CHAPTER 37

Sandor

A guard has spied three riders with the Lannister pennants, and when I get outside to meet them, one of them has a while cloak, and at first I don't recognise him, so changed he is. His golden hair is very short and he sports a darker full grown beard; he's lost weight and appears older and wan. And most shocking of all is the missing hand on his right arm. The stump.

I stride up to him, my face surly and mistrustful. What is he up to? It doesn't bode well. I glare at him silently, waiting for a word, a move. He smiles arrogantly, although some of the old glitter has been tarnished from it.

"Not very welcoming are you, Sandor?"

"I'm not the Lannister's dog anymore," I answer through clenched teeth.

"But still, you have no choice but to make me come in."

This I know and I chafe at it. So I let him in with an unconcealed bad grace, leading him to the common room and offering him a seat while I order wine for both of us from one serving girl. Before sitting, he lifts both of his arms up. Grinning.

"See? Although I've come in armed, I won't be able to do anything without my right hand. I won't hurt you."

His mocking tone makes me bristle until I understand that it's mostly directed at him. The great fighter Jaime, captain of the kingsguard, reduced to nothing because of the loss of his sword hand. I can't begin to fathom the bitterness he must feel at this, this devastating blow, as it's suddenly chilling me; as who would I become with this kind of loss, without the use of my steel? What would I be? It sobers me.

I've kept my face carefully expressionless though, guarding it from my thoughts. After we've drunk in silence, he sighs and looks at me.

"I have a mission for you, a service to ask of you."

I scowl at him. "If you think that I'll serve you in the same way my brother has served your father, you won't find me agreeable to it."

"No, no, nothing like this." His expression looks sober too, his eyes looking directly into mine without any hint of guile. But then the Lannisters have always been masters at hiding their game. "It's more of a personal nature, a quest of my own if I might say so." He blows out a deep breath and adds: "It was most foolish of my twin to have let the Stark girl o like this; quite stupid and careless. But at least, I'm glad that she's safe, even if it's with you."

I look at him intently, even more alert now. I'd had never heard him speak ill of his sister before, and while the Lannisters have always been able to say anything to me without it being a threat to them, I'm still surprised at his words. I wonder if his homecoming has turned sour, at his twin finding her beloved brother suddenly turned a cripple now. That must have cooled her down. Who likes cripples, monsters and freaks?

"When I was a hostage to Catelyn Stark, it was she who let me escape in exchange for an oath on my part. That I bring her daughter Sansa safe to her."

Of this nobody had ever known – everybody had thought that Jaime Lannister had escaped on his own. What a risk Catelyn Stark had taken in loosing this very valuable hostage and advantage, surely bringing down the wrath of the Tullys and her son's on her. Her mother's love must have been desperate indeed to trust that Jaime Lannister's would keep his oath to her. This is becoming very interesting.

He tells me about meeting a maiden warrior named Brienne of Tarth, their being prisoners at Harrenhal, of she having been in service to Lord Renly and having sworn the same oath to Catelyn Stark back at Riverrun. While the oath had been about Sansa Stark, both of them want to find her sister now as to complete it. He wants this maiden to accompany us on the quest.

"But I've heard that Arya Stark was found and that she was to marry this Ramsey Bolton."

He smirks. "I've met this Arya Stark and it's not her. They picked this girl because she looks a bit like Arya, and since most of the Starks are dead, nobody will know that she's not the real one."

This revelation amazes me further. Is there no end to the machinations and lies? At the same time, the heaviness I had felt since my men had returned empty handed lifts off, and I feel a great sense of relief. Now the quest has kindled back to life again.

And I find the idea of a woman warrior intriguing and can't wait to meet her.

"If you need men, just ask."

"I have all the men that I need. The only thing I don't understand as why you want to keep this oath to a dead woman. What is in it for you?"

"Why shouldn't there be something for me, Sandor? Maybe I want to regain some honour, act as a true knight for once."

