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- Джордж Мартин
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He
trotted
his
broomstick
around
her
,
shouting
"
Traitor
,
traitor
"
and
whacking
her
over
the
head
with
the
melon
.
Sansa
covered
herself
with
her
hands
,
staggering
every
time
the
fruit
pounded
her
,
her
hair
sticky
by
the
second
blow
.
People
were
laughing
.
The
melon
flew
to
pieces
.
Laugh
,
Joffrey
,
she
prayed
as
the
juice
ran
down
her
face
and
the
front
of
her
blue
silk
gown
.
Laugh
and
be
satisfied
.
Joffrey
did
not
so
much
as
snigger
.
"
Boros
.
Meryn
.
"
Ser
Meryn
Trant
seized
Dontos
by
the
arm
and
flung
him
brusquely
away
.
The
red
-
faced
fool
went
sprawling
,
broomstick
,
melon
,
and
all
.
Ser
Boros
seized
Sansa
.
"
Leave
her
face
,
"
Joffrey
commanded
.
"
I
like
her
pretty
.
"
Boros
slammed
a
fist
into
Sansa
’
s
belly
,
driving
the
air
out
of
her
.
When
she
doubled
over
,
the
knight
grabbed
her
hair
and
drew
his
sword
,
and
for
one
hideous
instant
she
was
certain
he
meant
to
open
her
throat
.
As
he
laid
the
flat
of
the
blade
across
her
thighs
,
she
thought
her
legs
might
break
from
the
force
of
the
blow
.
Sansa
screamed
.
Tears
welled
in
her
eyes
.
It
will
be
over
soon
.
She
soon
lost
count
of
the
blows
.
"
Enough
,
"
she
heard
the
Hound
rasp
.
"
No
it
isn
’
t
,
"
the
king
replied
.
"
Boros
,
make
her
naked
.
"
Boros
shoved
a
meaty
hand
down
the
front
of
Sansa
’
s
bodice
and
gave
a
hard
yank
.
The
silk
came
tearing
away
,
baring
her
to
the
waist
.
Sansa
covered
her
breasts
with
her
hands
.
She
could
hear
sniggers
,
far
off
and
cruel
.
"
Beat
her
bloody
,
"
Joffrey
said
,
"
we
’
ll
see
how
her
brother
fancies
—
"
"
What
is
the
meaning
of
this
?
"
