The summons came in the hour before the dawn, when the world was still and grey.
Alynxy shook him roughly from his dreams and Nedxy stumbled into the predawn chill, groggy from sleep, to find his horse saddled and the king already mounted. Robertxy wore thick brown gloves and a heavy fur cloak with a hood that covered his ears, and looked for all the world like a bear sitting a horse. “Up, Starkxy!” he roared. “Up, up! We have matters of state to discuss.”
“By all means,” Nedxy said. “Come inside, Your Grace.” Alynxy lifted the flap of the tent.
“No, no, no,” Robertxy said. His breath steamed with every word. “The camp is full of ears. Besides, I want to ride out and taste this country of yours.” Ser Boros and Ser Merynxy waited behind him with a dozen guardsmen, Nedxy saw. There was nothing to do but rub the sleep from his eyes, dress, and mount up.
Robertxy set the pace, driving his huge black destrier hard as Nedxy galloped along beside him, trying to keep up. He called out a question as they rode, but the wind blew his words away, and the king did not hear him. After that Nedxy rode in silence. They soon left the kingsroad and took off across rolling plains dark with mist. By then the guard had fallen back a small distance, safely out of earshot, but still Robertxy would not slow.
Dawnxy broke as they crested a low ridge, and finally the king pulled up. By then they were miles south of the main party. Robertxy was flushed and exhilarated as Nedxy reined up beside him. “Godsxy,” he swore, laughing, “it feels good to get out and ride the way a man was meant to ride! I swear, Nedxy, this creeping along is enough to drive a man mad.” He had never been a patient man, Robertxy Baratheonxyxy. “That damnable wheelhouse, the way it creaks and groans, climbing every bump in the road as if it were a mountain … I promise you, if that wretched thing breaks another axle, I’m going to burn it, and Cerseixy can walk!”
Nedxy laughed. “I will gladly light the torch for you.”
“Good man!” The king clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve half a mind to leave them all behind and just keep going.”
A smile touched Nedxy’s lips. “I do believe you mean it.”
“I do, I do,” the king said. “What do you say, Nedxy? Just you and me, two vagabond knights on the kingsroad, our swords at our sides and the gods know what in front of us, and maybe a farmer’s daughter or a tavern wench to warm our beds tonight.”
“Would that we could,” Nedxy said, “but we have duties now, my liege … to the realm, to our children, I to my lady wife and you to your queen. We are not the boys we were.”
“You were never the boy you were,” Robertxy grumbled. “More’s the pity. And yet there was that one time … what was her name, that common girl of yours? Beccaxy? No, she was one of mine, gods love her, black hair and these sweet big eyes, you could drown in them. Yours was … Aleena? No. You told me once. Was it Merryl? You know the one I mean, your bastard’s mother?”
“Her name was Wyllaxy,” Nedxy replied with cool courtesy, “and I would sooner not speak of her.”
“Wyllaxy. Yes.” The king grinned. “She must have been a rare wench if she could make Lordxy Eddardxy Starkxyxy forget his honor, even for an hour. You never told me what she looked like …”
Nedxy’s mouth tightened in anger. “Nor will I. Leave it be, Robertxy, for the love you say you bear me. I dishonored myself and I dishonored Catelynxy, in the sight of gods and men.”
“Godsxy have mercy, you scarcely knew Catelynxy.”
“I had taken her to wife. She was carrying my child.”
“You are too hard on yourself, Nedxy. You always were. Damn it, no woman wants Baelorxy the Blessedxy in her bed.” He slapped a hand on his knee. “Well, I’ll not press you if you feel so strong about it, though I swear, at times you’re so prickly you ought to take the hedgehog as your sigil.”
The rising sun sent fingers of light through the pale white mists of dawn. A wide plain spread out beneath them, bare and brown, its flatness here and there relieved by long, low hummocks. Nedxy pointed them out to his king. “The barrows of the First Menxy.”
Robertxy frowned. “Have we ridden onto a graveyard?”
“There are barrows everywhere in the north, Your Grace,” Nedxy told him. “This land is old.”
