評論
打印
Ned was half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. At first he thought he dreamt them; it had been so long since he had heard anything but the sound of his own voice. Ned was feverish by then, his leg a dull agony, his lips parched and cracked. When the heavy wooden door creaked open, the sudden light was painful to his eyes.
腳步聲從走廊上傳來時，奈德正在半睡半醒之間，起初還以為是自己作夢，因為除了自言自語，他已經太久沒聽見別的聲音。他發著高燒，嘴唇干裂，腿傷隱隱作痛。沉重的木門“咿呀”一聲打開時，突如其來的光線刺痛了他的眼睛。
A gaoler thrust a jug at him. The clay was cool and beaded with moisture. Ned grasped it with both hands and gulped eagerly. Water ran from his mouth and dripped down through his beard. He drank until he thought he would be sick. "How long... ?" he asked weakly when he could drink no more.
一名獄卒丟了個罐子給他。陶罐很涼，表面密布水珠。奈德雙手緊緊捧住，饑渴地大口吞咽。水從嘴角流下，滴進胡子里。他一直喝到不適方才停下。“過了多久……？”他虛弱地問。
The gaoler was a scarecrow of a man with a rat's face and frayed beard, clad in a mail shirt and a leather half cape. "No talking," he said as he wrenched the jug from Ned's hands.
獄卒瘦得像個稻草人，生著一張老鼠臉，胡子割得長短不齊。他穿了一件甲衣，外罩半身皮革斗篷。“不準說話。”說著他把水罐從奈德手里奪走。
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 no longer smelled at all.
“求求你，”奈德說，“我的女兒……”大門轟地關上，光線倏然消失。他眨眨眼，低下頭，蜷縮在稻草上。稻草聞起來不再有尿水和糞便的味道，聞起來一點味道都沒有了。
He could no longer tell the difference between waking and sleeping. The memory came creeping upon him in the darkness, as vivid as a dream.
他再也分不出睡著與醒來的差別。黑暗中，回憶悄然襲上心頭，栩栩如生宛如幻境。
