Stave Two: The First of the two Spirits
When Lord Tywin awoke, it was so dark, that looking out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the smoky walls of his chamber. He was endeavouring to pierce the darkness with his ever keen eyes, when the chimes of Baelor's Sept struck the four quarters. So he listened for the hour.
To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve; then stopped. Twelve. It was past two when he went to bed. The septons were wrong. An icicle must have got into the works.
"This isn't possible," announced lord Tywin, "How can I have slept through a whole day and far into another night. It isn't possible that anything has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at noon." The idea was certainly a peculiar and alarming alarming one, he slowly advanced out of bed, and groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost off with the sleeve of his worn coat before he could see anything; and could see very little then. All he could make out was that it was still very foggy and extremely cold, and that there was no noise of people running to and fro throughout the Red Keep and making a great stir, as there unquestionably would have been if night had beaten off bright day, and taken possession of the world.
Tywin sat at his desk again, and thought, and thought, and thought it over and over, and could make nothing of it. The more he thought, the more confused he became; and, the more he endeavoured not to think, the more he thought.
Aerys' Ghost bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolved within himself, after hard thought that it was all a dream, his mind flew back again, like a strong spring released, to its first position, and presented the same problem to be worked all through, "Was it a dream, a figment of my imagination, or not?" Lord Tywin remained this way until the chime had gone three-quarters more, when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had warned him of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to stay awake with a glass of wine until the hour was passed and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than go to any of the seven heavens, this was the wisest solution within his power. The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must have sunk into a slumber unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear.
"Ding, dong!"
"A quarter past," mumbled Lord Tywin, counting.
"Ding, dong!"
"Half past," said Lord Tywin.
"Ding, dong!"
"A quarter to it," said Lord Tywin.
"Ding, dong!"
"The hour itself." said Tywin triumphantly, yet continually unsmiling .
He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy one. Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn.
The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a hand. Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Tywin, starting up into a half-leaning attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them. But no, it could not be…The creature was surrounded in light but just as he had with the ghost of Aerys, he tried to deny it. It was impossible that she was back, no matter how much he wanted to believe it; it simply could not be! The figure continued to walk through the light towards the Lord of The Rock and it was increasingly apparent that it was who he thought. Her robe of white flapping around her legs, with golden lions sewn on their sides. Her beautiful golden hair done up in the braids that she always loved, but those shining emeralds were cast downwards…"Joanna…" Tywin whispered, smiling for the first time in years. Whether this was some apparition, or Joanna come back; right now, Lord Tywin Lannister didn't give a fuck.
"Lord Lannister." She responded in a very detached manner, but Tywin did not understand.
"Joanna? Why are you calling me that?" Tywin asked, with a genuine sense of curiosity emerging. He had made it clear on their wedding night that they wouldn't need to use titles with one another, why would she need to use them now?
"I am not the woman I once was, and neither are you. My Lord" Joanna said, her voice dull and monotone unlike the happy tone that his wife had spoken in.
"I know who you are, my-" he began, but as he reached out to stroke her beautiful golden hair his hand passed straight through and Tywin looked on in horror.
" You renounced all claims to our love when you denied Tyrion, my lord."
"That vile little beast killed you, brought shame upon our house and name with his nature and actions both!" Lord Tywin argued.
"No matter what he is or what you perceive him to have done he will always be our son. You have denied him, and for that you cannot be the man I left on my deathbed. My Lion of Lannister."
"You are not my beloved Joanna, that much is clear." Tywin deadpanned. "What are you...spirit?" he demanded, his happiness he had seen at the return of his beloved that had been stolen from him fading and the anger at this deception by this apparition rising within him.
"I am the Ghost of winter past."
"The past of the Kingdoms?"
"Only yours, Lord Lannister."
"No, whatever you are it is wrong for Joanna to refer to me that way. Call me Tywin." He commanded of the figure before him
"As you wish, Tywin." The figure responded,
He then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
"Your welfare." said the figure posing as his beloved.
Tywin expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The figure must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately:
"Your recovery, then. Take heed."
It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently by the arm.
"Rise. And walk with me, Tywin." She falsely smiled.
It would have been in vain for Tywin to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted for everyday purposes, that bed was warm; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, coiat and gloves; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand would be, was not to be resisted. He rose, but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped his robe in appeal.
"I am but a mortal man," Tywin insisted, "and liable to great heights."
