Chapter 6
They shivered inside while the rain roared and lashed against their canvas tents all night long. When morning came the woods smelled damp and cold, and the trees were still dripping water on their tents.
But they started out all the same, the group of twenty men and women, warriors belonging to the Company of the Dragon. The plan had already been discussed and finalized last night around the campfire, over a meal of salted beef and fruit. So only a grim nod was shared amongst them when they emerged from their tents. The group broke their fast and armed themselves, and headed out from their shelter nestled in the woods.
The overcast sun was high in the sky when they finally found the road, the old Valyrian track running through the wilderness of the Flatlands, to connect the free cities of Myr and Pentos. The group left the wet forest-floor and climbed the embankment, turning north when they were on the drenched stone path. Cool morning breeze blew past them as they trudged on, and whispered through from the tall trees. That was the only sound they could hear. The road was deserted as it always was. Civilized folk had abandoned this part of the earth, instead choosing to travel between Myr and Pentos by sea, for both were bustling port cities. That also gave the road a notorious reputation as it attracted all kinds of lowlifes; pirates, smugglers, thieves, thugs, and what not.
But the Company were not thugs. To them they were soldiers. Soldiers with a purpose.
The trek came to a sudden and graceless halt, as a grisly scene came into view. On the way ahead a huge snake lay dead and festering, drowning the air in the foul scent of death. "Gods!" Someone exclaimed loudly. It was more than seven feet long, black with dull yellow speckles everywhere. The carrion birds had already been at it, buzzing and chirping as they happily tore apart its thick body. Two gaping holes were dripping blood where its eyes used to be, and the jagged tongue was sticking out floppy and lifeless. The belly had been torn open, spilling out sticky entrails and blood that had soaked into the wet stones under it.
The wordless resolve of the spring morning took a sudden ominous plunge, leaving frightened silence behind.
The sixteen year old Samara had been walking in the back with Avi. They were in the Flatlands, on the old Valyrian road connecting Myr and Pentos, surrounded by tall wet trees and rocks. Her bow and sword were becoming heavier on her body and she had no desire to stop until they reached their destination. Scowling, she left Avi behind and moved ahead in the column to find the reason for the halt. The macabre sight in front was surely not a good way to start the morning.
And certainly not very auspicious, the young soldier could see it clear as day on the faces around her. No one dared to speak or move, and the only sound that remained was the breeze whispering past them, and the busy carrion birds. The snake was lying along the width of the wet road, as if blocking anyone who'd dare to pass. "Bad luck. A sign of death," she heard someone's fervid whisper. Men and women, otherwise brave and fearsome, were looking at it with apprehension. Their swords and bows were forgotten as many of them pulled out their amulets and chains, whispering their prayers.
Samara's father was leading their party for the mission and was already at the front. His stiff gaze was trained at the dead thing. Is he afraid too? Samara couldn't tell.
"Father?" She asked.
Something changed in his look when he found her beside him. He looked at the nervous faces all choked up in superstition, and in a heartbeat Ser Monford Velaryon had put on his 'Commander' face. Sharp steel whispered against leather as he pulled out his weapon, and the unsheathed bastard sword dazzled splendidly in the morning light.
The carrion birds didn't take long to fly away as Ser Monford walked forward. He stopped in front of the dead thing. His knuckles were white around his swordhilt, ready to hack the snake in two.
But he didn't. Instead he flattened his blade and slipped it under the carcass, and with a heave threw it into the bushes off the embankment.
He turned to look at them. "Move along," he commanded as if nothing had happened. The dead snake had disappeared into the shrubs, but the thick trail of blood and gore it had left on the road was still there. "We can't be late. The Lady is counting on us."
"But Ser Monford," said Ysin, tugging at the bow slung across her torso. Her voice troubled Samara. The Ibbenese warrior woman usually had a careless swagger about her that was strangely comforting to the young soldier, but at that moment Ysin sounded like any other village woman.
"You all are strong men and women! Fighters!" Samara's father said as he walked back to the column. "Are you all afraid of dead vermin?"
"It is a bad omen. A sign of misfortune. It is known," Qhuogo the Fierce professed in his gruff voice as he stepped forward to face Ser Monford, his fingers brushing the arakh on his hip. With his long braid and over six feet girth the Dothraki looked almost otherworldly compared to the Westerosi knight. Samara didn't like the look the nomad was giving her father. She stepped closer to him.
But Father nudged her away. "You will hold your tongue horselord," he growled in fluent Dothraki and returned Qhuogo's look. The graveness on Father's face was a sight to behold, like he was looking past Qhuogo's skin, right into his soft fleshy brains. Soon enough the wiry Qhuogo looked elsewhere, but that didn't do much. The Company members were still afraid.
"Have you all forgotten why we are all here," Father rasped sharply, and they all flinched. "We are here for something that is bigger than us, and our petty fears. Yes they are petty, because there are no bad omens. There's only destiny, the purpose we live for. No dead animal on the road can tell us about it. Who knows why that snake died right in our path. Maybe he was too fat to run from a cat. Maybe he was old and had finally given up on life. Perhaps he himself saw an omen that paralyzed him with fear." The group hung their head in shame.
