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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 301/853
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The
blue
knight
climbed
unsteady
to
his
feet
,
and
raised
his
dirk
in
the
direction
of
Renly
Baratheon
,
the
salute
of
a
champion
to
his
king
.
Squires
dashed
onto
the
field
to
help
the
vanquished
knight
to
his
feet
.
When
they
got
his
helm
off
,
Catelyn
was
startled
to
see
how
young
he
was
.
He
could
not
have
had
more
than
two
years
on
Robb
.
The
boy
might
have
been
as
comely
as
his
sister
,
but
the
broken
lip
,
unfocused
eyes
,
and
blood
trickling
through
his
matted
hair
made
it
hard
to
be
certain
.
"
Approach
,
"
King
Renly
called
to
the
champion
.
He
limped
toward
the
gallery
.
At
close
hand
,
the
brilliant
blue
armor
looked
rather
less
splendid
;
everywhere
it
showed
scars
,
the
dents
of
mace
and
warhammer
,
the
long
gouges
left
by
swords
,
chips
in
the
enameled
breastplate
and
helm
.
His
cloak
hung
in
rags
.
From
the
way
he
moved
,
the
man
within
was
no
less
battered
.
A
few
voices
hailed
him
with
cries
of
"
Tarth
!
"
and
,
oddly
,
"
A
Beauty
!
A
Beauty
!
"
but
most
were
silent
.
The
blue
knight
knelt
before
the
king
.
"
Grace
,
"
he
said
,
his
voice
muffled
by
his
dented
greathelm
.
"
You
are
all
your
lord
father
claimed
you
were
.
"
Renly
’
s
voice
carried
over
the
field
.
"
I
’
ve
seen
Ser
Loras
unhorsed
once
or
twice
.
.
.
but
never
quite
in
that
fashion
.
"
"
That
were
no
proper
unhorsing
,
"
complained
a
drunken
archer
nearby
,
a
Tyrell
rose
sewn
on
his
jerkin
.
"
A
vile
trick
,
pulling
the
lad
down
.
"
The
press
had
begun
to
open
up
.
"
Ser
Colen
,
"
Catelyn
said
to
her
escort
,
"
who
is
this
man
,
and
why
do
they
mislike
him
so
?
"
Ser
Colen
frowned
.
"
Because
he
is
no
man
,
my
lady
.
That
’
s
Brienne
of
Tarth
,
daughter
to
Lord
Selwyn
the
Evenstar
.
"
"
Daughter
?
"
Catelyn
was
horrified
.
"
Brienne
the
Beauty
,
they
name
her
.
.
.
though
not
to
her
face
,
lest
they
be
called
upon
to
defend
those
words
with
their
bodies
.
"
