A Game of Thrones: The Story Continues Books 1-5: A Game of Thrones, A Clash of Kings, A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, A Dance with Dragons. Джордж Р. Р. Мартин

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СКАЧАТЬ gave them over to the silent sisters, to be sent north to Winterfell. Jory would want to lie beside his grandfather.”

      It would have to be his grandfather, for Jory’s father was buried far to the south. Martyn Cassel had perished with the rest. Ned had pulled the tower down afterward, and used its bloody stones to build eight cairns upon the ridge. It was said that Rhaegar had named that place the tower of joy, but for Ned it was a bitter memory. They had been seven against three, yet only two had lived to ride away; Eddard Stark himself and the little crannogman, Howland Reed. He did not think it omened well that he should dream that dream again after so many years.

      “You’ve done well, Alyn,” Ned was saying when Vayon Poole returned. The steward bowed low. “His Grace is without, my lord, and the queen with him.”

      Ned pushed himself up higher, wincing as his leg trembled with pain. He had not expected Cersei to come. It did not bode well that she had. “Send them in, and leave us. What we have to say should not go beyond these walls.” Poole withdrew quietly.

      Robert had taken time to dress. He wore a black velvet doublet with the crowned stag of Baratheon worked upon the breast in golden thread, and a golden mantle with a cloak of black and gold squares. A flagon of wine was in his hand, his face already flushed from drink. Cersei Lannister entered behind him, a jeweled tiara in her hair.

      “Your Grace,” Ned said. “Your pardons. I cannot rise.”

      “No matter,” the king said gruffly. “Some wine? From the Arbor. A good vintage.”

      “A small cup,” Ned said. “My head is still heavy from the milk of the poppy.”

      “A man in your place should count himself fortunate that his head is still on his shoulders,” the queen declared.

      “Quiet, woman,” Robert snapped. He brought Ned a cup of wine. “Does the leg still pain you?”

      “Some,” Ned said. His head was swimming, but it would not do to admit to weakness in front of the queen.

      “Pycelle swears it will heal clean.” Robert frowned. “I take it you know what Catelyn has done?”

      “I do.” Ned took a small swallow of wine. “My lady wife is blameless, Your Grace. All she did she did at my command.”

      “I am not pleased, Ned,” Robert grumbled.

      “By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?” Cersei demanded. “Who do you think you are?”

      “The Hand of the King,” Ned told her with icy courtesy. “Charged by your own lord husband to keep the king’s peace and enforce the king’s justice.”

      “You were the Hand,” Cersei began, “but now—”

      “Silence!” the king roared. “You asked him a question and he answered it.” Cersei subsided, cold with anger, and Robert turned back to Ned. “Keep the king’s peace, you say. Is this how you keep my peace, Ned? Seven men are dead …”

      “Eight,” the queen corrected. “Tregar died this morning, of the blow Lord Stark gave him.”

      “Abductions on the kingsroad and drunken slaughter in my streets,” the king said. “I will not have it, Ned.”

      “Catelyn had good reason for taking the Imp—”

      “I said, I will not have it! To hell with her reasons. You will command her to release the dwarf at once, and you will make your peace with Jaime.”

      “Three of my men were butchered before my eyes, because Jaime Lannister wished to chasten me. Am I to forget that?”

      “My brother was not the cause of this quarrel,” Cersei told the king. “Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His men attacked Jaime and his guards, even as his wife attacked Tyrion on the kingsroad.”

      “You know me better than that, Robert,” Ned said. “Ask Lord Baelish if you doubt me. He was there.”

      “I’ve talked to Littlefinger,” Robert said. “He claims he rode off to bring the gold cloaks before the fighting began, but he admits you were returning from some whorehouse.”

      “Some whorehouse? Damn your eyes, Robert, I went there to have a look at your daughter! Her mother has named her Barra. She looks like that first girl you fathered, when we were boys together in the Vale.” He watched the queen as he spoke; her face was a mask, still and pale, betraying nothing.

      Robert flushed. “Barra,” he grumbled. “Is that supposed to please me? Damn the girl. I thought she had more sense.”

      “She cannot be more than fifteen, and a whore, and you thought she had sense?” Ned said, incredulous. His leg was beginning to pain him sorely. It was hard to keep his temper. “The fool child is in love with you, Robert.”

      The king glanced at Cersei. “This is no fit subject for the queen’s ears.”

      “Her Grace will have no liking for anything I have to say,” Ned replied. “I am told the Kingslayer has fled the city. Give me leave to bring him back to justice.”

      The king swirled the wine in his cup, brooding. He took a swallow. “No,” he said. “I want no more of this. Jaime slew three of your men, and you five of his. Now it ends.”

      “Is that your notion of justice?” Ned flared. “If so, I am pleased that I am no longer your Hand.”

      The queen looked to her husband. “If any man had dared speak to a Targaryen as he has spoken to you—”

      “Do you take me for Aerys?” Robert interrupted.

      “I took you for a king. Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. The Starks have driven off the one and seized the other. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly, asking if his leg pains him and would he like some wine.”

      Robert’s face was dark with anger. “How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, woman?”

      Cersei’s face was a study in contempt. “What a jape the gods have made of us two,” she said. “By all rights, you ought to be in skirts and me in mail.”

      Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a vicious backhand blow to the side of the head. She stumbled against the table and fell hard, yet Cersei Lannister did not cry out. Her slender fingers brushed her cheek, where the pale smooth skin was already reddening. On the morrow the bruise would cover half her face. “I shall wear this as a badge of honor,” she announced.

      “Wear it in silence, or I’ll honor you again,” Robert vowed. He shouted for a guard. Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room, tall and somber in his white armor. “The queen is tired. See her to her bedchamber.” The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word.

      Robert reached for the flagon and refilled his cup. “You see what she does to me, Ned.” The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. “My loving wife. The mother of my children.” The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Ned saw something sad and scared. СКАЧАТЬ