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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 733/751
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It
seemed
a
thousand
years
ago
that
Catelyn
Stark
had
carried
her
infant
son
out
of
Riverrun
,
crossing
the
Tumblestone
in
a
small
boat
to
begin
their
journey
north
to
Winterfell
.
And
it
was
across
the
Tumblestone
that
they
came
home
now
,
though
the
boy
wore
plate
and
mail
in
place
of
swaddling
clothes
.
Robb
sat
in
the
bow
with
Grey
Wind
,
his
hand
resting
on
his
direwolf
s
head
as
the
rowers
pulled
at
their
oars
.
Theon
Greyjoy
was
with
him
.
Her
uncle
Brynden
would
come
behind
in
the
second
boat
,
with
the
Greatjon
and
Lord
Karstark
.
Catelyn
took
a
place
toward
the
stern
.
They
shot
down
the
Tumblestone
,
letting
the
strong
current
push
them
past
the
looming
WheelTower
.
The
splash
and
rumble
of
the
great
waterwheel
within
was
a
sound
from
her
girlhood
that
brought
a
sad
smile
to
Catelyn
's
face
.
From
the
sandstone
walls
of
the
castle
,
soldiers
and
servants
shouted
down
her
name
,
and
Robb
's
,
and
"
Winterfell
!
"
From
every
rampart
waved
the
banner
of
House
Tully
:
a
leaping
trout
,
silver
,
against
a
rippling
blue-and-red
field
.
It
was
a
stirring
sight
,
yet
it
did
not
lift
her
heart
.
She
wondered
if
indeed
her
heart
would
ever
lift
again
.
Oh
,
Ned
...
Below
the
WheelTower
,
they
made
a
wide
turn
and
knifed
through
the
churning
water
.
The
men
put
their
backs
into
it
.
The
wide
arch
of
the
Water
Gate
came
into
view
,
and
she
heard
the
creak
of
heavy
chains
as
the
great
iron
portcullis
was
winched
upward
.
It
rose
slowly
as
they
approached
,
and
Catelyn
saw
that
the
lower
half
of
it
was
red
with
rust
.
The
bottom
foot
dripped
brown
mud
on
them
as
they
passed
underneath
,
the
barbed
spikes
mere
inches
above
their
heads
.
Catelyn
gazed
up
at
the
bars
and
wondered
how
deep
the
rust
went
and
how
well
the
portcullis
would
stand
up
to
a
ram
and
whether
it
ought
to
be
replaced
.
Thoughts
like
that
were
seldom
far
from
her
mind
these
days
.
They
passed
beneath
the
arch
and
under
the
walls
,
moving
from
sunlight
to
shadow
and
back
into
sunlight
.
Boats
large
and
small
were
tied
up
all
around
them
,
secured
to
iron
rings
set
in
the
stone
.
Her
father
's
guards
waited
on
the
water
stair
with
her
brother
.
Ser
Edmure
Tully
was
a
stocky
young
man
with
a
shaggy
head
of
auburn
hair
and
a
fiery
beard
.
His
breastplate
was
scratched
and
dented
from
battle
,
his
blue-and-red
cloak
stained
by
blood
and
smoke
.
At
his
side
stood
the
Lord
Tytos
Blackwood
,
a
hard
pike
of
a
man
with
close-cropped
salt-and-pepper
whiskers
and
a
hook
nose
.
His
bright
yellow
armor
was
inlaid
with
jet
in
elaborate
vine-and-leaf
patterns
,
and
a
cloak
sewn
from
raven
feathers
draped
his
thin
shoulders
.
It
had
been
Lord
Tytos
who
led
the
sortie
that
plucked
her
brother
from
the
Lannister
camp
.
"
Bring
them
in
,
"
Ser
Edmure
commanded
.
Three
men
scrambled
down
the
stairs
knee-deep
in
the
water
and
pulled
the
boat
close
with
long
hooks
.
When
Grey
Wind
bounded
out
,
one
of
them
dropped
his
pole
and
lurched
back
,
stumbling
and
sitting
down
abruptly
in
the
river
.
The
others
laughed
,
and
the
man
got
a
sheepish
look
on
his
face
.
Theon
Greyjoy
vaulted
over
the
side
of
the
boat
and
lifted
Catelyn
by
the
waist
,
setting
her
on
a
dry
step
above
him
as
water
lapped
around
his
boots
.
Edmure
came
down
the
steps
to
embrace
her
.
"
Sweet
sister
,
"
he
murmured
hoarsely
.
He
had
deep
blue
eyes
and
a
mouth
made
for
smiles
,
but
he
was
not
smiling
now
.
He
looked
worn
and
tired
,
battered
by
battle
and
haggard
from
strain
.
His
neck
was
bandaged
where
he
had
taken
a
wound
.
Catelyn
hugged
him
fiercely
.
"
Your
grief
is
mine
,
Cat
,
"
he
said
when
they
broke
apart
.
"
When
we
heard
about
Lord
Eddard
...
the
Lannisters
will
pay
,
I
swear
it
,
you
will
have
your
vengeance
.
"