"Whatever be the reason," father continued, "it has nothing to do with why we are here. Why be afraid of omens, when we have her to guide us."
Many looked up and nodded in vigor, and the rest followed with less zeal. "Remember your destiny," father shouted. "Remember the King who died for us! Forward! The world needs us." A breeze blew through the road, catching Ser Monford's silver hair and making them fly, and at that moment her father looked more a King than a Commander.
But that was who he was. Ser Monford Valeryon, from the blood of old Valyria that had once ruled over all the world.
They started walking again, up and over the bloody spot. "The Purpose," Samara had heard the phrase being used so many times in her time with the Company. The whole group held to it religiously, never letting it go. Samara wasn't one of them.
XX
They had come almost halfway when their horses started whickering in fright.
"What the fuck! Stay still boy," Hal barked at his spindly stallion as it tried to buck away. "Do you want me to feed you even less."
"It's the blood. Look! Over there," Davos the smuggler pointed at the thick trail of blood ahead on the cobbled road. He too was trying to calm his horse. "Looks like a snake died there. The horses can smell it."
"Indeed," the Myrishwoman remarked. "Poor thing. Not a good omen I must add. We must move on," she urged. "No time to waste."
"No one was stopping woman," Hal scoffed at her. "Alright let's move. The rain might come again." Davos looked up at the sky. More rain was unlikely as the sun was already cracking through the clouds. But it didn't hurt to just agree with their self-styled leader.
"Where's the snake though," Ryger grinned. "Could have used the meat, whatever wasn't rotten that is."
They moved on, a group of eleven misfits who had banded up to travel to Pentos through the old Valyrian road, along with their stuff being carried by draft animals. Davos knew many of them from before. Hal, a tall gruff man with thick hairy arms who had indulged in almost every sin professed by the priests, today smuggling precious herbs between Myr and Pentos. Today Hal had brought two of his employees with him, two eighteen year old boys named Rolly and Tom, the biggest perverts Davos had ever known, travelling with their own stuff. Then there was Ryger, a comely red-haired youth from Oldtown carrying two caskets with him. According to him he couldn't find a ship cheap enough. Four sellswords with copper skin and snake like faces, who didn't talk much and kept to themselves. Davos himself, relaying two donkeyloads of cannabis to be delivered to the dens in Bravos.
This was all well and good, for Davos had traveled with them before and expected company like them on this road. What made this journey entirely different from his previous ones was the Myrishwoman riding on his right. In the company of smugglers and lowlifes like Davos and others she looked completely out of place. Women never traversed on this track, certainly not ones as handsome as her. Everything about her screamed Myr. She looked to be around thirty-five, dusky skinned and dignified. Her thick black hair were left loose as they did in Myr, and fell well below her shoulders. The rich yet plain attire that she wore had surely seen better days, and hid all hints of any womanly curves that she had underneath. In the marketplace of Myr it was she who had approached Davos and others, asking whether she could travel to Pentos with them. They were more puzzled than anything when they had agreed. Rolly and Tom had grinned shamelessly as they had undressed the woman with their eyes, much to Davos's annoyance.
She was riding in silence, her eyes mostly staying on the road ahead, a slight smile playing on her lips. Something about that smile made Davos extremely drawn to her. It was as if there was more to it, more to her. He moved his horse closer to the woman. "I never knew Myrish believed in omens m'lady. I always thought they were more brain than heart."
The woman looked at him. "There are no omens Ser Davos," she replied. "Only destiny. I was only speaking for the others."
Being addressed as a knight puzzled Davos. He was no knight, nor could he ever pass as one. He was a commoner through and through. "If I may ask," he said, fiddling with the reins of his horse. "Why are you going to Pentos?"
Her eyes moved back to the road ahead. ""My man died while doing his job, and I have children to feed. I have to complete his work, and for that I need to take the goods to Pentos."
Davos nodded in understanding. "Why not take a ship m'lady," he asked. "It would have been safer for you."
"Safer for me?" She cocked her head. "And what about your safety good man?"
"You must know this already," he spoke as their path looped around a mound, "you are not safe here. The journey, it is not meant for...it is perilous and hard. There are no inns and rest stops. It has all sorts of dangers in it. Raiders, criminals, thieves...lechers...you know how it is."
The woman smiled sadly. "It is a gamble isn't it," she said. "But life makes gamblers out of us all, sooner or later. Some gambles pay off, and some don't." She shook her head. "But why do I need to worry, when I have a knight to protect me," she gestured towards Davos.
"I am not a knight woman," he said.
"Of course you aren't." She said. "And to answer your question, the ship captains and my family aren't on good terms. I couldn't go with them."
Davos found the whole thing peculiar, but he didn't question further. He couldn't.
"What is your name good woman," he found himself asking. He could hear the two boys mumbling from behind. "You know me. I am Davos, from King's Landing."
