A Game of Thrones Chapter Forty-three

EddardThrough the high narrow windows of the Red Keeps cavernous thr whizz room, the igniter of sunset spilled across the floor, laying dark going away stripes upon the w anys w pre direct the gaffers of dragons had unity time hung. Now the stone was covered with hunting tapestries, vivid with greens and br declares and blues, and only s public treasury it happenmed to Ned Stark that the only color in the h exclusively was the red of crease.He sat high upon the im handsse ancient seat of Aegon the Conqueror, an ironwork giant of spikes and jagged edges and grotesquely twisted metal. It was, as Robert had warned him, a hellishly disquieting chair, and neer more so than now, with his shattered leg throbbing more sharply either minute. The metal at a lower place him had grown harder by the hour, and the fanged steel scum bag do it impossible to lean cover version. A female monarch should never sit easy, Aegon the Conqueror had express, when he com populaceded his armo rers to forge a salient seat from the s vocalizes laid down by his enemies. Damn Aegon for his arrogance, Ned thought sullenly, and diddly thud Robert and his hunting as well.You ar quite certain these were more than brigands? Varys necessitateed quietly from the council table beneath the throne. Grand Maester Pycelle stirred uneasily beside him, while Littlefinger toyed with a pen. They were the only councillors in attendance. A white hart had been sighted in the business leaderswood, and maestro Renly and Ser Barristan had joined the fairy to hunt it, along with Prince J rancidrey, Sandor Clegane, Balon Swann, and half the court. So Ned must needs sit the put right Throne in his absence.At least he could sit. Save the council, the rest must stand respectfully, or kneel. The petitioners clustered near the t tot ally li mens, the nicknames and high lords and ladies beneath the tapestries, the venialfolk in the gallery, the mail guards in their cloaks, gold or grey all s withald.The villagers were kneeling men, women, and children, a equal(predicate) tattered and personal credit liney, their faces drawn by fear. The three knights who had brought them here to bear interpret stood behind them.Brigands, master copy Varys? Ser Raymun Darrys phonation dripped scorn. Oh, they were brigands, beyond a doubt. Lannister brigands.Ned could feel the malaise in the residency, as high lords and servants besides strained to listen. He could non pretend to surprise. The due west had been a tinderbox since Catelyn had seized Tyrion Lannister. Both Riverrun and Casterly Rock had called their banners, and armies were massing in the relegate below the Golden Tooth. It had only been a exit of time until the blood began to flow. The sole apparent motion that remained was how best to stanch the wound.Sad-eyed Ser Karyl Vance, who would substantiate been handsome entirely for the winestain birthmark that discolored his face, gestured at the kneeling villa gers. This is all the remains of the holdfast of Sherrer, Lord Eddard. The rest are numb(p), along with the people of Wendish Town and the Mummers Ford.Rise, Ned com realityded the villagers. He never invested what a man told him from his knees. All of you, up.In ones and twos, the holdfast of Sherrer struggled to its feet. cardinal ancient needed to be helped, and a unripe girl in a bloody dress stayed on her knees, staring blankly at Ser Arys Oakheart, who stood by the foot of the throne in the white armor of the exponentsguard, plant to protect and defend the king . . . or, Ned supposed, the Kings Hand.Joss, Ser Raymun Darry say to a fairp bald man in a brewers apron. Tell the Hand what happened at Sherrer.Joss nodded. If it enthral His GraceHis Grace is hunting across the Blackwater, Ned said, wondering how a man could live his whole life a few days scold from the Red Keep and still get hold of no notion what his king looked like. Ned was clad in a white linen doub all ow with the direwolf of Stark on the breast his black wool cloak was fastened at the arrest by his silver hand of office. Black and white and grey, all the shades of truth. I am Lord Eddard Stark, the Kings Hand. Tell me who you are and what you inhabit of these raiders.I keep . . . I kept . . . I kept an alehouse, mlord, in Sherrer, by the stone bridge. The finest ale south of the Neck, everyone said so, begging your pardons, mlord. Its gone now like all the rest, mlord. They come and drank their fill and spilled the rest sooner they fired my roof, and they would of spilled my blood too, if theyd caught me. Mlord.They burnt us out, a farthermostmer beside him said. Come riding in the dark, up from the south, and fired the fields and the houses alike, killing them as tried to closedown them. They werent no raiders, though, mlord. They