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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 297/751
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The
Mountain
pivoted
in
wordless
fury
,
swinging
his
longsword
in
a
killing
arc
with
all
his
massive
strength
behind
it
,
but
the
Hound
caught
the
blow
and
turned
it
,
and
for
what
seemed
an
eternity
the
two
brothers
stood
hammering
at
each
other
as
a
dazed
Loras
Tyrell
was
helped
to
safety
.
Thrice
Ned
saw
Ser
Gregor
aim
savage
blows
at
the
hound
's
-
head
helmet
,
yet
not
once
did
Sandor
send
a
cut
at
his
brother
's
unprotected
face
.
It
was
the
king
's
voice
that
put
an
end
to
it
...
the
king
's
voice
and
twenty
swords
.
Jon
Arryn
had
told
them
that
a
commander
needs
a
good
battlefield
voice
,
and
Robert
had
proved
the
truth
of
that
on
the
Trident
.
He
used
that
voice
now
.
"
STOP
THIS
MADNESS
,
"
he
boomed
,
"
IN
THE
NAME
OF
YOUR
KING
!
"
The
Hound
went
to
one
knee
.
Ser
Gregor
's
blow
cut
air
,
and
at
last
he
came
to
his
senses
.
He
dropped
his
sword
and
glared
at
Robert
,
surrounded
by
his
Kingsguard
and
a
dozen
other
knights
and
guardsmen
.
Wordlessly
,
he
turned
and
strode
off
,
shoving
past
Barristan
Selmy
.
"
Let
him
go
,
"
Robert
said
,
and
as
quickly
as
that
,
it
was
over
.
"
Is
the
Hound
the
champion
now
?
"
Sansa
asked
Ned
.
"
No
,
"
he
told
her
.
"
There
will
be
one
final
joust
,
between
the
Hound
and
the
Knight
of
Flowers
.
"
But
Sansa
had
the
right
of
it
after
all
.
A
few
moments
later
Ser
Loras
Tyrell
walked
back
onto
the
field
in
a
simple
linen
doublet
and
said
to
Sandor
Clegane
,
"
I
owe
you
my
life
.
The
day
is
yours
,
ser
.
"
"
I
am
no
ser
,
"
the
Hound
replied
,
but
he
took
the
victory
,
and
the
champion
's
purse
,
and
,
for
perhaps
the
first
time
in
his
life
,
the
love
of
the
commons
.
They
cheered
him
as
he
left
the
lists
to
return
to
his
pavilion
.
As
Ned
walked
with
Sansa
to
the
archery
field
,
Littlefinger
and
Lord
Renly
and
some
of
the
others
fell
in
with
them
.
"
Tyrell
had
to
know
the
mare
was
in
heat
,
"
Littlefinger
was
saying
.
"
I
swear
the
boy
planned
the
whole
thing
.
Gregor
has
always
favored
huge
,
ill-tempered
stallions
with
more
spirit
than
sense
.
"
The
notion
seemed
to
amuse
him
.
It
did
not
amuse
Ser
Barristan
Selmy
.
"
There
is
small
honor
in
tricks
,
"
the
old
man
said
stiffly
.