He's surprised me again - giving us even more in common – two tainted men wanting to redeem themselves – two oath breakers. It sounds true to me, but I won't tell him that I had already started that quest on my own; better yet if he thinks I'm doing it as a favor to him.

"All right then," I reply, both of us getting up. "I'd like to start on the morrow, if this Brienne can join us here today or in the morning."

He starts laughing at this in great gales, and not understanding his sudden fit of mirth, I follow him outside. His two men are still astride their horses as if they haven't moved in all that time. He looks at them and points his stump at the one on the right.

"She's already there."

I gape. I had thought this great big blond lad a man, and upon viewing closer, I start to see the feminine bent in her large blue eyes, although I wouldn't have known of it had he not told. Seven Hells, she's as big as the man next to her, with a neck almost as large as mine, freakishly tall and with a large, homely face. Jaime laughs again at the astonishment which must be visible on my face.

Then I wonder where I'll put her. Certainly not in the men's barrack, although I'm sure with her size that she'd be well able to defend herself, if they wanted to attack her. But that would wreck havoc and I decide that I'll let her have a room here at the Keep.

As he leaves, Jaime speaks briefly to her, and she lets her squire lead the horse to the stables while she lumbers up the stairs to meet me. I try to contain my unease as she gets closer, and bigger. My, she's only half a head taller than me, and almost as large! For once, I feel at loss about what to do or say, but she settles the matter for us as she gazes at me with a sullen, almost disdainful look on her face.

"The Hound," she states in a clipped tone of voice. "Most honoured I'm sure."

But it sounds full of disbelief at best and I sneer at her. As we both enter, I spy Sansa walking toward us in the hall, and she immediately curtsies at her.

"Welcome to our keep, ser."

"Thank you," replies the woman warrior. "Brienne of Tarth, at your service."

Sansa startles at the sound of the unmistakeable feminine voice but her highborn manners make her recover her poise immediately. "Will you stay for the night with us? Come, I'll see that a room is prepared for you, so you can rest and refresh yourself before supper."

And as easy as that, Sansa walks away with Brienne, looking up at her and speaking softly to her with a smile, as if this was an ordinary happening. I'm very much impressed, while I'm thinking that our keep is fast becoming a haven for monsters, cripples and freaks: I, Jaime and now Brienne.

Then I leave to gather the men in the courtyard, announcing our leaving on the morning, the nature of our travels, and they hurry back to gather the supplies and prepare. I've signaled Elmar and another man to stay, and explain further what I need of them.

I come back later to join Sansa in the sitting room, where she's reading again and sitting on the divan. As soon as she spies me, she closes her book and looks at me in inquiry as I sit down next to her.

"What is the meaning of this woman's presence?"

"Remember what I promised the court? About ridding them of the band of men who are led by the 'Hound'? I have to do it now; I'll leave tomorrow."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Tomorrow? So soon! And why do you need this warrior woman?"

"I don't need her," I reply testily. "Jaime Lannister has bid me to let her join us."

A soldier wouldn't ask any more questions, but Sansa isn't one and persists. "But why would her presence be necessary?"

"How the fuck would I know? I just do as I'm ordered to." I'm barking now, as I feel frustrated at not being able to tell her the truth of it – at hiding things again from her and lying.

But Sansa doesn't know of my dilemma and recoils in fright at my tone of voice. Her chin starts to tremble and I sigh through my teeth at my powerlessness.

"I'm sorry, I should ask so many questions," she stammers back.

The way she reverts back to her old behaviors when she feels intimidated often chagrin me, but today it adds up to my growing vexation at myself, and although I try to be gentle, my voice sounds hard.

"You have the right to ask questions, but sometimes I have no answer to them. Just accept that."

Her chin stops quivering and she holds her head up, her expression becoming guarded and sullen while I watch the change hopelessly. When she speaks again, her voice has turned much cooler.

"Very well, my lord. I'll just stay here and pray for you to be safe until you return."

