tp.wyrd sisters-第4部分

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　The　castle　leaned　vertiginously　over　the　racing　white　water　of　the　Lancre　river；　which　boomed　darkly　a　thousand　feet　below。　Every　now　and　again　a　few　bits　fell　in。
　Small　as　it　was；　though；　the　castle　contained　a　thousand　places　to　hide　a　crown。
　The　duchess　swept　out　to　find　someone　else　to　berate；　and　left　Lord　Felmet　looking　gloomily　at　the　landscape。　It　started　to　rain。
　It　was　on　this　cue　that　there　came　a　thunderous　knocking　at　the　castle　door。　It　seriously　disturbed　the　castle　porter；　who　was　playing　Cripple　Mister　Onion　with　the　castle　cook　and　the　castle's　Fool　in　the　warmth　of　the　kitchen。
　He　growled　and　stood　up。　'There　is　a　knocking　without；'　he　said。
　'Without　what？'　said　the　Fool。
　'Without　the　door；　idiot。'
　The　Fool　gave　him　a　worried　look。　'A　knocking　without　a　door？'　he　said　suspiciously。　'This　isn't　some　kind　of　Zen；　is　it？'
　When　the　porter　had　grumbled　off　in　the　direction　of　the　gatehouse　the　cook　pushed　another　farthing　into　the　kitty　and　looked　sharply　over　his　cards　at　the　Fool。
　'What's　a　Zen？'　he　said。
　The　Fool's　bells　tinkled　as　he　sorted　through　his　cards。　Without　thinking；　he　said：　'Oh；　a　sub…sect　of　the　Turnwise　Klatch　philosophical　system　of　Sumtin；　noted　for　its　simple　austerity　and　the　offer　of　personal　tranquillity　and　wholeness　achieved　through　meditation　and　breathing　techniques；　an　interesting　aspect　is　the　asking　of　apparently　nonsensical　questions　in　order　to　widen　the　doors　of　perception。'
　'How's　that　again？'　said　the　cook　suspiciously。　He　was　on　edge。　When　he'd　taken　the　breakfast　up　to　the　Great　Hall　he'd　kept　getting　the　feeling　that　something　was　trying　to　take　the　tray　out　of　his　hands。　And　as　if　that　wasn't　bad　enough；　this　new　duke　had　sent　him　back　for　。　。　。　He　shuddered。　Oatmeal！　And　a　runny　boiled　egg！　The　cook　was　too　old　for　this　sort　of　thing。　He　was　set　in　his　ways。　He　was　a　cook　in　the　real　feudal　tradition。　If　it　didn't　have　an　apple　in　its　mouth　and　you　couldn't　roast　it；　he　didn't　want　to　serve　it。
　The　Fool　hesitated　with　a　card　in　his　hand；　suppressed　his　panic　and　thought　quickly。
　'I'faith；　nuncle；'　he　squeaked；　'thou't　more　full　of　questions　than　a　martlebury　is　of　mizzensails。'
　The　cook　relaxed。
　'Well；　okay；'　he　said；　not　entirely　satisfied。　The　Fool　lost　the　next　three　hands；　just　to　be　on　the　safe　side。
　The　porter；　meanwhile；　unfastened　the　hatch　in　the　wicket　gate　and　peered　out。
　'Who　dost　knock　without？'　he　growled。
　The　soldier；　drenched　and　terrified　though　he　was；　hesitated。
　'Without？　Without　what？'　he　said。
　'If　you're　going　to　bugger　about；　you　can　bloody　well　stay　without　all　day；'　said　the　porter　calmly。
　'No！　I　must　see　the　duke　upon　the　instant！'　shouted　the　guard。　'Witches　are　abroad！'
　The　porter　was　about　to　e　back　with；　'Good　time　of　year　for　it'；　or　'Wish　I　was；　too'；　but　stopped　when　he　saw　the　man's　face。　It　wasn't　the　face　of　a　man　who　would　enter　into　the　spirit　of　the　thing。　It　was　the　look　of　someone　who　had　seen　things　a　decent　man　shouldn't　wot　of　。　。　。
　
　'Witches？'　said　Lord　Felmet。　'Witches！'　said　the　duchess。
　In　the　draughty　corridors；　a　voice　as　faint　as　the　wind　in　distant　keyholes　said；　with　a　note　of　hope；　'Witches！'
　The　psychically　inclined　。　。　。
　
　'It's　meddling；　that's　what　it　is；'　said　Granny　Weatherwax。　'And　no　good　will　e　of　it。'
　'It's　very　romantic；'　said　Magrat　breathily；　and　heaved　a　sigh。
　'Goochy　goo；'　said　Nanny　Ogg。
　'Anyway；'　said　Magrat；　'you　killed　that　horrid　man！'
　'I　never　did。　I　just　encouraged　。　。　。　things　to　take　their　course。'　Granny　Weatherwax　frowned。　'He　didn't　have　no　respect。　Once　people　lose　their　respect；　it　means　trouble。'
　'Izzy　wizzy　wazzy；　den。'　；
