Chapter 第十二章 臭佬（席恩一）
REEK
他一口咬向手中的老鼠，不管它如何扭动尖叫。肚子是最肥嫩的部分。他撕咬这美味的肉，热血从嘴角汩汩淌下。如此可口，他几乎感动得流泪。辘辘饥肠驱使他狼吞虎咽，咬到第三口老鼠已不再挣扎。他简直觉得有些心满意足了。
The rat squealed as he bit into it, squirming wildly in his hands, frantic to escape. The belly was the softest part. He tore at the sweet meat, the warm blood running over his lips. It was so good that it brought tears to his eyes. His belly rumbled and he swallowed. By the third bite the rat had ceased to struggle, and he was feeling almost content.
这时牢门外传来人语声。
Then he heard the sounds of voices outside the dungeon door.
他吓得立时僵住，不敢再嚼一口，满嘴的血肉皮毛既不能咽下又不能吐出。他心惊胆战地听着钥匙叮当作响，脚步踢踏而来。不要不要，他想，诸神慈悲现在不要。费九牛二虎之力才抓住的老鼠，被他们看到就没了，而且拉姆齐大人随后就要收拾我。
At once he stilled, fearing even to chew. His mouth was full of blood and flesh and hair, but he dare not spit or swallow. He listened in terror, stiff as stone, to the scuff of boots and the clanking of iron keys. No, he thought, no, please gods, not now, not now. It had taken him so long to catch the rat. If they catch me with it, they will take it away, and then they’ll tell, and Lord Ramsay will hurt me.
他早就知道该把老鼠藏起来，可是太饿了。上一顿饭大概是两天前，要么就是三天前，地底下这么黑，说不清楚。他的四肢细得好似芦苇杆；肚子鼓胀，肠胃空空。饥饿如此难忍，他发现自己居然还记得霍伍德夫人。拉姆齐大人与她完婚之后就把她锁进塔楼，活活饿死。最后她把自己的手指都吃了。
He knew he ought to hide the rat, but he was so hungry. It had been two days since he had eaten, or maybe three. Down here in the dark it was hard to tell. Though his arms and legs were thin as reeds, his belly was swollen and hollow, and ached so much that he found he could not sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, he found himself remembering Lady Hornwood. After their wedding, Lord Ramsay had locked her away in a tower and starved her to death. In the end she had eaten her own fingers.
他缩到牢房的角落里，死死抓住自己的猎物。他决定竭尽所能地抓紧时间多吃些，于是猛撕狂吞，鲜血飞溅。肉不算细嫩，但是太丰盛，他担心自己会吃撑。嚼，咽，感受着细小的骨头在牙齿间碎裂。
He crouched down in a corner of his cell, clutching his prize under his chin. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth as he nibbled at the rat with what remained of his teeth, trying to bolt down as much of the warm flesh as he could before the cell was opened. The meat was stringy, but so rich he thought he might be sick. He chewed and swallowed, picking small bones from the holes in his gums where teeth had been yanked out. It hurt to chew, but he was so hungry he could not stop.
声音越来越响，诸神保佑，但愿不是来找我。囚室不止这一间，囚犯也不止他一个。有时隔着厚重的石壁也能听到别人惨叫，叫声最吵的总是女人。他吸吮生鼠肉，剔出腿骨吐掉，但骨头从下唇滑落，缠进胡子里。走开，他祈祷，走开，放过我去别处吧，求你了，求你了。
The sounds were growing louder. Please gods, he isn’t coming for me, he prayed, tearing off one of the rat’s legs. It had been a long time since anyone had come for him. There were other cells, other prisoners. Sometimes he heard them screaming, even through the thick stone walls. The women always scream the loudest. He sucked at the raw meat and tried to spit out the leg bone, but it only dribbled over his lower lip and tangled in his beard. Go away, he prayed, go away, pass me by, please, please.
