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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 469/751
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"
Ned
,
"
the
king
whispered
when
he
saw
him
.
His
face
was
pale
as
milk
.
"
Come
...
closer
.
"
His
men
brought
him
close
.
Ned
steadied
himself
with
a
hand
on
the
bedpost
.
He
had
only
to
look
down
at
Robert
to
know
how
bad
it
was
.
"
What
...
?
"
he
began
,
his
throat
clenched
.
"
A
boar
.
"
Lord
Renly
was
still
in
his
hunting
greens
,
his
cloak
spattered
with
blood
.
"
A
devil
,
"
the
king
husked
.
"
My
own
fault
.
Too
much
wine
,
damn
me
to
hell
.
Missed
my
thrust
.
"
"
And
where
were
the
rest
of
you
?
"
Ned
demanded
of
Lord
Renly
.
"
Where
was
Ser
Barristan
and
the
Kingsguard
?
"
Renly
's
mouth
twitched
.
"
My
brother
commanded
us
to
stand
aside
and
let
him
take
the
boar
alone
.
"
Eddard
Stark
lifted
the
blanket
.
They
had
done
what
they
could
to
close
him
up
,
but
it
was
nowhere
near
enough
.
The
boar
must
have
been
a
fearsome
thing
.
It
had
ripped
the
king
from
groin
to
nipple
with
its
tusks
.
The
wine-soaked
bandages
that
Grand
Maester
Pycelle
had
applied
were
already
black
with
blood
,
and
the
smell
off
the
wound
was
hideous
.
Ned
's
stomach
turned
.
He
let
the
blanket
fall
.
"
Stinks
,
"
Robert
said
.
"
The
stink
of
death
,
do
n't
think
I
ca
n't
smell
it
.
Bastard
did
me
good
,
eh
?
But
I.
.
.
I
paid
him
back
in
kind
,
Ned
.
"
The
king
's
smile
was
as
terrible
as
his
wound
,
his
teeth
red
.
"
Drove
a
knife
right
through
his
eye
.
Ask
them
if
I
did
n't
.
Ask
them
.
"
