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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 446/853
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She
had
seen
enough
of
Robert
Baratheon
at
Winterfell
to
know
that
the
king
did
not
regard
Joffrey
with
any
great
warmth
.
If
the
boy
was
truly
Jaime
’
s
seed
,
Robert
would
have
put
him
to
death
along
with
his
mother
,
and
few
would
have
condemned
him
.
Bastards
were
common
enough
,
but
incest
was
a
monstrous
sin
to
both
old
gods
and
new
,
and
the
children
of
such
wickedness
were
named
abominations
in
sept
and
godswood
alike
.
The
dragon
kings
had
wed
brother
to
sister
,
but
they
were
the
blood
of
old
Valyria
where
such
practices
had
been
common
,
and
like
their
dragons
the
Targaryens
answered
to
neither
gods
nor
men
.
Ned
must
have
known
,
and
Lord
Arryn
before
him
.
Small
wonder
that
the
queen
had
killed
them
both
.
Would
I
do
any
less
for
my
own
?
Catelyn
clenched
her
hands
,
feeling
the
tightness
in
her
scarred
fingers
where
the
assassin
’
s
steel
had
cut
to
the
bone
as
she
fought
to
save
her
son
.
"
Bran
knows
too
,
"
she
whispered
,
lowering
her
head
.
Gods
be
good
,
he
must
have
seen
something
,
heard
something
,
that
was
why
they
tried
to
kill
him
in
his
bed
.
Lost
and
weary
,
Catelyn
Stark
gave
herself
over
to
her
gods
.
She
knelt
before
the
Smith
,
who
fixed
things
that
were
broken
,
and
asked
that
he
give
her
sweet
Bran
his
protection
.
She
went
to
the
Maid
and
beseeched
her
to
lend
her
courage
to
Arya
and
Sansa
,
to
guard
them
in
their
innocence
.
To
the
Father
,
she
prayed
for
justice
,
the
strength
to
seek
it
and
the
wisdom
to
know
it
,
and
she
asked
the
Warrior
to
keep
Robb
strong
and
shield
him
in
his
battles
.
Lastly
she
turned
to
the
Crone
,
whose
statues
often
showed
her
with
a
lamp
in
one
hand
.
"
Guide
me
,
wise
lady
,
"
she
prayed
.
"
Show
me
the
path
I
must
walk
,
and
do
not
let
me
stumble
in
the
dark
places
that
lie
ahead
.
"
Finally
there
were
footsteps
behind
her
,
and
a
noise
at
the
door
.
"
My
lady
,
"
Ser
Robar
said
gently
,
"
pardon
,
but
our
time
is
at
an
end
.
We
must
be
back
before
the
dawn
breaks
.
"
Catelyn
rose
stiffly
.
Her
knees
ached
,
and
she
would
have
given
much
for
a
featherbed
and
a
pillow
just
then
.
"
Thank
you
,
ser
.
I
am
ready
.
"
They
rode
in
silence
through
sparse
woodland
where
the
trees
leaned
drunkenly
away
from
the
sea
.
The
nervous
whinny
of
horses
and
the
clank
of
steel
guided
them
back
to
Renly
’
s
camp
.
The
long
ranks
of
man
and
horse
were
armored
in
darkness
,
as
black
as
if
the
Smith
had
hammered
night
itself
into
steel
.
There
were
banners
to
her
right
,
banners
to
her
left
,
and
rank
on
rank
of
banners
before
her
,
but
in
the
predawn
gloom
,
neither
colors
nor
sigils
could
be
discerned
.
A
grey
army
,
Catelyn
thought
.
Grey
men
on
grey
horses
beneath
grey
banners
.
As
they
sat
their
horses
waiting
,
Renly
’
s
shadow
knights
pointed
their
lances
upward
,
so
she
rode
through
a
forest
of
tall
naked
trees
,
bereft
of
leaves
and
life
.
Where
Storm
’
s
End
stood
was
only
a
deeper
darkness
,
a
wall
of
black
through
which
no
stars
could
shine
,
but
she
could
see
torches
moving
across
the
fields
where
Lord
Stannis
had
made
his
camp
.
The
candles
within
Renly
’
s
pavilion
made
the
shimmering
silken
walls
seem
to
glow
,
transforming
the
great
tent
into
a
magical
castle
alive
with
emerald
light
.
Two
of
the
Rainbow
Guard
stood
sentry
at
the
door
to
the
royal
pavilion
.
The
green
light
shone
strangely
against
the
purple
plums
of
Ser
Parmen
’
s
surcoat
,
and
gave
a
sickly
hue
to
the
sunflowers
that
covered
every
inch
of
Ser
Emmon
’
s
enameled
yellow
plate
.
Long
silken
plumes
flew
from
their
helms
,
and
rainbow
cloaks
draped
their
shoulders
.
Within
,
Catelyn
found
Brienne
armoring
the
king
for
battle
while
the
Lords
Tarly
and
Rowan
spoke
of
dispositions
and
tactics
.
It
was
pleasantly
warm
inside
,
the
heat
shimmering
off
the
coals
in
a
dozen
small
iron
braziers
.
"
I
must
speak
with
you
,
Your
Grace
,
"
she
said
,
granting
him
a
king
’
s
style
for
once
,
anything
to
make
him
heed
her
.
