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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 813/853
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"
It
’
s
a
dish
I
tasted
myself
,
or
have
you
forgotten
?
I
was
ten
when
I
was
taken
from
my
father
’
s
house
,
to
make
certain
he
would
raise
no
more
rebellions
.
"
"
It
is
not
the
same
!
"
Theon
’
s
face
was
impassive
.
"
The
noose
I
wore
was
not
made
of
hempen
rope
,
that
’
s
true
enough
,
but
I
felt
it
all
the
same
.
And
it
chafed
,
Ser
Rodrik
.
It
chafed
me
raw
.
"
He
had
never
quite
realized
that
until
now
,
but
as
the
words
came
spilling
out
he
saw
the
truth
of
them
.
"
No
harm
was
ever
done
you
.
"
"
And
no
harm
will
be
done
your
Beth
,
so
long
as
you
—
"
Ser
Rodrik
never
gave
him
the
chance
to
finish
.
"
Viper
,
"
the
knight
declared
,
his
face
red
with
rage
beneath
those
white
whiskers
.
"
I
gave
you
the
chance
to
save
your
men
and
die
with
some
small
shred
of
honor
,
Turncloak
.
I
should
have
known
that
was
too
much
to
ask
of
a
childkiller
.
"
His
hand
went
to
the
hilt
of
his
sword
.
"
I
ought
cut
you
down
here
and
now
and
put
an
end
to
your
lies
and
deceits
.
By
the
gods
,
I
should
.
"
Theon
did
not
fear
a
doddering
old
man
,
but
those
watching
archers
and
that
line
of
knights
were
a
different
matter
.
If
the
swords
came
out
his
chances
of
getting
back
to
the
castle
alive
were
small
to
none
.
"
Forswear
your
oath
and
murder
me
,
and
you
will
watch
your
little
Beth
strangle
at
the
end
of
a
rope
.
"
Ser
Rodrik
’
s
knuckles
had
gone
white
,
but
after
a
moment
he
took
his
hand
off
the
swordhilt
.
"
Truly
,
I
have
lived
too
long
.
"
"
I
will
not
disagree
,
ser
.
Will
you
accept
my
terms
?
"
"
I
have
a
duty
to
Lady
Catelyn
and
House
Stark
.
"
