Less than a week after Warrior's Day, Aspen Turnberry announced she had a ready list of troupes whose plays had proved especially popular with the crowds during the street celebration.
"Excellent work, my lady! Let's discuss them right away," said Alysanne. "Lord Rogar doesn't like mummers, so it's better to have The Royal Penance safely started before he arrives."
"Does he plan to stay long?" asked Martyn Tyrell. Alaric felt somewhat sorry for the man: his presence on the small council was more a formality than anything else, since all the duties were performed by his wife, but not everyone was ready to openly accept a woman as mistress of coin (for all that Alaric thought Florence Fossoway-Tyrell was too open-handed and frivolous, he found it quite ridiculous – especially since everybody seemed quite fine with Alysanne as the supreme authority or Lady Turnberry as mistress of whisperers).
"He hasn't written anything on that in his letter," said Grand Maester Elysar. "It usually means he plans to stay for the foreseeable future."
Alaric didn't like the sound of that. Perhaps Rogar Baratheon was trying to become the power behind the throne again, after all. Or maybe he wanted to live off the court after the hardships of winter.
"All right, Lady Turnberry, we'll see about Lord Rogar when he arrives. Right now, it's better that we hear of your mummers' troupes," said Alysanne.
"Yes, Your Grace," the mistress of whisperers placed several letters on the table. "Here are the most promising reports I've got. The Little Dragons: they make a point of being local and loyal, crownlanders only accepted in the troupe. They put on a play about Old Valyria in Central Square, with very convincing-looking dragons, my agent says."
"Sounds like exactly what we want," said Alysanne.
"They are unwilling to travel, though."
"If they are as loyal as they say, they'll do it if we ask."
"It's just that," Lady Turnberry chuckled, "with their dragons and fireworks and elaborate sets, they don't make half as much money as they could. Yes, they'll gladly stage our Penance, but for spreading the word beyond the city walls, we need other troupes."
"Could we sponsor them?" Alysanne asked. The knowing look she gave Alaric told him that she understood what his reaction would be. He shook his head:
"Paying for the mummers' travel around the Kingdoms? While they're in the city, they are stable and keep themselves together, and if we let them wander around, they'll break apart within the year. We're going to ask for several playwrights anyway, and it would be cheaper than paying these Little Dragons through the nose."
"The next one's the Silly Sailors," Aspen Turnberry continued. "Put on a raunchy comedy with acrobatics and juggling in River Row."
"Not quite what we're looking for," Septon Barth commented.
"But they are popular and they are already experienced travelers," she said. "Plus, they have little to no money, so their tickets are cheaper than a stale beer. We can pay them only a little, and it'll seem like a fortune to them, but they'll attract crowds of smallfolk who have no chance of ever watching the Little Dragons."
"If they can depart from their style and put on The Penance, they can be a great help," Alaric agreed.
"If they can depart from their style," said Alysanne. "I have watched many mummers, and they prefer to perform what they are used to."
"Not all the time," Florence Fossoway argued. "Some troupes are happy to try something new. We might give the play to the Sailors and see how they work it out before approving it for the public."
Alysanne still looked doubtful, but nodded:
"Makes sense. Who's next, Lady Turnberry?"
"Two sets of romantics. The Ladies Fair are a weird lot: they keep their men around only for guarding them and setting up the sets and jobs like that, but all the mummers are wenches. They sing."
It certainly sounded different from the mummers' usual structure, but with all the other weirdness the crownlanders and Reachmen could conjure just to outrank each other, Alaric wasn't too surprised.
"Um, sounds nice," Alysanne smiled uncertainly.
"They sing all the time," the mistress of whisperers elaborated. "All their lines are sung. They staged a tragic romance about the doomed love of a lady for a common fisherman, and they sang it in its entirety."
"You've got me intrigued, Lady Turnberry. I absolutely must see these Ladies Fair!" Alysanne brightened. Alaric knew how she loved music.
