A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

the woman’s ravaged
wits. Her slack face twisted in loathing.
“Whore!”
she shrieked.
“Kingslayer’s whore! Brotherfucker!”
Her dead child dropped from
her arms like a sack of flour as she pointed at Cersei.
“Brotherfucker
brotherfucker brotherfucker.”
    Tyrion never saw who threw the dung. He only heard Sansa’s gasp and Joffrey’s
bellowed curse, and when he turned his head, the king was wiping brown filth
from his cheek. There was more caked in his golden hair and spattered over
Sansa’s legs.
    â€œWho threw that?” Joffrey screamed. He pushed his fingers into his hair, made
a furious face, and flung away another handful of dung. “I want the man who
threw that!” he shouted. “A hundred

golden dragons to the man who gives him up.”
    â€œHe was up there!” someone shouted from the crowd. The king wheeled his horse
in a circle to survey the rooftops and open balconies above them. In the crowd
people were pointing, shoving, cursing one another and the king.
    â€œPlease, Your Grace, let him go,” Sansa pleaded.
    The king paid her no heed. “Bring me the man who flung that filth!” Joffrey
commanded. “He’ll lick it off me or I’ll have his head. Dog, you bring him
here!”
    Obedient, Sandor Clegane swung down from his
saddle, but there was no way
through that wall of flesh, let alone to the roof. Those closest to him began
to squirm and shove to get away, while others pushed forward to see. Tyrion
smelled disaster. “Clegane, leave off, the man is long fled.”
    â€œI
want
him!” Joffrey pointed at the roof. “He was up there! Dog,
cut through them and bring—”
    A tumult of sound drowned his last words, a rolling thunder of rage and fear
and hatred that engulfed them from all sides.
“Bastard!”
someone
screamed at Joffrey,
“bastard monster.”
Other voices flung calls of
“Whore”
and
“Brotherfucker”
at the queen, while Tyrion
was pelted with shouts of
“Freak”
and
“Halfman.”
Mixed
in with the abuse, he heard a few cries of
“Justice”
and
“Robb, King Robb, the Young Wolf,”
of
“Stannis!”
and
even
“Renly!”
From both sides of the street, the crowd surged
against the spear shafts while the gold cloaks struggled to hold the line.
Stones and dung and fouler things whistled overhead. “Feed us!” a

woman shrieked. “Bread!” boomed a man behind her.
“We want bread,
bastard!” In a heartbeat, a thousand voices took up the chant. King Joffrey
and King Robb and King Stannis were forgotten, and King Bread ruled alone.
“Bread,”
they clamored.
“Bread, bread!”
    Tyrion spurred to his sister’s side, yelling, “Back to the castle.
Now.
” Cersei gave a curt nod, and Ser Lancel unsheathed his sword.
Ahead of the column, Jacelyn Bywater was roaring commands. His riders lowered
their lances and drove forward in a wedge. The king was wheeling his palfrey
around in anxious circles while hands reached past the line of gold cloaks,
grasping for him. One managed to get hold of his leg, but only for an instant.
Ser Mandon’s sword slashed down, parting hand from wrist.
“Ride!”
Tyrion shouted at his nephew, giving the horse a sharp
smack
on the
rump. The animal reared, trumpeting, and plunged ahead, the press shattering
before him.
    Tyrion drove into the gap hard on the king’s hooves. Bronn kept pace, sword in
hand. A jagged rock flew past his head as he rode, and a rotten cabbage
exploded against Ser Mandon’s shield. To their left, three gold cloaks went
down under the surge, and then the crowd was rushing forward, trampling the
fallen men. The Hound had vanished behind, though his riderless horse galloped
beside them. Tyrion saw Aron Santagar pulled from the saddle, the
gold-and-black Baratheon stag torn from his grasp. Ser Balon Swann dropped the
Lannister lion to draw his longsword. He slashed right and left as the fallen
banner was ripped apart, the thousand ragged pieces swirling away like crimson
leaves in a

stormwind. In an instant they were gone. Someone staggered in front of
Joffrey’s horse and shrieked as the king rode him down. Whether it had been
man, woman, or child Tyrion could not have said. Joffrey was galloping at his
side, whey-faced, with Ser Mandon Moore a white shadow