I've had three kings to guest in my life, and queens as well, do you think I require lessons from the likes of you, Ryger?
Your mother was milking goats the first time I gave her my seed."
He dismissed the red-faced youth with a flick of his fingers and gestured to two of his other sons.
"Danwell, Whalen, help me to my chair."
They shifted Lord Walder from his litter and carried him to the high seat of the Freys,
a tall chair of black oak whose back was carved in the shape of two towers linked by a bridge.
His young wife crept up timidly and covered his legs with a blanket.
When he was settled, the old man beckoned Catelyn forward and planted a papery dry kiss on her hand.
"There," he announced. "Now that I have observed the courtesies, my lady, perhaps my sons will do me the honor of shutting their mouths.
Why are you here?"
"To ask you to open your gates, my lord," Catelyn replied politely.
"My son and his lords bannermen are most anxious to cross the river and be on their way."
"To Riverrun?" He sniggered. "Oh, no need to tell me, no need.
I'm not blind yet. The old man can still read a map."