Her eyes chimed as she looked at Davos again, and he couldn't help but gulp. "Betha," she replied, her voice smooth and deep.
Their conversation was finally interrupted by the two boys. "Stop making eyes at her Davos," Tom hooted. "You have a wife remember, and she has the bigger teats." The other boy cackled like an ass.
Davos bristled in anger. "You will mind your tongue boy," he growled.
"Or what," said the ass. "You think we are afraid of the likes of you."
Davos pulled at his reins and turned to face them. "Why don't we find out?"
That was when Hal who was riding ahead of them turned his thick neck. "I don't want any fighting on the road. One word from you two," he pointed at the two boys, "and I will make sure that you don't get any business for two hundred years."
"Indeed," said Ryger from beside Hal, smiling sweetly. "Save your mischief for the brothels. This lady is on business." The sellswords didn't said nothing.
Davos quieted down along with the others, but not before sending a glare at the two. If it came to blows he could take them himself, or so he thought. He glanced at 'Betha' and found that she didn't seem offended at all. What Myrishwoman is named Betha, Davos wondered. It was a Westerosi name, not a Myrish one.
Hal called for rest at noon at a small stream. It had caught up with their road from the East and now ran parallel to it, and some distance ahead it'd turn East again to meet up with the Bite, an actual river. Davos fed and watered the animals along with the others. The air was heavy after the rain last night, one of the many annoying early spring showers that served no purpose at all. The forest had thinned into a small clearing but there were still some shady trees, and Davos chose one to sit under. He pulled out his skin of water and drank deep, sighing as a cool spring breeze blew through the landscape. Soon Hal might call for them to move, so Davos wanted to sit and rest for as long as possible. But when he saw the stocky man taking a dip in the river he knew it was going to be a longer stop.
He spotted Betha nearby. She was sitting under a leafless tree, her solemn gaze trained at the flowing water. Her palfrey and mule were also there chomping on the grass around her, the only company that she had. The two boys were still giving her looks which Davos found quite annoying, and he found himself standing up and approaching her. Davos had a wife, the best woman in the world who was waiting for him back home with his two sons. Yet this Myrishwoman was doing things to him that he couldn't comprehend. Davos had seen many a woman mistreated in his time as a smuggler, and never had he ever felt a protective urge as he was doing now. Perhaps that is why she is calling me a knight.
He sat down beside her, and that was when she took notice. "You should do a better job protecting me Ser Davos," she spoke in an amused tone. "Those two have been ogling me continuously."
Despite her casual voice Davos couldn't help but scowl at the two boys. He struggled with his reply before settling at one. "I will keep an eye on them," he said. "Like I had said, this road isn't for women."
"Indeed," the Myrishwoman replied, indifferent. "Nothing messes us up worse than time. This road, it was once the lifeblood of Essos, and now look at it." She gestured towards the road, and that was when Davos saw her ring. A silver band rested on her slender finger, with a large amethyst embedded in it.
"That was a long time ago m'lady. Valyrians have been gone for centuries," said Davos. "At the moment though...many merchants had thought that now with the Northern kingdom trading more these roads might see more activity. But that didn't happen, at least for now."
"Oh yes, the North and their new way," she smiled. "Those people have done well for themselves."
"Yes m'lady. Obviously dishonest men like me never want this road to thrive again," he smiled bitterly. "Bad for business."
"I wouldn't call you a dishonest man Ser Davos," she stated.
He snorted. "I am a smuggler m'lady, just one step away from a proper thug." He looked towards the river. Hal had come out of the water and was drying up. Ryger was plucking wild fruits from a tree. The sellswords were busy talking amongst themselves. They'd all surely be on the road soon, Davos figured. After this their next stop would be at the Bite, an actual river, not a stream like this one. They'd spend the night there.
"Tell me Davos," she asked, "how did an honest man like you end up working as a smuggler?
There was no judgement in her dark eyes when Davos turned to look at her. "It just happened, m'lady," he replied. "I was born with nothing. I had to make ends meet and one day ended up sneaking goods past guards and patrols. It paid well, so I kept doing it. But that is all I do," he added awkwardly. "I have never killed or hurt anyone."
"But do you know what happens after you have delivered those goods. How many men will waste away their savings on the cannabis you are smuggling," Betha asked. When he struggled to answer she chuckled. "Don't worry about it Ser Davos. I can see that you are an honest man, and we have short supply of that these days. You may not have an honest trade at the moment I know. But given chance, I can see it, you are capable of extreme greatness. Tell me Ser Davos, do you wish for a different life."
"I do," he replied, "I am not a dreamer m'lady, but I do hope for better days. Everyone does, but I am afraid there's small chance of that."
She nodded. "I hear you. But be on the lookout. Who knows when that day might come when you'd have to smuggle some onions for the starving, instead of cannabis for the decadent, Ser Davos."
"I am not a knight."
"Of course you aren't," she replied. "But for this journey you are my knight."