但是脚步和钥匙的叮当声就停在了他门口，老鼠从他指间掉下。他用脚跟乱蹬地上的稻草，妄想找个墙缝挤进去。
But the footsteps stopped just when they were loudest, and the keys clattered right outside the door. The rat fell from his fingers. He wiped his bloody fingers on his breeches. “No,” he mumbled, “noooo.” His heels scrabbled at the straw as he tried to push himself into the corner, into the cold damp stone walls.
开锁的声音是最最恐怖的。火光映到脸上，他惊叫了一声。
The sound of the lock turning was the most terrible of all. When the light hit him full in the face, he let out a shriek. He had to cover his eyes with his hands. He would have clawed them out if he’d dared, his head was pounding so. “Take it away, do it in the dark, please, oh please.”
“不是他。”一个男孩的声音。“你看看他，我们走错牢房了。”
“That’s not him,” said a boy’s voice. “Look at him. We’ve got the wrong cell.”
“左边最后一间，”另外一个男孩回答。“这就是左边最后一间，不对么？”
“Last cell on the left,” another boy replied. “This is the last cell on the left, isn’t it?”
“嗯。”停顿。“他说什么？”
“Aye.” A pause. “What’s he saying?”
“我看他不喜欢有光。”
“I don’t think he likes the light.”
“要是你成了这副模样，你也一样不喜欢。”那小子卡出一口痰。“他身上这股味快把我熏死了。”
“Would you, if you looked like that?” The boy hawked and spat. “And the stench of him. I’m like to choke.”
“他吃老鼠，”第二个男孩说。“看。”
“He’s been eating rats,” said the second boy. “Look.”
第一个男孩笑了，“没错，真有意思。”
The first boy laughed. “He has. That’s funny.”
我没法子，他想。那些老鼠趁他睡觉来咬他，啃他的手指、脚趾，甚至脸。所以当他抓到一只之后毫不犹豫。吃或者被吃，别无选择。“我吃了，”他嘟嘟囔囔地说，“我吃了，我吃了，我把它吃了。它们也要吃我。求求你们……”
I had to. The rats bit him when he slept, gnawing at his fingers and his toes, even at his face, so when he got his hands on one he did not hesitate. Eat or be eaten, those were the only choices. “I did it,” he mumbled, “I did, I did, I ate him, they do the same to me, please …”
两个小子互相靠拢了些，脚下稻草沙沙作响。“跟我说话，”小个子的那个说。他比较瘦，但也比较聪明。“告诉我，你叫什么。”
The boys moved closer, the straw crunching softly under their feet. “Talk to me,” said one of them. He was the smaller of the two, a thin boy, but clever. “Do you remember who you are?”
我叫什么。一声哀嚎冲到嗓子眼。他们给他取过名字，没错。但是过了这么久，他已经忘记了。如果我答错，他就会再取我一根手指，甚至他还要……“求求你们，”他嚅嚅，声若游丝，嗓音仿佛百岁老人。也许真有一百岁了。我在这里待了多久？
My name. A scream caught in his throat. They had taught him his name, they had, they had, but it had been so long that he’d forgotten. If I say it wrong, he’ll take another finger, or worse, he’ll … he’ll … He would not think about that, he could not think about that. There were needles in his jaw, in his eyes. His head was pounding. “Please,” he squeaked, his voice thin and weak. He sounded a hundred years old. Perhaps he was. How long have I been in here? “Go,” he mumbled, through broken teeth and broken fingers, his eyes closed tight against the terrible bright light. “Please, you can have the rat, don’t hurt me …”
“臭佬，”大个子说。“你叫臭佬。记得不？”他拿着火炬，小个子那个拿着铁钥匙圈。
“Reek,” said the larger of the boys. “Your name is Reek. Remember?” He was the one with the torch. The smaller boy had the ring of iron keys.
