![]() She saw Lucas Blackwood cut down by Ser Hosteen Frey. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. ![]() ![]() But when he reached for his sword belt a crossbow bolt drove him to his knees. The Smalljon bludgeoned Ser Raymund Frey across the face with a leg of mutton. Ser Wendel crashed forward, knocking the table off its trestles and sending cups, flagons, trenchers, platters, turnips, beets, and wine bouncing, spilling, and sliding across the floor.Ĭatelyn’s back was on fire. A quarrel went in his open mouth and came out the back of his neck. Ser Wendel Manderly rose ponderously to his feet, holding his leg of lamb. Robin Flint was ringed by Freys, their daggers rising and falling. Crossbow bolts thudded into the wood, one two three, as he flung it down on top of his king. She saw Smalljon Umber wrestle a table off its trestles. She ran toward her son, until something punched in the small of the back and the hard stone floor came up to slap her. Up in the gallery, half the musicians had crossbows in their hands instead of drums or lutes. Catelyn saw a second bolt pierce his leg, saw him fall. If he screamed then, the sound was swallowed by the pipes and horns and fiddles. and staggered suddenly as a quarrel sprouted from his side, just beneath the shoulder. Robb gave Edwyn an angry look and moved to block his way. The music drowned all other sound, echoing off the walls as if the stones themselves were playing. Olyvar, she thought, and Perwyn, Alesander, all absent. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low? She grabbed Edwyn by the arm to turn him and went cold all over when she felt the iron rings beneath his silken sleeve.Ĭatelyn slapped him so hard she broke his lip. No one sang the words, but Catelyn knew ‘‘The Rains of Castamere’’ when she heard it. With scarcely a moment’s respite, they began to play a very different sort of song. The players in the gallery had finally gotten both king and queen down to their name-day suits. ‘‘Is something amiss?’’ he asked, the leg of lamb in his hands. But something must have shown on her face. It is nothing, she tried to tell herself, you are seeing grumkins in the woodpile, you are become an old silly woman sick with grief and fear. What just happened there? Doubt gripped her heart, where an instant before had been only weariness. ‘‘I’m done with dancing for the nonce.’’ Dacey paled and turned away. Edwyn wrenched himself away from her with unseemly violence. Dacey Mormont, who seemed to be the only woman left in the hall besides Catelyn, stepped up behind Edwyn Frey, and touched him lightly on the arm as she said something in his ear.
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