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- Джордж Мартин
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I
wish
I
was
down
in
the
yard
.
His
lordship
waited
until
the
table
had
been
cleared
before
he
raised
the
matter
of
a
letter
he
had
received
from
Lord
Tywin
Lannister
,
who
held
his
elder
son
,
Ser
Wylis
,
taken
captive
on
the
Green
Fork
.
"
He
offers
him
back
to
me
without
ransom
,
provided
I
withdraw
my
levies
from
His
Grace
and
vow
to
fight
no
more
.
"
"
You
will
refuse
him
,
of
course
,
"
said
Ser
Rodrik
.
"
Have
no
fear
on
that
count
,
"
the
lord
assured
them
.
"
King
Robb
has
no
more
loyal
servant
than
Wyman
Manderly
.
I
would
be
loath
to
see
my
son
languish
at
Harrenhal
any
longer
than
he
must
,
however
.
That
is
an
ill
place
.
Cursed
,
they
say
.
Not
that
I
am
the
sort
to
swallow
such
tales
,
but
still
,
there
it
is
.
Look
at
what
’
s
befallen
this
Janos
Slynt
.
Raised
up
to
Lord
of
Harrenhal
by
the
queen
,
and
cast
down
by
her
brother
.
Shipped
off
to
the
Wall
,
they
say
.
I
pray
some
equitable
exchange
of
captives
can
be
arranged
before
too
very
long
.
I
know
Wylis
would
not
want
to
sit
out
the
rest
of
the
war
.
Gallant
,
that
son
of
mine
,
and
fierce
as
a
mastiff
.
"
Bran
’
s
shoulders
were
stiff
from
sitting
in
the
same
chair
by
the
time
the
audience
drew
to
a
close
.
And
that
night
,
as
he
sat
to
supper
,
a
horn
sounded
to
herald
the
arrival
of
another
guest
.
Lady
Donella
Hornwood
brought
no
tail
of
knights
and
retainers
;
only
herself
,
and
six
tired
men
-
at
-
arms
with
a
moosehead
badge
on
their
dusty
orange
livery
.
"
We
are
very
sorry
for
all
you
have
suffered
,
my
lady
,
"
Bran
said
when
she
came
before
him
to
speak
her
words
of
greetings
.
Lord
Hornwood
had
been
killed
in
the
battle
on
the
Green
Fork
,
their
only
son
cut
down
in
the
Whispering
Wood
.
"
Winterfell
will
remember
.
"
"
That
is
good
to
know
.
"
She
was
a
pale
husk
of
a
woman
,
every
line
of
her
face
etched
with
grief
.
"
I
am
very
weary
,
my
lord
.
If
I
might
have
leave
to
rest
,
I
should
be
thankful
.
"
"
To
be
sure
,
"
Ser
Rodrik
said
.
"
There
is
time
enough
for
talk
on
the
morrow
.
"
When
the
morrow
came
,
most
of
the
morning
was
given
over
to
talk
of
grains
and
greens
and
salting
meat
.
Once
the
maesters
in
their
Citadel
had
proclaimed
the
first
of
autumn
,
wise
men
put
away
a
portion
of
each
harvest
.
.
.
though
how
large
a
portion
was
a
matter
that
seemed
to
require
much
talk
.
Lady
Hornwood
was
storing
a
fifth
of
her
harvest
.
At
Maester
Luwin
’
s
suggestion
,
she
vowed
to
increase
that
to
a
quarter
.
"
Bolton
’
s
bastard
is
massing
men
at
the
Dreadfort
,
"
she
warned
them
.
"
I
hope
he
means
to
take
them
south
to
join
his
father
at
the
Twins
,
but
when
I
sent
to
ask
his
intent
,
he
told
me
that
no
Bolton
would
be
questioned
by
a
woman
.
As
if
he
were
trueborn
and
had
a
right
to
that
name
.
"
