Robb at the Crossing, Part IX

Respects

Tyrion listened attentively to the tavern keeper. "They're calling it the Red Night. I saw it, the comet that is. Its tail stretched half way across the sky; red as the hidden moon. And there was a sort of flickering like a curtain moving in a breeze. In the morning Baelor's bells started ringing and the criers announced the bloody news from the Red Keep. Many thought it a trick to smoke out traitors. But then we heard about the riot and all those loyal to the throne rushed to join. Of course that was all of us. The Tyroshi didn't put up much of a fight. Never liked their kind much, greedy and look funny; should all go back where they came from."

Tyrion had just arrived in King's Landing and sought to regain his land legs by visiting the port side establishments. The voyage from Rook's Roost had been tempestuous. Indeed the captain had been sheltering when Tyrion and his company rode up. He agreed to continue despite the poor weather only because of the bonus Tyrion offered. Bronn, Podrick and a servant boy were included in the passage but not the clansmen. The captain had taken one look and concluded his cargo of wine and perhaps the ship itself would not survive the voyage. This did not entirely disappoint them being hesitant to commit their fates to a battered carrack. None had ever been to sea and were not eager to broaden their experience this blustery day. As they did not expect to see Tyrion alive again Timett and Shagga demanded to be paid off. After some spirited negotiation they finally accepted a portion in gold and the remainder in a note payable by Lord Tywin. He emphasized the importance of delivering along with the note a personal message to his father extolling their valiant service. More intrepid than their erstwhile companions Tyrion and Bronn proved equally as thirsty. Their consumption was duly recorded and added to the fare. All these travel expenses left Tyrion a little short. Consequently the tavern they found themselves in was of the more modest variety. Although the choice was limited and the quality poor Tyrion, mindful of the possibilities in hapless circumstance, knew such places were excellent sources of gossip and rumor. The keeper had much to relate.

"Oh, we had our doubts, still. None of us could remember a time when there were no Lannisters alive in the city. 'Must be a traitor in the Kingsguard', some said, like with the Mad King. And then by the next day everyone knew that the Hound had deserted. Well, good ser, that was enough for me; too bad about all those Tyroshi. Weren't about to return anything we took; can't be responsible for an honest mistake, don't you know. This war has not helped us much. We all were hungry. Best thing King Stannis has done, bringing in those ships." He waved his arm to encompass the whole of Blackwater Rush. Vessels large and small filled the port; merchant men aplenty but the numerous war galleys stood out boldly.

"And do the people still doubt?" prompted Tyrion.

"The second thing Stannis did, laid the bodies out in Baelor for all to see. Oh, the sight of the little prince and princess! Many wept. The Queen, still beautiful even in death. Young Lancel, the very image of Jaime, so they say. The King, though; I must say my feelings were somewhat mixed, don't you know. Oh, the Silent Sisters worked their craft well, but his head just didn't fit right. Some broken things can't be put together again, it's not worth the trying. You should go see for yourself, good ser, and soon. They won't keep much longer, must have used all the ice in the cellars by now. There's a river of melt flowing into the street."

"You'd seen them in life?"

"I was there when they struck off ol' Ned's head. Saw the King and Queen then. From a distance mind you. Lancel and the children? No, never. But many had and I have no reason to doubt them."

"The Tyroshi you mentioned, why did so many readily believe they were guilty?"

"Why it seemed obvious. The flour merchant, just the day before; the King had his sport with him. They say he was so frightened by Joffrey's aim with the crossbow that the old Tyroshi soiled his pants. Shot a bolt right between his legs. Joffrey had him wipe it up with his beard and then sent him to the Black Cells. And then the most amazing thing happened, one can scarce believe."

Suddenly attentive, Bronn asked, "And where was all this?"

"In the Great Hall, many witnessed it. But the amazing thing was the bird."

"This is too much; tell me it was a raven."

"Just so, good ser; may I refill your cup?"

"To the brim, keep. And what about this raven was so amazing?"

"Of course I was not there myself; not of any mind to really. The ladies I understand are quite lovely, but too many angry men with weapons. I'll stay right here, thank you very much. We do have a few lovely ladies frequenting this ward. Of course we observe the new edicts but if you or your companions are of a mind I would be more than pleased to arrange an assignation, as they say. Perhaps with a discount for the boy?"

"A tempting proposal; but if I recall correctly you were preparing to reveal an amazing occurrence involving a raven."

"Oh most certainly; I am prone to digress at times. Well, as I was saying, I do not speak of first hand events but you can ask anyone in the city and he'll tell the tale alike."