“And cold,” Robertxy grumbled, pulling his cloak more tightly around himself. The guard had reined up well behind them, at the bottom of the ridge. “Well, I did not bring you out here to talk of graves or bicker about your bastard. There was a rider in the night, from Lordxy Varysxy in Kingxy’s Landingxy. Here.” The king pulled a paper from his belt and handed it to Nedxy.
Varysxy the eunuch was the king’s master of whisperers. He served Robertxy now as he had once served Aerysxy Targaryenxyxy. Nedxy unrolled the paper with trepidation, thinking of Lysaxy and her terrible accusation, but the message did not concern Ladyxy Arrynxy. “What is the source for this information?”
“Do you remember Ser Jorahxy Mormontxyxy?”
“Would that I might forget him,” Nedxy said bluntly. The Mormonts of Bear Islandxy were an old house, proud and honorable, but their lands were cold and distant and poor. Ser Jorahxy had tried to swell the family coffers by selling some poachers to a Tyroshixy slaver. As the Mormonts were bannermen to the Starks, his crime had dishonored the north. Nedxy had made the long journey west to Bear Islandxy, only to find when he arrived that Jorahxy had taken ship beyond the reach of Ice and the king’s justice. Five years had passed since then.
“Ser Jorahxy is now in Pentosxy, anxious to earn a royal pardon that would allow him to return from exile,” Robertxy explained. “Lordxy Varysxy makes good use of him.”
“So the slaver has become a spy,” Nedxy said with distaste. He handed the letter back. “I would rather he become a corpse.”
“Varysxy tells me that spies are more useful than corpses,” Robertxy said. “Jorahxy aside, what do you make of his report?”
“Daenerys Targaryenxyxy has wed some Dothrakixy horselord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?”
The king frowned. “A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it.”
Nedxy did not feign surprise; Robertxy’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywinxy Lannisterxyxy had presented Robertxy with the corpses of Rhaegarxy’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Nedxy had named that murder; Robertxy called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arrynxyxy had been able to calm that storm. Eddardxy Starkxyxy had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyannaxy’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.
This time, Nedxy resolved to keep his temper. “Your Grace, the girl is scarcely more than a child. You are no Tywinxy Lannisterxyxy, to slaughter innocents.” It was said that Rhaegarxy’s little girl had cried as they dragged her from beneath her bed to face the swords. The boy had been no more than a babe in arms, yet Lordxy Tywinxyxy’s soldiers had torn him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall.
“And how long will this one remain an innocent?” Robertxy’s mouth grew hard. “This child will soon enough spread her legs and start breeding more dragonspawn to plague me.”
“Nonetheless,” Nedxy said, “the murder of children … it would be vile … unspeakable …”
“Unspeakable?” the king roared. “What Aerysxy did to your brother Brandon was unspeakable. The wayxy your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegarxy … how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times?” His voice had grown so loud that his horse whinnied nervously beneath him. The king jerked the reins hard, quieting the animal, and pointed an angry finger at Nedxy. “I will kill every Targaryenxy I can get my hands on, until they are as dead as their dragons, and then I will piss on their graves.”
Nedxy knew better than to defy him when the wrath was on him. If the years had not quenched Robertxy’s thirst for revenge, no words of his would help. “You can’t get your hands on this one, can you?” he said quietly.
The king’s mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. “No, gods be cursed. Some pox-ridden Pentoshixy cheesemonger had her brother and her walled up on his estate with pointy-hatted eunuchs all around them, and now he’s handed them over to the Dothrakixy. I should have had them both killed years ago, when it was easy to get at them, but Jon was as bad as you. More fool I, I listened to him.”
“Jon Arrynxyxy was a wise man and a good Handxy.”
Robertxy snorted. The anger was leaving him as suddenly as it had come. “This Khalxy Drogoxyxy is said to have a hundred thousand men in his horde. What would Jon say to that?”
“He would say that even a million Dothrakixy are no threat to the realm, so long as they remain on the other side of the narrow sea,” Nedxy replied calmly. “The barbarians have no ships. They hate and fear the open sea.”
