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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 639/853
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The
gold
cloaks
were
almost
as
uncertain
a
weapon
.
Six
thousand
men
in
the
City
Watch
,
thanks
to
Cersei
,
but
only
a
quarter
of
them
could
be
relied
upon
.
"
There
’
s
few
out
-
and
-
out
traitors
,
though
there
’
s
some
,
even
your
spider
hasn
’
t
found
them
all
,
"
Bywater
had
warned
him
.
"
But
there
’
s
hundreds
greener
than
spring
grass
,
men
who
joined
for
bread
and
ale
and
safety
.
No
man
likes
to
look
craven
in
the
sight
of
his
fellows
,
so
they
’
ll
fight
brave
enough
at
the
start
,
when
it
’
s
all
warhorns
and
blowing
banners
.
But
if
the
battle
looks
to
be
going
sour
they
’
ll
break
,
and
they
’
ll
break
bad
.
The
first
man
to
throw
down
his
spear
and
run
will
have
a
thousand
more
trodding
on
his
heels
.
"
To
be
sure
,
there
were
seasoned
men
in
the
City
Watch
,
the
core
of
two
thousand
who
’
d
gotten
their
gold
cloaks
from
Robert
,
not
Cersei
.
Yet
even
those
.
.
.
a
watchman
was
not
truly
a
soldier
,
Lord
Tywin
Lannister
had
been
fond
of
saying
.
Of
knights
and
squires
and
men
-
at
-
arms
,
Tyrion
had
no
more
than
three
hundred
.
Soon
enough
,
he
must
test
the
truth
of
another
of
his
father
’
s
sayings
:
One
man
on
a
wall
was
worth
ten
beneath
it
.
Bronn
and
the
escort
were
waiting
at
the
foot
of
the
quay
,
amidst
swarming
beggars
,
strolling
whores
,
and
fishwives
crying
the
catch
.
The
fishwives
did
more
business
than
all
the
rest
combined
.
Buyers
flocked
around
the
barrels
and
stalls
to
haggle
over
winkles
,
clams
,
and
river
pike
.
With
no
other
food
coming
into
the
city
,
the
price
of
fish
was
ten
times
what
it
had
been
before
the
war
,
and
still
rising
.
Those
who
had
coin
came
to
the
riverfront
each
morning
and
each
evening
,
in
hopes
of
bringing
home
an
eel
or
a
pot
of
red
crabs
;
those
who
did
not
slipped
between
the
stalls
hoping
to
steal
,
or
stood
gaunt
and
forlorn
beneath
the
walls
.
The
gold
cloaks
cleared
a
path
through
the
press
,
shoving
people
aside
with
the
shafts
of
their
spears
.
Tyrion
ignored
the
muttered
curses
as
best
he
could
.
A
fish
came
sailing
out
of
the
crowd
,
slimy
and
rotten
.
It
landed
at
his
feet
and
flew
to
pieces
.
He
stepped
over
it
gingerly
and
climbed
into
his
saddle
.
Children
with
swollen
bellies
were
already
fighting
over
pieces
of
the
stinking
fish
.
Mounted
,
he
gazed
along
the
riverfront
.
Hammers
rang
in
the
morning
air
as
carpenters
swarmed
over
the
Mud
Gate
,
extending
wooden
hoardings
from
the
battlements
.
Those
were
coming
well
.
He
was
a
deal
less
pleased
by
the
clutter
of
ramshackle
structures
that
had
been
allowed
to
grow
up
behind
the
quays
,
attaching
themselves
to
the
city
walls
like
barnacles
on
the
hull
of
a
ship
;
bait
shacks
and
pot
-
shops
,
warehouses
,
merchants
’
stalls
,
alehouses
,
the
cribs
where
the
cheaper
sort
of
whores
spread
their
legs
.
It
has
to
go
,
every
bit
of
it
.
As
it
was
,
Stannis
would
hardly
need
scaling
ladders
to
storm
the
walls
.
He
called
Bronn
to
his
side
.
"
Assemble
a
hundred
men
and
burn
everything
you
see
here
between
the
water
’
s
edge
and
the
city
walls
.
"
He
waved
his
stubby
fingers
,
taking
in
all
the
waterfront
squalor
.
"
I
want
nothing
left
standing
,
do
you
understand
?
"
The
black
-
haired
sellsword
turned
his
head
,
considering
the
task
.
"
Them
as
own
all
this
won
’
t
like
that
much
.
"
"
I
never
imagined
they
would
.
So
be
it
;
they
’
ll
have
something
else
to
curse
the
evil
monkey
demon
for
.
"
"
Some
may
fight
.
"
