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They want protection. Last night a baker was roasted in his own oven. The mob claimed he charged too much for bread.
“他们要的是保护。昨晚有个面包师被人放在自己炉子上烤熟了，暴民说他面包卖得太贵。”
Did he?
“真的？”
He's not apt to deny it.
“现在他也没法否认。”
They didn't eat him, did they?
“他们……没把他吃了吧？”
Not that I've heard.
“这倒没听说。”
Next time they will, Tyrion said grimly. "I give them what protection I can. The gold cloaks—"
“想来下次一定会，”提利昂沉重地说，“能提供的保护我都给了。金袍军——”
They claim there were gold cloaks in the mob, Bronn said. "They're demanding to speak to the king himself."
“他们声称有金袍军混在暴民里，”波隆道，“因此要求晋见陛下本人。”
Fools. Tyrion had sent them off with regrets; his nephew would send them off with whips and spears. He was half-tempted to allow it... but no, he dare not. Soon or late, some enemy would march on King's Landing, and the last thing he wanted was willing traitors within the city walls. "Tell them King Joffrey shares their fears and will do all he can for them." "They want bread, not promises."
“一群蠢蛋。”提利昂上次连声致歉，好说歹说把他们送走；换做他外甥，动用的可就是鞭子和长枪了。他真有点想撒手不管……但不行，他不敢这么做。敌人兵临城下是早晚的事，此刻他最不能容许的就是被城里的叛徒出卖。“告诉他们，乔佛里国王陛下业已体察他们的恐慌，将尽一切努力为他们改善环境。” “他们要的是面包，不是承诺。”
If I give them bread today, on the morrow I'll have twice as many at the gates. Who else?
“我若是今天给他们面包，明天来请求的人就会多上一倍。还有谁？”
A black brother down from the Wall. The steward says he brought some rotted hand in a jar.
“有个长城来的黑衣弟兄，总管说他带了个罐子，里面有只烂掉的手。”
Tyrion smiled wanly. "I'm surprised no one ate it. I suppose I ought to see him. It's not Yoren, perchance?"
提利昂有气无力地微笑，“真令人惊讶，怎么没人把它给吃了。我想我该见见他，不会刚巧是尤伦吧？”
No. Some knight. Thorne.
“不，是个骑士，叫索恩。”