　'That　other　man　brought　him　out　here　to　save　him！'　shouted　Magrat。　'He　wanted　us　to　keep　him　safe！　It's　obvious！　It's　destiny！'
　'Oh；　obvious；'　said　Granny。　'I'll　grant　you　it's　obvious。　Trouble　is；　just　because　things　are　obvious　doesn't　mean　they're　true。'
　She　weighed　the　crown　in　her　hands。　It　felt　very　heavy；　in　a　way　that　went　beyond　mere　pounds　and　ounces。
　'Yes；　but　the　point　is…'　Magrat　began。
　'The　point　is；'　said　Granny；　'that　people　are　going　to　e　looking。　Serious　people。　Serious　looking。　Pull…down…the…walls　and　burn…off…the…thatch　looking。　And…'
　'Howsa　boy；　den？'
　'…And；　Gytha　；　I'm　sure　we'll　all　be　a　lot　happier　if　you'd　stop　gurgling　like　that！'　Granny　snapped。　She　could　feel　her　nerves　ing　on。　Her　nerves　always　played　up　when　she　was　unsure　about　things。　Besides；　they　had　retired　to　Magrat's　cottage；　and　the　decor　was　getting　to　her；　because　Magrat　believed　in　Nature's　wisdom　and　elves　and　the　healing　power　of　colours　and　the　cycle　of　the　seasons　and　a　lot　of　other　things　Granny　Weatherwax　didn't　have　any　truck　with。
　'You're　not　after　telling　me　how　to　look　after　a　child；'　snapped　Nanny　Ogg　mildly。　'And　me　with　fifteen　of　my　own？'
　'I'm　just　saying　that　we　ought　to　think　about　it；'　said　Granny。
　The　other　two　watched　her　for　some　time。　'Well？'　said　Magrat。
　Granny's　fingers　drummed　on　the　edge　of　the　crown。　She　frowned。
　'First；　we've　got　to　take　him　away　from　here；'　she　said；　and　held　up　a　hand。　'No；　Gytha；　I'm　sure　your　cottage　is　ideal　and　everything；　but　it's　not　safe。　He's　got　to　be　somewhere　away　from　here；　a　long　way　away；　where　no…one　knows　who　he　is。　And　then　there's　this。'　She　tossed　the　crown　from　hand　to　hand。
　'Oh；　that's　easy；'　said　Magrat。　'I　mean；　you　just　hide　it　under　a　stone　or　something。　That's　easy。　Much　easier　than　babies。'
　'It　ain't；'　said　Granny。　The　reason　being；　the　country's　full　of　babies　and　they　all　look　the　same；　but　I　don't　reckon　there's　many　crowns。　They　have　this　way　of　being　found；　anyway。　They　kind　of　call　out　to　people's　minds。　If　you　bunged　it　under　a　stone　up　here；　in　a　week's　time　it'd　get　itself　discovered　by　accident。　You　mark　my　words。'
　'It's　true；　is　that；'　said　Nanny　Ogg；　earnestly。　'How　many　times　have　you　thrown　a　magic　ring　into　the　deepest　depths　of　the　ocean　and　then；　when　you　get　home　and　have　a　nice　bit　of　turbot　for　your　tea；　there　it　is？'
　They　considered　this　in　silence。
　'Never；'　said　Granny　irritably。　'And　nor　have　you。　Anyway；　he　might　want　it　back。　If　it's　rightfully　his；　that　is。　Kings　set　a　lot　of　store　by　crowns。　Really；　Gytha；　sometimes　you　say　the　most…'
　'I'll　just　make　some　tea；　shall　I？'　said　Magrat　brightly；　and　disappeared　into　the　scullery。
　The　two　elderly　witches　sat　on　either　side　of　the　table　in　polite　and　prickly　silence。　Finally　Nanny　Ogg　said；　'She　done　it　up　nice；　hasn't　she？　Flowers　and　everything。　What　are　them　things　on　the　walls？'
　'Sigils；'　said　Granny　sourly。　'Or　some　such。'
　'Fancy；'　said　Nanny　Ogg；　politely。　'And　all　them　robes　and　wands　and　things　too。'
　'Modern；'　said　Granny　Weatherwax；　with　a　sniff。　'When　I　was　a　gel；　we　had　a　lump　of　wax　and　a　couple　of　pins　and　had　to　be　content。　We　had　to　make　our　own　enchantment　in　them　days。'
　'Ah；　well；　we've　all　passed　a　lot　of　water　since　then；'　said　Nanny　Ogg　sagely。　She　gave　the　baby　a　forting　jiggle。
　Granny　Weatherwax　sniffed。　Nanny　Ogg　had　been　married　three　times　and　ruled　a　tribe　of　children　and　grandchildren　all　over　the　kingdom。　Certainly；　it　was　not　actually　forbidden　for　witches　to　get　married。　Granny　had　to　concede　that；　but　reluctantly。　Very　reluctantly。　She　sniffed　again；　disapprovingly；　this　was　a　mistake。
　'What's　that　smell？'　she　snapped。
　'Ah；'　said　Nanny　Ogg；　carefully　repositioning　the　baby。　'I　expect　I'll　just　go　and　see　if　Magrat　has　any　clean　rags；　shall　I？'
