Chapter 9: The Stranger
"And they are both coming? Even Wyman Manderly?"
"Yes, my lord," Davos replied.
"Roose Bolton made a great show of reluctance at first. Some disturbance in his land, he claimed. A mere excuse, of course," Stannis scoffed. "Maester Luwin tells me I should be wary of Lord Bolton. But he does not tell me whether that is due to the age-old rivalry between the Starks and the Boltons, or referring to something more recent. Luwin is too vague and ambiguous with his words. On purpose, I'm sure. 'I am certain you would like to form your own impression about certain matters, my lord, uncolored by my opinion,' he tells me. As if I'm a mule easily led whose mind is a blank slate that must be protected from any outside influence, even his own." Stannis paused, staring out the window, gazing at the flurry of activities in the courtyard.
"Cressen would not have hesitated. Cressen would have told me the whole bitter truth, whether I wish to hear it or not. Cressen would have trusted in my ability to make up my own mind," he continued.
"Maester Cressen has known you all your life, sire," Davos reminded Stannis. "Maester Luwin is still trying to find his footing, still trying to know the new lord he is serving." Davos paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Maester Luwin is a most valuable ally, my lord. It would not do to … to alienate him in any way."
Stannis did not reply for a long time. "Have no fear, ser. I will not mention Maester Cressen in Maester Luwin's presence. I know from my own experience how infuriating that could be. I have heard Robert wishing for Ned Stark often enough," he finally said.
Davos breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, while Stannis stayed ominously silent, Davos wondered if perhaps he had gone too far. "Lord Manderly and Lord Umber seem to think the same as Maester Luwin, about being wary of Lord Bolton," Davos said.
Stannis narrowed his eyes. "Wyman Manderly and Greatjon Umber could be hatching their own schemes and plans, and turning my suspicion towards Roose Bolton is merely the first step in their plotting."
"It's possible, of course," Davos acknowledged. "We must be prepared for any eventuality. But it was Lord Bolton who had been the loudest voice whispering to Ned Stark that his brother Benjen was too young to be left in charge of Winterfell and the North while Lord Stark went south to war."
"Bolton wanted Ned Stark to leave him in charge of Winterfell and the North?"
"I doubt Lord Bolton would have put it that bluntly. From the little I have learned about Roose Bolton, he operates in a more subtle manner."
"Subtle, and therefore more devious," Stannis said.
"Indeed."
Stannis sighed. "I had thought that leaving King's Landing for the North would take us far from the vile nest of treachery and corruption. That does not seem to be the case."
"Treachery and corruption exist everywhere, sire. Men are … well, men, wherever they happen to reside," Davos replied.
"True enough. I suppose my ears had been burning for so long hearing Robert going on and on about the indisputable and unrivalled honor and nobility of the northmen, I might have started to believe in it myself, despite my misgivings and more natural inclinations. But my brother in truth knew no northerner except Ned Stark, and even there, Robert knew the late Lord Stark less than he imagined, I should think."
We all know those we love, as well as those we serve, less than we would like to believe, Davos thought.
Now. You have to bring up the matter now.
Davos had no clue how Stannis would react. What business is it of yours? Stannis might say, and he would be entirely within his rights to say so.
It was Maester Cressen's words that gave Davos the courage, in the end. "I will not be there with him. You, Davos. Only you. You're the only one who could, and would, tell him the things he might not wish to hear."
"Sire, there is another matter … a most delicate matter," Davos began.
Stannis raised an eyebrow. "Well, go on. I have never known you to flinch or turn away from anything before, delicate or not."
"Concerning … children, my lord."
"Children? Ah, your boys, Davos. I see. It must be hard for you to be separated from them. But I must have you here at Winterfell, ser. I must! I need someone I can trust by my side, my own man, not a Stark's man, not a Winterfell's man. Winterfell already has a maester; I could not have taken Cressen with me, not without alienating half the castle."
I should have made my meaning clearer, Davos despaired. "No, sire, I was not speaking of my own children. I am glad to serve you in any way you have need of me, in Winterfell or anywhere else. My boys and my wife Marya are used to long separation. When I made my living at sea, I would be gone for months at a time before returning home."
"When you were a smuggler, Davos. Let us be precise with our words."
"Yes, sire."
"Then which children are you talking about? Robb Stark and Jon Snow?"
