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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 23/751
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Catelyn
had
been
anointed
with
the
seven
oils
and
named
in
the
rainbow
of
light
that
filled
the
sept
of
Riverrun
.
She
was
of
the
Faith
,
like
her
father
and
grandfather
and
his
father
before
him
.
Her
gods
had
names
,
and
their
faces
were
as
familiar
as
the
faces
of
her
parents
.
Worship
was
a
septon
with
a
censer
,
the
smell
of
incense
,
a
seven-sided
crystal
alive
with
light
,
voices
raised
in
song
.
The
Tullys
kept
a
godswood
,
as
all
the
great
houses
did
,
but
it
was
only
a
place
to
walk
or
read
or
lie
in
the
sun
.
Worship
was
for
the
sept.
.
For
her
sake
,
Ned
had
built
a
small
sept
where
she
might
sing
to
the
seven
faces
of
god
,
but
the
blood
of
the
First
Men
still
flowed
in
the
veins
of
the
Starks
,
and
his
own
gods
were
the
old
ones
,
the
nameless
,
faceless
gods
of
the
greenwood
they
shared
with
the
vanished
children
of
the
forest
.
At
the
center
of
the
grove
an
ancient
weirwood
brooded
over
a
small
pool
where
the
waters
were
black
and
cold
.
"
The
heart
tree
,
"
Ned
called
it
.
The
weirwood
's
bark
was
white
as
bone
,
its
leaves
dark
red
,
like
a
thousand
bloodstained
hands
.
A
face
had
been
carved
in
the
trunk
of
the
great
tree
,
its
features
long
and
melancholy
,
the
deep-cut
eyes
red
with
dried
sap
and
strangely
watchful
.
They
were
old
,
those
eyes
;
older
than
Winterfell
itself
.
They
had
seen
Brandon
the
Builder
set
the
first
stone
,
if
the
tales
were
true
;
they
had
watched
the
castle
's
granite
walls
rise
around
them
.
It
was
said
that
the
children
of
the
forest
had
carved
the
faces
in
the
trees
during
the
dawn
centuries
before
the
coming
of
the
First
Men
across
the
narrow
sea
.
In
the
south
the
last
weirwoods
had
been
cut
down
or
burned
out
a
thousand
years
ago
,
except
on
the
Isle
of
Faces
where
the
green
men
kept
their
silent
watch
.
Up
here
it
was
different
.
Here
every
castle
had
its
godswood
,
and
every
godswood
had
its
heart
tree
,
and
every
heart
tree
its
face
.
Catelyn
found
her
husband
beneath
the
weirwood
,
seated
on
a
moss-covered
stone
.
The
greatsword
Ice
was
across
his
lap
,
and
he
was
cleaning
the
blade
in
those
waters
black
as
night
.
A
thousand
years
of
humus
lay
thick
upon
the
godswood
floor
,
swallowing
the
sound
of
her
feet
,
but
the
red
eyes
of
the
weirwood
seemed
to
follow
her
as
she
came
.
"
Ned
,
"
she
called
softly
.
He
lifted
his
head
to
look
at
her
.
"
Catelyn
,
"
he
said
.
His
voice
was
distant
and
formal
.
"
Where
are
the
children
?
"
He
would
always
ask
her
that
.
"
In
the
kitchen
,
arguing
about
names
for
the
wolf
pups
.
"
She
spread
her
cloak
on
the
forest
floor
and
sat
beside
the
pool
,
her
back
to
the
weirwood
.
She
could
feel
the
eyes
watching
her
,
but
she
did
her
best
to
ignore
them
.
"
Arya
is
already
in
love
,
and
Sansa
is
charmed
and
gracious
,
but
Rickon
is
not
quite
sure
.
"
"
Is
he
afraid
?
"
Ned
asked
.