臭佬？他不禁泪落腮边。“我记得，我记住了。”嘴巴张开又合上。“我叫臭佬，臭佬，押韵枯槁。”黑暗中名字没有意义，所以很容易忘。臭佬，臭佬，我叫臭佬。这不是他本名，但另一个名字的他恍如隔世，在此时此地，他就是臭佬。他记得。
Reek? Tears ran down his cheeks. “I remember. I do.” His mouth opened and closed. “My name is Reek. It rhymes with leek.” In the dark he did not need a name, so it was easy to forget. Reek, Reek, my name is Reek. He had not been born with that name. In another life he had been someone else, but here and now, his name was Reek. He remembered.
他也记得这两个小子。他们穿着同款式的羔羊毛上衣，银灰底色，深蓝饰边。两个都是侍从，都是八岁，都叫瓦德佛雷。大瓦德和小瓦德，没错。只是大个的是小瓦德，小个的是大瓦德，弄得旁人不知所措，两个小子引以为乐。“我认识你们，”他用破裂的嘴唇悄声说。“我知道你们是谁。”
He remembered the boys as well. They were clad in matching lambswool doublets, silver-grey with dark blue trim. Both were squires, both were eight, and both were Walder Frey. Big Walder and Little Walder, yes. Only the big one was Little and the little one was Big, which amused the boys and confused the rest of the world. “I know you,” he whispered, through cracked lips. “I know your names.”
“跟我们走。”小瓦德说。
“You’re to come with us,” said Little Walder.
“老爷召你去。”大瓦德说。
“His lordship has need of you,” said Big Walder.
恐惧如利刃贯穿心肺。他们不过是小孩，他想。两个八岁小孩。哪怕像现在这么衰弱，他也能搞定两个八岁小子，没问题——抢走火炬和钥匙，还有小瓦德屁股上挂的那把匕首，然后逃走。不对，太简单了，肯定是陷阱。如果我逃跑，他就会让我又少一根手指，搭上几颗牙。
Fear went through him like a knife. They are only children, he thought. Two boys of eight. He could overcome two boys of eight, surely. Even as weak as he was, he could take the torch, take the keys, take the dagger sheathed on Little Walder’s hip, escape. No. No, it is too easy. It is a trap. If I run, he will take another finger from me, he will take more of my teeth.
出来到了庭院，恐怖堡夜幕初降，一轮满月从东边城墙上升起。清冷月光下，高高三角城齿的影子投撒在冻土上，形似一列黑色的利牙。空气冷湿（不大可能哇，因为空气含水饱和度的关系，寒冷地区冬季不潮湿——某自注），带着种种久远模糊记忆中的味道。人世，臭佬告诉自己，这是人世间的味道。他不知道在地牢里呆了多久，起码有半年了。会不会是五年，十年，二十年？我怎知道呢？会不会是我在下边发了疯，转眼半世生涯过去了？不会，太蠢了。两个小孩还是小孩，如果过了十年，他们应该长成大人。他得记住这个。我不能叫他逼疯。他可以取我手指、脚趾，弄瞎我的眼睛，切掉我的耳朵，但他不能让我乖乖变成白痴。
Out in the yard, night was settling over the Dreadfort and a full moon was rising over the castle’s eastern walls. Its pale light cast the shadows of the tall triangular merlons across the frozen ground, a line of sharp black teeth. The air was cold and damp and full of half-forgotten smells. The world, Reek told himself, this is what the world smells like. He did not know how long he had been down there in the dungeons, but it had to have been half a year at least. That long, or longer. What if it has been five years, or ten, or twenty? Would I even know? What if I went mad down there, and half my life is gone? But no, that was folly. It could not have been so long. The boys were still boys. If it had been ten years, they would have grown into men. He had to remember that. I must not let him drive me mad. He can take my fingers and my toes, he can put out my eyes and slice my ears off, but he cannot take my wits unless I let him.