had no mind to steal our stock, not these, they butchered my milk appal where she stood and left her for the flies and the crows.They rode down my prentice boy, said a squat man with a smiths muscles and a bandage around his head. He had entrap on his finest clothes to come to court, but his breeches were patched, his cloak unclean and dusty. Chased him hazard and forth across the fields on their horses, prod at him with their lances like it was a game, them laughing and the boy stumbling and screaming till the big one pierced him clean through.The girl on her knees craned her head up at Ned, high above her on the throne. They killed my m new(prenominal) too, Your Grace. And they . . . they . . . Her voice trailed off, as if she had forgotten what she was about to say. She began to sob.Ser Raymun Darry took up the tale. At Wendish Town, the people sought-after(a) shelter in their holdfast, but the walls were timbered. The raiders piled straw against the wood and burnt them all alive. When the Wendish folk opened their gates to flee the fire, they shot them down with arrows as they came running out, even women with suck ling babes.Oh, dreadful, murmured Varys. How cruel can men be?They would of make the same for us, but the Sherrer holdfasts made of stone, Joss said. Some wanted to stinkpot us out, but the big one said there was riper harvest upriver, and they made for the Mummers Ford.Ned could feel cold steel against his fingers as he leaned antecedent. between each finger was a blade, the evinces of twisted swords fanning out like talons from weapons of the throne. til now after three centuries, some were still sharp sufficient to cut. The Iron Throne was full of traps for the unwary. The songs said it had taken a meter blades to make it, heated white-hot in the furnace breath of Balerion the Black Dread. The pound sterling had taken fifty-nine days. The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed.What Eddard Stark was doing sitting there he would never comprehen d, yet there he sat, and these people looked to him for justice. What proof do you have that these were Lannisters? he asked, trying to keep his fury under control. Did they wear crimson cloaks or fly a lion banner?Even Lannisters are not so blind stupid as that, Ser Marq genus Piper snapped. He was a swaggering bantam rooster of a youth, too young and too hot-blooded for Neds taste, though a fast friend of Catelyns brother, Edmure Tully.Every man among them was mounted and mailed, my lord, Ser Karyl dish uped calmly. They were armed with steel-tipped lances and longswords, with battle-axes for the butchering. He gestured toward one of the ragged survivors. You. Yes, you, no ones going to hurt you. Tell the Hand what you told me.The old man bobbed his head. Concerning their horses, he said, it were warhorses they rode. many a(prenominal) a year I worked in old Ser Willums stables, so I knows the difference. Not a one of these ever pulled a plow, gods bear feel if Im wrong.Well-m ounted brigands, observed Littlefinger. Perhaps they stole the horses from the last place they raided.How many men were there in this raiding party? Ned asked.A hundred, at the least, Joss answered, in the same instant as the bandaged smith said, Fifty, and the grandmother behind him, Hunnerds and hunnerds, mlord, an army they was.You are more right than you know, goodwoman, Lord Eddard told her. You say they flew no banners. What of the armor they wore? Did any of you note or linents or decorations, devices on shield or helm?The brewer, Joss, shook his head. It grieves me, mlord, but no, the armor they showed us was plain, only . . . the one who led them, he was armored like the rest, but there was no mistaking him all the same. It was the size of him, mlord. Those as say the giants are all dead never saw this one, I swear. Big as an ox he was, and a voice like stone breaking.The Mountain Ser Marq said loudly. Can any man doubt it? This was Gregor Cleganes work.Ned heard muttering from beneath the windows and the far end of the hall. Even in the galley, nervous whispers were exchanged. High lords and subalternfolk alike knew what it could mean if Ser Marq was proved right. Ser Gregor Clegane stood bannerman to Lord Tywin Lannister.He studied the frightened faces of the villagers. littler wonder they had been so fearful they had thought they were being dragged here to name Lord Tywin a red-handed butcher before a king who was his son by marriage. He wondered if the knights had given them a choice.Grand Maester Pycelle blush ponderously from the council table, his chain of office clinking. Ser Marq, with respect, you cannot know that this outlaw was Ser Gregor. There are many large men in the realm.As large as the Mountain That Rides? Ser Karyl said. I have never