Битва королей

Jon

           Grenn’smountshiedatthescentofhim;evennow,aftermorethanayear,thehorseswereuneasyinthepresenceofthedirewolf."Withme,Ghost."JonspurredofftoCraster’sKeep.

           HehadneverthoughttofindastonecastleonthefarsideoftheWall,buthehadpicturedsomesortofmotte-and-baileywithawoodenpalisadeandatimbertowerkeep.Whattheyfoundinsteadwasamiddenheap,apigsty,anemptysheepfold,andawindowlessdaub-and-wattlehallscarceworthyofthename.Itwaslongandlow,chinkedtogetherfromlogsandroofedwithsod.Thecompoundstoodatoparisetoomodesttonameahill,surroundedbyanearthendike.Brownrivuletsfloweddowntheslopewheretherainhadeatengapingholesinthedefenses,tojoinarushingbrookthatcurvedaroundtothenorth,itsthickwatersturnedintoamurkytorrentbytherains.

           Onthesouthwest,hefoundanopengateflankedbyapairofanimalskullsonhighpoles:abeartooneside,aramtotheother.Bitsoffleshstillclungtothebearskull,Jonnotedashejoinedthelineridingpast.Within,JarmanBuckwell’sscoutsandmenfromThorenSmallwood’svanweresettinguphorselinesandstrugglingtoraisetents.Ahostofpigletsrootedaboutthreehugesowsinthesty.Nearby,asmallgirlpulledcarrotsfromagarden,nakedintherain,whiletwowomentiedapigforslaughter.Theanimal’ssquealswerehighandhorrible,almosthumanintheirdistress.

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