"Martin, George R.R. - Song Of Ice and Fire 03 - A Storm Of Swords" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

УDo you deny that you slew a king?Ф
УNo. Do you deny your sex? If so, unlace those breeches and show me.Ф He gave her an innocent smile. УIТd ask you to open your bodice, but from the look of you that wouldnТt prove much.Ф
Ser Cleos fretted. УCousin, remember your courtesies.Ф
The Lannister blood runs thin in this one. Cleos was his Aunt GennaТs son by that dullard Emmon Frey, who had lived in terror of Lord Tywin Lannister since the day he wed his sister. When Lord Walder Frey had brought the Twins into the war on the side of Riverrun, Ser Emmon had chosen his wifeТs allegiance over his fatherТs. Casterly Rock got the worst of that bargain, Jaime reflected. Ser Cleos looked like a weasel, fought like a goose, and had the courage of an especially brave ewe. Lady Stark had promised him release if he delivered her message to Tyrion, and Ser Cleos had solemnly vowed to do so.
TheyТd all done a deal of vowing back in that cell, Jaime most of all. That was Lady CatelynТs price for loosing him. She had laid the point of the big wenchТs sword against his heart and said, УSwear that you will never again take up arms against Stark nor Tully. Swear that you will compel your brother to honor his pledge to return my daughters safe and unharmed. Swear on your honor as a knight, on your honor as a Lannister, on your honor as a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. Swear it by your sisterТs life, and your fatherТs, and your sonТs, by the old gods and the new, and IТll send you back to your sister. Refuse, and I will have your blood.Ф He remembered the prick of the steel through his rags as she twisted the point of the sword.
I wonder what the High Septon would have to say about the sanctity of oaths sworn while dead drunk, chained to a wall, with a sword pressed to your chest? Not that Jaime was truly concerned about that fat fraud, or the gods he claimed to serve. He remembered the pail Lady Catelyn had kicked over in his cell. A strange woman, to trust her girls to a man with shit for honor. Though she was trusting him as little as she dared. She is putting her hope in Tyrion, not in me. УPerhaps she is not so stupid after all,Ф he said aloud.
His captor took it wrong. УI am not stupid. Nor deaf.Ф
He was gentle with her; mocking this one would be so easy there would be no sport to it. УI was speaking to myself, and not of you. ItТs an easy habit to slip into in a cell.Ф
She frowned at him, pushing the oars forward, pulling them back, pushing them forward, saying nothing.
As glib of tongue as she is fair of face. УBy your speech, IТd judge you nobly born.Ф
УMy father is Selwyn of Tarth, by the grace of the gods Lord of Evenfall.Ф Even that was given grudgingly.
УTarth,Ф Jaime said. УA ghastly large rock in the narrow sea, as I recall. And Evenfall is sworn to StormТs End. How is it that you serve Robb of Winterfell?Ф
УIt is Lady Catelyn I serve. And she commanded me to deliver you safe to your brother Tyrion at KingТs Landing, not to bandy words with you. Be silent.Ф
УIТve had a bellyful. of silence, woman.Ф
УTalk with Ser Cleos then. I have no words for monsters.Ф
Jaime hooted. УAre there monsters hereabouts? Hiding beneath the water, perhaps? In that thick of willows? And me without my sword!Ф
УA man who would violate his own sister, murder his king, and fling an innocent child to his death deserves no other name.Ф
Innocent? The wretched boy was spying on us. All Jaime had wanted was an hour alone with Cersei. Their journey north had been one long torment; seeing her every day, unable to touch her, knowing that Robert stumbled drunkenly into her bed every night in that great creaking wheelhouse. Tyrion had done his best to keep him in a good humor, but it had not been enough. УYou will be courteous as concerns Cersei, wench,Ф he warned her.
УMy name is Brienne, not wench.Ф
УWhat do you care what a monster calls you?Ф
УMy name is Brienne,Ф she repeated, dogged as a hound.
УLady Brienne?Ф She looked so uncomfortable that Jaime sensed a weakness. УOr would Ser Brienne be more to your taste?Ф He laughed. УNo, I fear not. You can trick out a milk cow in crupper, crinet, and charnfron, and bard her all in silk, but that doesnТt mean you can ride her into battle.Ф
УCousin Jaime, please, you ought not speak so roughly.Ф Under his cloak, Ser Cleos wore a surcoat quartered with the twin towers of House Frey and the golden lion of Lannister. УWe have far to go, we should not quarrel amongst ourselves.Ф
УWhen I quarrel I do it with a sword, coz. I was speaking to the lady. Tell me, wench, are all the women on Tarth as homely as you? I pity the men, if so. Perhaps they do not know what real women look like, living on a dreary mountain in the sea.Ф
УTarth is beautiful, У the wench grunted between strokes. УThe Sapphire Isle, itТs called. Be quiet, monster, unless you mean to make me gag you.Ф
УSheТs rude as well, isnТt she, coz?Ф Jaime asked Ser Cleos. УThough she has steel in her spine, IТll grant you. Not many men dare name me monster to my face.Ф Though behind my back they speak freely enough, I have no doubt.