"If I may, m'lady," said Davos, "your name, it's Westerosi isn't it?"
The woman smiled a knowing smile. "It is indeed," she said. "A name from the Sunset Kingdoms. Funny how things work out isn't it," she looked away. If she had secrets then she was welcome to them. Davos knew better than to pry. He hardly knew her, and after this journey they'd go their separate ways.
XX
The chirping of robins and the flowing water were welcome sounds after being on the road for hours. They had reached the Bite, the river that ran midway between Pentos and Myr. "We will rest and eat, and then will take positions," she heard her father's shout as they headed towards the clear water.
Smiling, Samara threw off her bow and sword and stretched her arms. She scouted the river and the old Valyrian arch-bridge over it, the one they'd cross tomorrow. The Bite was far wider and livelier than the sorry stream they had passed by hours ago. The river was blue and clean, disappearing into the western horizon where the orange sun was setting. The water made a soothing sound as it hurtled towards the narrow sea. It reminded Samara of Volantis, and her old life. She had spent many good hours of her childhood with her legs dipped in the cool waters of Volantene riverfront, singing songs about Gods and love with the other girls. That was a long time ago, before her father had come to take her away, changing everything forever.
The water was teaming with plump fish, so plump that the young soldier had little trouble catching two with her hands. Her mouth watered at the thought of fresh meat as she beat the carps against a rock. But then she saw her fellow soldiers frowning at her in disapproval, even after all the time she had spent with them. Avi was among them too, who had just this morning been flirting with her. It was his eyes that hurt her the most. Salted beef it is, again, she thought as she threw the fish away. Her stomach may as well be dead inside.
Frowning, she walked away from the river. Beyond the clearing of the road and the river the forest trees grew tall and thick, perfect for the Company to hide before they perform the mission. Under one of those shady trees sat her father. His eyes were focused on the dark stiletto in his hands as he polished it with a piece of cloth, hunting down any imperfection. His face was grave as it used to be most of the time. "He is always unsmiling," others had told Samara. "But he smiles when he looks at you."
She walked up to him. "Can't we all eat fish father," she asked. "There is plenty in the river."
He looked up at her. "What's stopping you," he asked.
Samara didn't know whether the question was rhetorical or not. "Others don't want me to apparently. They all looked at me badly when I caught two, so I had to throw them away."
Father sheathed the stiletto and put it aside. "And why do you think that is," he asked, looking at her with his piercing gaze. Samara shrugged. She had an answer in mind, but she refrained from voicing it.
"It is because their mind is on the task at hand," Father replied, "and eating ripe fish is the last thing they are thinking.."
Suddenly Samara felt caught off guard. Her scared eyes darted away from Father.
"Come sit with me daughter," he said. Samara had no choice but to sit down. She kept her gaze on the ground, tugging out the grass that grew beneath her.
"Speak freely," he spoke, his voice gentle. "Tell me what's on your mind."
Samara looked around to check if anyone was listening. "I had expected different things father," she spoke. "It has been more than a year since you found me. We have traveled throughout these lands, doing missions like these."
"Are you afraid daughter," he asked.
Samara considered his question. "Of what, this life? Of death?" She smirked. "I would never have come with you and spent all this time with the group if I had been. The Company gave me something I never had, and I owe you all for it." Samara had been born and brought up in the crowded sweltering city of Volantis. Her mother worked in one of the pillowhouses there, taking seed of strangers in exchange for money. One day the seed quickened and out came Samara, a girl with olive skin and silver streaked hair. Her mother had already put a price on her maidenhead the day she had flowered, claiming that the girl had the blood of Old Valyria. Her price had increased every time someone came forward to claim her with the money. Samara's father found her before some blotchy old man could seal the deal, and took her into the Company. She still remembered that day fondly. 'Samara the Virgin' became 'Samara the Soldier' that day.
"Then what is the matter," father asked.
Should I tell him? She had a lot to say. She wanted to rest and enjoy life for once instead of living in forests and going on missions. To eat good food and dance and sing songs, to sit and talk with Avi and tell him how she felt, to feel his copper skin under her fingers, kiss him and laugh at his jokes. But she certainly couldn't say all this to Ser Monford.
"I don't know what we are doing here father," she confessed. "It has been more than a year. We live in forests and villages. Do missions and send the spoils to the Company. When I started with you it felt glorious, but now.." she stopped there.
"We are doing our duty Samara," Father replied.
"We are rebels father," she said. "What is the duty of a rebel anyway?"
Father took his time in responding. "To be the harbinger of change," he proclaimed, "or die and become its foundation. You do remember what I told you, what happened to us twenty years ago?"
"I do," she replied. Death of the King. Slaughter at the God's Eye lake, Samara parroted in her mind.
"We are fighting for the whole world, not any Lord or Lady, we fight to fulfil our hopes of twenty-five years. The world needs us. And now we have the chance, the best chance we will ever have." Father paused. "Do not worry daughter. I know why these thoughts are coming to your mind. Tonight everything will become clear. All will be revealed tonight."