The king shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “Perhaps. There are ships to be had in the Free Citiesxy, though. I tell you, Nedxy, I do not like this marriage. There are still those in the Seven Kingdomsxy who call me Usurperxy. Do you forget how many houses fought for Targaryenxy in the war? They bide their time for now, but give them half a chance, they will murder me in my bed, and my sons with me. If the beggar king crosses with a Dothrakixy horde at his back, the traitors will join him.”
“He will not cross,” Nedxy promised. “And if by some mischance he does, we will throw him back into the sea. Once you choose a new Wardenxy of the Eastxy—”
The king groaned. “For the last time, I will not name the Arrynxy boy Wardenxy. I know the boy is your nephew, but with Targaryens climbing in bed with Dothrakixy, I would be mad to rest one quarter of the realm on the shoulders of a sickly child.”
Nedxy was ready for that. “Yet we still must have a Wardenxy of the Eastxy. If Robertxy Arrynxyxy will not do, name one of your brothers. Stannisxy proved himself at the siege of Storm’s End, surely.”
He let the name hang there for a moment. The king frowned and said nothing. He looked uncomfortable.
“That is,” Nedxy finished quietly, watching, “unless you have already promised the honor to another.”
For a moment Robertxy had the grace to look startled. Just as quickly, the look became annoyance. “What if I have?”
“It’s Jaimexy Lannisterxyxy, is it not?”
Robertxy kicked his horse back into motion and started down the ridge toward the barrows. Nedxy kept pace with him. The king rode on, eyes straight ahead. “Yes,” he said at last. A single hard word to end the matter.
“Kingslayer,” Nedxy said. The rumors were true, then. He rode on dangerous ground now, he knew. “An able and courageous man, no doubt,” he said carefully, “but his father is Wardenxy of the Westxy, Robertxy. In time Ser Jaimexy will succeed to that honor. No one man should hold both East and West.” He left unsaid his real concern; that the appointment would put half the armies of the realm into the hands of Lannistersxy.
“I will fight that battle when the enemy appears on the field,” the king said stubbornly. “At the moment, Lordxy Tywinxyxy looms eternal as Casterlyxy Rockxy, so I doubt that Jaimexy will be succeeding anytime soon. Don’t vex me about this, Nedxy, the stone has been set.”
“Your Grace, may I speak frankly?”
“I seem unable to stop you,” Robertxy grumbled. They rode through tall brown grasses.
“Can you trust Jaimexy Lannisterxyxy?”
“He is my wife’s twin, a Sworn Brotherxy of the Kingsguardxy, his life and fortune and honor all bound to mine.”
“As they were bound to Aerysxy Targaryenxyxy’s,” Nedxy pointed out.
“Why should I mistrust him? He has done everything I have ever asked of him. His sword helped win the throne I sit on.”
His sword helped taint the throne you sit on, Nedxy thought, but he did not permit the words to pass his lips. “He swore a vow to protect his king’s life with his own. Then he opened that king’s throat with a sword.”
“Seven hells, someone had to kill Aerysxy!” Robertxy said, reining his mount to a sudden halt beside an ancient barrow. “If Jaimexy hadn’t done it, it would have been left for you or me.”
“We were not Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguardxy,” Nedxy said. The time had come for Robertxy to hear the whole truth, he decided then and there. “Do you remember the Tridentxy, Your Grace?”
“I won my crown there. How should I forget it?”
“You took a wound from Rhaegarxy,” Nedxy reminded him. “So when the Targaryenxy host broke and ran, you gave the pursuit into my hands. The remnants of Rhaegarxy’s army fled back to Kingxy’s Landingxy. We followed. Aerysxy was in the Red Keepxyxy with several thousand loyalists. I expected to find the gates closed to us.”
Robertxy gave an impatient shake of his head. “Instead you found that our men had already taken the city. What of it?”
“Not our men,” Nedxy said patiently. “Lannisterxy men. The lion of Lannisterxy flew over the ramparts, not the crowned stag. And they had taken the city by treachery.”
