The Dragon Goes South
The Winter Town Crew and the Little Birds refrained from questions until he finished speaking. On the faces in the Great Hall, there were looks of unease, concern and some fear but no real surprise. The children in the library knew Jon's interest in plague and pestilence. In King's Landing, the Little Birds traded secrets and whispers for coins and food. Those skills, beaten into them by hunger and suffering, had not disappeared at Winterfell.
"No one should feel obliged to come. Going South will be dangerous. First, there is the plague. We will take precautions but it is a deadly disease. Then, there are the Lannisters. I believe Ser Garlan will protect us but I cannot speak for all the Reachmen. Those are the known threats. There may be other perils lurking. Lord Mooton is a traitor, and the Iron Throne may have other spies. Tywin Lannister could use gold to buy more Boltons and Freys." Jon said.
In the harsh light of the pale morning sun, the name day celebration yesterday seemed long ago. The Great Hall was less crowded. Chett and Gerion had gathered the young boys and girls, but there were few other smallfolk. Arya stood by Jon's side, and so did Sandor Clegane and Brienne of Tarth. Balerion hid in the shadows, yellow eyes sweeping about the room.
"My Lord, do we know anything more today? Did the books yield anything of value?" Chett asked.
"The library at Winterfell is not complete. Only a few scrolls date before Aegon's Conquest, and those do a poor job describing disease. I believe the first known outbreak of the plague was in the Valyrian Freehold. A decade before the Doom, there are reports of an epidemic that caused buboes, swellings in the thighs, neck, armpits and groin that turned black before death." Jon said.
"How did the Valyrians deal with the plague?" A voice cried out in the back.
"They died. In the capital, two men out of five passed away. The plague lasted nine years."
"But, milord, if Valyria could not find a cure, how can we?" Denys asked.
Even four hundred years later, the achievements of the Freehold remained unmatched. It was not just their dragons. The Valyrians were strong in blood magic, the dark arts, and building with stone and fire. The dragon roads that crisscrossed Essos lasted long after the Doom, as did the castle Dragonstone.
"We may not succeed. No maester or healer has found a cure for the plague. But that does mean we cannot. Someone has to be first. Why not us? Why not now? The cure is out there. It merely has not been found. We have to uncover the mysteries of the human body and the plague."
"But milord, should we dare to do such a thing?" Arthur, a scruffy little bird, asked.
"What do you mean?" Jon asked.
"The plague is a divine punishment, sent down for the sins of the Crown. For the crimes of Joffrey the Ill-born, the son of the Kingslayer and his sister. Would the gods be angered if we found a cure?"
Another boy from the Riverlands spoke up. "The Mother is merciful and the Father is just. The Seven may strike at Joffrey, but they would not send the plague to smite us."
"Perhaps the Faith of the Seven has little sway where the old gods reign. They might send a plague to King's Landing but not to Winterfell." Arthur, the little bird, said.
Jon held up a hand to end the debate. "I have read of many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. But the plague does not just claim the wicked. Young boys and girls die. Old men and women. What god would scorn us for saving those in need? If a god rejects people for helping others, then that is not a god I would follow."
"My Lord, will the Seven bless your efforts?" a voice called out from the crowd.
Jon shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know nor I do not care. I intend to cure the plague. The gods can do what they wish. But we will fight to save lives." He looked over the room. "Who wants to come?"
Many hands in the room went up. Jon expected the WinterTown boys to volunteer. But the Little Birds also stepped forward, as did Beric and Thoros. Edric Dayne raised his arm, and a face that he had not expected - a curious Asha Greyjoy flanked by Brienne of Tarth.
Jon sighed. "Thank you for the interest but all of you can't come. We only have one ship. And many of you have duties up North to help House Stark with the farms, forges, fields, and mills. I will decide who goes. We leave this morning for White Harbour."
The last time she left Winterfell two years ago, Arya piled all of her clothing - gowns, skirts, tunics, cloaks, smallclothes and girdles - into a great ironwood chest. The chest was larger than she was. She remembered fondly that Nymeria, then only a pup, helped her pack by fetching items with her jaws. This time, she wore a leather doublet and trousers in grey and brown. Her only other set of clothes fit into a saddle bag with the light brigandine and weapons. Nymeria was far too large now to retrieve wisps of silk or linen.
Arya stood with the others at the South Gate, watching the loading of the wagons. A squire's responsibility was to saddle horses, carry the knight's flag into battle, and take care of armor and weapons. Jon did not have much need for any of that. His garron was docile, even next to Ghost. Her brother had a banner for war but they would not bring that South. Jon wore boiled leather, and carried a plain longsword. Chett, Gerry and the rest of the Winter Town Crew took charge of the equipment. Crates were filled with all sorts of tools, jars, flasks, crucibles, strainers and filters. Fragile utensils, glass sheets, metals, rocks, and sealed beakers were swathed in sheep skin. Two young boys struggled with a large box.
"Why don't you help, Clegane?" Arya said.
"I am a guard, not a porter." The Hound scoffed, swigging from a large flask. "My only job is to keep your crazy brother alive."
"Jon Snow is Azor Ahai reborn. The Lord of Light will not let him die." Thoros of Myr insisted.
"He let that fucker die. Four or five times." Clegane pointed at Beric Dondarrion.
The Lightning Lord ignored the words, his one good eye fixed on the Library Tower. A frayed brown headband covered the missing right eye, where he had been stabbed by the Mountain's dirk.
"Lord Beric serves the Lord of Light for a reason. As do we all. I was a failed, drunk priest but the Lord of Light has woken my heart and given me powers to bring Beric back. We are part of something larger than ourselves." Thoros said.
"I don't care about your stupid Fire God. I am here to protect Snow's back. I can do a better job than you cunts in the Brotherhood. Dying and returning to life is a shitty way to go."
Sandor Clegane was a mean brute but no one doubted his skill at fighting. Arya was glad that the Hound would be guarding her brother. She worried about Jon's safety down South. She had seen enough of Joffrey and Tywin to know that the Lannisters were hungry for revenge. Arya did not trust the Tyrells either. Owen might be a friend but one Fossoway did not speak for the entire Reach. Would the roses want revenge for the God's Eye or the Wildfire Wedding?
"Clegane, why are you even heading South? We swore our swords to Jon Snow but you did not. The Starks would be happy to give you gold or even a bit of land for your service at the Twins. You are not the type to risk the plague to heal others." Beric said.
"First time I saw Snow, he chopped off my brother's hand, foot and head. That was after Snow burnt Gregor alive and set the Red Keep on fire."
"So you serve him because of your brother's death?" Thoros asked.
An ugly smile crossed Sandor's face. "Part of the reason. But the other is that Snow is a killer. A very good one. The world is built by killers. Robert Baratheon. Tywin Lannister. I want to see the world that Snow builds. I want to see him tear things down and build them back again."
"The Lannisters will be after you as well." Arya warned. "Joffrey will be upset that you broke your oath as a white cloak."
"He can try to take my head. I am not afraid of Lannister knights. Sparred with enough of those fuckers. Living is hard. Dying is easy. Well except for Dondarrion. That fucker can't even die."