小瓦德举火领路，臭佬老实跟着，大瓦德压阵。他们经过狗舍，惹得犬吠。风旋过庭院，穿过他身上又脏又薄的破衣烂衫，激起一身鸡皮疙瘩。夜晚冷湿，虽然还没见到雪，但冬天已经近在眼前。臭佬不知道自己能不能挺到初雪。我还有多少手指？多少脚趾？他举起手观察，如此枯瘦苍白，令他不能自已。我的手已经老了。莫非我认错了这两个小孩？难道两人不是大小瓦德，而是他们的子侄辈？
Little Walder led the way with torch in hand. Reek followed meekly, with Big Walder just behind him. The dogs in the kennels barked as they went by. Wind swirled through the yard, cutting through the thin cloth of the filthy rags he wore and raising gooseprickles on his skin. The night air was cold and damp, but he saw no sign of snow though surely winter was close at hand. Reek wondered if he would be alive to see the snows come. How many fingers will I have? How many toes? When he raised a hand, he was shocked to see how white it was, how fleshless. Skin and bones, he thought. I have an old man’s hands. Could he have been wrong about the boys? What if they were not Little Walder and Big Walder after all, but the sons of the boys he’d known?
大厅里光线昏暗，烟气缭绕。墙上两行骷髅手臂分列左右，支撑着燃烧的火炬。头上高处是熏黑的椽木，穹顶隐没在阴影中。空气里满是果酒麦酒和烤肉的香气，勾引得臭佬肠胃咕噜作响，满口流涎。
The great hall was dim and smoky. Rows of torches burned to left and right, grasped by skeletal human hands jutting from the walls. High overhead were wooden rafters black from smoke, and a vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. The air was heavy with the smells of wine and ale and roasted meat. Reek’s stomach rumbled noisily at the scents, and his mouth began to water.
小瓦德推了一把，他踉踉跄跄地经过守卫吃饭的长桌。他发觉到人们盯着他看。接近高台的上等席位多数被拉姆齐的心腹们占了。但也有旁人，其中几个他没见过。有些人在他经过时皱眉蹙额，其他人一见他就哄笑。
Little Walder pushed him stumbling past the long tables where the men of the garrison were eating. He could feel their eyes upon him. The best places, up near the dais, were occupied by Ramsay’s favorites, the Bastard’s Boys. Ben Bones, the old man who kept his lordship’s beloved hunting hounds. Damon, called Damon Dance-for-Me, fair-haired and boyish. Grunt, who had lost his tongue for speaking carelessly in Lord Roose’s hearing. Sour Alyn. Skinner. Yellow Dick. Farther down, below the salt, were others that Reek knew by sight if not by name: sworn swords and serjeants, soldiers and gaolers and torturers. But there were strangers too, faces he did not know. Some wrinkled their noses as he passed, whilst others laughed at the sight of him. Guests, Reek thought, his lordship’s friends, and I am brought up to amuse them. A shiver of fear went through him.
高桌上，波顿的私生子坐着他父亲大人的位子，正用他父亲的杯子喝酒。桌上还有两位老人，臭佬瞥一眼就看出两人都是领主。其中一位，外罩久穿油腻的破烂熊皮上衣，内着连环锁子甲，全不顾此时正在酒宴上；身材干瘦，目光冷峻，长须胜雪，面寒似霜。另一位也同样瘦，但是身形扭曲：一肩高、一肩低，躬腰驼背就餐的姿势好似秃鹫享用腐尸；黄板牙、灰眼珠，眼里透着贪婪，分岔的胡须交杂银灰，布满老人斑的秃头上只剩一小绺白发。但他穿的披风质料上乘，黑貂皮饰灰羊毛，用錾银芒星纽别在肩上。
At the high table the Bastard of Bolton sat in his lord father’s seat, drinking from his father’s cup. Two old men shared the high table with him, and Reek knew at a glance that both were lords. One was gaunt, with flinty eyes, a long white beard, and a face as hard as a winter frost. His jerkin was a ragged bearskin, worn and greasy. Underneath he wore a ringmail byrnie, even at table. The second lord was thin as well, but twisted where the first was straight. One of his shoulders was much higher than the other, and he stooped over his trencher like a vulture over carrion. His eyes were grey and greedy, his teeth yellow, his forked beard a tangle of snow and silver. Only a few wisps of white hair still clung to his spotted skull, but the cloak he wore was soft and fine, grey wool trimmed with black sable and fastened at the shoulder with a starburst wrought in beaten silver.