"That can certainly be arranged, Your Grace," Lady Turnberry smiled. "The Sunflowers are a more traditional bunch. About half of the troupe has Dornish roots, and they performed a flowery romance from Rhoynish history... The last one's a puppeteer troupe, the Seven Rays, and they specialize in morality plays for educating children and the youth. Had a show based on a chapter from The Seven-Pointed Star."
"Like the Dragons, one of the safer bets, and they'd be a great asset to us in winning over the Faith," Septon Barth nodded. "Many thanks to your diligence, my lady."
"We'll need to see the playwrights of the five troupes and give them the summary of The Royal Penance," Rodrik Arryn said. "Then one of us will have to watch the performance of those... Silly Sailors, as Lady Tyrell has suggested."
"And the Ladies Fair," Alysanne added happily, her cheeks flushed with excitement. It's a rarity, Alaric thought, for a queen to be so delighted with such simple things. She doesn't care that they are street performers – she just wants to watch the art she likes. He suddenly thought that maybe they could watch these singing women together – if they were good enough to be selected by Aspen Turnberry's agents, maybe he could enjoy their performance as well. It had been a long while since he had been to a mummers' play he genuinely liked.
Alysanne looked at the five playwrights standing nervously in front of her. She decided to meet them in her women's court chamber, which looked pretty enough to please the eye but was simple enough to make even common-born visitors feel themselves at ease. Still, the only one who felt somewhat relaxed was Hugh, a dignified-looking elderly man from the Little Dragons. The rest were pale, terrified and struggling not to fidget – except for Colemon from the Silly Sailors, who put on an exaggerated air of nonchalance and brashness.
"My good people, I am happy to welcome you here," Alysanne smiled. "Don't fear: you're not summoned to the Red Keep for a punishment. I have asked you to come here because my courtiers have learned of your troupes' performances and have praised them greatly."
"You honor us, Your Grace," said Hugh and bowed. His four companions followed suit.
"Were the festivities of Warrior's Day all to your liking? I do hope you were able to enjoy yourselves for a while in-between your work."
"Oh, yes, Your Grace," Violet from the Ladies Fair said enthusiastically. "The dances were wonderful, I must say..."
Gradually, the ice was broken. Alysanne sympathized with Colemon as he spoke of the rude guards in the harbor, making a mental note to review those guards' performances, discussed the different styles of traditional dancing with Violet, talked of the High Septon's recent edicts with Septon Wyldon from the Seven Rays, and listened as Myribeth of the Sunflowers reminisced about her deceased husband. Hugh was a bit more reserved than the rest, and when spoken to, he usually started gushing about how he revered the Targaryens. Alysanne could see he was a bit upset about not being preferred above the rest, and she hurried to remedy that.
"In truth, I have asked you to come here today because I have a task for loyal people such as you," she said, looking at Hugh at the last words. He immediately glowed with pride. "There are, regrettably, some troubling rumors concerning King Aemon's ascension to the throne – don't worry, I am sure you have no part in it," she glanced at the Little Dragons' playwright once more. "With the help of my lord husband, His Holiness the High Septon and some of our other allies I have taken the liberty of thinking up a play that explains why such gossips are wrong. However, since we were not gifted with any writing skills, let alone as supreme as yours, we would like you to expand what we have drafted into an actual play," she handed out the scrolls with the plot of The Royal Penance. "Each of you can compose his or her own version and stage it with your troupe. If you need money for the staging, we will provide it, in addition to our eternal gratitude."
"Hm, very good," Septon Wyldon said as he surveyed his scroll. "You have a gift with stories, Your Grace."
"Oh, I assure you – like I said, it was a collective work," Alysanne smiled at such obvious flattery.
"We can put it to some lovely music," Violet said. "I have some chorus ideas in my head that might be a splendid fit for the chorus of the Seven."
"Um, Your Grace?" Colemon said. "I appreciate your trust in me, Your Grace, but... um... it's not the sort of play we usually do. We don't do this – well – stuff with the Faith of the Seven and royalty and all these grand things."
Well, I suspected he would say something of that sort, Alysanne mused. But it wouldn't do to turn the Silly Sailors away empty-handed. They'd be bitterly disappointed after the royal favor got dangled in front of them and then whisked away.