Clegane's remarks were interrupted by the approach of her brothers along with Ghost and Nymeria. Jon gently placed Balerion onto a wagon. The black cat sniffed and found a warm place between several furs. "We are ready to leave. A boat is waiting for us on the White Knife."
"I am coming with you to White Harbor." Robb said. "I wish to speak to the Manderlys anyway. Sansa will be the Lady of Winterfell in my absence. You should take more guards, Jon."
"I don't need that many, Robb. Better for us to be fewer and mobile. If the Tyrells cannot protect us from Lord Tywin, a dozen more men won't help."
Her brothers had clearly been arguing over that issue. Before Arya could offer any thoughts, a bewildered Brienne of Tarth called out. "I tried to stop her, Lord Stark. But she wouldn't listen."
Asha Greyjoy had been on her best behavior the past few weeks. The Ironborn woman was allowed to roam the inner keep with only a thin pair of chains on her slender arms. "Snow, I want to come South with you."
"You are a prisoner of the North, Lady Asha." Robb said.
"I am a captain, not a lady. You said that if my Ironborn crew built ships for the Northern fleet, you would consider freeing them."
"I said I might free them. I did not say you would be freed." Robb replied.
"The fleet is not finished. Your crews have done good work, but completing the ships will take another moon or two." Jon said.
The Greyjoy certainly did not lack confidence. "I want to sail one of these copper bottomed ships to the ends of the world, to Essos and beyond. I was my father's most trusted captain. I can take you South and show you that I am the best man you have in the fleet."
"I am not going very far. And you would be the best woman, not man, in the fleet." Jon said.
"If my brother needs to sail to far away shores, I would consider your release. But how do we know that you will be loyal?" Robb asked.
Asha pointed boldly at the former Brotherhood men and the Hound. "How do you know they will?"
"We swore an oath." Lord Beric said.
Asha waved her hand dismissively. "I can do that too. I can be as faithful as any bandit from the Riverlands or turncloak from the Lannisters."
"Thank you for the offer, Lady Asha. For this trip, I don't want an Ironborn captain. I just need to go South." Jon mounted his horse to depart the castle. Arya and Robb rode at his side, and Brienne and Clegane followed, guarding their backs. Asha smiled as she walked back into the castle.
The letter burned in the fireplace, the ashes scattered so that nothing legible remained. Margaery had read the message silently. It was short and to the point, enumerating where, when and what was needed. Snow wanted the castle cleared and House Mooton arrested before his arrival.
"Well, at least he isn't completely mad. Maidenpool is a better choice than King's Landing. No one wants to see Snow at the Red Keep again." Olenna said.
"Jon should arrive in less than a fortnight. If he left Winterfell with the raven, he would be halfway to White Harbour now. The winds are good along the Narrow Sea and the Bay of Crabs." Owen said.
"My men are ready. Tyrell guards, Fossoway knights, House Crane and Ambrose archers. Oakheart spears and lances. The Hightowers are willing to help. Ser Baelor thinks highly of Jon Snow. He will move his men east to reinforce us." Garlan said.
"Maester Lomys has a carriage ready for Leonette. There are also a few acolytes at Tumbler's Falls and Bitterbridge who may be useful. I have written to them."
"But not about Snow?" Olenna asked sharply.
"Of course not, my lady." Owen replied. "I only mentioned that the Reachmen in the Crownlands may need assistance. But after Garlan secures Maidenpool, I will call for healers to come."
"Ser Baelor knows and Lord Fossoway. Everyone else is in the dark. The knights only know that they must be armed and ready. These are our most loyal bannermen. They may be surprised when Snow appears but they will follow my commands." Garlan said.
"Good." Olenna said. "I am coming with you to Maidenpool."
"Grandmother!" Garlan said.
The Queen of Thorns shed any pretense of weakness or frailty. "Garlan, you are good at whacking things with a sword. But you are not in a clear state of mind to deal with the North. Your wife's fate weighs too much upon you. I will negotiate with Snow. Better me than the Lord Oaf of Highgarden."
"But, Lady Olenna... What is there to negotiate? Jon is paying back a favor. After this, we are even." Owen said.
"No one is truly even, child. The game never ends. I need to know more about his character and understand his motives. The young wolves have caused a great deal of trouble for the Iron Throne. There are no Seven Kingdoms without Winterfell."
"Grandmother, he travels here as my guest. I will not see him harmed." Garlan said.
"Jon is not complex. He says what he means and he does what he says. And he does not speak for the wolves. Robb rules the North. Jon will come South, cure the plague, and leave." Owen said.
"Not before I meet him." Olenna dismissed Garlan and Owen. She turned to her granddaughter. "You are not surprised that I am leaving."
Margaery shook her head. Her grandmother did not like her schemes to be disrupted. Even though no harm had come to them, the Tyrells had been taken by surprise by the Wildfire Wedding. But that was nothing compared to the humiliation suffered by the Iron Throne. Joffrey still raged over the insult and how his Lord Hand had failed him. "I would be curious too. A man who can cure the plague would be a better ally than an enemy."
"And you know how to play your part?"
"I will be greatly surprised. I knew nothing about this. Garlan was upset over his wife's illness but I never expected him to do something so rash. My affections for Joffrey are unchanged and House Tyrell remains a leal servant to the Iron Throne."
"Cersei will suspect you. But men always think women are foolish, and incapable of schemes and bold decisions. You have not told your cousins?"
"No, Grandmother. Alla and Megga hide in their room, playing games like Come Into My Castle. Elinor complains that Alyn might have to leave King's Landing. He has not told her why."
"Better that they don't know. Their surprise will help your pretense. The cat will be out of the bag once Snow lands. It will be a real cock-up." Olenna sipped the tea. "Our spy has reported something. Tywin Lannister may have caught the plague."
"How do you know?"
"There are a few rooms in the Holdfast, guarded heavily by red cloaks. A maester has been seen entering and exiting. Genna Lannister stays close by, and the Kingslayer and his uncle Kevan are among the visitors. Who else could it be but Tywin?"
"But you don't know if it is the plague?"
"This whole wretched city suffers from the plague. No, we don't know, but it has been many days since the Small Council has met. Tywin would not shirk his duties unless he was quite ill."
"If he dies, who becomes Hand of the King?" Margaery asked.
Olenna set down the cup. "Sweetling, that is a very good question."
The Red Witch had corrupted them all. Melisandre proclaimed with great certainty that Stannis Baratheon was Azor Ahai reborn, destined to drive back the darkness. Despite Maester Cressen's warning against false prophecies, the tidings had been most welcome. Davos admitted that he too had been swayed. Surely, the prince that was promised would become king. But Stannis seemed closer to being the King of grumpkins and snarks than the Iron Throne.
The red witch was strong in magic. It was more than smoke, powders and the tricks of charlatans. She saw visions in flames. She birthed shadows out of darkness. She quaffed a goblet of wine laced with the Strangler and smile. Cressen was not so lucky. The maester had tried to poison Melisandre after she burned criminals in a bonfire of the Seven. Cressen died after a small sip of the cup.
Stannis discovered to his bitter disappointment that spells and second sight led to no victories. No magic could create gold to hire sellswords. A prophecy that he was Azor Ahai mattered less than Robb Stark's declaration that the last Baratheon was a Kinslayer. Wars were won with gold, blood, steel and dragons. Stannis had very little of the first three and none of the fourth. Melisandre had not woken dragons out of stone. Davis prayed that she never would.