met one.Nor has any man here, Ser Raymun added hotly. Even his brother is a pup beside him. My lords, open your eyes. Do you need to see his seal on the corpses? It was Gregor.Why should Ser Gregor turn brigand? Pycelle asked. By the embroider of his liege lord, he holds a stout keep and lands of his own. The man is an anointed knight. A false knight Ser Marq said. Lord Tywins mad dog.My lord Hand, Pycelle declared in a stiff voice, I urge you to incite this good knight that Lord Tywin Lannister is the father of our own gracious queen.Thank you, Grand Maester Pycelle, Ned said. I fear we might have forgotten that if you had not pointed it out.From his vantage point atop the throne, he could see men slipping out the door at the far end of the hall. Hares going to ground, he supposed . . . or rats off to nibble the queens cheese. He caught a glimpse of Septa Mordane in the gallery, with his young lady Sansa beside her. Ned felt a flash of anger this was no place for a girl. But the septa could not have known that todays court would be anything but the usual tedious business of hearing petitions, settling disputes between touch on holdfasts, and adjudicating the placement of boundary stones.At the council table below, Petyr Baelish lost interest in his quill and leaned forward. Ser Marq, Ser Karyl, Ser Raymunperhaps I might ask you a question? These holdfasts were under your protection. Where were you when all this slaughtering and burning was going on?Ser Karyl Vance answered. I was attendance my lord father in the pass below the Golden Tooth, as was Ser Marq. When the word of these outrages reached Ser Edmure Tully, he sent word that we should take a small force of men to find what survivors we could and capture them to the king.Ser Raymun Darry spoke up. Ser Edmure had summoned me to Riverrun with all my aptitude. I was camped across the river from his walls, awaiting his commands, when the word reached me. By the time I could eliminate to my own lands, Clegane and his vermin were back across the Red assort, riding for Lannisters hills.Littlefinger stroked the point of his whiskers thoughtfully. And if they come again, ser?If they come again, w ell use their blood to water the fields they burnt, Ser Marq Piper declared hotly.Ser Edmure has sent men to every village and holdfast deep down a days ride of the border, Ser Karyl explained. The next raider pull up stakes not have such an easy time of it.And that may be precisely what Lord Tywin wants, Ned thought to himself, to bleed off strength from Riverrun, goad the boy into distribution his swords. His wifes brother was young, and more gallant than wise. He would try to hold every inch of his soil, to defend every man, woman, and child who named him lord, and Tywin Lannister was shrewd enough to know that.If your fields and holdfasts are safe from harm, Lord Petyr was saying, what then do you ask of the throne?The lords of the Trident keep the kings peace, Ser Raymun Darry said. The Lannisters have broken it. We ask leave to answer them, steel for steel. We ask justice for the smallfolk of Sherrer and Wendish Town and the Mummers Ford.Edmure confines, we must pay Gregor Clegane back his bloody coin, Ser Marq declared, but old Lord Hoster commanded us to come here and beg the kings leave before we unwrap.Thank the gods for old Lord Hoster, then. Tywin Lannister was as much fox as lion. If indeed hed sent Ser Gregor to burn and bareand Ned did not doubt that he hadhed taken care to see that he rode under cover of night, without banners, in the guise of a common brigand. Should Riverrun strike back, Cersei and her father would insist that it had been the Tullys who broke the kings peace, not the Lannisters. The gods only knew what Robert would believe.Grand Maester Pycelle was on his feet again. My lord Hand, if these good folk believe that Ser Gregor has forsaken his holy vows for plunder and rape, let them go to his liege lord and make their complaint. These crimes are no chafe of the throne. Let them seek Lord Tywins justice.It is all the kings justice, Ned told him. North, south, east, or west, all we do we do in Roberts name.The kings justice , Grand Maester Pycelle said. So it is, and so we should defer this matter until the kingThe king is hunting across the river and may not return for days, Lord Eddard said. Robert bid me to sit here in his place, to listen with his ears, and to spill the beans with his voice. I mean to do just that . . . though I agree that he must be told. He saw a acquainted(predicate) face beneath the tapestries. Ser Robar.Ser Robar Royce stepped forward and bowed. My lord.Your father is hunting with the king, Ned said. Will you bring them word of what was said and done here today?At once, my lord.Do we have your leave to take our vengeance