Davos shook his head. "No, not them. Perhaps it isn't the question of children, so much as … the act that breeds them. A marriage –"
Stannis interrupted. "Have you made a bastard of your own, Davos?"
Davos was aghast at the misunderstanding. "Sire, I -"
"I suppose that was why you brought up the long separation from your wife. Men are men, you said, but surely, if you love your wife as you claim you do, you would not dishonor her in that way. I was not pleased with Benjen Stark and his bastard, but at least Benjen was not a married man. At least he did not betray his marriage vow when he fathered his bastard. My brother Robert made more than his fair share of bastards, before and after his marriage. I would never have expected you to be the same kind of man, Davos," Stannis said, sounding both angry, and disappointed.
The disappointment was much harder to bear for Davos.
I have known other women, yes. But that is between Marya and me.
Then what goes on in Lord Stannis' marital bed is between him and Lady Catelyn. Why should it be any different?
There is a difference, Davos insisted. A big difference. What happened in Davos' marriage had no bearing on anything or anyone else's fate, except his own family. What happened in Lord Stannis' marriage to Lady Catelyn, on the other hand, could determine the fate of countless others, even the fate of the North.
"Well? What have you got to say for yourself?" Stannis asked impatiently, his back turned to Davos.
Better to go straight to the heart of the matter, Davos thought. "It has been noticed, my lord, that you and Lady Catelyn have been sleeping in separate bedchambers."
Stannis spun around quickly as if he had been shot by an arrow. "Noticed? Noticed by whom?"
"By almost everyone in Winterfell."
"The servants are gossiping and spreading rumors, you mean? I will not have it! Who are these rumor-mongers? Tell me their names, Davos."
"An unconsummated marriage can be easily set aside, sire," Davos pressed on, ignoring Stannis' outburst. "The rumor might be confined to Winterfell for the time being, but we don't know how long it will stay that way. The danger –"
"I am well-aware of the danger!"
"Then sire, you must –"
"I must consummate my marriage? Is that what you're going to say? What makes you so certain I have not done so already? We were married at King's Landing, our wedding night was not at Winterfell. The marriage could have been consummated then." Stannis eyes were like pointed daggers ready to stab and bloody Davos.
Davos neither flinch nor waver. "And was it? Consummated?"
"Take care that you do not overstep your bounds, smuggler," Stannis warned. "I do not have to take this insolence from anyone. Not even you."
Davos went down on his knee. "My lord, when you commanded me to accompany you to Winterfell, you bid me to give you my honest counsel and my loyal service. I would be giving you neither if I fail to make you see what a precarious position you have put yourself into, sire."
Stannis continued staring at Davos, making no reply.
"And not just yourself. Lady Catelyn and her son too," Davos continued.
That remark finally prompted Stannis to respond. "The marriage was consummated," Stannis enunciated each word clearly and carefully through gritted teeth. "On our wedding night."
"It is also the question of appearance, my lord. Lady Catelyn is not with child, and –"
"-and since Ned Stark gave her a son on their wedding night, the fact that she is not with child now must mean either I have not touched her at all, or I am less of a man than the great Lord Stark was."
"Sire, if you truly believe that I am capable of such thoughts, then you should send me away immediately, for being a man unworthy to serve you in any capacity."
"No, not you, Davos. But I know other people must be thinking it. Robert, certainly," Stannis laughed, bitterly.
"Your brother is not here. You are here. Lady Catelyn is here. The king entrusted Winterfell and the North in your care until Robb Stark comes of age."
"And I must do my duty. Yes, Davos, I'm aware of that. I have been aware of that my whole life. Must I bed my wife in full view of everyone in the castle? Would that satisfy them?"
"Sharing her bedchamber at night would do much to quell the rumors, sire."
The sept was empty except for her, as it usually was. Lately, Catelyn had been coming here not just to pray, but to be alone with her thoughts. It was the only place she could go at Winterfell where no one would speak to her; the only place where she did not have to pretend that she was all courage and strength, with no self-doubt and hesitation swirling inside her.
Her husband was not speaking to her much, however. Oh, they spoke of Winterfell's business, of course; they were both of them too much a creature of duty to neglect their prescribed roles and functions. But they had not spoken the way they had that first night in King's Landing, not since arriving at Winterfell.