On the deck of the Bountiful Harvest, Davos clutched the small banner depicting an onion on black sails drifting on a grey sea. Shireen handed him the embroidered cloth a week ago, saying that the Hand of the King must carry his own sigil. Shireen was the last best hope for House Baratheon. She was a sweet girl - gentle, kind and clever. If the Gods were good, one day she would be queen.
But until then, Davos swore he would keep her safe. The red witch hungered for king's blood to power her vile sorcery. There were only three candidates on Dragonstone. Stannis, Edric Storm, and Shireen. Davos shuddered. There were no limits to what Melisandre would do for the Red God.
The whitewashed stone walls of White Harbor rose before them. The city was strongly fortified with thirty foot towers every hundred yards on the wall dividing the inner and outer harbor. There were no seals resting on Seal Rock. Instead, he saw dozens of scorpions and even more crossbowmen hiding behind merlons and arrow slits. The Bountiful Harvest stopped, far short of the city wall.
"Why are you not going further?" Davos asked.
The captain spat into the clear cold water. "The plague. All non-Northern ships are banned from the inner harbor."
"But no one onboard is ill."
"Doesn't matter. Rules are rules. We are allowed to unload cargo at the jetty wall but nothing more,"
Davos saw the white merman banner hanging on the walls of New Castle, next to the domed roof of a large sept, surmounted by tall statues of the Seven. He needed to enter White Harbor. Twenty years ago, he would have smuggled himself into the city. But now, he was the envoy for the king. "Announce to the Manderlys my name, and tell them I am on a mission for King Stannis."
"Are you sure, Ser? The Baratheons are not well-liked here. The North thinks poorly of both Stannis and Joffrey. Winterfell wants nothing to do with the South." the captain said.
"The Starks will not harm me. I came as a messenger under a banner of peace." Davos said. But the Starks didn't come. A squadron of watchmen led by a knight with a mermaid helm threw Davos into an ancient jail. The cell was large and well equipped with a table, a hearth and a privy. But nearby, there were torture chambers, dark oubliettes, and pits filled with stakes. Davos sat down and waited calmly for his fate.
When he was younger, Tyrion enjoyed reading histories, curled up in one of the many caverns under the Rock. Besides dragons, his favorite stories were about the Rogares, the bold family of Lyseni bankers that profited by choosing the winning side in the Dance of the Dragons. Lysandro the Magnificent married his daughter Larra to a captive Prince Viserys and his brother Drazenko to the Princess of Dorne, entangling House Rogare in the political plots of the Seven Kingdoms. Lysandro, his nine children, and sixteen bastards made a lush tapestry of swashbuckling tales of rogues, scoundrels, and damsels in danger. But unlike the Rogares, the Iron Bank was devoid of any sense of romance or adventure.
The room was exceedingly hot. King's Landing was warm in autumn but the representative of the Iron Bank also sat between two huge fires, the dark eyes showing no discomfort from the great heat. The Braavosi even wore a brimless three tiered hat of purple felt, matching the purple robes trimmed with fur. The man was tall, thin and gaunt with no swagger. Unlike the two colorful bravos staring at Bronn, Tycho Nesteros did not strut or boast.
"I am sorry for the loss of your colleague." Tyrion began.
"We who serve the Iron Bank face death as often as you who serve the Iron Throne. Noho Dimittis may have contracted the plague but the Iron Bank will see to the comfort of his sons and wife."
"Noho may have died of the plague but there is more to this story. He was murdered." Tyrion said. "Petyr Baelish had him killed."
The Braavosi did not show any shock. "And how did Lord Baelish use the plague to kill our envoy?"
"New coins from the Royal Mint. The King's Scale sent a sample to me, and my squire Podrick died of the plague three days later. One of the stags scraped his arm. A similar delivery was made to your man, and he also died of the plague." Tyrion said.
"Poor Noho. He always liked to bite coins to test their purity. A foolish practice. But that is not proof. What evidence shows that Baelish is the killer?"
"He tried to kill me!" Tyrion sputtered. "Baelish is a thief and a liar. His plague doctors are here to rob the dying, not heal anyone. "
"That may be true, but according to your tale, coins from the Royal Mint killed Noho. You were appointed the Master of Coin seven moons ago. The King's Scales, the King's Counters, and the Keeper of the Keys report to you. You could have sent out the poisoned coins."
"Why would I do that? My squire died."
The banker's face stayed cool and composed. "Perhaps this Podrick needed to be silenced. Or his death let you point the blame at Lord Baelish. Stranger things have happened than men killing their own squires. After the new stags were struck, the plague broke out among the workers at the Royal Mint. Most are dead, including Gylbert Waters, the man who sent the coins."
"That is the work of Baelish. He is covering his tracks." Tyrion realized his error as soon as he spoke the words. Unfortunately, the Braavosi also recognized the mistake.
"What tracks? What is Lord Baelish attempting to conceal?" Tycho Nestoris asked. "I will ask the question in a better way. You told me how Baelish killed Noho. But why did he kill him?"
Tyrion gulped. There was no goblet of Arbor Gold or Dornish Red to play for a delay. The man from Braavos did not care for wine. "Perhaps they had their differences. Or Noho thought Baelish a thief."
Tycho Nestoris took out a small lacquered box, etched with the Titan of Braavos. He opened the lid, showing a stack of silver stags with the face of King Joffrey. "Baelish is a thief. A much larger one than we suspected. But when did you find out about his crimes?"
"I don't understand. What crimes?" Drips of sweat beaded down Tyrion's face.
"You know exactly what I mean. You would not have asked the Royal Mint to send a shipment of the new stags otherwise. But how did you find out? You did not know when you were appointed Master of Coin. If you did, you would have replaced Baelish's men."
"I can't tell you that. My loyalty is to the Iron Throne, not the Iron Bank." Tyrion retorted.
"But you do know the silver stags and gold dragons have been debased for many years. The Iron Bank does not like to be cheated." Tycho said.
"That was Baelish, not me. I have been aware of this less than a moon." Tyrion said.
"We will settle accounts with Petyr Baelish. As for the debts incurred by the Crown, they will be paid back properly in the correct weight of gold and silver. The Iron Bank will have its due." Tycho Nestoris stood up without smiling or shaking hands. The meeting was over.
After Tyrion left the small mansion, a slender handsome man with fine features emerged from the shadows cast by the fires. He was dressed in the style of the Free Cities and would have looked like a rich merchant, except for the odd hair - white on one side and red on the other. Neither color appeared quite real.
"Did you follow the conversation?" Tycho asked.
"A man hears." Jaqen H'ghar replied.
"Do you believe him? That Noho died because the silver stags were coated with the plague?"
"Merchants often bite coins. But who sent these coins, a man does not know. The Many Faced God does not judge right or wrong. He only needs a name."
"Petyr Baelish. For killing an envoy of the Iron Bank."
Jaqen nodded in acceptance. "This will take time. Baelish has not left the Red Keep in days. He sleeps in Maegor's Holdfast. He has at least four guards, perhaps even some of these plague doctors. And if the dwarf is right, he has killed many people in the past two weeks."