　And　now　Granny　was　left　alone。　She　felt　embarrassed；　as　one　always　does　when　left　alone　in　someone　else's　room；　and　fought　the　urge　to　get　up　and　inspect　the　books　on　the　shelf　over　the　sideboard　or　examine　the　mantelpiece　for　dust。　She　turned　the　crown　round　and　round　in　her　hands。　Again；　it　gave　the　impression　of　being　bigger　and　heavier　than　it　actually　was。
　She　caught　sight　of　the　mirror　over　the　mantelpiece　and　looked　down　at　the　crown。　It　was　tempting。　It　was　practically　begging　her　to　try　it　for　size。　Well；　and　why　not？　She　made　sure　that　the　others　weren't　around　and　then；　in　one　movement；　whipped　off　her　hat　and　placed　the　crown　on　her　head。
　It　seemed　to　fit。　Granny　drew　herself　up　proudly；　and　waved　a　hand　imperiously　in　the　general　direction　of　the　hearth。
　'Jolly　well　do　this；'　she　said。　She　beckoned　arrogantly　at　the　grandfather　clock。　'Chop　his　head　off；　what　ho；'　she　manded。　She　smiled　grimly。
　And　froze　as　she　heard　the　screams；　and　the　thunder　of　horses；　and　the　deadly　whisper　of　arrows　and　the　damp；　solid　sound　of　spears　in　flesh。　Charge　after　charge　echoed　across　her　skull。　Sword　met　shield；　or　sword；　or　bone　…relentlessly。　Years　streamed　across　her　mind　in　the　space　of　a　second。　There　were　times　when　she　lay　among　the　dead；　or　hanging　from　the　branch　of　a　tree；　but　always　there　were　hands　that　would　pick　her　up　again；　and　place　her　on　a　velvet　cushion　。　。　。
　Granny　very　carefully　lifted　the　crown　off　her　head　…　it　was　an　effort；　it　didn't　like　it　much　…　and　laid　it　on　the　table。
　'So　that's　being　a　king　for　you；　is　it？'　she　said　softly。　'I　wonder　why　they　all　want　the　job？'
　'Do　you　take　sugar？'　said　Magrat；　behind　her。
　'You'd　have　to　be　a　born　fool　to　be　a　king；'　said　Granny。
　'Sorry？'
　Granny　turned。　'Didn't　see　you　e　in；'　she　said。　'What　was　it　you　said？'
　'Sugar　in　your　tea？'
　'Three　spoons；'　said　Granny　promptly。　It　was　one　of　the　few　sorrows　of　Granny　Weatherwax's　life　that；　despite　all　her　efforts；　she'd　arrived　at　the　peak　of　her　career　with　a　plexion　like　a　rosy　apple　and　all　her　teeth。　No　amount　of　charms　could　persuade　a　wart　to　take　root　on　her　handsome　if　slightly　equine　features；　and　vast　intakes　of　sugar　only　served　to　give　her　boundless　energy。　A　wizard　she'd　consulted　had　explained　it　was　on　account　of　her　having　a　metabolism；　which　at　least　allowed　her　to　feel　vaguely　superior　to　Nanny　Ogg；　who　she　suspected　had　never　even　seen　one。
　Magrat　dutifully　dug　out　three　heaped　ones。　It　would　be　nice；　she　thought　wistfully；　if　someone　could　say　'thank　you'　occasionally。
　She　became　aware　that　the　crown　was　staring　at　her。
　'You　can　feel　it；　can　you？'　said　Granny。　'I　said；　didn't　I？　Crowns　call　out！'
　'It's　horrible。'
　'No；　no。　It's　just　being　what　it　is。　It　can't　help　it。'
　'But　it's　magic！'
　'It's　just　being　what　it　is；'　Granny　repeated。
　'It's　trying　to　get　me　to　try　it　on；'　said　Magrat；　her　hand　hovering。
　'It　does　that；　yes。'
　'But　I　shall　be　strong；'　said　Magrat。
　'So　I　should　think；'　said　Granny；　her　expression　suddenly　curiously　wooden。　'What's　Gytha　doing？'
　'She's　giving　the　baby　a　wash　in　the　sink；'　said　Magrat　vaguely。　'How　can　we　hide　something　like　this？　What'd　happen　if　we　buried　it　really　deeply　somewhere？'
　'A　badger'd　dig　it　up；'　said　Granny　wearily。　'Or　someone'd　go　prospecting　for　gold　or　something。　Or　a　tree'd　tangle　its　roots　around　it　and　then　be　blown　over　in　a　storm；　and　then　someone'd　pick　it　up　and　put　it　on…'
　'Unless　they　were　as　strong…minded　as　us；'　Magrat　pointed　out。
　'Unless　that；　of　course；'　said　Granny；　staring　at　her　finger…nails。　Though　the　thing　with　crowns　is；　it　isn't　the　putting　them　on　that's　the　problem；　it's　the　taking　them　off。'
　Magrat　picked　it　up　and　turned　it　over　in　her　hands