"And with that disclaimer well understood …?"

"The bird, they say, had concealed itself amid the ceiling beams directly above the Iron Throne. It waited until all eyes were on the king and then let loose a very torrent of droppings. The king was nearly drowned! He invoked the sacred Mother. And the raven swooped about all around the hall screaming in a demonic voice, Vengeance for Winterfell!"

"I can well imagine Joffrey's anger. Was the bird captured and punished?"

"Sadly not. A generous reward was offered. No bird was safe that night. Now, there are those who say that the bird was the spirit of dead Ned incarnate. And that very night vengeance was exacted!"

"A telling argument. I will visit the Great Sept of Baelor and see if there are any tell-tale indications of murder by raven. Bronn, would you care to accompany me?"

"When I finish this bottle. It tastes better the more I drink. Not to be a prick about it, but elements of our host's story sound very familiar. What did you say her bird's name was?"

"Rhaegar. Keep, any reports on that spiritual raven's color?"

"Black I would surmise; aren't all ravens black?"

"Actually not all. And that would be first-hand."

"Well now, I will add that nugget to my natural philosophy. But please excuse me, I must check on preparations for the afternoon trade. We have a large pot of brown stewing in the kitchen."

"Any raven in it?" Podrick asked. Bronn slapped him on the back.

"Ha! Nothing worth eating on those birds." The keeper got up and left.

"Better than rat. Don't like it when there's too much rat in it."

"A taste widely shared, Pod. And yet you find the cuisine of King's Landing so over-ratted."

A slight cowled figure came up to the tavern, peered inside, stared at Tyrion, slowly walked up to his table, and sat down. "So, is this where I'll stay, m'lord? Charming."

"I told you to wait in the boat while I looked for lodging. It is not wise for you to be seen with me."

"I was bored; besides the captain was becoming too familiar. He offered the use of his cabin. Is this any good?" She took a sip from his cup and made a face. "You should go back to the boat. Oh! But you can't afford any better. Will it be up to me to earn our keep?"

"Shae," he whispered, "a Lannister's solvency is never doubted. I will soon be flush again. Bronn, here has no doubts. Bronn?"

"None at all. Lannisters shit gold."

"I have not yet needed that skill. My house still has credit in this city. But first I must pay my respects."

"How much will that cost?"

"A small contribution is customary but not required. You may wish to wait outside."

"No, I'll go with you, m'lord, but six steps behind."

Tyrion squeezed her hand. "You know where I'm going?"

"It's the only thing people talk of in this city."

Tyrion and Bronn walked together, Pod and Shae followed at a respectful distance. They entered the city at the Mud Gate, crossed Fishmonger's Square, and then up Muddy Way to the foot of Visenya's Hill. The approach to the Great Sept was crowded with festive townsfolk climbing and descending. Bronn walked ahead to clear a path. When Tyrion slipped on a cobble stone, Pod rushed forward to offer his arm for support. The street was wet and as they neared the Sept the water could be seen flowing from the doors. A great wain laden with blocks of ice covered in straw and sawdust lumbered past them. It added its drip to the current. "The cellars here are unfathomable, Pod; fire and ice, ice and fire."

There were gold cloaks stationed at the entrance to control the crowd. Enterprising vendors worked the lines, hawking sweets, drinks and "genuine" Lannister relics. Tyrion examined one peddler's selection. Someone had gone to great trouble to create from fired clay figurines of family notables. The likenesses were actually quite good. The crafter must have frequented court. There was even one of himself. It was out of scale with the others. He bought it and one of his father. When he was settled he would place both side by side on his desk. There at least, Tyrion would stand as tall as Tywin.

He listened to the talk around him. There were complaints about the wait, how warm it had become, whether Stannis would burn the Septon, and how little there was to buy in the market. A lad behind Tyrion was loudly demanding to go home. Then, "look at the ugly little man! Does he do tricks, mummy?" He was laughing and pointing. Pod and Shae quickly came between Tyrion and the boy. Bronn turned and glared at him and then at his parents. "You'd best leave, now." Tyrion watched them hurrying back down the hill. "Long live the king," he muttered.

When it was their turn Tyrion and his party entered the Great Sept of Baelor. The seven chapels were in deep shadow. The rotunda itself was normally illuminated with a multitude of candles and lamps. But high in the cupola a large mirrored panel had been installed long ago. It was mounted on a curved track. On sunny days like this a team of acolytes would constantly adjust its angle and orientation to reflect a shaft of light onto the floor. It created a striking and warming effect. The five coffins rested in deep tubs filled with ice, the melt draining onto the floor where wood channels had been placed. The King's was in the center, the others at the cardinal points. A Kingsguard stood rigidly at the head of each coffin. They rotated their position on the hour. Tyrion recognized them: Meryn Trant, Boros Blount, Mandon Moore, Preston Greenfield, and Arys Oakheart. He would have a word with each. Trant guarded Joffrey's remains; he started there.

