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- Джордж Мартин
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"
In
a
moment
,
Lady
Catelyn
,
"
Renly
replied
.
Brienne
fit
backplate
to
breastplate
over
his
quilted
tunic
.
The
king
’
s
armor
was
a
deep
green
,
the
green
of
leaves
in
a
summer
wood
,
so
dark
it
drank
the
candlelight
.
Gold
highlights
gleamed
from
inlay
and
fastenings
like
distant
fires
in
that
wood
,
winking
every
time
he
moved
.
"
Pray
continue
,
Lord
Mathis
.
"
"
Your
Grace
,
"
Mathis
Rowan
said
with
a
sideways
glance
at
Catelyn
.
"
As
I
was
saying
,
our
battles
are
well
drawn
up
.
Why
wait
for
daybreak
?
Sound
the
advance
.
"
"
And
have
it
said
that
I
won
by
treachery
,
with
an
unchivalrous
attack
?
Dawn
was
the
chosen
hour
.
"
"
Chosen
by
Stannis
,
"
Randyll
Tarly
pointed
out
.
"
He
’
d
have
us
charge
into
the
teeth
of
the
rising
sun
.
We
’
ll
be
half
-
blind
.
"
"
Only
until
first
shock
,
"
Renly
said
confidently
.
"
Ser
Loras
will
break
them
,
and
after
that
it
will
be
chaos
.
"
Brienne
tightened
green
leather
straps
and
buckled
golden
buckles
.
"
When
my
brother
falls
,
see
that
no
insult
is
done
to
his
corpse
.
He
is
my
own
blood
,
I
will
not
have
his
head
paraded
about
on
a
spear
.
"
"
And
if
he
yields
?
"
Lord
Tarly
asked
.
"
Yields
?
"
Lord
Rowan
laughed
.
"
When
Mace
Tyrell
laid
siege
to
Storm
’
s
End
,
Stannis
ate
rats
rather
than
open
his
gates
.
"
"
Well
I
remember
.
"
Renly
lifted
his
chin
to
allow
Brienne
to
fasten
his
gorget
in
place
.
"
Near
the
end
,
Ser
Gawen
Wylde
and
three
of
his
knights
tried
to
steal
out
a
postern
gate
to
surrender
.
Stannis
caught
them
and
ordered
them
flung
from
the
walls
with
catapults
.
I
can
still
see
Gawen
’
s
face
as
they
strapped
him
down
.
He
had
been
our
master
-
at
-
arms
.
"
Lord
Rowan
appeared
puzzled
.
"
No
men
were
hurled
from
the
walls
.
I
would
surely
remember
that
.
"