"Are you certain you wouldn't even try?" she asked.
"Your Grace, my folks," he shuffled his feet in embarrassment, "we get by with jumps and juggling and dancing. We've got little plot in our shows to speak of: I'm the only one among them who can read, let alone write. In the plays, I'm the narrator who tries to make head or tail of everything and everybody else just tells dirty jokes."
There was absolutely no way that such a troupe could stage The Royal Penance: Alysanne could see that Colemon was right. She hurriedly thought about what to do with the Silly Sailors, when suddenly an unusual but maybe more practical idea hit her.
"Would you be willing to join forces with another troupe, perhaps?" she asked.
"Another troupe, Your Grace?" Colemon stared at her. The looks the four other playwrights gave her were incredulous bordering on alarm.
"Oh, I don't mean in a single show," Alysanne laughed. "But if you travel together with, say, the Ladies Fair, you'll be able to have two plays on in the same place – say, each play is on every other day; you'll spend less on the inns and the road, and there'll be a chance for you to rest between your shows."
"We can try that," Violet said thoughtfully. "The people who like fancy music and songs will come to us, and those who – well – don't will watch the Sailors. I can help you with the songs and texts, and your lads will help us with hunting and fishing."
"So, how did it go?" Alaric asked as Alysanne returned from the women's court chamber.
"Not bad," she said, looking tired but happy. "Everyone but the Sailors – well, that was to be expected – agreed to do our play, and I gave them three months to flesh it out."
"Three months? Isn't it a bit too long to feed them?"
"Hey, we want them to do an impressive show, not some brothel dance, and three months is barely enough. Besides, the Little Dragons live in King's Landing anyway so they pay for their own room and board, not to mention that they have their usual plays to somewhat support them; and the Sailors will stay at the port and earn their keep themselves," and Alysanne told him that she suggested for the Sailors and the Ladies Fair to travel together.
It was unfortunate that the Sailors, with the cheapest tickets of the five, refused to stage The Penance, but at least, Alaric thought, it was better for them to estimate their strengths and weaknesses correctly. Had the troupe agreed and produced some unwatchable junk, sponsoring them would have been an even worse waste of money.
"It will be a bit awkward, dealing with The Penance's staging while Lord Rogar's at court, but at least we got the thing started, and I told the actors I won't supervise them until they give us the finished plays," Alysanne continued.
"Lord Rogar won't even be required to watch them, if he hates mummery so much. I have to sit and watch tourneys."
"Indeed, and I saw how glad you were at Roderick's and Edwyn's victories at the wedding," she winked. "I'm willing to bet that if we have a son, you'll be just as anxious for him when he enters the lists."
By the time their child was old enough to fight, Alaric hoped to be in the North... on the other hand, there were still the customs of White Harbor to be considered: the Manderlys loved tourneys just as much as the southrons did.
"Nothing escapes your notice, Alysanne," he chuckled in mock exasperation. "I won't even dare to make that bet."
The three troupes of mummers who needed room and board were given rooms in the servants' quarters of the Red Keep. Only the next day after Alysanne received them at her court chamber, Alarra snuck out to see them: Alysanne was quite clear that the mummers weren't to be supervised, but Alarra asked her if she could simply take a look, and the queen said yes after some hesitation and instructed her to be tactful and polite and not to interfere.
Alarra knew that her stepmother was especially intrigued by the singing ladies, but, truth be told, she didn't think them much of a novelty: there were already plenty of singers at court. The puppeteers could be interesting, but they were led by a septon, and they probably wouldn't wish to meet Alarra, since she kept the old gods.
The half-Dornish troupe... now that was something she really wanted to see.
The servants pointed her towards where the Sunflowers were rehearsing – one of the Keep's many yards. Alarra went there (taking care to put an old cloak over her dress – she didn't want it to get splattered with mud outdoors).
She thought she was being quiet, but the mummers, in the midst of some discussion, grew silent while she was still approaching them. There were about a dozen of them, and they bowed to her in unison.