against Ser Gregor, then? Marq Piper asked the throne.vengeance? Ned said. I thought we were speaking of justice. Burning Cleganes fields and slaughtering his people will not restore the kings peace, only your injured pride. He glanced away before the young knight could voice his outraged protest, and addressed the villagers. People of Sherrer, I cannot give you back your homes or your crops, nor can I restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you some small mea legitimate of justice, in the name of our king, Robert.Every eye in the hall was fixed on him, waiting. Slowly Ned struggled to his feet, pushing himself up from the throne with the strength of his arms, his shattered leg screaming inside its cast. He did his best to give the axe the pain it was no moment to let them see his weakness. The First custody believed that the judge who called for death should wield the sword, and in the north we hold to that still. I mislike sending another to do my killing . . . yet it seems I have no choice. He gestured at his broken leg.Lord Eddard The shout came from the west side of the hall as a handsome stripling of a boy strode forth boldly. Out of his armor, Ser Loras Tyrell looked even younger than his sixteen years. He wore pale blue silk, his belt a linked chain of well-to-do roses, the sigil of his foretoken. I beg you the ho nor of acting in your place. Give this labor movement to me, my lord, and I swear I shall not fail you.Littlefinger chuckled. Ser Loras, if we send you off alone, Ser Gregor will send us back your head with a plum stuffed in that pretty mouth of yours. The Mountain is not the sort to hunker his neck to any mans justice.I do not fear Gregor Clegane, Ser Loras said haughtily.Ned eased himself slowly back onto the hard iron seat of Aegons misshapen throne. His eyes searched the faces along the wall. Lord Beric, he called out. Thoros of Myr. Ser Gladden. Lord Lothar. The men named stepped forward one by one. Each of you is to assemble twenty men, to bring my word to Gregors keep. Twenty of my own guards shall go with you. Lord Beric Dondarrion, you shall have the command, as befits your rank.The young lord with the red-gold hair bowed. As you command, Lord Eddard.Ned raised his voice, so it carried to the far end of the throne room. In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the Fi rst of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, his Hand, I charge you to ride to the westlands with all haste, to cross the Red Fork of the Trident under the kings flag, and there bring the kings justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane, and to all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him, and strip him of all rank and titles, of all lands and incomes and holdings, and do sentence him to death. May the gods take grieve on his soul.When the echo of his words had died away, the Knight of Flowers seemed perplexed. Lord Eddard, what of me?Ned looked down on him. From on high, Loras Tyrell seemed almost as young as Robb. No one doubts your valor, Ser Loras, but we are about justice here, and what you seek is vengeance. He looked back to Lord Beric. Ride at first light. These things are best done quickly. He held up a hand. The throne will hear no more petitions today.Alyn and Porther climbed the steep iron steps to help him back down. As they made their descent, he could feel Loras Tyrells sullen stare, but the boy had stalked away before Ned reached the floor of the throne room.At the base of the Iron Throne, Varys was gathering papers from the council table. Littlefinger and Grand Maester Pycelle had already taken their leave. You are a bolder man than I, my lord, the eunuch said softly.How so, Lord Varys? Ned asked brusquely. His leg was throbbing, and he was in no mood for word games.Had it been me up there, I should have sent Ser Loras. He so wanted to go . . . and a man who has the Lannisters for his enemies would do well to make the Tyrells his friends.Ser Loras is young, said Ned. I daresay he will grow the letdown.And Ser Ilyn? The eunuch stroked a plump, powdered cheek. He is the Kings Justice, after all. Sending other men to do his office . . . some might construe that as a grave insult.No slight was intende d. In truth, Ned did not trust the mute knight, though perhaps that was only because he misliked executioners. I remind you, the Paynes are bannermen to House Lannister. I thought it best to choose men who owed Lord Tywin no fealty.Very prudent, no doubt, Varys said. Still, I chanced to see Ser Ilyn in the back of the hall, staring at us with those pale eyes of his, and I must say, he did not look pleased, though to be sure it is hard to tell with our silent knight. I hope he outgrows his disappointment as well. He does so love his work . . .