Her eyes widened. "You mean?"
Suddenly Father smiled. "Yes, my sweet."
XX
"That should do fine," Ryger pointed at some goats quenching their thirst by the river, mere silhouettes against the twilight surroundings. "You people set up everything. I will get the supper."
"Yeah you do that," Hal grinned. "I'll be watching from here."
The sun had already disappeared in the west by the time they reached the Bite, the river flowing midway between Pentos and Myr. They'd spend the night here, sleeping around the fire while one of them would stand guard. Rolly was to be the first one awake. "No funny business," Davos had told the boy. "If I hear from the woman that you tried bothering her, then you and I will have all sorts of trouble."
"No need Ser Davos," Betha had said. She set her gaze on Rolly, the gaze that had captivated Davos, but this time sharper and malicious. "He will behave. Even he knows it." The boy gulped and nodded fiercely.
Davos and the others moved to tether their animals to two guava trees, while Ryger tiptoed towards the goats. The spear he threw missed splendidly and splashed loudly into the water. The scared goats bolted away and Ryger ran after them cursing; and Hal boomed with laughter. The sellswords said something amongst themselves in their language, and then one of them went after Ryger to help him.
They found a nice spot to sit under the two guava trees. Before long they had the fire as well, beating away the cold and darkness. Up in the sky a full moon was looking down on them, but Davos could hardly see much beyond the crackling fire. But he knew there were dense woods behind him, and there was a river nearby deep enough to drown men. Betha rubbed her palms and pointed them at the crackling fire, her eyes looking into the flames.
"When will he be back, that Ryger fellow," Rolly asked.
"Who knows. I wonder if he even caught that goat," Hal replied rubbing his belly. "I am hungry."
"My friend will help," One of the sellswords said in broken tongue. "He will come, with the...animal."
"We should look for fish," Tom insisted, "the river has a lot, I saw it three days ago."
"Fishing in the dark," Hal laughed. "Good luck with that. More like you'll slip and feed those bloody fish."
Tom bristled. "I'll show you old man." He stood up and scampered away.
"I won't come save you boy. Come sit your ass down," Hal called back, but Tom didn't return.
"Let him be," Davos said, amused by the whole thing. "Who knows he might catch some. Why don't you go help your friend," he urged Rolly, but he shook their head and stayed put.
Soon enough they heard Ryger's humming from afar. "Would you look at him," Davos said as the youth came into view with the dead goat slung on his back. "So proud on catching a goat. As if he is the Sword of the Morning himself after killing the Smiling knight."
"You should show some appreciation Davos," Ryger called as he put down the goat in front of them. "I saved your sorry belly from going empty this night."
"And mine too," Betha replied. "On behalf of us all I thank you."
"Why thank you m'lady," said Ryger. "What kind of a name is that anyway, Sword of the Morning? Sounds like something I'd call my cock when I wake up."
Tom returned to them with two fish. "See what I told you old man," he smirked. "I caught two."
Davos examined the fish. "These two have been dead for hours," he said. "Did you beat them against a rock too?"
"No," Tom said defiantly. Clearly he was a bad liar.
"Don't try to fool us boy. Go throw them away, or eat them yourself if you want to die tomorrow."
They skinned the goat and put if over the fire. As it roasted the talk began. The sellswords didn't talk but only listened intently.
"The Bravosi are getting fatter everyday," Hal said loudly. "Never had known those uptight oiled bastards to love fun this much. One day they want this, other day that. I am not complaining, it is good business. But still, this is too much."
"Don't blame the poor Bravosi," Ryger smiled. "Their city is already depressing, wet and rainy always. A bit of fun won't hurt them."
"Why are you saying they are getting fatter," asked Rolly. "Your horses carry herbs, not wine and stuff?"
"You think this is the only thing I trade boy," Hal replied. "I have tens of men and boys under me. They all take things to Bravos these days. Me, I only travel when precious stuff is to be smuggled, like flowers from the Jade Sea, and the spirits that you two are have on you."
"Actually," Davos said. "You are forgetting one thing Hal. The Northern kingdom of Westeros is trading more now, and it does so mostly with Bravos. Perhaps half of what you are giving there will end up going across the Narrow Sea."
"Non sense," Hal proclaimed. "How can those freakish snow people want so much? Sure they are trading more, but it is still bloody cold up in White Harbor."
"I travelled to White Harbor before the winter. All sorts of people are moving there, even some from Lys and the Summer Islands," Davos replied. "Surely that'd mean more things going there, even things like the herbs that you carry. Where there is an increase in trade, there's also increase in smuggling."
"There lies the problem," Betha said, her eyes still gazing into the flame. "What those people did in the North didn't solve the problem, but only aggravated it."
"What do you mean woman," Hal asked.
"Never you mind good man," she replied.
"Enough with this dour talk," Ryger declared cheerfully as he leaned forward to turn the goat. "Let's sing a song shall we."
"What are you nine," Davos scoffed.
