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- Джордж Мартин
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The
last
tourney
had
been
different
,
Sansa
reflected
.
King
Robert
had
staged
it
in
her
father
’
s
honor
.
High
lords
and
fabled
champions
had
come
from
all
over
the
realm
to
compete
,
and
the
whole
city
had
turned
out
to
watch
.
She
remembered
the
splendor
of
it
:
the
field
of
pavilions
along
the
river
with
a
knight
’
s
shield
hung
before
each
door
,
the
long
rows
of
silken
pennants
waving
in
the
wind
,
the
gleam
of
sunlight
on
bright
steel
and
gilded
spurs
.
The
days
had
rung
to
the
sounds
of
trumpets
and
pounding
hooves
,
and
the
nights
had
been
full
of
feasts
and
song
.
Those
had
been
the
most
magical
days
of
her
life
,
but
they
seemed
a
memory
from
another
age
now
.
Robert
Baratheon
was
dead
,
and
her
father
as
well
,
beheaded
for
a
traitor
on
the
steps
of
the
Great
Sept
of
Baelor
.
Now
there
were
three
kings
in
the
land
,
and
war
raged
beyond
the
Trident
while
the
city
filled
with
desperate
men
.
Small
wonder
that
they
had
to
hold
Joff
’
s
tournament
behind
the
thick
stone
walls
of
the
Red
Keep
.
"
Will
the
queen
attend
,
do
you
think
?
"
Sansa
always
felt
safer
when
Cersei
was
there
to
restrain
her
son
.
"
I
fear
not
,
my
lady
.
The
council
is
meeting
,
some
urgent
business
.
"
Ser
Arys
dropped
his
voice
.
"
Lord
Tywin
has
gone
to
ground
at
Harrenhal
instead
of
bringing
his
army
to
the
city
as
the
queen
commanded
.
Her
Grace
is
furious
.
"
He
fell
silent
as
a
column
of
Lannister
guardsmen
marched
past
,
in
crimson
cloaks
and
lion
-
crested
helms
.
Ser
Arys
was
fond
of
gossip
,
but
only
when
he
was
certain
that
no
one
was
listening
.
The
carpenters
had
erected
a
gallery
and
lists
in
the
outer
bailey
.
It
was
a
poor
thing
indeed
,
and
the
meager
throng
that
had
gathered
to
watch
filled
but
half
the
seats
.
Most
of
the
spectators
were
guardsmen
in
the
gold
cloaks
of
the
City
Watch
or
the
crimson
of
House
Lannister
;
of
lords
and
ladies
there
were
but
a
paltry
few
,
the
handful
that
remained
at
court
.
Grey
-
faced
Lord
Gyles
Rosby
was
coughing
into
a
square
of
pink
silk
.
Lady
Tanda
was
bracketed
by
her
daughters
,
placid
dull
Lollys
and
acid
-
tongued
Falyse
.
Ebon
-
skinned
Jalabhar
Xho
was
an
exile
who
had
no
other
refuge
,
Lady
Ermesande
a
babe
seated
on
her
wet
nurse
’
s
lap
.
The
talk
was
she
would
soon
be
wed
to
one
of
the
queen
’
s
cousins
,
so
the
Lannisters
might
claim
her
lands
.
The
king
was
shaded
beneath
a
crimson
canopy
,
one
leg
thrown
negligently
over
the
carved
wooden
arm
of
his
chair
.
Princess
Myrcella
and
Prince
Tommen
sat
behind
him
.
In
the
back
of
the
royal
box
,
Sandor
Clegane
stood
at
guard
,
his
hands
resting
on
his
swordbelt
.
The
white
cloak
of
the
Kingsguard
was
draped
over
his
broad
shoulders
and
fastened
with
a
jeweled
brooch
,
the
snowy
cloth
looking
somehow
unnatural
against
his
brown
rough
-
spun
tunic
and
studded
leather
jerkin
.
"
Lady
Sansa
,
"
the
Hound
announced
curtly
when
he
saw
her
.
His
voice
was
as
rough
as
the
sound
of
a
saw
on
wood
.
The
burn
scars
on
his
face
and
throat
made
one
side
of
his
mouth
twitch
when
he
spoke
.
Princess
Myrcella
nodded
a
shy
greeting
at
the
sound
of
Sansa
’
s
name
,
but
plump
little
Prince
Tommen
jumped
up
eagerly
.
"
Sansa
,
did
you
hear
?
I
’
m
to
ride
in
the
tourney
today
.
Mother
said
I
could
.
"
Tommen
was
all
of
eight
.
He
reminded
her
of
her
own
little
brother
,
Bran
.
They
were
of
an
age
.
Bran
was
back
at
Winterfell
,
a
cripple
,
yet
safe
.
Sansa
would
have
given
anything
to
be
with
him
.
"
I
fear
for
the
life
of
your
foeman
,
"
she
told
Tommen
solemnly
.
"
His
foeman
will
be
stuffed
with
straw
,
"
Joff
said
as
he
rose
.
The
king
was
clad
in
a
gilded
breastplate
with
a
roaring
lion
engraved
upon
its
chest
,
as
if
he
expected
the
war
to
engulf
them
at
any
moment
.
He
was
thirteen
today
,
and
tall
for
his
age
,
with
the
green
eyes
and
golden
hair
of
the
Lannisters
.