"But you will catch him." No Braavosi doubted the House of Black and White.
"Of course. Valar Morghulis." Jaqen disappeared back into the darkness.
Ned Stark had taught his children that every house sworn in the North had their strengths and shortcomings. The Mormonts were loyal but poor. The Boltons were powerful but cruel and sadistic. House Karstark had started as a cadet branch. That tied them closely to Winterfell but also fueled their presumption. Of all the Stark bannermen, Jon liked the Mormonts and the Manderlys the best. House Manderly had a silly but annoying flaw. They loved to eat.
"A feast to celebrate your visit!" Wyman smacked his lips. "Lamprey pie. Stuffed eels. Clam, Cod and crab chowder served in a freshly baked loaf of bread. Lamb roasted over a spit with mint and garlic. A pork pie, the size of a man's chest. And not a small man, either!"
Jon smiled at the lord and his two big boned sons. They were definitely not small men. Lady Leona, Ser Wylis's wife, was plump but she and her daughters were slim compared to the males of their family.
"Lord Manderly, I do not wish to impose on your stores." Robb said.
"It is no problem, My Lord. The harvests from Goldenfields have filled the larders. More storehouses are being built for the winter but there is plenty to eat." Wyman responded with enthusiasm.
"Lord Wyman, we are grateful to your family for the hospitality. But I must hurry south and my mission is secret. I do not wish to alert others of my presence." Jon said.
"And I need to return to Winterfell to Bran, Sansa and Rickon. Our stores may be in good shape but winter is coming. I want to make certain our new knights and lords are ready."
"I am sorry that you cannot stay." A disappointed Wyman said. "Wynafryd and Wylla will show you to the guest quarters at New Castle."
"I would like to see the plague victims, and any bodies. I also wish to speak to any healers who saw the sick" Jon said.
"Only a few fell ill in the city because we sealed the harbor early. They have been taken to the mother house near the sept." Wendel said.
Wyman nodded. "There is something else. A man arrived a few days ago, asking to speak to House Stark. We detained him in the Wolf Den but gave him a large and comfortable cell. I have met him before - a skilled smuggler. Ser Davos Seaworth. He claims to be Hand for Stannis Baratheon."
The Wolf Den was nothing like New Castle, the elegant and well designed seat of House Manderly. The ancient fortress had been raised by King Jon Stark to defend the White Knife from raiders and reavers. For a long time, the Wolf Den had a sinister reputation - captured several times by foreign invaders, and changing hands between many failed houses. That ended when the Starks granted the stronghold to the Manderlys, who had the foresight and the wealth to develop the lands around to become White Harbor.
Jon and Arya waited as Robb peered through a spyhole. The guards stood back respectfully, allowing the Starks some privacy. "I have seen this man before." Robb said, surprised.
"Where?" Jon asked.
"At the parley between the Baratheon brothers. Stannis had two followers at his side - the Red Woman and Davos. Ser Davos did not speak at all.'
"He could still be the Hand of the King." Arya said.
"But if he is, that raises another set of questions." Robb said. "Did Stannis send him to parley? And alone without any guards? What is so important that Davos would risk imprisonment? The North is not friends with Dragonstone. We have no desire to put Stannis on the throne."
"We don't need to wonder. Ask him directly." Jon said.
The door opened, revealing an ordinary looking man with a weathered face and salt and pepper hair. On the drab brown cloak, there was a silver clasp of a hand, and on the wood table, there was a banner of an onion sail. His brother stepped through boldly and Jon and Arya followed, but stayed in the shadows. "Ser Davos, I am Robb Stark. What business do you have in the North?"
"I am Hand of the King for Stannis Baratheon."
"We do not bend the knee to kinslayers in the North." Robb said.
"But surely, you do not follow Joffrey." Davos said.
"We don't bend the knee to Joffrey Waters either. Speak your business, Ser."
"The Red Woman, Melisandre, saw a vision of forces rising in the North. The Great Other, the enemy of her god R'hllor, is gaining strength. Stannis intends to unite the Realms against this threat. He plans to sail North to defend the Wall." Davos said.
"What forces?" Robb asked sharply.
"The Others. An army of the dead that brings the cold and night."
"Do you trust this Red Priestess?"
"Trust, no. But she has magical powers, and Stannis believes her. She has declared that he is Azor Ahai reborn, destined to drive back the darkness with Lightbringer." Davos said.
"Lightbringer? What's that?" Arya asked.
"A flaming sword, the Red Sword of Heroes. Melisandre bequeathed the blade to Stannis on Dragonstone." Davos said.
"Thoros of Myr had a flaming sword. It didn't help him much. And the true Lightbringer was not given. It was forged in a hundred days and a hundred nights, and Azor Ahai killed his wife to temper the blade. How could such a weapon just be handed over?" Jon said.
"The Red Woman thrust the blade through the breast of a Mother's Statue. The sword had jade green flames and shimmers yellow, red and white."
"If everyone could make a flaming sword by sticking it in a statue, we would have a lot more flaming swords.' Jon quipped.
"What does Stannis want with House Stark? I will not bend the knee." Robb said.
"Safe passage to the Wall." Davos said.
"If he wants to take the Black for killing Renly, he is welcome." Robb replied drily.
"He does not plan to join the Night's Watch. He wants to defend the Seven Kingdoms against the Others. And for that, he needs passage for his knights and men. And supplies at the Wall."
Jon wondered how many men Stannis actually had. The Night's Watch, with less than a thousand men and under two hundred horses, had difficulty feeding themselves. Even if the army at Dragonstone was small, Stannis would have a few thousand men. It was near impossible to forage at the Wall. "This doesn't make much sense."
"What do you mean?" Robb said.
"Stannis rebelled to seize the Iron Throne. Sailing two thousand miles north will not help him. He does not have enough troops to attack King's Landing. And he cannot feed himself in the North, without your help. It is a poor plan by a man who should be a better planner." Jon said.
"Melisandre says the true war is up North. That Stannis must unite the Seven Realms against the real threat of the dead." Davos said.
"How? Stannis does not unite anyone. He killed his brother instead. Who in the Seven Kingdoms will follow him? If a few thousand men could stop this army of the dead, then it is not much of a threat. And if the Great Others are some vast army, then Stannis will not be enough, flaming sword or not." Jon said.
"Ser Davos, you say that Stannis wants to unite the Realms. What has he done? He squatted at Dragonstone, burning statues of the Gods." Robb said.
"We have tried to advise him. Maester Cressen suggested sending a raven to the Vale, offering Shireen as a wife to Robert Arryn. Peace might be made with the Lannisters, to fight against the Others. Stannis even sought out the Iron Bank, to see if they would lend gold to hire sellswords."
"Joffrey will piss on your offers of peace." Robb said.
"And the Iron Bank lends where they can make money. Not to fight at the Wall." Jon said.
"If the army of the dead comes, they will not stop at the Wall. If the Long Night arrives, it is not important who sits on the Iron Throne. The only war that matters will be the one against the Great Other." Davos said.
"Stannis Baratheon will not win that. I will consider your request, Ser Davos. But until then, you will stay in the North." Robb said.
"As a prisoner." Davos said.