Ser Cleos coughed nervously. УLady Brienne had those lies from Catelyn Stark, no doubt. The Starks cannot hope to defeat you with swords, ser, so now they make war with poisoned words.Ф
They did defeat me with swords, you chinless cretin. Jaime smiled knowingly. Men will read all sorts of things into a knowing smile, if you let them. Has cousin Cleos truly swallowed this kettle of dung, or is he striving to ingratiate himself? What do we have here, an honest muttonhead or a lickspittle?
Ser Cleos prattled blithely on. УAny man whoТd believe that a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard would harm a child does not know the meaning of honor.Ф
Lickspittle. If truth be told, Jaime had come to rue heaving Brandon Stark out that window. Cersei had given him no end of grief afterward, when the boy refused to die. УHe was seven, Jaime,Ф sheТd berated him. УEven if he understood what he saw, we should have been able to frighten him into silence.Ф
УI didnТt think youТd want -
УYou never think. If the boy should wake and tell his father what he sawЧФ
УIf if if.Ф He had pulled her into his lap. Уif he wakes weТll say he was dreaming, weТll call him a liar, and should worse come to worst IТll kill Ned Stark.Ф
УAnd then what do you imagine Robert will do?Ф
УLet Robert do as he pleases. IТll go to war with him if I must. The War for CerseiТs Cunt, the singers will call it.Ф
УJaime, let go of me!Ф she raged, struggling to rise.
Instead he had kissed her. For a moment she resisted, but then her mouth opened under his. He remembered the taste of wine and cloves on her tongue. She gave a shudder. His hand went to her bodice and yanked, tearing the silk so her breasts spilled free, and for a time the Stark boy had been forgotten.
Had Cersei remembered him afterward and hired this man Lady Catelyn spoke of, to make sure the boy never woke? If she wanted him dead she would have sent me. And it is not like her to chose a catspaw who would make such a royal botch of the killing.
Downriver, the rising sun shimmered against the wind-whipped surface of the river. The south shore was red clay, smooth as any road. Smaller streams fed into the greater, and the rotting trunks of drowned trees clung to the banks. The north shore was wilder. High rocky bluffs rose twenty feet above them, crowned by stands of beech, oak, and chestnut. Jaime spied a watchtower on the heights ahead, growing taller with every stroke of the oars. Long before they were upon it, he knew that it stood abandoned, its weathered stones overgrown with climbing roses.
When the wind shifted, Ser Cleos helped the big wench run up the sail, a stiff triangle of striped red-and-blue canvas. Tully colors, sure to cause them grief if they encountered any Lannister forces on the river, but it was the only sail they had. Brienne took the rudder. Jaime threw out the leeboard, his chains rattling as he moved. After that, they made better speed, with wind and current both favoring their flight. УWe could save a deal of traveling if you delivered me to my father instead of my brother,Ф he pointed out.
УLady CatelynТs daughters are in KingТs Landing. I will return with the girls or not at all.Ф
Jaime turned to Ser Cleos. УCousin, lend me your knife.Ф
УNo.Ф The woman tensed. УI will not have you armed.Ф Her voice was as unyielding as stone.
She fears me, even in irons. УCleos, it seems I must ask you to shave me. Leave the beard, but take the hair off my head.Ф
УYouТd be shaved bald?Ф asked Cleos Frey.
УThe realm knows Jaime Larmister as a beardless knight with long golden hair. A bald man with a filthy yellow beard may pass unnoticed. IТd sooner not be recognized while IТm in irons.Ф
The dagger was not as sharp as it might have been. Cleos hacked away manfully, sawing and ripping his way through the mats and tossing the hair over the side. The golden curls floated on the surface of the water, gradually falling astern. As the tangles vanished, a louse went crawling down his neck. Jaime caught it and crushed it against his thumbnail. Ser Cleos picked others from his scalp and flicked them into the water. Jaime doused his head and made Ser Cleos whet the blade before he let him scrape away the last inch of yellow stubble. When that was done, they trimmed back his beard as well.
The reflection in the water was a man he did not know. Not only was he bald, but he looked as though he had aged five years in that dungeon; his face was thinner, with hollows under his eyes and lines he did not remember. I donТt look as much like Cersei this way. SheТll hate that.
By midday, Ser Cleos had fallen asleep. His snores sounded like ducks mating. Jaime stretched out to watch the world flow past; after the dark cell, every rock and tree was a wonder.
A few one-room shacks came and went, perched on tall poles that made them look like cranes. Of the folk who lived there they saw no sign. Birds flew overhead, or cried out from the trees along the shore, and Jaime glimpsed silvery fish knifing through the water. Tully trout, thereТs a bad omen, he thought, until he saw a worseЧone of the floating logs they passed turned out to be a dead man, bloodless and swollen. His cloak was tangled in the roots of a fallen tree, its color unmistakably Lannister crimson. He wondered if the corpse had been someone he knew.