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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 562/853
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"
And
I
mean
to
have
their
heads
,
every
one
.
These
are
wildlings
.
No
soldiers
.
A
few
hundred
heroes
,
drunk
most
like
,
amidst
a
great
horde
of
women
,
children
,
and
thralls
.
We
will
sweep
over
them
and
send
them
howling
back
to
their
hovels
.
"
They
had
argued
for
many
hours
,
and
reached
no
agreement
.
The
Old
Bear
was
too
stubborn
to
retreat
,
but
neither
would
he
rush
headlong
up
the
Milkwater
,
seeking
battle
.
In
the
end
,
nothing
had
been
decided
but
to
wait
a
few
more
days
for
the
men
from
the
Shadow
Tower
,
and
talk
again
if
they
did
not
appear
.
And
now
they
had
,
which
meant
that
the
decision
could
be
delayed
no
longer
.
Jon
was
glad
of
that
much
,
at
least
.
If
they
must
battle
Mance
Rayder
,
let
it
be
soon
.
He
found
Dolorous
Edd
at
the
fire
,
complaining
about
how
difficult
it
was
for
him
to
sleep
when
people
insisted
on
blowing
horns
in
the
woods
.
Jon
gave
him
something
new
to
complain
about
.
Together
they
woke
Hake
,
who
received
the
Lord
Commander
’
s
orders
with
a
stream
of
curses
,
but
got
up
all
the
same
and
soon
had
a
dozen
brothers
cutting
roots
for
a
soup
.
Sam
came
puffing
up
as
Jon
crossed
the
camp
.
Under
the
black
hood
his
face
was
as
pale
and
round
as
the
moon
.
"
I
heard
the
horn
.
Has
your
uncle
come
back
?
"
"
It
’
s
only
the
men
from
the
Shadow
Tower
.
"
It
was
growing
harder
to
cling
to
the
hope
of
Benjen
Stark
’
s
safe
return
.
The
cloak
he
had
found
beneath
the
Fist
could
well
have
belonged
to
his
uncle
or
one
of
his
men
,
even
the
Old
Bear
admitted
as
much
,
though
why
they
would
have
buried
it
there
,
wrapped
around
the
cache
of
dragonglass
,
no
one
could
say
.
"
Sam
,
I
have
to
go
.
"
At
the
ringwall
,
he
found
the
guards
sliding
spikes
from
the
half
-
frozen
earth
to
make
an
opening
.
It
was
not
long
until
the
first
of
the
brothers
from
the
Shadow
Tower
began
wending
their
way
up
the
slope
.
All
in
leather
and
fur
they
were
,
with
here
and
there
a
bit
of
steel
or
bronze
;
heavy
beards
covered
hard
lean
faces
,
and
made
them
look
as
shaggy
as
their
garrons
.
Jon
was
surprised
to
see
some
of
them
were
riding
two
to
a
horse
.
When
he
looked
more
closely
,
it
was
plain
that
many
of
them
were
wounded
.
There
has
been
trouble
on
the
way
.
Jon
knew
Qhorin
Halfhand
the
instant
he
saw
him
,
though
they
had
never
met
.
The
big
ranger
was
half
a
legend
in
the
Watch
;
a
man
of
slow
words
and
swift
action
,
tall
and
straight
as
a
spear
,
long
-
limbed
and
solemn
.
Unlike
his
men
,
he
was
clean
-
shaven
.
His
hair
fell
from
beneath
his
helm
in
a
heavy
braid
touched
with
hoarfrost
,
and
the
blacks
he
wore
were
so
faded
they
might
have
been
greys
.
Only
thumb
and
forefinger
remained
on
the
hand
that
held
the
reins
;
the
other
fingers
had
been
sheared
off
catching
a
wildling
’
s
axe
that
would
otherwise
have
split
his
skull
.
It
was
told
that
he
had
thrust
his
maimed
fist
into
the
face
of
the
axeman
so
the
blood
spurted
into
his
eyes
,
and
slew
him
while
he
was
blind
.
Since
that
day
,
the
wildlings
beyond
the
Wall
had
known
no
foe
more
implacable
.