"Call it what you like. You will be treated better than you would at the Eyrie or the Red Keep."
The Wolf Wind was ready for departure, the last of the supplies loaded on the cog. Jon had seen the few plague victims at the mother house, and examined the body of a sailor who had just died. There was not much more to do, regarding the epidemic. They would leave in the dead of night, sailing past the merchant ships in the harbor.
"Have you decided on what to do?" Jon asked.
"I will meet with Stannis. I may not like him, but if a threat is coming, his troops will be useful. And the Red Woman may know more about the Others. I will keep Davos under guard so he will send a raven to Dragonstone only when I am ready." Robb said.
"This witch must be mad. An army of the dead." Wyman said.
"The witch has magic. That is certain. But whether she lies or deceives, who really knows. If there is a threat, I will know soon enough. If there isn't one, I will send Stannis back to Dragonstone. Southron armies do not fight well in the cold." Robb said.
"Lord Snow." Gerion approached. "We have gathered all we could from the septas and herbalists. I have lists of all those who caught the illness, the symptoms, and how many days they suffered."
"Pardon me but you look rather familiar. Are you from the Westerlands?" Theomore, the maester of New Castle, asked. He was a fat rose-cheeked man with a head of golden curls.
"I was born there. But I have lived in the Riverlands all my life." Gerion replied.
"And where are you sailing now?" The maester asked.
"We are going South. That is all you need to know." Jon said, dismissing the maester. Gerry joined the other Winter Town boys on the deck, as Maturin Manderly prepared to cast off.
"You are right to be wary of Theomore. Maesters are supposed to shed their loyalty when they don their chains, but Theomore was born a Lannister of Lannisport and claims some distant kinship with the Lannisters of Casterly Rock." Wyman said.
"Why do you have a maester that you do not trust?" Jon asked.
"Maesters are assigned to castles. We cannot even get rid of Theomore, even if we wished to. Who else would handle our ravens?" The fat lord replied.
Jon thought that was silly. There was no reason that only the Citadel should train scholars and healers. Half the Wintertown boys knew enough to earn a black iron link for ravenry. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Wyman."
"Good luck, Snow." Robb said, embracing his brother. "Come back safely, and make sure Arya returns with you!"
"The wolves will guard us." Arya said. Nymeria and Ghost prowled behind them. Balerion was already on the ship.
"Good luck, Stark. Take care of the North." Jon boarded the Wolf Wind.
The raven flew low under the clouds, under dark skies and intermittent rain, hugging the southern shore of the Bay of Crabs. The northern side of the bay was more crowded, with Gulltown and Wickenden in the Vale of Arryn. On the South, Crackclaw Point was full of hills and valleys, an inhospitable place covered by fog and thick trees and dotted with ruined moss covered castles. Before the Targaryens came, the men of Crackclaw Point had been quarrelsome and unruly, either battling would-be conquerors or feuding with each other. But in the Conquest, they surrendered quickly and honorably to Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys. This was a good land for dragons.
The settlements increased on the road to Maidenpool. The raven could see the pink stone walls now, through a thick patch of soldier pines. The castle sat on top of a hill, overlooking a busy harbour. Streams and springs flowed into the town, and the taverns and inns were busy with men and horses. The raven swooped closer. He saw shields adorned with two golden roses, the personal coat of arms of Garlan Tyrell. There were other sigils present - three green leaves of House Oakheart, the red and green apples of the Fossoways and the burning white watchtower of the Hightowers. Then he saw one more banner and smiled.
In the cabin of the Wolf Wind, Jon blinked, the irises of his eyes fading back to grey from the pale milk white. Ghost nuzzled against him, and Balerion guarded the door. He called out to his sister, practicing her water dance in the shadows. "Arya, gather the others."
The captain, the Hound, and a few of the Winter Town Boys entered the room. Arya shut the door, leaving Nymeria pacing outside. It was already a tight fit.
"The Tyrells have taken Maidenpool." Jon announced. No one questioned the declaration or asked how he knew. "When will the ship arrive at the docks?"
"If the winds are good, early tomorrow morning." The captain said.
The trip South had been without incident. The winds had been fair and the sea calm, with the waves flowing in the heading of the ship. That had saved a day. "Are the boxes ready?"
"Yes, my lord. Four. Do we need to make more?" Chett said.
"No. Tell everyone on board to get some food and rest. Things will be busier once we dock."
The other men left, led by Captain Maturin. Nymeria bounded in, plopping herself next to Ghost. The two dire wolves took up an enormous amount of space, much to the annoyance of Balerion. Arya hesitated on her way out.
"Are you sure that the Lannisters are not waiting at Maidenpool?"
"I warged into the raven. I saw Tyrell sigils in the inns and taverns."
His sister bit her lip. "We were supposed to go back to Winterfell in a ship - the Wind Witch. But after Father was arrested, I saw the galley at the wharf with Stark colors. But when I got closer, there were no guards from Winterfell. It was a trap set by Joffrey."
"Someone more clever than Joffrey thought of that ruse. Among the banners at Maidenpool, there was also a sun pierced by a spear."
"The Martells. What are they doing here?" Arya asked.
"I don't know. But after we gave them Amory Lorch and the Mountain's head, I doubt Oberyn and his daughters will hand us over to the Lannisters."
"But the Martells might have their own schemes. And the Tyrells too." Arya said.
"No doubt they do. But they are unlikely to kill us when we land or give us to the Iron Throne. Garlan needs us to cure his wife. Solve that, and then we can deal with anything else.' Jon said.
The sky was gray and overcast when the pink stone walls of Maidenpool came into view. Even with the plague and the presence of the Tyrells, life went on. They passed by fisherfolk casting nets from their leather coracles and smallfolk digging for clams. There were ships that boldly announced their presence with sigils painted on their sails - the kraken of the Greyjoys and the stags of the royal fleet. The Wolf Wind had no such aspirations. No eyes turned at an unmarked merchant ship.
This close, Jon had no need for ravens. The mist only partly obscured the pier and buildings on the waterfront. In a few hours, the sun would burn off the morning haze but the dim shapes of warriors and horses were easy to spot. The dire wolves sniffed the air and the guards made a wall around Jon and Arya. Balerion prowled about restlessly as Captain Maturin eased the cog into the dock with the stern rudder. Hawsers were thrown over the sides and sailors began to tie the ship down.
A middle aged man approached, his face ruddy from years outdoors. He wore no armor or shield, and carried a wax tablet, a dagger remaining in his belt. Several Tyrell guards followed in his wake. "Ahoy. What ship is this?"
"The Wolf Wind. We come from the North." The Manderly captain said.
"The North?" The man's eyes widened at the sight of two massive dire wolves on the deck.
Jon stepped forward, to the shock of the harbor master and the Reachmen. 'I am Jon Snow. Tell Ser Garlan that I have come."
Maidenpool was a busy and prosperous town, rivalling Duskendale as a center of trade. Ships did not come for the sweetwater bathhouse, made famous by a song of Florian and Jonquil. Merchants preferred the well maintained network of roads. Two roads led south, one directly to Duskendale and King's Landing, the other meandering about the coast of Crackclaw Point and down Blackwater Bay. The third road was the shortest, and allowed wagons and caravans to meet the kingsroad, east of Harrentown. There was a more prosaic reason the town was popular with sailors and seafarers. House Mooton turned a blind eye to smuggling.