Tyrion was immediately reminded of the tavern keeper's comment; Joffrey's head did not sit right. He fought an impulse to reach into the coffin and try to straighten it. Of regret or sorrow he felt nothing. As he walked around the coffin he sensed Trant watching him. He stopped in front and thumped Ser Trant's breastplate with his thumb. "Hot in there, Trant, even with all this ice? I hear Stannis burns kingslayers. But come to Casterly Rock with Joffrey here and my father will only take your head."

Trant did not look down. "Everyone knows the Hound did it, imp. Boros was there, too; he'll tell you."

"I heard he had an accomplice."

"Pycelle, he mixed the poison. The eunuch and Littlefinger had him arrested even before Stannis got here."

"Was there not another … of the feathered kind?"

"Pycelle's pet? Bird shit!"

"Yes, that; but did you happen to catch his name?"

"The Hound said Rhaegar. Hmmm … that's better." At his height Tyrion noticed the darkening of Trant's pants leg. The piss would be lost on the floor.

Ser Boros guarded the Queen's remains. Tyrion could see nothing in the stout man's pig eyes to reveal the slightest emotion. Discomfort, yes; sweat from his brow dripped into his eyes causing him to blink. Otherwise he stared straight ahead. Tyrion looked down at his sister and felt his feelings knotted. Now that she was gone he could admit to himself that it was her hatred that had hurt the most. There were families he had known where older sisters had doted on their younger siblings, even assuming a mother's role in her absence. How different things might have been. One thing he was sure of, her love for her children. Was it conceivable that she would murder them? He'd heard such stories. But he who had never known a mother's love could not imagine such a thing. He revered mothers and had come to despise fathers. The thought occurred to him, how would he react if a son of his was born a dwarf? It frightened him. He genuinely didn't know; another reason to hate himself.

"Blount, down here. Clegane said something that night. How do you recall it?"

"You, imp? Here to gloat? All your betters dead, your kind must find it amusing."

"No, I find it puzzling that they're dead while you and your brothers appear in fine health. I'll be amused when you answer to Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime. Think on that before you answer my question."

Boros, swallowed hard; his mouth was dry. He craved a strong ale. "The King told him to find the fucking bird that shat on him. The Hound said it was one of Pycelle's birds; Rhaegar."

"See; that wasn't so hard. I may even find a good word to put in for you. Or not."

Next was Lancel, his cousin. They'd hardly exchanged a word and Tyrion had seldom given him a thought. Why was he here with the others, all royals? Ser Mandon was his guard. No feelings in those dead fish eyes, either. "Lancel was King Robert's squire. Served him well, did he not?"

"You're asking my opinion, lord Tyrion? Well enough, I suppose. King Robert had no cause for complaint, right up until the end. He never lacked for wine."

"Just so. I sometimes wondered."

He had been avoiding the children. This would be hard. Tommen's guard was Ser Preston. "You were there when King Robert was gored?"

"Not the question I was expecting. No, alas, I was elsewhere. The King had me beating the brush. He rode off with young Lancel close behind. You're too late to question him."

"Indeed." Finally he looked into the coffin. They had used an adult size and the child appeared lost in it. Someone who knew him had placed a small stuffed animal under his arm, a cat; no, a lion. They could have stopped with Joffrey and Cersei. But they wanted to extinguish the line completely. There was something else, a child size wooden practice sword. It was by his side partially hidden by a fold in the shroud. Was it the one from Winterfell? What an ill-fated duel that was. For a moment he feared he'd lose control. His eyes were tearing. He paused, took a deep breath, despite the smell of corruption, and nearly stumbled stepping the few feet to the last coffin. Ser Arys stood guard. Of all the Kingsguard he alone was solemn; grieving, perhaps. Maybe there was a man here. "Can there be any reason for her death?"

Ser Arys had watched him approach. "My lord, if you forgive me, the Princess was best loved of the Lannisters. It could only have been to hurt."

"But with both brothers dead the throne would have passed to her."

"She would never have ruled, wed to a Martell or Tyrell within a year. And he would expect to rule as King with no by your leave."