"What are you ninety," Ryger threw back. "Everyone should sing once in a while, or you will grow old faster. Actually, same thing applies to one other thing as well."
"Fucking you mean," Hal said.
"Can't slip one past you my friend," Ryger replied. The two boys laughed loudly. Betha was still gazing into the fire. The hungry look in her eyes disturbed Davos.
Ryger started singing. 'Bear and the Maiden Fair' came first. Everyone except Davos was Essosi and so had no idea about the lyrics so they kept quiet. Davos too chose to listen. Ryger did have a nice voice. Betha was still looking in the flames which Davos found queer.
'The Queen took off her sandal, the King took off his Crown' came next, and Davos joined in this time. After that when they finished 'the Dornishman's wife' together Ryger got up swaying and kissed Davos on the cheek. Everyone hooted in cheers, and Davos laughed. The two boys had careless smiles on their faces, and looking at them removed the worst suspicions Davos had about the two. They are only boys, he thought, lecherous boys, but boys nevertheless. He glanced at Betha, and all of a sudden his stomach dropped.
She was no longer looking in the fire. Instead her eyes, her hateful bloodshot eyes, were trained at Davos, as she glared at him without any of her previous warmth.
"Something wrong m'lady," he asked, while Hal asked Ryger for another song.
Her gaze turned normal in a heartbeat. "Nothing Ser Davos," she replied, and looked away.
Ryger's enthusiasm was only growing. He began singing 'The Seasons of my love', while Hal took over the duty of turning the goat from him. After that the songs became more somber, the 'Song of the Seven' followed 'Alyssane' and 'Fallen Leaves'. By the time he was done with them the goat had started smelling nice and tasty.
"Alright, so this song, it is new. And it is very sad," Ryger said. "Listen well, my fellows." He cleared his throat and began
High in the Halls, of the Kings who are gone,
Jenny will dance with her Ghosts.
The ones she had lost, and the ones she had found,
And the ones who loved her the most.
Ryger was in the wrong business, that much was sure. He was a fantastic singer. And the song indeed was new. Everyone was listening to him, even Betha.
The ones who'd been gone for so very long,
She couldn't remember their names.
They spun her around on the old damp stones,
Spun away all her sorrow and pains.
And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave...
"Join me everyone," Ryger shouted, and everyone sang along with him, proclaiming that this 'Jenny' never wanted to leave her halls.
"The goat is done," Davos observed. He looked around and found Betha missing.
"No it's not. I bet it is still raw inside," said Hal. "Gods I am hungry."
"Where is the woman," Davos asked.
"Let the lady relieve herself in peace you dolt," Ryger chuckled. He pulled out the wild fruits he had plucked on the road and placed them on a linen sheet. Then he turned the goat a couple more times.
"I think you better call your lady now Davos. It has been some time since she left, and I don't trust this area," said Hal, pointing towards the trees.
Davos stood up and walked away. Ryger started singing again, his song drifting towards him with the breeze.
The ones she had lost, and the ones she had found,
And the ones who loved her the most.
"Betha," Davos called into the moonlit woods. No reply came, only the whistling of wind. Davos walked into the woods a bit more, and spotted her form. She was sitting on a stump with her back to him. "Come back m'lady," he said. "The supper is almost done." Ryger's voice again drifted to them.
From winter to summer, and winter again
Till the walls did crumble and fall.
Betha got up and turned towards him. "Sure let's go," she said. Is she alright? Davos couldn't see her face. Ryger's voice came again.
And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave..
When they returned the goat was removed from the fire. Hal and one of the sellswords carved and distributed it amongst everyone. As they munched on the mutton Ryger started talking again.
"You know I have a beauty waiting for me back at Bitterbridge," he said somberly as the fire crackled. "Nights like these are when I miss her the most. Makes me sad."
"Tell me about her," Hal asked.
Ryger smiled a genuine smile. "Brown eyes, black hair that make the most beautiful curls. Her front teeth have a little space between them, but when she smiles it is the most beautiful thing in the world. And when she laughs! Gods! When she laughs she makes a very throaty sound that used to melt my heart. A hundred men were after her, but she chose me." He laughed, looking into the fire. "I told her I'll be back soon, with a lot of silver. Turns out I didn't make that much here. I wonder what she'll say."
"Don't worry about it my friend," Davos said. "It won't matter if she loves you."
"Who knows how much she likes me now," he said miserably. "Or how angry she'll be with me when I return. Turns out I was just another one of those losers who went East to make money. I had whores along the road in my stay here, but they were just whores. I bet she has already found a man by now, to keep her warm. I can't stay here longer, not anymore. I miss my home" He looked around. "Gods I would kill for some ale."
"What about you Davos," Hal asked. "Is the wife well?"
"She is well," Davos replied, remembering her. She must be feeding the boys right now, back at our house in Tyrosh. "She misses me less ever since we had our second boy. But still I often have bad dreams, that some man will come and steal her away while I am smuggling pearls for some yellow spicelord." He chuckled. "I brush them aside, obviously."