Maidenpool had not seen much damage in the fighting. Lord Mooton's red salmon still flew above the castle on the hill, and the walls and gates were manned by guards, albeit men loyal to the roses. The Northern army never ranged this far east and the Lannisters extracted plunder and provisions but did not burn down the shops and homes. Neither did the Tyrells. Jon wondered how Garlan had taken the town. There were no streaks of dried reddish brown on the streets or tell-tale marks of arrows and fire on the walls. Probably subterfuge, Jon thought. That was how he would have done it, rather than a bloody siege.
Gawkers turned out to watch the unloading of the Wolf Wind. Chett and half of his crew stayed behind to make sure the barrels and crates were handled with care, shouting instructions to dockhands twice their size. Jon released Gerrion with the other half, particularly the quick and nimble little birds to scout the town. He sent the Lightning Lord, Thoros, and the Brotherhood men with them, although the Reachman vouched for their safety. Nymeria led Ghost into the hills to hunt, while Arya waited with him near the docks.
"Jon Snow." A voice cried loudly from a large pack of approaching men. The speaker for the group had a smile on his friendly square face and was flanked by knights with red and green apples.
"Owen Fossoway. How is your head?"
Owen rolled his eyes. "Fine. Luckily, my head is quite hard." He extended his right arm to introduce the others. "A few maesters from the Reach. Ballabar and Frenken. Herbalists and wood witches. Septas and midwives. And some others from the Citadel."
"Good to see you again, Jon." A handsome brown haired man said. He wore a silver pin with the Hightower.
"Alayn." Jon said surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I was at Tumbler's Falls with my cousins. The plague has struck many towns on the Rose Road. When Owen called for assistance, I got permission from my uncle to come."
"And I came from King's Landing." Alleras said, with a faint smile as she emerged from the crowd.
"Lord Snow." The gangly knight wore a sigil of red ants on a yellow field. "Ser Garlan is waiting for you. He is at the stone bathhouse with Lady Leonette."
"You look familiar, Ser. What is your name?"
The young man flushed. "Ser Alyn Ambrose. I was Garlan's squire at the God's Eye, and your captive after the battle until the Twins."
"What happened to House Mooton? When was Maidenpool taken?"
"The army arrived four days ago. Ser Garlan went ahead to Maidenpool with a small force of knights. When our main host appeared, we ensured that the gates were open. The town fell quickly. Ser Garlan threatened to batter down the castle and Lord William surrendered. He is locked up in a tower with his two sons to await your justice."
"What about the Lannisters? Or the Iron Throne?" Jon asked.
"The plague ravages King's Landing. Ser Garlan only told a few of his commanders of the destination. We have posted lookouts on the roads. If the Lannisters come, we will fight."
Jon wondered if it would come to open conflict. If the army arrived four days ago, that meant the Reachmen had marched as soon as the raven from Winterfell came. Jon had no doubt that whatever the state of King's Landing, the Lannisters would know of the departure of the Tyrell forces. Still, that was Garlan's problem. There wasn't much Jon could do about that.
The crowd parted for two enormous guards in gilded half helms and green cloaks edged in satin. Both men had the same face, strong jawed, blued eyed, and thick mustache. The seven footers towered over everyone, even the Hound and Brienne, and made room for a small wrinkled woman.
"What is taking so long? Why are you dawdling, Snow?"
"Lady Olenna. Ser Ambrose is telling me how Maidenpool was taken. I want to be certain the town is secure from the Lannisters."
"If we all catch the plague and die, our safety won't matter." The Queen of Thorns looked up at Jon and then cast a thoughtful gaze over the growing pile of boxes and crates. "Let's see it, Snow. How do you expect to cure Lady Leonette?"
"I don't know." Jon replied curtly. "That is my equipment."
Olenna's eyes turned chilly. "You don't know? You sailed a thousand miles, into enemy lands, and you don't know."
"Of course I don't know. This is the plague. It hasn't been cured before. If it had, you would have no need of me. I have thoughts and ideas but it is impossible to guarantee victory."
"Garlan says that you are very clever. I can't decide whether you are half mad or a fool."
"I did not come South to trade quips or bandy words, my lady. Do you want me to cure the plague? Then let me do so." Jon retorted. "Where is Ser Garlan?"
"I am here, Snow." The Tyrell knight came with a large group of retainers and nobles.
Jon saw many familiar faces, including Ser Baelor Hightower and the Red Viper. The crowd at the wharf had grown substantially, with smallfolk from the docks watching nervously. The Brotherhood men returned with the Little Birds and one of them handed Jon a few handwritten notes. Chett finished the unloading of the boat, and the Winter Town boys assembled close to their leader.
"I need three things to treat the disease. How many plague victims are there at Maidenpool?"
"Besides Lady Leonette, only a handful. Lord Mooton ordered that anyone without the plague be driven out of the town." Garlan answered.
"I need more patients to understand how to treat the disease. That will only happen if I see many people who are ill, and not just Leonette."
"Milord, there are sick children and women at Saltpans. Families seek refuge and healing at the Quiet Isle, and there are stories of outbreaks in the lands around Harrenhal." An old midwife said.
"Jon, there are plague victims at Tumbler's Falls but they may be too sick to transport easily. And such a trip could alert the Lannisters in King's Landing." Alayn Hightower said.
"Bring me as many sick people as you can. I need more cases." Jon turned to the maesters, septas, and acolytes. "How many patients have you seen? Who here has treated the plague?"
All the hands rose among the healers. "It is a terrible sight. In King's Landing, hundreds die every day. And that is just what we see. I have examined children who die and then their weeping mothers follow a few days later. Sometimes, the pestilence is so contagious that a man seems to catch it only by walking past a sick man on the streets. Other times, a dying husband does not spread it to his wife. Truthfully, we do not know and can do little of value." A pink round faced maester said.
"You can do something now. The WinterTown Crew will take down your words. For every man, woman, and child that died, I want to know where they became sick, what were the symptoms, how did they suffer, and if they spread it to their family and friends. I want an accurate record of when they caught the plague to their death." Jon said.
"That will be a great many people, and quite a lot of details to recall. It could take many hours, even days." a plump man with red hair said.
"What else do you have to do? You are healers, correct? You want to help cure the epidemic? Then give me a record of what has happened." Jon said brusquely. "I need one last thing. Find me a pig."
"A pig? What do you want with that, Snow?" Olenna asked.
"To kill it." Jon said.
The butcher handed over the freshly killed hog, paid for with six silver stags. With an axe, the Hound quartered the beast into four roughly equal pieces. Chett hung the carcass over the water, blood dripping down. Several boys shooed away buzzing flies, and the black shapes of fish could be seen, swimming under the red rain.
Jon took out four wooden boxes, each the size of a small chest for the valuables on ships. Each box was a rectangle with four walls and a removable lid. On the sides and the top, hundreds of sewing needle sized holes had been punched through, a lattice that allowed light and air, but not flies, to pass. He examined the insides carefully for any detritus. Satisfied, Jon nodded to the Winter Town boys. The quarters were placed in the four boxes, and rope tied around all sides.