"Bear but a touch of my hand there,'" said Joanna, laying it upon his heart, "and you shall be upheld in more than this."
As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood upon an open country road, with fields on either hand. King's Landing had entirely vanished. Not a sight of it was to be seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground. They passed over the blacked fields, but something peculiar happened: the ashes receded and the crops began to grow upon them again as they passed over The crown and River lands over the Golden Tooth and came to Lord Tywin's one true home.
"Casterly Rock!" exclaimed Tywin, clasping his hands together, as he looked about him.
The Spirit of Joanna gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the old man's sense of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odours floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, and hopes, and joys, and cares long, long, forgotten.
"Your lip is trembling, Tywin" said the spirit. "And what is that upon your cheek?" Tywin muttered something to himself, with an unusual gasping in his voice; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he would. "You recollect the way?" inquired the Figure.
"Remember it." cried Tywin with passion"I could walk through the entirety of Castely Rock blindfolded!.2
"Strange to have forgotten you could, Tywin. For so many years." observed Joanna. "Let us go on."
They walked along the road towards the Lion's Mouth; the heavily armoured Lion Helms not noticing them, Tywin recognising every gate, and room, and rock; until a little garrison tower appeared in the distance, with its bridge, its Sept, and an artificial waterfall that had been in the Rock since the Age of Heroes. Some shaggy horses now were seen trotting towards them with boys upon their backs, who called to other boys in country pigs and carts driven by farmers. All these squires were in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad yards were so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it.
"These are but shadows of the things that have been," said Joanna. "They have no idea we can see or hear them." Tywin looked up at the outer walls of the rock and noticed the Great banner looming over the others: The three headed dragon, Tywin wondered how far back they were. He received his answer by observing the flags of his vassals underneath that proud golden lion. A golden laurel wreath upon a striped blue and gold field. House Algood. A Boar spread upon a brown field. House Crakehall. A hooded man upon a fiery shield and a coal background. House Banefort. A red lion with two tails upon a white shield…House Reyne. That far back?
The squires came on; and as they came, Tywin knew and named them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond all bounds to see them? Why did his pale emerald eye glisten and his heart leap up as they went past? Why was he filled with gladness when he heard them give each other a blessed Midwinter, as they parted at cross-roads and goodbyes, for their several homes? What was midwinter to the castle's Lord Paramount? Out upon midwinter! What good had it ever done to him?
"The Maester's chambers are not quite deserted," said the figure of his deceased beloved. "A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still." Tywin confessed it. And he wanted to sob for it, but he was a Lannister.
They left the high-road, by a well-remembered path on top of the Rock, and soon approached the chambers made of dull red brick, with a little weathercock mounted on the roof, and a bell hanging upon it. They were large chambers for they held the family of the Warden of the West, richest man in the Kingdoms, but one of broken fortunes at the time; for the spacious offices were little used, their walls were damp and mossy, their windows cracked. Fowls clucked and strutted in the stables far below them; and the coach-houses and sheds were beginning to run into disarray. Nor was it more retentive of its ancient state, within; for entering the hall draped with lion banners, and glancing through the open doors of many rooms, they found them properly furnished yet cold, and vast. There was an earthy savour in the air, a chilly bareness in the place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up by candle-light.
They went, the figure and Lord Tywin, across the hall, to a door at the back of the quarter of the gargantuan castle. It opened before them, and disclosed a long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain deal forms and desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading near a feeble fire; and Tywin sat down and was saddened to see his poor forgotten self as he used to be.
Not a latent echo in the fortress, not a squeak and scuffle from the mice behind the panelling, not a drip from the half-thawed water-spout in the dull yard outside, not a sigh among the leafless boughs of one hopeless poplar, not the idle swinging of an empty store-house door, no, not a clicking in the fire. The Spirit touched him on the arm, and pointed to his younger self, intent upon his reading. Suddenly a man, in foreign garments: wonderfully real and distinct to look at stood outside the castle, with an axe stuck in his belt, and leading by a Zorse laden with silk.
"Could that be…It is, it's Xoho." Tywin exclaimed in ecstasy. "It's old Xoho, from the Summer Isles. Yes, I remember. One Springtime, I was left here all alone for the first time, just like that. And Valion," said Tywin," and his wild brother, Orzo; there they go. And who is that, there; don't you see him?" To hear the Lord Paramount of these lands expending all the earnestness of his nature on such subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between restrainment for his honour as a Lannister; and the joy and mirth of a child, and to see his heightened and excited face would have been a surprise to his council members in King's Landing and Lannisport indeed.
