The hearth fire can be heard crackling in the long silence that follows the old woman's words. Then there is the sound of jingling reins and a whinnying horse beneath the shuttered window. In that time Sansa does not blink at Berena but only stares stonily.

"I cannot believe that," she states simply with a proud lift of her chin, "not of my lord. It is not possible."

Berena only returns her gaze levelly. "I'll not speak ill of your lord, milady, if you command me; but you did ask me to explain myself and I feel I must reply as an honest woman."

Sansa knows Berena to be honest, and she did indeed question her and so she knows that she must therefore hear her out.

"Continue then," Sansa tells her, though reluctantly.

"I do not mean to say the lord threw the girl out to the wildings, milady; but he did have part in it, unintentional though it may've been. You must know this happened many a year ago, and so the lord…the lord was not then the man he is now," she tells Sansa carefully. "He was then of an age younger than even Lord Jon is now, milady."

"How…how then was my lord different?"

Berena looks at her sadly and explains: "He was a young man; and heir to the lordship and to Last Hearth and so right full of hisself, milady. Oh, he was a great and strapping young man: strong and handsome and bursting with life and vigor. He was always wanting to fight and ride and drink and, well…he was a great one for wenching, milady," the old woman said bluntly.

"But you came to Last Hearth with his first lady, Berena; surely he no longer-" But she stops when she sees the look in the nurse's eyes. Sansa is confused now. "But…but my mother said that he loved his first wife, and treated her well." Now she stops again, remembering why she was send to Last Hearth to marry the Greatjon, and she realizes that her mother would likely have told her anything to encourage her to make the best of her life with her new husband. Sansa is so unsettled now that she is finding it hard to think straight.

Berena shrugs though. "The lord behaved himself well enough in company, milady; though I believe rightly that your lady mother did not come North until after the Rebellion was over. Mors' girl was taken before them, and it all changed him some, and then more over time. "

"You…you mean to tell me that…that he was unfaithful to his lady wife…his first lady wife," Sansa questions uncertainly. 'But…did you not tell me that she was well-suited to him; and that she had a smart tongue and a great laugh?"

Berena almost rolls her eyes at that. "Aye, milady, they were well-suited but you could'na tell him that," she scoffs. "'Tis an odd thing with big men, milady: they wants dainty women for the most part and the young lord was the same. He chased pretty young things: serving girls and tavern wenches mostly, and he hadn't needed chase them very far for very long. As I said: he was a right virile and strong lad, always laughing at a jest or making one. Tumbling girls came easy to him, and so he treated them easy too."

"Was his first wife not pretty then?" Sansa cannot help asking now.

Berena hesitates. Surely, Sansa thinks, her question must be inappropriate; but it turns out that the old woman only feels disloyal in answering truthfully.

"I expect she was not what the lord wished for, milady: she was big and strong and capable, raised to be a good lady and run a proper home. She was a fine girl in every respect, make no mistake; but she weren't the kind men wrote songs to nor dreamed about."

"Why then did he marry her? Did his father-"

"Aye, milady: it were at his father's command," the woman says quietly. "He wanted big, healthy heirs and so he would not let his son choose a pretty little thing to breed Umbers; most especially into the lord's line. To be fair to the old lord, they needs fight for all up in the far North so it were for the best in a way. Milady were from an old family in the mountains. The Umbers and other Northern families were always proud to marry up with them; even your lord father's grandmother was from the First Flints, as you know, milady. They're strong folk; not given to fancy manners or a soft life and so right suited for the Last Hearth. I were nurse and midwife to milady's family then, and her father asked me go with her and serve in the castle. Well, didn't that sound fine to me; so off I went for the wedding and bedding…" she trails off.

Sansa is afraid to ask what happened but she needs to hear the truth now. "What happened, Berena?"

"The young lord was polite but cold: you could see he were but being dutiful in the matter. He bedded her alright, but he drank his fill first-"

"Gods, Berena: did he hurt her?" Sansa thinks she may cry if the old woman confirms the worst to her.

But Berena shakes her head. "Not that way, milady; but I don't think he cared for her feelings much. Like I says: it were duty to him."

Sansa catches her breath. To think that the man she knows regarded and treated his first wife much as she had regarded and treated him when they were first wed is like an icy dagger to her heart. She wonders if he thought he deserved her coldness and mere dutifulness as his due after having taken her maidenhead at a young age against his better instincts. Did he blame himself for having wanted me? Did he think I looked upon him with the same indifference he felt towards her? And how must she have felt to have been wed but unwanted? She had almost had the same with Joffrey, though infinitely worse: he was not just cold but cruel. She puts her fingertips to her lips and closes her eyes, overwhelmed. How little I know my lord and husband still, she thinks.

She turns her head to the hearth fire again: something in the dancing flames and steady crackle soothes her, but also feeds her growing apprehension. He is kind to you, and to our children, she reminds herself firmly. The man you know is kind.

"Was he…was he unkind?"

Berena sighs. "I'd a'called it more indifferent-like than unkind. It were not a happy marriage, milady, not at first to be sure; and milady could have a sharp tongue, and so she used it agin him," she almost smiles to remember. "Oh, she would'na defy her lord husband nor insult him outright, but she got her digs in. He's mighty proud, like any Umber; and he liked to hear himself talk. She could prick his pride with a wicked word. Well, can you imagine how he liked that, milady? Not at all, to be sure: a wasp, he styled her; and a scold. And milady'd laugh her bawdy laugh at him," she looks pleased to say so.

