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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 744/751
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Catelyn
was
thinking
of
her
girls
,
wondering
if
she
would
ever
see
them
again
,
when
the
Greatjon
lurched
to
his
feet
.
"
MY
LORDS
!
"
he
shouted
,
his
voice
booming
off
the
rafters
.
"
Here
is
what
I
say
to
these
two
kings
!
"
He
spat
.
"
Renly
Baratheon
is
nothing
to
me
,
nor
Stannis
neither
.
Why
should
they
rule
over
me
and
mine
,
from
some
flowery
seat
in
Highgarden
or
Dorne
?
What
do
they
know
of
the
Wall
or
the
wolfswood
or
the
barrows
of
the
First
Men
?
Even
their
gods
are
wrong
.
The
Others
take
the
Lannisters
too
,
I
've
had
a
bellyful
of
them
.
"
He
reached
back
over
his
shoulder
and
drew
his
immense
two-handed
greatsword
.
"
Why
should
n't
we
rule
ourselves
again
?
It
was
the
dragons
we
married
,
and
the
dragons
are
all
dead
!
"
He
pointed
at
Robb
with
the
blade
.
"
There
sits
the
only
king
I
mean
to
bow
my
knee
to
,
m
'
lords
,
"
he
thundered
.
"
The
King
in
the
North
!
"
And
he
knelt
,
and
laid
his
sword
at
her
son
's
feet
.
"
I
'll
have
peace
on
those
terms
,
"
Lord
Karstark
said
.
"
They
can
keep
their
red
castle
and
their
iron
chair
as
well
.
"
He
eased
his
longsword
from
its
scabbard
.
"
The
King
in
the
North
!
"
he
said
,
kneeling
beside
the
Greatjon
.
Maege
Mormont
stood
.
"
The
King
of
Winter
!
"
she
declared
,
and
laid
her
spiked
mace
beside
the
swords
And
the
river
lords
were
rising
too
,
Blackwood
and
Bracken
and
Mallister
,
houses
who
had
never
been
ruled
from
Winterfell
,
yet
Catelyn
watched
them
rise
and
draw
their
blades
,
bending
their
knees
and
shouting
the
old
words
that
had
not
been
heard
in
the
realm
for
more
than
three
hundred
years
,
since
Aegon
the
Dragon
had
come
to
make
the
Seven
Kingdoms
one
...
yet
now
were
heard
again
,
ringing
from
the
timbers
of
her
father
's
hall
:
"
The
King
in
the
North
!
"
"
The
King
in
the
North
!
"
"
THE
KING
IN
THE
NORTH
!
"
The
land
was
red
and
dead
and
parched
,
and
good
wood
was
hard
to
come
by
.
Her
foragers
returned
with
gnarled
cottonwoods
,
purple
brush
,
sheaves
of
brown
grass
.
They
took
the
two
straightest
trees
,
hacked
the
limbs
and
branches
from
them
,
skinned
off
their
bark
,
and
split
them
,
laying
the
logs
in
a
square
.
Its
center
they
filled
with
straw
,
brush
,
bark
shavings
,
and
bundles
of
dry
grass
.
Rakharo
chose
a
stallion
from
the
small
herd
that
remained
to
them
;
he
was
not
the
equal
of
Khal
Drogo
's
red
,
but
few
horses
were
.
In
the
center
of
the
square
,
Aggo
fed
him
a
withered
apple
and
dropped
him
in
an
instant
with
an
axe
blow
between
the
eyes
.