"There's the Raven.'" cried Tywin. "White feathers and black eyes, there he is." Tywin thought he was dreaming, but he wasn't. Then, with a rapidity of transition very foreign to his usual character, he said, in pity for his former self, "Poor boy." and cried again. "I wish," Tywin muttered, locking his hands behind his back, and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff "No, never mind." He mumbled.
"What is the matter?" asked the Spirit of Joanna.
"Nothing," said Lord Tywin.
"Come now, you can tell me, Tywin." She smiled. No matter how fake it might be, Tywin could never resist her smile.
"Very well. There was a boy singing a Midwinters Carol outside the Red Keep last night. I ordered him barred from the premises. I should like to have given him a stag, that's all." Tywin shrugged off.
The Figure smiled thoughtfully and waved her hand, saying as it did so "Let us see another Season."
Tywin's former self grew larger at the words, and the room became a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrunk, the paint changed; ornaments and furniture moved around the room, and the carpets were shown instead; but how all this was brought about. Tywin knew no more than anyone else might do. He only knew that it was quite correct; that everything had happened so; that there he was, alone again, when all the other boys had gone home to their various keeps and holdfasts for the harvest collection before the peophecy of the Starks was fulfilled. He was not reading now, but walking up and down despairingly.
Tywin looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of his head, glanced anxiously towards the door. It opened and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing him, addressing him as her "Dear, dear brother. I have come to bring you home, dear brother." said the golden haired child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home."
"Home, little Genna." returned the boy.
"Yes." said the child, full of glee. "Home, for good. Home, for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than others can be, our home's like one of the Seven Heavens. He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home; and he said yes. You should, and sent me in a carriage to bring you. And you're to be a man grown." said the child, opening her eyes," and are never to come back here; but first, we're to be together all the Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world."
"You are quite a woman, little Genna." exclaimed the boy.
She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his head; but being too little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in her childish eagerness, towards the door; and he, with nothing to do, accompanied her.
A terrible voice in the hall cried. "Bring down Master Tywin's box, there." and in the hall appeared the Maester of Casterly Rock himself, who glared on the little Lordling with a ferocious arrogance, and threw him into a dreadful state of mind by shaking hands with him. He then conveyed him and his sister into the old well of a shivering shop that ever was seen, where the maps upon the wall, and the celestial and terrestrial globes in the windows, were waxy with cold. Here he produced a decanter of curiously light wine, and a block of curiously heavy tablet, and administered instalments of those substances to the young people. At the same time, sending out a meagre servant to offer a glass of something to the messenger who answered that by thanking the gentleman, but if it was the same tap as he had tasted before, he would rather not. The children and their brothers bade the Maester good-bye willingly; and getting into it, drove happily down the gardens of Casterly rock: the quick wheels dashing the hoar-frost and snow from off the dark leaves of the evergreens like spray.
"Always a delicate creature, from whom a breath might have withered," said the Figure. "But she has a large heart."
"So she has," whispered Tywin. "You're right. I will not lie about it, Spirit. Gods forbid."
"She is a woman," said the Figure, "and had, as I can recall, children.'
"Four sons." Tywin returned.
"True,'" said the Ghost. "Your nephews."
Tywin seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, "Yes."
Although they had but that moment left the Rock behind them, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of King's Landing once more, where shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowy carts and coaches battle for the way, and all the strife and tumult of a real city were. It was made plain enough, by the dressing of the shops, that here too it was Midwinter time again; but it was evening, and the streets were lighted up.
The Ghost stopped at a certain chamber door, and asked Tywin if he knew it.
"Know it.'" Snickered Tywin. "I was a cupbearer and squire here." Tywin recalled the experience. Once he opposed Father's decision to betroth Genna to a Frey, Lord Tytos shipped him off to be a cupbearer to the King. Fortunately, making friends with Prince Aerys would prove rather useful in the Lord of Lannister's future.
They walked into the chamber. At the sight of a gentleman in a dragon crown, sitting behind such a high desk, that if he had been two inches taller he must have knocked his head against the ceiling, Tywin cried in great excitement:
"King Jaehaerys? Gods bless, I never thought I would see Jaehaerys again." King Jaehaerys, father of Aerys, for whom Tywin was a cupbearer and squire for was a sickly and pale man but he was a decent king. Certainly the Dragonlord come again when compared with his successor. He laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shows to his organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, weak, small and yet, jovial voice:
"Ah there you are little lion. Would you be so kind as to fetch those papers from Lord Bolton?" Tywin's former self, now a young child, came briskly in, accompanied by his fellow-apprentice.