拉姆齐自己是一身黑色与粉色装扮：黑靴子，黑腰带，黑刀鞘，黑皮外套；内穿粉色天鹅绒上衣，有意撕裂的部分用暗红绸缎补齐（狂汗，不愧是剥皮人）。右耳戴一颗雕琢成血滴形状的石榴石坠，微微发亮。尽管打扮得光鲜漂亮，但是他依旧是个丑陋的人。大骨架，削肩膀，身上的赘肉显示他后半生会越来越肥；粉皮肤多疱，蒜头鼻子，小嘴巴，灰暗长发如枯草，肥厚嘴唇似香肠；不过，他身上最引人注目的部分是眼睛。他的两只眼睛跟他的领主老爹一样：小，瞳距近，呈特异的灰色。有人称之为幽灵灰[注]，但事实上，这双眼睛近乎无色，就像两片肮脏的冰。
Ramsay was clad in black and pink—black boots, black belt and scabbard, black leather jerkin over a pink velvet doublet slashed with dark red satin. In his right ear gleamed a garnet cut in the shape of a drop of blood. Yet for all the splendor of his garb, he remained an ugly man, big-boned and slope-shouldered, with a fleshiness to him that suggested that in later life he would run to fat. His skin was pink and blotchy, his nose broad, his mouth small, his hair long and dark and dry. His lips were wide and meaty, but the thing men noticed first about him were his eyes. He had his lord father’s eyes—small, close-set, queerly pale. Ghost grey, some men called the shade, but in truth his eyes were all but colorless, like two chips of dirty ice.
看到臭佬，他面露笑容。“来了。这位是我忧郁的老友。”他向身边两人介绍道：“从小臭佬就跟着我。他是家父大人送给我的礼物，象征着亲情。”
At the sight of Reek, he smiled a wet-lipped smile. “There he is. My sour old friend.” To the men beside him he said, “Reek has been with me since I was a boy. My lord father gave him to me as a token of his love.”
两位大人互递眼色。“我听说你的跟班已经死了，”塌肩膀那位说。“传闻被史塔克的人杀了。”
The two lords exchanged a look. “I had heard your serving man was dead,” said the one with the stooped shoulder. “Slain by the Starks, they said.”
拉姆齐大人暗笑。“铁民都说，‘逝者不死，必将再起，其势更烈‘呐。好好看看臭佬。闻这气味倒真像是从棺材里’再起‘的，我承认。”
Lord Ramsay chuckled. “The ironmen will tell you that what is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger. Like Reek. He smells of the grave, though, I grant you that.”
“他一身屎和馊泔水味儿。”塌肩膀老大人把刚啃过的骨头扔开，用桌布擦手。“为什么非得在吃饭的时候弄个活宝来恶心我们？”
“He smells of nightsoil and stale vomit.” The stoop-shouldered old lord tossed aside the bone that he’d been gnawing on and wiped his fingers on the tablecloth. “Is there some reason you must needs inflict him upon us whilst we’re eating?”
穿锁子甲的直腰杆老者盯着臭佬看。“仔细看，”他告诉另一位大人。“他可不是什么跟班。头发白了，体重少了三石，你就认不出来了？”
The second lord, the straight-backed old man in the mail byrnie, studied Reek with flinty eyes. “Look again,” he urged the other lord. “His hair’s gone white and he is three stone thinner, aye, but this is no serving man. Have you forgotten?”