The war had raged for close to a year. Lords great and small had flocked to Robertxy’s banners; others had remained loyal to Targaryenxy. The mighty Lannistersxy of Casterlyxy Rockxy, the Wardens of the Westxy, had remained aloof from the struggle, ignoring calls to arms from both rebels and royalists. Aerysxy Targaryenxyxy must have thought that his gods had answered his prayers when Lordxy Tywinxyxy Lannisterxyxyxy appeared before the gates of Kingxy’s Landingxy with an army twelve thousand strong, professing loyalty. So the mad king had ordered his last mad act. He had opened his city to the lions at the gate.
“Treachery was a coin the Targaryens knew well,” Robertxy said. The anger was building in him again. “Lannisterxy paid them back in kind. It was no less than they deserved. I shall not trouble my sleep over it.”
“You were not there,” Nedxy said, bitterness in his voice. Troubled sleep was no stranger to him. He had lived his lies for fourteen years, yet they still haunted him at night. “There was no honor in that conquest.”
“The Othersxyxy take your honor!” Robertxy swore. “What did any Targaryenxy ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyannaxy about the dragon’s honor!”
“You avenged Lyannaxy at the Tridentxy,” Nedxy said, halting beside the king. Promise me, Nedxy, she had whispered.
“That did not bring her back.” Robertxy looked away, off into the grey distance. “The gods be damned. It was a hollow victory they gave me. A crown … it was the girl I prayed them for. Your sister, safe … and mine again, as she was meant to be. I ask you, Nedxy, what good is it to wear a crown? The gods mock the prayers of kings and cowherds alike.”
“I cannot answer for the gods, Your Grace … only for what I found when I rode into the throne room that day,” Nedxy said. “Aerysxy was dead on the floor, drowned in his own blood. His dragon skulls stared down from the walls. Lannisterxy’s men were everywhere. Jaimexy wore the white cloak of the Kingsguardxy over his golden armor. I can see him still. Even his sword was gilded. He was seated on the Iron Thronexy, high above his knights, wearing a helm fashioned in the shape of a lion’s head. How he glittered!”
“This is well known,” the king complained.
“I was still mounted. I rode the length of the hall in silence, between the long rows of dragon skulls. It felt as though they were watching me, somehow. I stopped in front of the throne, looking up at him. His golden sword was across his legs, its edge red with a king’s blood. My men were filling the room behind me. Lannisterxy’s men drew back. I never said a word. I looked at him seated there on the throne, and I waited. At last Jaimexy laughed and got up. He took off his helm, and he said to me, ‘Have no fear, Starkxy. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robertxy. It’s not a very comfortable seat, I’m afraid.’”
The king threw back his head and roared. His laughter startled a flight of crows from the tall brown grass. They took to the air in a wild beating of wings. “You think I should mistrust Lannisterxy because he sat on my throne for a few moments?” He shook with laughter again. “Jaimexy was all of seventeen, Nedxy. Scarce more than a boy.”
“Boyxy or man, he had no right to that throne.”
“Perhaps he was tired,” Robertxy suggested. “Killing kings is weary work. Godsxy know, there’s no place else to rest your ass in that damnable room. And he spoke truly, it is a monstrous uncomfortable chair. In more ways than one.” The king shook his head. “Well, now I know Jaimexy’s dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten. I am heartily sick of secrets and squabbles and matters of state, Nedxy. It’s all as tedious as counting coppers. Come, let’s ride, you used to know how. I want to feel the wind in my hair again.” He kicked his horse back into motion and galloped up over the barrow, raining earth down behind him.
For a moment Nedxy did not follow. He had run out of words, and he was filled with a vast sense of helplessness. Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing here and why he had come. He was no Jon Arrynxyxy, to curb the wildness of his king and teach him wisdom. Robertxy would do what he pleased, as he always had, and nothing Nedxy could say or do would change that. He belonged in Winterfellxy. He belonged with Catelynxy in her grief, and with Branxy.
A man could not always be where he belonged, though. Resigned, Eddardxy Starkxyxy put his boots into his horse and set off after the king.