He had not touched her since they arrived at Winterfell either. Not just touching her touching her, as a husband should his wife. He had avoided even accidentally grazing her hand, or touching her cheek, as he had done a few times, awkwardly and tentatively, in King's Landing.
What had changed, Catelyn wondered? Him? Her? Both of them? The place?
Perhaps it would have been better if they had stayed a bit longer at King's Landing. They would have had more time to forge a relationship, to get to know one another. In King's Landing, she did not feel that they were constantly on display, persistently being watched and observed, as she was feeling here in Winterfell. In the capital, Stannis was only the king's younger brother, and Catelyn held no position at all. There was some freedom in that.
We could not have delayed coming to Winterfell. It would have made things harder in the long run. She knew that, of course. But still …
"You lit a candle for the Crone," a voice said from the back of the sept.
Catelyn closed her eyes, gathering her courage before turning around. "I did, yes. For her lantern to guide us out of the darkness."
He hesitated, before making his way towards her. "Are we … in the dark, my lady? Are we in need of guidance?"
"I am not certain, my lord. I thought perhaps you would have the answer," Catelyn replied.
"I? Why should I, when I am not even certain of the right question?"
Neither of them spoke, for a time. "Did you lit candles and pray for the Mother's mercy when your mother was dying?" He asked, breaking the silence.
"I prayed to the Stranger not to take my mother away from her children," Catelyn replied.
"Praying to the Stranger. I would not have thought that of you, my lady."
"There is much you do not know about me, my lord."
"Ser Davos tells me … there are rumors. And whispers. It's all over the castle, apparently."
"It would not have escaped the servants' notice that every morning we wake in separate bedchambers."
"Ser Davos seems to think it might jeopardize our position. And your son's."
"Ser Davos is a wise man."
"So you agree with him, my lady?"
"I do, yes."
"You would not find it insulting, were I to return to your bed now?"
"It depends, my lord."
"On what?"
"On why you left it in the first place."
"This was his home."
"Ned?"
He nodded. "In King's Landing, it was … different. It was no one's home, not mine, not yours. And certainly not his. It made things simpler, in a strange way."
Catelyn nodded. "I know. We were just two people newly married. Here, it's more complicated. There is the weight of Stark history, the re-"
"-the reminder of that Lord Stark who should have been here, bringing his lady wife home from the Riverlands."
Catelyn waited.
"It makes me feel like a usurper," he continued. "I have been cursing Robert for denying me Storm's End and giving it to Renly, usurping my rightful inheritance, and yet …"
"What is done is done. Whether it's Storm's End, or Winterfell. If we are to build something here, something that will last, then we cannot let the past destroy us. We must not let the past consume us, to the detriment of the future."
"Easier said than done. Tell me that part of you never wished that he had lived. That Robb had his true father still. That you had your Stark husband still. You must have wished that, at times."
"I wish that my mother is still alive. You must wish the same, with your own mother and father."
"You're avoiding my question."
"I married a man my father told me to wed. He died, so I married a man my king told me to wed. I would have been a good wife to Ned, had he lived. And I will be a good wife to you too. I will do my duty. I have always done my duty. You, of all people, should know that well enough."
"It seems so bleak. And cold as winter. How could you stand it?"
"Because it doesn't have to be cold and bleak. We can make it not so. We can work together so it is not so. But it will not happen on its own. Nothing happens on its own."
"I don't think I know how. Ned Stark might have been the northman, but he did not have ice water flowing in his veins."
"You don't either. It's an excuse you cite, to keep people at arm's length," Catelyn said.
He frowned. "An excuse? I didn't make it up. Robert accused me of it often enough. And others too, no doubt."
"They are wrong. And we will prove them wrong, together, you and I."
"You have too much faith in us, my lady."
"And you have too little, my lord."
"You're risking despair and disappointment."
"I would rather risk that, than to live without hope. Than to live without hope and without faith that things could get better, if we try, if we strive, if we make an effort."
"This is pointless. We're going in circles. This is only reminding me more starkly that you and I, my lady, we see the world in vastly different ways, our mutual commitment to duty notwithstanding."
"Perhaps you're right. But that is still a starting point, duty. It could lead us to surprising places, if we let it. It will lead you back to my bed, for one."
"And then?"
"We will see, won't we?"