下面露出三层肥大的下巴。“我的新夫人”，卢斯波顿大人说，“瓦德女士，这是我的儿子。拉姆斯，亲吻你继母的手。”拉姆斯大人照办了。“接下来是艾丽娅女士，你的未婚妻，我相信你不会忘了她。”

The first was short and very fat, with a round red face and three chins wobbling beneath a sable hood. “My new wife,” Roose Bolton said. “Lady Walda, this is my natural son. Kiss your stepmother’s hand, Ramsay.” He did. “And I am sure you will recall the Lady Arya. Your betrothed.”

这个女孩很瘦，比记忆中要高，但这还不足为奇。她穿着带白色缎子镶边的灰羊毛外套，外罩白色貂皮斗篷，扣着银色狼头胸针。棕黑色的长发披散在背上。然而她的眼睛…

The girl was slim, and taller than he remembered, but that was only to be expected. Girls grow fast at that age. Her dress was grey wool bordered with white satin; over it she wore an ermine cloak clasped with a silver wolf’s head. Dark brown hair fell halfway down her back. And her eyes …

这个女孩儿不是艾德公爵的女儿。

That is not Lord Eddard’s daughter.

艾丽娅的眼睛和她的父亲一样，是史塔克家族的灰眼睛。随着年龄的增长，女孩儿的个头会变高，头发会长长，胸部会逐渐丰满，但眼睛的颜色不可能改变。这是珊纱的小玩伴，管家的女儿，简妮，这才是她的名字。简妮。普尔。

Arya had her father’s eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks. A girl her age might let her hair grow long, add inches to her height, see her chest fill out, but she could not change the color of her eyes. That’s Sansa’s little friend, the steward’s girl. Jeyne, that was her name. Jeyne Poole.

“拉姆斯大人”，这女孩儿在他面前欠身。这不会是真的，真正的史塔克只会向他的脸上吐口水。“我祈祷能成为您的好妻子，并给您带来强壮的儿子追随左右。”

“Lord Ramsay.” The girl dipped down before him. That was wrong as well. The real Arya Stark would have spat into his face. “I pray that I will make you a good wife and give you strong sons to follow after you.”

“你会的。”拉姆斯大人允诺，“很快就会。”

“That you will,” promised Ramsay, “and soon.”