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"
Heh
,
"
said
Lord
Walder
,
a
noise
halfway
between
a
laugh
and
a
grunt
.
"
I
called
my
swords
,
yes
I
did
,
here
they
are
,
you
saw
them
on
the
walls
.
It
was
my
intent
to
march
as
soon
as
all
my
strength
was
assembled
.
Well
,
to
send
my
sons
.
I
am
well
past
marching
myself
,
Lady
Catelyn
.
"
He
looked
around
for
likely
confirmation
and
pointed
to
a
tall
,
stooped
man
of
fifty
years
.
"
Tell
her
,
Jared
.
Tell
her
that
was
my
intent
.
"
"
It
was
,
my
lady
,
"
said
Ser
Jared
Frey
,
one
of
his
sons
by
his
second
wife
.
"
On
my
honor
.
"
"
Is
it
my
fault
that
your
fool
brother
lost
his
battle
before
we
could
march
?
"
He
leaned
back
against
his
cushions
and
scowled
at
her
,
as
if
challenging
her
to
dispute
his
version
of
events
.
"
I
am
told
the
Kingslayer
went
through
him
like
an
axe
through
ripe
cheese
.
Why
should
my
boys
hurry
south
to
die
?
All
those
who
did
go
south
are
running
north
again
.
"
Catelyn
would
gladly
have
spitted
the
querulous
old
man
and
roasted
him
over
a
fire
,
but
she
had
only
till
evenfall
to
open
the
bridge
.
Calmly
,
she
said
,
"
All
the
more
reason
that
we
must
reach
Riverrun
,
and
soon
.
Where
can
we
go
to
talk
,
my
lord
?
"
"
We
're
talking
now
,
"
Lord
Frey
complained
.
The
spotted
pink
head
snapped
around
.
"
What
are
you
all
looking
at
?
"
he
shouted
at
his
kin
.
"
Get
out
of
here
.
Lady
Stark
wants
to
speak
to
me
in
private
.
Might
be
she
has
designs
on
my
fidelity
,
heh
.
Go
,
all
of
you
,
find
something
useful
to
do
.
Yes
,
you
too
,
woman
.
Out
,
out
,
out
.
"
As
his
sons
and
grandsons
and
daughters
and
bastards
and
nieces
and
nephews
streamed
from
the
hall
,
he
leaned
close
to
Catelyn
and
confessed
,
"
They
're
all
waiting
for
me
to
die
.
Stevron
's
been
waiting
for
forty
years
,
but
I
keep
disappointing
him
.
Heh
.
Why
should
I
die
just
so
he
can
be
a
lord
?
I
ask
you
.
I
wo
n't
do
it
.
"
"
I
have
every
hope
that
you
will
live
to
be
a
hundred
.
"
"
That
would
boil
them
,
to
be
sure
.
Oh
,
to
be
sure
.
Now
,
what
do
you
want
to
say
?
"
"
We
want
to
cross
,
"
Catelyn
told
him
.
