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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 453/751
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And
yet
,
he
knew
he
could
not
keep
silent
.
He
had
a
duty
to
Robert
,
to
the
realm
,
to
the
shade
of
Jon
Arryn
...
and
to
Bran
,
who
surely
must
have
stumbled
on
some
part
of
the
truth
.
Why
else
would
they
have
tried
to
slay
him
?
Late
that
afternoon
he
summoned
Tomard
,
the
portly
guardsman
with
the
ginger-colored
whiskers
his
children
called
Fat
Tom
.
With
Jory
dead
and
Alyn
gone
,
Fat
Tom
had
command
of
his
household
guard
.
The
thought
filled
Ned
with
vague
disquiet
.
Tomard
was
a
solid
man
;
affable
,
loyal
,
tireless
,
capable
in
a
limited
way
,
but
he
was
near
fifty
,
and
even
in
his
youth
he
had
never
been
energetic
.
Perhaps
Ned
should
not
have
been
so
quick
to
send
off
half
his
guard
,
and
all
his
best
swords
among
them
.
"
I
shall
require
your
help
,
"
Ned
said
when
Tomard
appeared
,
looking
faintly
apprehensive
,
as
he
always
did
when
called
before
his
lord
.
"
Take
me
to
the
godswood
.
"
"
Is
that
wise
,
Lord
Eddard
?
With
your
leg
and
all
?
"
"
Perhaps
not
.
But
necessary
.
"
Tomard
summoned
Varly
.
With
one
arm
around
each
man
's
shoulders
,
Ned
managed
to
descend
the
steep
tower
steps
and
hobble
across
the
bailey
.
"
I
want
the
guard
doubled
,
"
he
told
Fat
Tom
.
"
No
one
enters
or
leaves
the
Tower
of
the
Hand
without
my
leave
.
"
Tom
blinked
.
"
M'lord
,
with
Alyn
and
the
others
away
,
we
are
hard-pressed
already
--
"
"
It
will
only
be
a
short
while
.
Lengthen
the
watches
.
"
"
As
you
say
,
m
'
lord
,
"
Tom
answered
.
"
Might
I
ask
why
--
"
