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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Not
if
you
wish
to
cross
.
"
"
I
consent
,
"
Robb
said
solemnly
.
He
had
never
seemed
more
manly
to
her
than
he
did
in
that
moment
.
Boys
might
play
with
swords
,
but
it
took
a
lord
to
make
a
marriage
pact
,
knowing
what
it
meant
.
They
crossed
at
evenfall
as
a
horned
moon
floated
upon
the
river
The
double
column
wound
its
way
through
the
gate
of
the
eastern
twin
like
a
great
steel
snake
,
slithering
across
the
courtyard
,
into
the
keep
and
over
the
bridge
,
to
issue
forth
once
more
from
the
second
castle
on
the
west
bank
.
Catelyn
rode
at
the
head
of
the
serpent
,
with
her
son
and
her
uncle
Ser
Brynden
and
Ser
Stevron
Frey
.
Behind
followed
nine
tenths
of
their
horse
;
knights
,
lancers
,
freeriders
,
and
mounted
bowmen
.
It
took
hours
for
them
all
to
cross
.
Afterward
,
Catelyn
would
remember
the
clatter
of
countless
hooves
on
the
drawbridge
,
the
sight
of
Lord
Walder
Frey
in
his
litter
watching
them
pass
,
the
glitter
of
eyes
peering
down
through
the
slats
of
the
murder
holes
in
the
ceiling
as
they
rode
through
the
Water
Tower
.
The
larger
part
of
the
northern
host
,
pikes
and
archers
and
great
masses
of
men-at-arms
on
foot
,
remained
upon
the
east
bank
under
the
command
of
Roose
Bolton
.
Robb
had
commanded
him
to
continue
the
march
south
,
to
confront
the
huge
Lannister
army
coming
north
under
Lord
Tywin
.
For
good
or
ill
,
her
son
had
thrown
the
dice
.
"
Are
you
well
,
Snow
?
"
Lord
Mormont
asked
,
scowling
.
"
Well
,
"
his
raven
squawked
.
"
Well
.
"
"
I
am
,
my
lord
,
"
Jon
lied
...
loudly
,
as
if
that
could
make
it
true
.
"
And
you
?
"