She also returns to more formal way when upset or scared, but it's her words that still add fuel to my growing ire.

I sneer. "Oh. Just like you prayed for Joffrey's safety in the goodswood?"

She pales at that and averts her face from mine, crossing her arms against her chest.

"How like you to bring that up! Now I'm starting to think that I'll feel better staying by myself here without your unkindness."

"But you won't stay here. I have other plans for you."

Her head whips back to fix me with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean, other plans?"

"I don't want you to stay here alone without me while I'm gone; ready to be plucked by any fucking Lannisters or such. They won't know where you are, as I'll put you up at an inn for that period, with Elmar and another man."

"But the queen wouldn't try anything! She just lost her father and must be..."

"Don't you know anything, you little fool?" Now my voice has turned harsh and unyielding. "Don't you know them by now? A little mourning won't stop her from taking advantage of my absence and trying to get to me through you."

Now she's standing up, her cheeks flushed, trembling with anger and defiance.

"I won't go to an inn and stay there shut in like a prisoner for who knows how long! I won't!"

"It's for your own good. You'll do as you're bid," I growl back.

Her mouth has thinned and I spy a little fist clenching.

"Hit me!" I taunt. "You know you want to do it. Hit me now."

She holds her head up haughtily. "I' will not sink to your level, you brute! You will have no such pleasure from me!"

And then she leaves in a huff, but with great dignity and her back held straight.

I let out a mighty big breath, my teeth starting to grit together in helpless rage. I stride back to our chamber to start packing my own things, throwing them untidily in a saddlebag, opening drawers and shutting them closed noisily, slapping other pieces of clothing on top of the others, punching my pillow hard several times until it bursts open with feathers dispersing on the bed and I have to call the maid to clean up the mess and bring me another one.

The evening brings with itself further deterioration. Brienne has decided to join us for supper at Sansa's urging and it makes me grit my teeth. Now I have to tolerate her presence on my last meal here while I'll be stuck with her for the whole quest. But I find that I have nothing to do while Sansa, who has nothing in common with her, manages to keep a conversation going with Brienne. In her gentle way, Sansa succeds in bringing her out of her awkward silence by asking her questions about Tarth, her childhood, family; how she came about to become a warrior. Sansa listens to her answers with interest and the woman opens up, warmed by Sansa's kindness. I'm certain that this represents a rare instance for Brienne; being treated ordinarily and courteously, like if she was normal.

So I'm left to my own devices; staring at my plate and eating of it silently, like a sullen dog chewing at his bone in his corner. But still Sansa remains civil with me and inquires courteously if I find the meal to my satisfaction, and I respond by a grunt. Brienne glances at me and then at Sansa in bewilderment, probably wondering how Sansa can stand eating each night with such an uncouth and disagreeable man.

If I could have bet all my gold and lands about my expectations of how Sansa would behave as I entered our chamber, I would have become a very rich man. Of course she won't have anything to do with me, even if it's our last night together for a while. She's already lying under the covers with her back turned to me. As I get in bed, she shrinks further away, while still breathing regularly as if she was sleeping. I extend a hand to her head and stroke her hair while she remains immobile.

"Stop pretending to sleep. I know that you're awake, little bird," I mutter in discontent.

"But I'm sleeping," she answers back.

I'm sneering. "I didn't know that people could hold conversations in their sleep."

"Oh, I do it all of the time," she replies in her sweet bell voice. "Except that tonight I won't hold one with a cur."

I could laugh if I wasn't already so frustrated. How unreasonable, naive and childish this girl is! I've arranged things to keep her safe and now she's sulking... And I'm steaming in my own juice. I start gnashing my teeth again and sigh in exasperation. I can't seem to find a comfortable spot and keep moving irritably on my back. When this doesn't create a reaction out of her and she remains lying quietly on her side, I resign myself to my lot and try to slip in the sleep that I badly need for the journey.