Of course Davos didn't have dreams like that. He just wanted to make Ryger feel better. But their leader Hal seemed to have taken some inspiration out of Davos's words. "See that is why I never got married," Hal said. "Whores are the best. They take your gold and show you the world. Nothing more nothing less." The two boys cackled.
"That is where you are wrong," out of nowhere Betha spoke. Her voice had become unusually sharp, and condescending. "Love is the most beautiful thing in the world. Every man and woman must experience it before their death, and it makes me feel sad for you."
"Love?" Hal laughed. "No need to feel sad for me woman. You don't know my life. My father beat my mother every day, and one day I killed him. You know what my mother did after that? She reported me to the Magister. I ran away before they could get me." Hal turned bitter as he remembered it all. He pushed more kindling into the fire. "Whatever love is or is not, it made my poor mother get thrashed and humped every day. And look at you woman. Your husband is dead. A sane woman would have moved on and found another man. Instead you are trudging dusty tracks with us, and why, to honor him? I say 'love' is shit which brings us all down."
What Hal said had certainly touched a nerve, for Betha's nostrils flared with anger. But then her face eased, and she chuckled. Her laugh was cold and disdainful, ringing with the ominous wind of the night. The fire hissed and crackled. "You know what separates us humans from the goat we are eating?"
Hal smirked. "Love?"
"Not love," she said. "Purpose. Without purpose men are nothing more than animals. Love helps us find that purpose, something to latch on to even when the whole world stops making sense."
Ryger whistled. "That's deep. Tell me about this man of yours m'lady. I'd love to know more about someone who inspires such loyalty."
"I suppose you all deserve to know," she said, mostly to herself. All eyes were on her, waiting for her to speak. Betha however was looking into the fire, hardly taking note of those around her. Davos recognized the look on her face, the look of someone nursing a deep hurt inside. She was hugging her knees, and her eyes were moist, but perhaps that was because of the glare from the fire. Davos leaned forward for a better listen.
"I remember the last time he spoke to me," she spoke, and the wind whispered by. "The whole world had turned against him. Everything he had tried to do had been ruined, and all that was left was shattered dreams and unfulfilled desires. An ordinary man would have killed himself, but he smiled. He smiled, for us! 'We will get through this,' he said. 'We are destined to'. I wanted to help him, but what could I do really? I was...helpless."
Betha hung her head. It was a pitiful sight, but something about her voice made the hair on the back of Davos's neck rise up.
"No God had ever heard my prayer. Not the Seven, not the Old tree gods, not even Rhollor. But he heard me. Gods! He saved me! I was nothing before him," her voice twisted in anguish. "Even though he was married to his Queen I loved him. He gave my life meaning, how could I not love him for it." The fire hissed again with the wind, punctuating Betha's words.
"What he did for me," she spoke, "he wanted to do for everyone. He wasted away everything for it, his friends, family, his peace of mind. And they betrayed him. They killed him! I saw it happen. I wish I hadn't. It still keeps me awake at nights. The fire exploded my King's body...blown to bits. My King...gone..dead." ." She shuddered. Half her face was hidden in the shadow. Davos saw her tightly pressed lips, and the first of her tears streaming down her cheeks. His heart went out for her, but at the same time his stomach had become a bottomless pit.
"He suffered all that for the people," Betha spoke, her voice now getting angrier with every word. "And look what the people are doing now. They are singing about Jenny and her dance! What did that girl ever do for them?! How quickly they have forgotten the one who died for them, for all of them?"
Ryger seemed to have had enough. "What in seven hells are you rambling woman," he shouted in fear.
"Who was this man," Davos asked. "Who betrayed him?"
That made Betha look up, and Davos froze with fear when he saw her face. All humanity had left Betha. All that remained on her face was hatred, and vengeance.
"Demons," she replied.
Betha stood up suddenly and towered over a stupefied Hal. "So you see, you pathetic imbecile, what it all means to me? Do you see?! The flame that Aegon lit must keep burning bright, a Bright Fire! And I will make sure of that. I won't run to the North and find myself a 'new man'. I will fight for my old one."
And something impossible started happening, something that no sane man ever expects to see in his life. The amethyst on Betha's ring flashed, and Betha started changing. Her face was changing. Her skin was getting lighter. And her hair, Davos couldn't believe his eyes, her hair were turning...silver.
Betha turned towards the woods.
"Now!" Her voice was vengeful and vicious, but who was she calling? Before another thought could come in Davos's mind a black stiletto came flying from the woods behind and pierced into Ryger's neck. Someone screamed in horror, it wasn't Ryger for his own scream came in the form of a tortured gurgle, it wasn't Davos either for he was too shocked from the terrifying spectacle in front of him that had once been Ryger from Oldtown. Blood was everywhere, spurting out like water. Ryger stood up stumbling, blue eyes wide in shock, wheezing helplessly as he reached for his mangled throat. And then he stumbled and fell face first into the burning fire which hissed and came alive in a shower of sparks and splinters. And that was when Davos rose up shouting and cursing, backing away from the fire and the corpse in it. Hal pulled out his dirk and looked wildly into the dark woods, but the next moment an arrow punched into Hal's shoulder and then another in the gut. Hal fell backwards with a dull thud.