"Exactly. She was a prize." He looked at her then and steadied himself with both hands on the coffin. "Arys, do this for me; I can't reach her without falling in. Cut a lock of her hair. I will carry it as a talisman, a reminder of the bloody vengeance that is her due." The Kingsguard did not hesitate and with care removed a golden tress with his dagger. He then gently arranged her hair to conceal his work. "Thank you."

As he turned from Myrcella he noticed the High Septon standing nearby in conversation with a well set young man in armor wearing a wide gold baldric. His glance followed the High Septon's finger pointing to Tyrion. Their eyes met; they nodded to each other. The man walked up to Tyrion and abruptly bowed. "Tyrion Lannister? You are as they describe."

"It is flattering to be so well recognized. And you, ser?"

"My apologies. Dale Seaworth, Commander of the City Watch. A recent appointment. You may have noticed my ship the Wraith in the harbor." He appeared wistful for a moment and then offered his hand. They shook. "We had word of your visit. Please come with me into the chapel of the Stranger. It is less crowded. You could have bypassed the lines. The King left instructions that any Lannisters need not wait with the smallfolk."

"Actually I am quite at home among the smallfolk. Ah … have there been many Lannisters?

"No, ser; you're the only one. King Stannis would have preferred Tywin or the Kingslayer."

"Once again I disappoint. Seaworth, Seaworth … I am familiar with that name."

"Must be my father, Ser Davos, the Hand of the King. Another recent appointment."

"Yes, the Onion Knight. King Stannis is not a man to waste time or capable men."

"He would have you attend his court tomorrow morning, at six of the clock."

"My, an early riser. The last time I woke that early I was nearly killed."

"Not likely here, Tyrion … may I call you so? I have been tasked with your safety."

"You needn't bother; I am beloved in King's Landing if not all the Seven Kingdoms. Sales of my likeness are booming. Besides I have my own protection." Bronn had come up beside Tyrion and nodded, smiling.

"Good day, ser. Be that as it may I ask that you humor me in this. The King was definite. His hospitality extends to the Red Keep. I am to escort you and your entourage there and see to your comfort."

"Well, I have already made other arrangements for our accommodation but it is well said that when the king offers one accepts."

"Just what my father says."

"He sounds like a man I could do business with. Perhaps there is a possibility I could attend the King this evening or perhaps meet with the Hand separately?"

"They will be entertaining other visitors. I fear you are late one day."

"The embassy from the Starks? Lady Catelyn is here?"

"Yes. She led us to believe that your arrival would be delayed some days. But I was taught never to assume anything. My watchers were alerted."

"I made no secret of my identity; it would have been futile in this city. Was there a young woman in Lady Catelyn's party? I believe her name is Walda. We met on my journey."

"Quite so." Tyrion noticed Dale's expression brighten. "A true beauty, yet she seemed ill. There was a sadness in her eyes, perhaps in deference to Lady Catelyn's feelings. She asked to see her husband's remains. The King advised her not to, but she insisted. If I may say you do not appear overly troubled by this massacre."

"I have been judged by my appearance since birth. It is seldom an accurate measure. Joffrey was cruel and cowardly. Cersei wished me dead; she corrupted Lancel. The children … I loved."

"I am sorry about the young ones, but their deaths gave Stannis the throne and a chance for peace."

"Oh, is that what he wants? It may have spared him a battle for King's Landing but his rivals are men with armies. Many will still die."

"Is that the message you bring?"

"Perhaps we should discuss this further elsewhere? But tell me this, did the Lady Walda have a large white raven with her?"

"Raven? No, but it is curious you should mention a bird. I have a warrant to arrest a certain Rhaegar, for insult and injury to the crown. If he does not present himself in two days he shall be declared outlaw."

"The Rhaegar I know is most obedient to authority. I am sure that when he hears of your summons he will come to roost. However, he may not be in the city; flown the coop, so to speak."

"Criers have been sent throughout the Crownlands to proclaim the summons. I am new to this job but I know that much."

"Excuse me Ser Dale; it is only that birds are so seldom prosecuted these days."

"True enough. Pigs I've seen tried. In a poor village a three-year old had gone missing. A sow and her piglets were found devouring the child's remains. The process lasted several days. The sow was condemned, dressed in a woman's clothes, hanged and burned. The advocate did manage to save the piglets. They were judged ignorant and under the sow's evil influence."

"Sounds a waste of good pork."

"The meat was tainted. The piglets were sold away. This was no joke to the villagers. They demanded the trial and what justice the lord provides. The lowborn value their lives as much as we. A child's murder must be punished, be she a princess or a pauper."

"It was a poor jest, Ser Dale. I am prone to make light of serious matters. My party is all here. Please lead us to the Red Keep."