"Where should they be hung?" The question was directed to the boys and girls who had roamed Maidenpool under the protection of Lord Beric and his men.
"Jonquil's Pool is an obvious choice. And Florian's Tower that overlooks the bathhouse. The sept in the castle is a possibility. And perhaps the harbour." Gerry said.
"What about the shops, milord? There is open space in the town center.." A boy said.
Jon considered for a moment, before shaking his head. "There is a small commons with grass but animals are kept there before the knacker slaughters them. The closest tavern is the Stinking Goose. That does not sound promising. The Fool's Gate would be better."
Groups of three or four boys picked up the now full boxes and carried them to their destinations in the town. Others boys and girls began to take out parchment and quills so that the recording of the cases could begin. Jon ignored the puzzled faces in the crowd. "Take me to Lady Leonette. I will answer questions later."
Something odd was in the winds and it was not the usual stench, or the sight of bodies left on the streets. Men dying in King's Landing was a normal occurrence. What was strange was the lassitude that had fallen over the city. Tyrion waited eagerly for the Iron Bank to strike. But Baelish still walked about the Red Keep with his constant smirk. The Lannisters watched for any sign of change to Lord Tywin's condition. As usual, his father did nothing to satisfy his children's desires, neither recovering nor getting worse. The city was quiet. The septons, the shopkeepers, the City Watch, the highborn - all of them were hiding, hoping the plague would pass.
"No trace." Bronn announced. "I rode west on the Gold Road until the bend in the Blackwater. Then, I went to Rosby and Duskendale. No one has seen them." The sellsword had just returned.
"Did you look South in the kingswood?" Tyrion asked.
"What the fook would the Tyrell army be doing there? Do you think the Knight of Pansies needs thousands of soldiers for hunting a stag or a boar?" Bronn said, annoyed
"Loras Tyrell is the Knight of Pansies, and still at the Red Keep, guarding my nephews. Garlan is more dangerous." The second son left with the greater part of the Reach forces over a week ago. If anyone knew where, they did not say. The loss of Varys had rendered the Iron Throne blind.
"Lord Tyrion." The maester who attended his father entered the room, his face flushed with concern.
"What is it, Beldon?" Tyrion thought for a moment that Lord Tywin had succumbed. Not so long ago, he would have cheered that outcome. But if Father died, the knives would come out. Sweet Joffrey would be much harder to control.
Beldon took an opened letter out of his robe. Tyrion raised an eyebrow at the roaring gold lion, rampant on a field of crimson. The message was meant only for the Lord of House Lannister.
"You are very bold. The last man who read my father's ravens without permission had his tongue torn out with hot pincers. He may still be alive in the dungeons of Casterly Rock."
"I didn't open it, my lord. The raven had been untouched for a week in your father's solar. I saw the maester from the Eyrie looking through the papers. Colemon ran away when I confronted him." Beldon squawked.
"Best forget anything about this." Tyrion said sternly.
He put aside his anger at Littlefinger's boldness to consider the note after Beldon and Bronn left. The raven hailed from the maester for House Manderly. Tyrion dimly remembered the man. A fat windbag, eager to flaunt his knowledge, and his father's spy in the North. Tyrion skimmed through the message: Robb Stark and Jon Snow seen investigating the plague, White Harbor relatively untouched. Snow planned a trip south but Theomore did not know why or where. There was a young boy with Snow who looked like a Lannister. Tyrion stopped reading. Looked like a Lannister. Golden hair and green eyes were rare, especially the North. Gerion. But where was Snow going? And Baelish's man had read this note. What did that mean?
A sharp rap on the door broke his train of thought. Tyrion palmed the letter as his brother walked through. "An urgent meeting. Cersei has news about the Reach."
Cersei's spy was not the lumpy nosed ginger haired Orton Merryweather but the Lord of Longtable's far prettier wife. Taena of Myr was an exotic beauty with olive skin, huge dark eyes, thick black hair, and sultry red lips. Tyrion was not contemplating her large teats or long legs. He wondered why she was the informant and not her husband. Was she really operating without Lord Orton's knowledge? Or was this a clever ploy to play both sides in the struggle for power between the roses and lions. The Myrish woman claimed that she only wished to serve Cersei, but Tyrion doubted that his sister could command such loyalty from a stranger.
"Your Grace, Lady Leonette fell ill from the plague. Ser Garlan was mad with worry so he asked Jon Snow to treat her. Garlan marched away from King's Landing with his men to meet Maester Snow." Lady Merryweather said in a seductive voice.
That explained the departure of the Reachmen. Could Snow really cure the plague? That would be shocking. But this also meant his son was coming South, into plague infested lands. Was Tysha with them? They would both be safer up North.
"Traitors. All of them!" Joffrey raved. "Where is Snow? I will make him beg for mercy before I chop off his head and mount it on the walls of the Red Keep."
"Your grace, I do not know. Garlan did not tell anyone before he left the city." Taena said.
Joffrey slammed his hand hard on the table, in fury. Cersei tried to calm him, but the boy king would not be soothed. "Where are the Tyrells? Seize them and put them to the question."
"Sweetling, we cannot jeopardize our alliance with the Reach. Arrest Garlan if you will …"
'No, Mother! I am the king! Find Lord Mace and throw him into the Black Cells. He will know where Snow went. Or else I will take his head." Joffrey yelled.
Tyrion was glad that the Tyrells were out of the Red Keep. Well, not Ser Loras. He was guarding Tommen. Arresting Loras would be just as bad as imprisoning Mace. The Knight of Flowers might be a third son, but he was famous for his chivalry and adored by his family. Loras was also an excellent swordsman. If accused of treason, he would demand trial by combat. That could turn into a true fiasco.
"History shows that the killing of a Lord Paramount is dangerous for the Iron Throne. Ned Stark's death cost our house dearly." Uncle Kevan said.
"Ned Stark was a traitor and a liar." Joffrey sneered.
"Whether he was or not, his life could have brought peace with the North. We don't have the men to fight the Reach." Kevan said bluntly. "If you seize Mace Tyrell, then Ser Garlan may march on King's Landing. It would not be hard for him to gather allies against us."
"There must be some way to track an army of five thousand men." Cersei said.
"There is." A smiling Petyr Baelish entered the chamber and bowed to Joffrey. "Your grace, I have discovered where your enemies are gathered."
"And how did you do that? Do you have spies among the Reach?" Tyrion asked.
"I have my ways. Men have needs, and soldiers are men. One of my whores joined the camp followers of the Tyrell army. Ser Garlan marched to Maidenpool a week ago. That is where you will find Snow."
Only a day had passed since the Wolf Wind had docked. In an ideal world, Jon would have waited several days. But circumstances were rarely ideal. He had examined Nymeria and Leonette. Time was running out for the two ladies, and especially Leonette's child. The rest of the plague victims in Maidenpool were fading even more quickly. One expired yesterday evening and a few others would not survive much longer.
"When are you going to do something, Snow?" Olenna asked. The lady was not known for her patience.
The Queen of Thorns sat at the entrance of the stone bathhouse. The septas were looking after Leonette just as the Sand Snakes took care of Nymeria inside. Sandor Clegane took down the wooden box, hanging from a tree branch over a freshwater stream. Chett and Gerion came back with the chest from the tower. A few other boys wheeled the remaining two boxes.