Armed men and women emerged from the woods, their gaze malevolent as the Stranger. "Take everything you want, just spare our lives," Rolly shouted frantically. His friend Tom was busy spilling out his recently ingested mutton. No reply came from the men and women. They just stood there sizing them up. And then they came, swords raised high. Davos and his companions were outnumbered, that much was certain. Davos slashed his dagger, but his assailant dodged and kicked him with disdain. Davos fell down and saw stars when his head banged hard against the ground. The intruders attacked those who were still standing. Davos's companions fought but were all outdone. The intruders butchered them like they were born for it. Tom fell down first with his entrails hanging out. Then a sellsword. Then another sellsword. Rolly died next. And finally the last sellsword, falling with his throat wide open.
Why am I still alive, Davos wondered through the daze in his head. That was when he saw a silver haired woman looming over him, a steel dagger clasped in her hand. Her haunting violet eyes were looking down at him in pity. With a sad face she stooped down, and plunged the dagger into Davos's chest.
He felt the wind being knocked out from his chest as he fell backwards. The pain was white and blinding, beyond anything he had ever felt. Blood burst out of his mouth, and he found it difficult to breathe.
"I am so so sorry, my knight." Her voice was familiar. Betha? He remembered her changing. She didn't look Myrish now. She looked...
"Tar..." Davos tried to say, but only more blood came out from his mouth in form of ragged coughs.
"It was never meant to be this way. You were never meant to be killed. You are a good man, I meant what I said. The others, they were all murderers, thieves, rapers, sinners; even the one with the lady love. But not you," she shook her head. "I had seen you in the flames some time ago you know, feeding onions to the starving. But tonight when we sat around the fire I saw the whole picture. It is queer what and when the flames show us." She wiped the sweat from Davos's face and he coughed out more blood. "You were helping them. Your intentions were good, but the results...who'd have thought that some harmless onions could do so much damage. I couldn't risk it Ser Davos. You had to die, there was no way around that."
"I promise you, on my honor," she spoke, "that I will look after your family. Your wife and boys will live a happy life, away from all this mess. That is the least I can do."
I am innocent, Davos wanted to say, but no voice came out. No breathe came in.
The silvered haired Betha closed her eyes in mourning. "I know you are innocent," she said. "I feel great pain because of your passing."
"But you know what," she opened her eyes. "I am grateful for the pain. It proves that I am not dead inside." Her macabre smile was as honest as it could be. "It proves, that he is still alive in me."
He saw the dagger rising again. Forgive me Marya, he remembered his wife and sons. The dagger came down, and Davos saw no more.
XX
Samara watched as the Lady finished off the last robber with a quick thrust to the heart. Then she rose, and turned towards them. So this is Lady Rhaenyra. She is...breathtaking. Sweat glistened above her brow, and her long silver hair were tussled from the wind. But her eyes, they were burning, burning with resolve, with faith, with...hope.
"Take care of the bodies, see to it that they are buried or burnt with respect," the Lady spoke, her voice ten times more inspiring than Samara's father. "Everything we need is in those sacks beside their animals, and it needs to go to Pentos by the morning. Our scholars will know what to do with the herbs and the spirits."
"Yes, my lady," they all replied.
"We will have to travel at night for this," the Lady spoke on. "It will be tiring, but remember we are short on time. We have to finish our work before the Prince leaves for his tourney, and the rest after everything will be even sweeter."
The Lady smiled, and her voice softened. "You all have done well. I am proud of you. No salted beef today! There's fresh meat for us." Her eyes flickered towards Samara and gave her a knowing glance, much to the young soldier's astonishment.
The Lady's violet eyes found Father. "Ser Monford, I want to have a word with you, in a while," she spoke, and finally walked away towards the tethered animals. Karl, Qhuogo, and some others followed to inspect the spoils with her, while the remaining started lifting and robbing the dead bodies. But Samara didn't move. She couldn't. She stood grounded to the spot, her mind still processing what had just happened.
Samara felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find Father smiling at her, the reflection of the burning fire dancing in his pupils. "Remember this well daughter," he spoke. "Whenever you doubt our purpose. Whenever your resolve weakens. All you need to do is remember her. Remember her face, and the fire that burns inside her, inside all of the Company. Remember it, and you will never lose your path, my sweet."
Samara heeded Father's words. She looked at Lady Rhaenyra. The Lady was instructing Qhuogo the Fierce about the spoils in his own horselord language, and he was listening to her like a trained pup. The same hope and resolve was still shining in her eyes, and suddenly Samara's mind felt anchored, anchored to the Lady and her eyes.
She nodded. It all made sense to her now. "Yes father," she said, resolutely.