"Luthor Tyrell, another cupbearer for the king, to be sure.2 said Tywin to the spirit. "Seven hells, yes. There he is. We were fond of one another. His little accident was so distressing for me." Less so for the Lady Olenna.
"Alright, my boys." said Jaehaerys. "No more work tonight. Midwinters Eve, Luthor. Seven hells, its Midwinter Tywin. Let's have the curtains up," cried the young King, with a sharp clap of his hands. You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it. They charged across the room with the shutters -one, two, three -had them up in their places - four, five, six - barred them and pinned then - seven, eight, nine - and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like jousting-horses. "Ha!" cried sickly Jaehaerys, stepping down from the high desk, with surprising agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here. Luthor, Tywin, here."
Clear away. There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Jaehaerys looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life for evermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the fireplace was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ball-room, as you would desire to see upon a winter's night. After that, they and the Kingsguard outside the door escorted the King to the Throne room for a great ball that was occurring there tonight for Midwinter.
In came a lute player with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Queen Shaera with one vast substantial smile. In came all the lord and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms, greater and lesser both. In came the housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In they all came, one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and every how.
Away they all went, a hundred couples at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them. When this result was brought about the king was clapping his hands to stop the dance, and cried out, "Well done." and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that purpose. But scorning rest, upon his reappearance, he instantly began again, though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a brand-new man resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish.
There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was cake, and there was wine, and there was a great piece of Roast, and there were great pieces of pig and sheep, and there were pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler (an artful dog, mind. The sort of man who knew his business better than you or I could have told it him) struck up Ser Roger Coverlet. Then the King stood out to dance with Queen Shaera. Top couples, too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had no notion of walking.
But if they had been twice as many - ah, four times - the King would have been a match for them, and so would the Queen. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not high praise, no one could give any. A positive light appeared to issue from Jaehaerys' calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would have become of them next. And when Jaehaerys and Shaera had gone all through the dance; advance and retire with both hands to your partner, bow and curtsey, corkscrew, thread-the-needle, and back again to your place; King Jaehaerys cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs and came upon his feet again without a stagger.
When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. The dragons took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wishing them a Merry Midwinter. When everybody had retired but the two squired and Prince Aerys, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their chambers.
During the whole of this time, Tywin had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self. He corroborated everything, remembered everything, enjoyed everything, and underwent the strangest agitation. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former self and Luthor were turned from them, that he remembered the Ghost of Joanna, and became conscious that it was looking full upon him, while the light upon its head burnt very clear.
"A small matter," said the apparition, "to make these silly nobles so full of gratitude."
"Small…" echoed Tywin.
The Spirit signed to him to listen to the two apprentices, who were pouring out their hearts in praise of Jaehaerys. "Why, is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your money: three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?"
"It isn't that," said Tywin, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. "It isn't that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count them up: what then. The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a fortune." He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped.
"What is it, Tywin?" asked Joanna.
"Nothing in particular," affirmed Tywin.
"Something, I would think." Joanna giggled
"No," echoed Tywin, "No. I should like to be able to say a word or two to one of my guardsmen just now. That's all."
His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to the wish; and Tywin and the Ghost again stood side by side in the open air.
"Tywin, my time grows short," observed the Spirit. 2Quick."
This was not addressed to Tywin, or to any one whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again Tywin saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life. He reckoned around the time of the Defiance of Duskendale. His face had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years; but it had begun to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion for power that had taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would fall.
He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a mourning-dress in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled in the light that shone out of the Ghost of his beloved. The girl was a sweet young cupbearer Tywin had an emerald eye for, before his arranged marriage to his one true love was revealed to him. He wondered what had become of her.
"It matters little," she said, softly. "To you, very little. Another hero has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just reason to grieve."
"What hero has displaced you?"
"A golden one."
"This is the way the world workd." he said. "There is nothing so hard as poverty; and there is nothing it tries to condemn with such severity as a love of riches and wealth."
"You fear the world too much, Tywin." she answered, gently. "All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being in a powerful; position. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, eternal power for your legacy; it engrosses you. Am I incorrect?"
"What then?" he retorted. "Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you." She shook her head.