驼背大人又看看他，猛喷了口气，“是他？难以置信。史塔克家的养子，喜欢笑，脸上总是带笑。”
The crookback lord looked again and gave a sudden snort. “Him? Can it be? Stark’s ward. Smiling, always smiling.”
“现在笑得不那么频了。”拉姆齐大人承认。“一口白净漂亮的好牙，好像被我敲掉了一些。”
“He smiles less often now,” Lord Ramsay confessed. “I may have broken some of his pretty white teeth.”
“割喉更好，”穿锁甲的大人说。“对反噬主人的狗，唯一合适的惩罚就是扒掉它那身皮。”
“You would have done better to slit his throat,” said the lord in mail. “A dog who turns against his master is fit for naught but skinning.”
“喔，我的确扒了他的皮，零零星星地。”拉姆齐说。
“Oh, he’s been skinned, here and there,” said Ramsay.
“是的，老爷。我本性就坏，老爷。又傲慢又……”他舔舔嘴唇，努力想自己还干过什么。老实听话，他告诉自己，这样他就会留你一命，还能保住你身上剩下的零碎。老实听话，还有别忘记自己叫什么，臭佬，臭佬，押韵乖巧。
“Yes, my lord. I was bad, my lord. Insolent and …” He licked his lip, trying to think of what else he had done. Serve and obey, he told himself, and he’ll let you live, and keep the parts that you still have. Serve and obey and remember your name. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with meek. “… bad and …”
“嘴上有血，”拉姆齐打量他，“你又啃手指了吗，臭佬？”
“There’s blood on your mouth,” Ramsay observed. “Have you been chewing on your fingers again, Reek?”
“没有。没有，大人，我发誓。”臭佬有一次试图把剥了皮、疼痛难忍的无名指咬掉。拉姆齐大人从不简简单单地断人手指。他喜欢先把一根手指的皮剥掉，然后让裸露的肉干裂溃烂。臭佬受过鞭打，上过刑架，挨过刀子，但没有哪种残酷折磨赶得上剥皮后的一半惨苦。那疼痛能让人发狂，任谁也挺不了多久。早晚受刑者会嚎叫“求求你，求你把它砍掉，我受不了了，”然后拉姆齐大人会施恩典，让你如愿。这就是他们的游戏。臭佬学得不错，但是那一次他忘了规矩，想自己用牙齿结束痛苦；拉姆齐不太高兴，结果臭佬得加上一个脚趾交学费。“我吃了一只老鼠。”他低声回答。
“No. No, my lord, I swear.” Reek had tried to bite his own ring finger off once, to stop it hurting after they had stripped the skin from it. Lord Ramsay would never simply cut off a man’s finger. He preferred to flay it and let the exposed flesh dry and crack and fester. Reek had been whipped and racked and cut, but there was no pain half so excruciating as the pain that followed flaying. It was the sort of pain that drove men mad, and it could not be endured for long. Soon or late the victim would scream, “Please, no more, no more, stop it hurting, cut it off,” and Lord Ramsay would oblige. It was a game they played. Reek had learned the rules, as his hands and feet could testify, but that one time he had forgotten and tried to end the pain himself, with his teeth. Ramsay had not been pleased, and the offense had cost Reek another toe. “I ate a rat,” he mumbled.
“老鼠？”拉姆齐的灰眼珠映照火光，闪闪发亮。“恐怖堡的每只老鼠都属于我父亲大人。你怎么胆敢未经我的允许就擅自拿去开饭？”
“A rat?” Ramsay’s pale eyes glittered in the torchlight. “All the rats in the Dreadfort belong to my lord father. How dare you make a meal of one without my leave.”
