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- Джордж Мартин
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Once
armed
and
armored
,
Theon
climbed
the
watchtower
at
the
angle
where
the
eastern
and
southern
walls
came
together
to
have
a
look
at
his
doom
.
The
northmen
were
spreading
out
to
encircle
the
castle
.
It
was
hard
to
judge
their
numbers
.
A
thousand
at
least
;
perhaps
twice
that
many
.
Against
seventeen
.
They
’
d
brought
catapults
and
scorpions
.
He
saw
no
siege
towers
rumbling
up
the
kingsroad
,
but
there
was
timber
enough
in
the
wolfswood
to
build
as
many
as
were
required
.
Theon
studied
their
banners
through
Maester
Luwin
’
s
Myrish
lens
tube
.
The
Cerwyn
battle
-
axe
flapped
bravely
wherever
he
looked
,
and
there
were
Tallhart
trees
as
well
,
and
mermen
from
White
Harbor
.
Less
common
were
the
sigils
of
Flint
and
Karstark
.
Here
and
there
he
even
saw
the
bull
moose
of
the
Hornwoods
.
But
no
Glovers
,
Asha
saw
to
them
,
no
Boltons
from
the
Dreadfort
,
no
Umbers
come
down
from
the
shadow
of
the
Wall
.
Not
that
they
were
needed
.
Soon
enough
the
boy
Cley
Cerwyn
appeared
before
the
gates
carrying
a
peace
banner
on
a
tall
staff
,
to
announce
that
Ser
Rodrik
Cassel
wished
to
parley
with
Theon
Turncloak
.
Turncloak
.
The
name
was
bitter
as
bile
.
He
had
gone
to
Pyke
to
lead
his
father
’
s
longships
against
Lannisport
,
he
remembered
.
"
I
shall
be
out
shortly
,
"
he
shouted
down
.
"
Alone
.
"
Black
Lorren
disapproved
.
"
Only
blood
can
wash
out
blood
,
"
he
declared
.
"
Knights
may
keep
their
truces
with
other
knights
,
but
they
are
not
so
careful
of
their
honor
when
dealing
with
those
they
deem
outlaw
.
"
Theon
bristled
.
"
I
am
the
Prince
of
Winterfell
and
heir
to
the
Iron
Islands
.
Now
go
find
the
girl
and
do
as
I
told
you
.
"
Black
Lorren
gave
him
a
murderous
look
.
"
Aye
,
Prince
.
"
He
’
s
turned
against
me
too
,
Theon
realized
.
Of
late
it
seemed
to
him
as
if
the
very
stones
of
Winterfell
had
turned
against
him
.
If
I
die
,
I
die
friendless
and
abandoned
.
What
choice
did
that
leave
him
,
but
to
live
?
He
rode
to
the
gatehouse
with
his
crown
on
his
head
.
A
woman
was
drawing
water
from
the
well
,
and
Gage
the
cook
stood
in
the
door
of
the
kitchens
.
They
hid
their
hatred
behind
sullen
looks
and
faces
blank
as
slate
,
yet
he
could
feel
it
all
the
same
.
When
the
drawbridge
was
lowered
,
a
chill
wind
sighed
across
the
moat
.
The
touch
of
it
made
him
shiver
.
It
is
the
cold
,
nothing
more
,
Theon
told
himself
,
a
shiver
,
not
a
tremble
.
Even
brave
men
shiver
.
Into
the
teeth
of
that
wind
he
rode
,
under
the
portcullis
,
over
the
drawbridge
.
The
outer
gates
swung
open
to
let
him
pass
.
As
he
emerged
beneath
the
walls
,
he
could
sense
the
boys
watching
from
the
empty
sockets
where
their
eyes
had
been
.
