He would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he'd need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could mean his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in every village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would soon be watching for him. Once Maester Aemon's ravens took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not even at Winterfell. Bran might want to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and send Jon away, as he should. Better not to call there at all.
他得尽快找到新衣服，恐怕还只能去偷。眼下的他从头到脚都是黑色：高统黑皮革马靴，粗布黑长裤黑外衣，无袖黑皮革背心，厚重的黑羊毛披风。长剑和匕首包在黑鞘里，鞍袋里则是黑环甲和头盔。如果他被捕，这每一件都足以致他于死地。在颈泽以北，任何穿黑衣的陌生人进了村舍庄园，都会被投以冷漠的怀疑眼光，并遭到监视。而一旦伊蒙师傅的渡鸦送出消息，自己便再也找不到容身之所，即便临冬城也一样。布兰或许会放他进城，但鲁温师傅很清楚该怎么做，他会履行职责，关上城门，把琼恩赶走。所以，打一开始他就没动临冬城的主意。
Yet he saw the castle clear in his mind's eye, as if he had left it only yesterday; the towering granite walls, the Great Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father's solar, the turret room where he had slept. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to hear Bran laugh again, to sup on one of Gage's beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool.
虽然如此，在他脑海里，却能清晰地见到城堡的影像，仿佛昨天才刚离开：高耸的大理石墙；香气四溢、烟雾弥漫的城堡大厅，里面到处是乱跑的狗；父亲的书房；自己在塔楼上的卧室。在他心底的某一部分，只想再瞧瞧布兰的欢笑，再吃一个盖奇做的牛肉培根派，再听老奶妈说关于森林之子和傻瓜佛罗理安的故事。
But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father's son, and Robb's brother.
可是，他并非因为这些才离开长城：他之所以离开，只因为他是父亲的儿子，罗柏的兄弟。
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