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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 705/853
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"
I
am
not
made
for
revels
,
my
lady
.
"
Her
big
hands
tore
apart
a
heel
of
black
bread
.
Brienne
stared
at
the
chunks
as
if
she
had
forgotten
what
they
were
.
"
If
you
command
it
,
I
.
.
.
"
Catelyn
could
sense
her
discomfort
.
"
I
only
thought
you
might
enjoy
happier
company
than
mine
.
"
"
I
’
m
well
content
.
"
The
girl
used
the
bread
to
sop
up
some
of
the
bacon
grease
the
trout
had
been
fried
in
.
"
There
was
another
bird
this
morning
.
"
Catelyn
did
not
know
why
she
said
it
.
"
The
maester
woke
me
at
once
.
That
was
dutiful
,
but
not
kind
.
Not
kind
at
all
.
"
She
had
not
meant
to
tell
Brienne
.
No
one
knew
but
her
and
Maester
Vyman
,
and
she
had
meant
to
keep
it
that
way
until
.
.
.
until
.
.
.
Until
what
?
Foolish
woman
,
will
holding
it
secret
in
your
heart
make
it
any
less
true
?
If
you
never
tell
,
never
speak
of
it
,
will
it
become
only
a
dream
,
less
than
a
dream
,
a
nightmare
half
-
remembered
?
Oh
,
if
only
the
gods
would
be
so
good
.
"
Is
it
news
of
King
’
s
Landing
?
"
asked
Brienne
.
"
Would
that
it
was
.
The
bird
came
from
Castle
Cerwyn
,
from
Ser
Rodrik
,
my
castellan
.
"
Dark
wings
,
dark
words
.
"
He
has
gathered
what
power
he
could
and
is
marching
on
Winterfell
,
to
take
the
castle
back
.
"
How
unimportant
all
that
sounded
now
.
"
But
he
said
.
.
.
he
wrote
.
.
.
he
told
me
,
he
.
.
.
"
"
My
lady
,
what
is
it
?
Is
it
some
news
of
your
sons
?
"
Such
a
simple
question
that
was
;
would
that
the
answer
could
be
as
simple
.
When
Catelyn
tried
to
speak
,
the
words
caught
in
her
throat
.
"
I
have
no
sons
but
Robb
.
"
She
managed
those
terrible
words
without
a
sob
,
and
for
that
much
she
was
glad
.