"Am I?"
"Our agreement is an old one. It was made when we were both poorer and more content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve our fortunes by the correct work. You are changed. When it was made, you were another man."
"I was a boy," he said impatiently.
"Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are," she returned. "I am. That promise of happiness was when we were together and fraught with misery now that we are two. How often I have thought of this, I will not say. It is enough that I have thought of it, and can release you."
"Have I ever wanted relief from this?" Lord Tywin implored
"In words. No. Never."
"In what, then?"
"In a changed nature, in an altered spirit, in another atmosphere of life; another Hope as its great end. In everything that made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this had never been between us," said the girl, looking mildly, but with steadiness, upon him; "Tell me, would you seek me out and try to win me now."
He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of himself. But he said with a struggle. "You do not think so?" Tywin inquired.
"I would gladly think otherwise if I could," she answered, "Heaven knows. When I have learned a Truth like this, I know how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were free today, tomorrow, yesterday, can I even believe that you would choose a poor girl -you who, in your very confidence with her, weigh everything by Gain or, choosing her, if for a moment you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow. I do and I release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you once were."
He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, she resumed.
"You may - the memory of what is past half makes me hope you will - have pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable dream, from which it happened well that you awoke. May you be happy in the life you have chosen." She left him, and they parted.
"Spirit." Said Tywin, "show me no more. Show me home. Do you delight in torturing me?"
"One more, Tywin." exclaimed the Ghost.
"No." cried Tywin. "No more, I do not wish to see it. Show me no more."
But the relentless figure held him in both her arms, and forced him to observe what happened next.
They were in another scene and place; a room, not very large or handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a beautiful young girl, so like that last that Lord Tywin believed it was the same, until he saw her, now a comely matron, sitting opposite her daughter. The noise in this room was perfectly noisy, for there were more children there, than Tywin in his agitated state of mind could count; and, unlike the celebrated herd in the sings, they were not forty children conducting themselves like one, but every child was conducting itself like forty.
The consequences were uproarious beyond belief; but no one seemed to care; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed heartily, and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most ruthlessly. What would I not have given to one of them. Though I never could have been so rude, no. I wouldn't for the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair, and torn it down; and for the precious little shoe, I wouldn't have plucked it off, to save my life. As to measuring her waist in sport, as they did, bold young brood, I couldn't have done it; I should have expected my arm to have grown round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips; to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never raised a blush; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which would be a keepsake beyond price: in short, I should have liked, I do confess, to have had the lightest licence of a child, and yet to have been man enough to know its value.
But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush immediately ensued that she with laughing face and plundered dress was borne towards it the centre of a flushed and boisterous group, just in time to greet the father, who came home attended by a man laden with Midwinter toys and presents. Then the shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught that was made on the defenceless porter. The scaling him with chairs for ladders to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels, hold on tight by his cravat, hug him round his neck, pommel his back, and kick his legs in irrepressible affection. The shouts of wonder and delight with which the development of every package was received. The terrible announcement that the baby had been taken in the act of putting a doll's frying-pan into his mouth, and was more than suspected of having swallowed a fictitious turkey, glued on a wooden platter. The immense relief of finding this a false alarm. The joy, and gratitude, and ecstasy. They are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by degrees the children and their emotions got out of the parlour, and by one stair at a time, up to the top of the house; where they went to bed, and so subsided.
And now Tywin looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed.
"Belle," said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, "I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon."
"Who was it?"
"Guess."
"How can I?" she added in the same breath, laughing as he laughed.
"Lord Tywin Lannister. Lord Tywin it was. I saw him at a public execution. He presided beside King Robert, Seven save him. I could scarcely help seeing him. His wife's dead and he seems quite alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe."
"Joanna." said Tywin in a bitter voice, "remove me from this place."
"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me."
"Remove me." Lord Tywin exclaimed," I cannot stand this."
He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him with a face, in which in some strange way there were fragments of all the faces it had shown him, wrestled with it.
"Leave me. Take me back. Haunt me no longer." He spoke, venom upon his tongue.
In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the Ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed by any effort of its adversary, Lord Tywin observed that her light was burning high and bright; and dimly connecting that with its influence over him. The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher covered its whole form; but though Tywin pressed it down with all his force, he could not hide the light, which streamed from under it, in an unbroken flood upon the ground. He was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in his own bedroom. His hand relaxed and he barely had time to reel to bed, before he sank into a heavy sleep.