臭佬不知该说什么，只能噤声。说错一个字的代价是一个脚趾，甚至一根手指。迄今为止他少了左手两根手指，右手小拇指；而左脚和右脚的损失是三比一。有时候拉姆齐戏言要帮他恢复两边的平衡。他不想伤害我，他是这么说的，只有我犯规他才会这么做。老爷仁慈又宽大，他本来完全有理由剥了臭佬的脸皮，因为臭佬乱说话，因为那时候臭佬还没搞懂自己的名字和地位。
Reek did not know what to say, so he said nothing. One wrong word could cost him another toe, even a finger. Thus far he had lost two fingers off his left hand and the pinky off his right, but only the little toe off his right foot against three from his left. Sometimes Ramsay would make japes about balancing him out. My lord was only japing, he tried to tell himself. He does not want to hurt me, he told me so, he only does it when I give him cause. His lord was merciful and kind. He might have flayed his face off for some of the things Reek had said, before he’d learned his true name and proper place.
拉姆齐大人给自己满上麦酒。“臭佬，告诉你一条好消息。我要结婚了。我父亲大人给我送来一个史塔克家的女孩。艾德史塔克大人的女儿，艾莉娅。你还记得小艾莉娅吧？”
Lord Ramsay filled his cup with ale. “That would spoil our celebration, my lord. Reek, I have glad tidings for you. I am to be wed. My lord father is bringing me a Stark girl. Lord Eddard’s daughter, Arya. You remember little Arya, don’t you?”
淘气包艾莉娅，他差点说出来。马脸艾莉娅。罗柏的小妹，褐发，长脸，瘦皮猴，成天脏兮兮的。另一个比较可爱，叫珊莎。他记得有次暗想艾德史塔克大人会把珊莎嫁给他，然后正式收他为儿，但那是小孩子的幻想。艾莉娅，那么……“我记得她，艾莉娅。”
Arya Underfoot, he almost said. Arya Horseface. Robb’s younger sister, brown-haired, long-faced, skinny as a stick, always dirty. Sansa was the pretty one. He remembered a time when he had thought that Lord Eddard Stark might marry him to Sansa and claim him for a son, but that had only been a child’s fancy. Arya, though … “I remember her. Arya.”
“她将成为临冬城夫人，而我是她的夫君。”
“She shall be the Lady of Winterfell, and me her lord.”
她不过是个小姑娘啊。“是，老爷。恭喜老爷。”
She is only a girl. “Yes, my lord. Congratulations.”
“你会出席我的婚礼吗，臭佬？”
“Will you attend me at my wedding, Reek?”
他犹豫了。“如果您希望的话，老爷。” He hesitated. “If you wish it, my lord.”
“噢，那自然。”
“Oh, I do.”
他又犹豫了，唯恐这是个花样翻新的恐怖陷阱。“是，老爷。只要您高兴，我乐意效劳。”
He hesitated again, wondering if this was some cruel trap. “Yes, my lord. If it please you. I would be honored.”
“这样，得安排你从那个简朴的地下室出来。自己好好洗洗，穿得像样点，吃顿饱饭。我有件小小差事交给你，有力气才能为我效力。而你的的确确想为我效力，我知道。”
“We must take you out of that vile dungeon, then. Scrub you pink again, get you some clean clothes, some food to eat. Some nice soft porridge, would you like that? Perhaps a pease pie laced with bacon. I have a little task for you, and you’ll need your strength back if you are to serve me. You do want to serve me, I know.”
“是，老爷，全心全意为您服务，”他浑身一阵颤抖，“我是属于您的臭佬，请让我服侍您，我恳求您。”
“Yes, my lord. More than anything.” A shiver went through him. “I’m your Reek. Please let me serve you. Please.”
“既然你这么讨巧地求告了，我又怎么忍心拒绝呢？”拉姆齐波顿笑了。“我要乘马出门作战，臭佬。你跟着来，陪我迎娶这位童贞新娘。”“Since you ask so nicely, how can I deny you?” Ramsay Bolton smiled. “I ride to war, Reek. And you will be coming with me, to help me fetch home my virgin bride.”