"A scold," Sansa repeats. She remembers how coldly Berena replied when the Greatjon had called her that.

"Aye, milady," she tells her almost slyly, "as I said: it were not my place to be that…but it were hers."

Sansa looks to her now. "Your words chastened him greatly. I expect that was your intention."

The old woman blinks and looks chastened herself now. "No, milady: I'm sorry to have been disrespectful to him, most especially before you. Your good opinion matters the world to him. Besides, it was so very long ago now but…"

"But you were upset to remember how your lady was treated, and how hurt she was. Do you resent me, Berena? My lord has never mistreated me, or been anything but kind," Sansa asks now.

The old woman looks her in her eyes again and speaks frankly: "No, milady. I could never grudge you his kindness for you deserve it well; but so did she, and she didna get it for some time."

Sansa drops her eyes now and she fiddles with the lace cuff of her bedgown that pokes out beneath the sleeve of her fur robe. "And that time was after Mors' girl was taken?"

"It was, milady."

"Then how did it happen? Surely," she pauses before she asks, "surely my lord did not attempt to…to bed his own cousin. Did she run away from him? Is that why he says it was not her fault?"

"Gods, no, milady," Berena breathes. "T'was her maid he bedded," she tells her now. "A right pretty thing she was: small and dainty, with a fine figure and lovely skin. Her eyes were so pale brown they looked golden, and her hair like honey. Any man would've wanted her, but it were the lord's heir that took her…and not agin her will neither," she says with a trace of bitterness. "I reckon she lifted her skirts on their first meeting and thought herself special for it; like he wouldna plowed any maid that walked upright in those days," she adds grumpily.

"And his lady knew." It was not a question.

"Aye: she knew he bedded others…and preferred them to her. Them in the castle liked to talk; and he did naught to hide his habits from them for he'd lived with them all his life. It were she who was the outsider, and he weren't careful of her feelings, like I said. Can't say if she knew about the maid a'cause she never spoke of her, nor of any others. Not once. Not even after."

Sansa is hanging on Berena's words now. "Berena, please tell me how Lord Umber was at fault."

"Like I says, milady, he did not throw her out the gates, but he's the reason she left the castle without escort. Her maid had promised to walk with her to the village to see a mummers' show; but then she snuck away so's to meet with the young lord instead, somewheres in the castle. Well, the girl had never seen mummers; we don't get many up here, as you know," and Sansa nods. "Well, being an Umber and stubborn, she sets out the castle gates alone when she couldna find her maid; thinking either she'd left and so would catch up to her or that she'd go herself. She'd been so very excited to go, milady; you see she was a sheltered girl a'cause Mors'd lost his wife and sons. She chaffed at that; more so after she'd flowered but he held strong. He'd forbid her leave to go anywhere without her maid; though why he thought that'd be enough, I canna say. Might've been the wildlings a'taken them both; but, as it was…"

"As it was, they only took Mors' girl," Sansa says sadly. She is almost in tears. She knows what it is to feel isolated in the North, without mummers or music: she had felt that way at Winterfell as a girl, and then later at Last Hearth when she was fist married. Oh, how she would have loved some diversion; then perhaps she would never have turned to Lord Jon…

"They did take her, milady: only her fur muff and hair ribbon were found. She'd gone off the main path; might be she heard somethin' or was lured away somehow. Later, some commons said they saw wildlings heading back North with horses they stole strapped with carcasses they'd hunted. One big man had a girl wrapped in a cloak in front of him. Wildlings don't never wear cloaks, milady: she were a stolen girl on a stolen horse."

The wind howls now to rattle the wooden shutters, and the fire flares up from the sudden gust before dying down again. Sansa buries her face in her hands and gathers herself before speaking again. "And then? Did they find my lord and her maid together?"

"Nay, milady; it where some time later they discovered she were missing. When they couldna find Mors' girl anywheres, they finally send out soldiers to search. And when Mors learned that her maid hadn't been minding to her when she were supposed to…well, his wrath were a frightful thing: he dragged her to the hall by her honey hair and flogged her bloody before the entire castle-"

"Oh, no!" Sansa cries out in horrified dismay. She could well remember being struck and stripped and beaten before an entire court by knights. She could almost feel it again now, in this room in an inn so far away. "How then…did my lord not stop it? Did he not-"

"Not a word did he say, nor take a step in her direction," Berena tells her quietly. "Stood there likes the rest of us as she screamed and cried she was sorry." She pauses and Sansa sees the pain in her face. "He weren't the lord of the castle then; the old lord were still living and he just watched it too. We all did, milady. I expect more felt bad for Mors than for her; but it were a terrible sight to witness. A terrible sight," she repeats in a whisper.

"And did the maid herself say nothing? Did no one know…where she had been?"

"Some might'a knew, but none spoke. What good would it have done, milady? Mors' girl was gone; and blaming the young lord woulda' caused such a great hatred in the family. I expect the maid knew that herself: there were never to be any kind of life for her at Last Hearth after that day, whether the young lord confessed or no. Why ruin him too? Why even think they'd believe naught but a serving girl agin the lord's own heir?"

Sansa sniffles and draws breath: "But he knew," she says mournfully.

Berena is quiet now but then finally acknowledges Sansa's words.

"Aye, milady: he knew."