"We are ready now." Jon knelt down and began to cut off the rope.
"Ready for what? Are you planning to roast the pig for a feast?" Olenna said.
He ignored the jape. The ropes were untangled and the lids opened. A clean woolen blanket was placed down on the ground, and Jon scratched letters on the ground, marking the location where each chest had been sequestered. As the Winter Town boys crowded about, others also began to gather - Alleras and her father, Ser Garlan and Baelor, Owen and the other maesters.
"What are you doing, Snow?" The Red Viper asked.
"Determining where to put the hospital." Jon said.
"Hospital? What is that?" Garlan asked.
"A center to heal the sick and perform surgeries. A place to take care of the ill where the poor, the weak, the old, and children will not be turned away."
"Like the houses of healing in Essos?" Owen said.
"Yes, like those. But not affiliated with the gods. We mean to cure physical ills, not spiritual ones."
"Why not just use Jonquil's pool in the bath house? These waters are supposed to be blessed with healing powers." Lady Olenna said.
"Where is the proof? What did Jonquil or Florian the Fool know about healing? Old wives' tales about magical springs are no basis for medicine." Jon replied. "This is a far better test."
The quarters of the hog were taken out and placed on the wool cloth. Each piece showed different colors and stages of spoilage. The meat hanging near the boathouse had a tangy, putrid odor and showed discolouring in several spots. The hog quarter from Florian's gate near the harbour had turned brown and slimy, while the piece near the sept had a sticky sheen and a pungent aroma. Only one quarter remained pink and fresh with no discernible smell.
"Florian's Tower. The carcass there shows no putrefaction." Jon announced.
"But how? Why are they so different, Jon?" Owen asked, as the maesters and acolytes examined the four pieces of meat.
"I have ideas but not enough yet to be certain. I do know this. Your sister will have a better chance of recovering where there is less rot. That means the Tower and not Jonquil's Pool." Jon called out to the crew of children. "Transport the patients. We need water, wood, candles, sheets, and food. Light the fires and boil water in cauldrons to wash the sheets. Get clean straw and down for the bedding. And bring all of my equipment. There is a great deal to be done. Now, we begin." Jon walked to the tower, away from the awe-struck crowd.
Author's Notes
The first recorded outbreak of the bubonic plague occurred in 541 AD, the Plague of Justinian. Historians today debate how many died but the estimate is that it killed 20% of Constantinople. According to the court historian, Justinian contracted the plague but recovered. The plague lasted from 541 AD to 549 AD, although there were major waves (15 to 18!) over the next two hundred years. But the first outbreak was minor compared to the Black Death of 1346-1353.
Many Europeans saw the Black Death as God's Wrath for sins of heresy, blasphemy, and moral corruption. The Catholic Church called for people to pray to God to stop the pestilence. That didn't work very well. People also tried to earn God's forgiveness by massacring foreigners and Jews - possibly causing a Jewish migration to less populated regions of Eastern Europe.
"I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply." This is Conan's dialogue in Queen of the Black Coast, one of the best Robert E Howard short stories.
"The world is built by killers." Clegane says that to Sansa during the Battle of the Blackwater in the TV show, but not (I think) in the books. This is when Sandor is trying to get Sansa to leave King's Landing. She refuses of course. The Hound gets terrific lines as the anti hero.
"You would be the best woman, not man." This is the tip to the dialogue between Stannis and Asha which is omitted in the TV show. In the books, Asha is captured and says "Your grace's royal brother was famed for turning fallen foes into friends. Make me your man." Stannis replies "The Gods did not make you a man. How can I?"
The prophecy is that Azor Ahai will wake dragons out of stone. This points to Daenerys but why doesn't Melisandre try to do more with the stone dragons at Dragonstone? Or does she try and fail? Shireen dreams of dragons coming to eat her but all clues point at the Red Witch.
Lysandro Rogare is widely thought to be based on Lorenzo the Magnificent, the de facto ruler of Florence and the head of the Medici Bank. The Rogares lasted less than a decade, unlike the Medici.
"We who serve the Iron Bank face death as often as you who serve the Iron Throne." This is a quote from Tycho to Jon Snow at the Wall. Jon wonders why a banker would make it up to the Far North. This plotline was minimized in the show. I think the purpose is to give Stannis more gold so he can beef up his troops. Of course that makes little sense if Ramsay crushes his pitiful army.
There is an interesting subplot where Melisandre claims to give Lightbringer (shades of King Arthur and Lady of the Lake) but it differs greatly from the actual myth. There are several interesting reactions, the most telling of which is Maester Aemon. He says the sword has light but not heat, which makes it wrong given that Lightbringer set monsters aflame.
I do not think it is possible at all for Stannis to feed an army in the North. As for the argument that Jon can somehow feed the Free Folk, I am not sure that is a relevant comp. Armies with horses and men doing hard labour eat a lot more than regular people. We're told in the first book that the Night's Watch is struggling for resources. How could they house several thousand more men?
In the books, Wyman Manderly has a maester called Theomore who is clearly loyal to the Lannisters. He says those words to Davos, explaining the subterfuge at White Harbor. This is when Davos is arrested, thrown into the Wolf Den, and mock executed so that Wylis is returned North. Wyman then gives Davos the mission of going to Skagos to find Rickon.
When Arya approaches the Wind Witch, she realizes that despite the colors, there are no guards from Winterfell aboard. She improvises by offering to sell a dead pigeon and the men tell her to scram. It is never cleared up but I think it was Baelish who set the trap.
In the books, Maidenpool has been sacked three times, by the lions, then the wolves and finally outlaws. Brienne visits the town in her quest to find Sansa and there is a lot of description on the horrors of war and how both sides commit atrocities. True but storywise, the slavers, sellswords, Euron Crow's Eye and Boltons are more savage.
The Stinking Goose is a tavern in Maidenpool. Brienne of Tarth goes there twice to get information. It is like Ye Olde Tavern in a D&D module.
Taena of Myr is cut from the TV show as she is there to showcase Cersei's plotting and issues with the Small Council. It is never clear in the books what side she is playing for, but she sleeps with Cersei a few times. I think her character exists to show the murky politics of KL, and to offer Cersei more room for plot development.
Hospitals sprang up from many different movements. The Romans had medical facilities but that was for the army, and not a general hospital. Doctors called on people at their homes, not in a central area. A great deal of credit should be given to the Catholic Church for the focus on healing the sick. Many monasteries were key medical care providers in the Middle Ages. But the most advanced medical knowledge of this time was in the Middle East.
Jon's method of locating the clinic is based on what Al-Razi, also known as Razes, actually did. Al-Razi (full name Abu Bakr Muhummad Zakariyya Razi) is considered the greatest and most original of the Muslim physicians. He wrote at least 50 books on medicine, served as chief physician and medical lecturer at several hospitals, determined the difference between smallpox and measles(!), and promoted experimental medicine - looking at the clinical data rather than theory. He sited the hospital in Baghdad by hanging pieces of meat in various quarters of the city and figuring where the putrefaction was the least. Al Razi did all of this in the 9th and 10th centuries.