Earl Jon Umber sprang to his feet.
He was immensely burly, standing almost a head taller than everyone present, with shoulders broad enough to carry a bull and a rugged face filled with fury and disdain.
His voice boomed like a bell, making everyone's ears ring:
"Lord Roose, spare us that nonsense. Who cares about Snow, Blackfyre, or some son of Rhaegar? They're all excuses King's Landing uses against us northerners!"
His enormous palm slammed onto the table, sending cups and plates jumping again.
"Lord Eddard is our liege lord, the Warden of the North! He's locked in the Red Keep's dungeons, and his wife, a daughter of House Tully, is besieged by that old lion Tywin's army! The Riverlands are bleeding, our allies are crying for help, and you..."
His huge finger jabbed at the hesitant lords before pointing straight at Robb. "And you, boy! Your father was a true direwolf, but what about you, Robb Stark? Is it wolf's blood or fish's blood running through your veins? You sit in your father's chair, but do you have his courage? Are you fit to lead us northerners into battle? Or do you intend to write to King's Landing, like your mother, and weep and beg for mercy from those arrogant southerners?!"
He spat contemptuously. "Hah! I think you're a wolf pup not yet weaned!"
The hall instantly fell into deathly silence again, heavier than ever before.
Every gaze settled on Robb and Greatjon.
Karstark glared at Umber, his hand going to his sword hilt.
Earl Manderly went deathly pale with fright.
Lady Mormont's eyes were cold.
Bolton narrowed his eyes slightly, and an almost imperceptible curve seemed to touch his lips.
Robb's face instantly went from flushed with anger to ashen.
Greatjon's insults lashed his face and heart like