"My lady," said a blond-haired slim woman. At first Alarra thought she was young, and only after looking closer did she realize she had a heavily made-up middle-aged face. "Are we causing any disturbance?"
"No, not at all. And I'm not here to judge your staging – that's what Her Grace will do. I just wanted to get acquainted with you and look at how you're working, if it's not a bother to you."
"Of course not, Lady Stark. I am Myribeth, and I'm composing all the lines and most of the music. These are the other mummers..." she began, and Alarra stopped her, alarmed:
"Oh, no, don't waste your time on all those ceremonies! I'll catch your names myself. Just – just go on as if I'm not here."
She felt very awkward now, but leaving would only make the Sunflowers think they had somehow displeased the royal family. The only way for her now was to sit on a bench in the corner, give Myribeth an encouraging smile, and look on.
At first the mummers often glanced towards her and obviously weren't at ease with her presence, but then, thankfully, they grew used to it and practically forgot she was there. Alarra, who had never seen a mummer's show prepared, watched, entranced.
It looked like Myribeth was going to write about a scene per day and then rehearse all that she had written – sort of like making a snowball, adding scene after scene after scene. Myribeth herself was playing the main character Queen Lysaena (Alarra frowned at such an obvious ripoff from Alysanne's name, but didn't say anything – she promised them not to make any judgments), and the first scene was to show her domestic bliss with her husband King Jaeryn (played by an actually young man with actual silvery hair – most likely, from Dragonstone or Driftmark).
"I have been blessed with a good kingdom and many riches, but my greatest blessing is my beloved wife and sister," the young man spoke.
"My family!" Myribeth hissed with the corner of her mouth before putting an adoring smile back on.
"But my greatest blessing is my family: my beloved wife and sister and our sweet children. I can ask for nothing more except for my happiness to stay with me for the rest of my life."
Another mummer – the only one Alarra could clearly discern as Dornish, lithe and with brown skin – ran to them and knelt in front of the silvery-haired youth.
"My good king!"
There was a long pause.
"What is the matter, my good septon?" Myribeth shouted angrily. "Brennan, can't you remember anything?"
"I'm sorry, Aunt Myrie," the silvery-haired youth said. In his natural character, he looked even younger.
"Do you want to continue playing non-speaking soldiers for the rest of your life? I gave you a role where you have actual words before dying, and you're already making me regret it!"
The mummer playing the septon rolled his eyes, stood up and walked more or less in Alarra's direction, so she took the opportunity to ask him sympathetically:
"Is it going to be a long delay?"
"Oh, yes, my lady," he said. "Brennan's an orphan, and Myribeth took him in when he was little, but she doesn't want us to think she's playing favorites, so he's getting the roughest time of us all."
"Is he from Dragonstone?"
"What? Oh, no, my lady. His mother was a slave from Lys – her owner fell on hard times and let her go."
"Lys?" Alarra looked at Brennan with new fascination. "I've rarely met people from so far away."
"It's just that, my lady, Myribeth is from Oakenshield, so she got to know people from all sorts of places even before she started the troupe. I'm from Braavos, and those twins," he pointed at two pale redheads, "are Dornish, and Garris here," he gestured towards a dark-skinned elderly man, "is from the Greenblood."
Alarra barely kept her jaw from dropping. He was from Braavos, the cold and misty Braavos, and the redhead girls whom she thought to be as Andal as they make them were from Dorne?
"Brennan, I am sick of you!" Myribeth yelled in the meantime. "If you can't get your lines right by tomorrow, you are going to play a begging brother with no lines! Raltys, do come here, let's try out my draft for when the queen learns of the king's death."
The Braavosi hurried towards her, while the silvery-haired boy, his head hung low, stepped back. Alarra, feeling bad for him, stood up from the bench so that he could at least sit there.
"I have an errand to go to," she said. "Thank you for letting me watch, it has been quite interesting."
As she left the yard, she saw Brennan sitting down on the bench, holding the small scroll probably containing his lines in front of him, and as he noticed her looking he shot her a grateful smile and bowed.