Chapter XXVIII: Deadly Sins
Once the Oakenfist had secured the Planky Town, our army had made its camp there, awaiting further orders. The Tor, Ghost Hill and Spottswood had fallen, and they had sailed past Sunspear to first take Planky Town. Part of the army was sent towards Lemonwood to secure it and allow no thorn in our back. Once that was done the castle along the Greenblood would find themselves besieged - Godsgrace and Vaith would fall in their turn. The Ironborn, against all odds, had managed to take Saltshore, and had killed the Gargalens.
Gathered one night in my pavilion along with my captains, lords Caron and Velaryon, ser Jonos Edgerton and Ser Oscar Tully chief amongst them, we argued back and forth over my decision to parley with the Orphans of the Greenblood, to make sure our advance up the river would not be hindered, and other matters alongside.
Lord Hayford, who had not yet distinguished himself enough to warrant a great reward, proved himself reluctant to my plans regarding Dorne:
"It is wise, Your Grace, to unmake Dorne so utterly and attaint every lord and house without mercy? The lords of the realm might grow weary of such ruthlessness. I do not deny that Wyl and Yronwood and Martell are deserving of their fate, but your advisers that argue for no mercy might be guided by other things than good counsel."
Lord Caron rose, and with a grave voice, accused: "And you, Hayford, do you not speak from envy? You claim that I desire honours so I counsel the king to be as cruel and unyielding as he can be? It is not greed that moves me so, my lord. It is hatred, the uttermost hatred. It is not greed that is my mortal sin, milord Hayford, though envy might be yours. It is wrath, unyielding, everlasting. If Wyl and his ilk had not fallen at His Grace's hand, and instead died peacefully in his bed, I would have descended myself into the Seventh Hell, by whatever foul deed I would need to commit, and begged its demons to allow me to torture him myself."
"I was a young boy many years past, playing with the smallfolk children from the village under the shadow of Nightsong. We were playing men-at-arms and reivers, fool children as we were. My brother Willem – he was the firstborn, my father's heir, and the apple of his eye – he was one of the reivers, and I played the lord of Nightsong, gods damn me, defending my lands. In our game, we caught him and tied a rope under his armpits and hoisted him up an old oak, as if we were hanging him. He was laughing, like any young child playing with his friends."
"Then the true reivers came. To my everlasting shame, we fled, one and all. We left my brother behind and ran. My brother did not laugh anymore – he yelled after us, he sobbed, he cried to be let down. I can still hear his screams in my night terrors. When I reached the safety of the castle's walls, I was quick to tell of it to my father. He rounded up his household knights and rode forth to slay the reavers."
"It was darkest night when he returned – the witching hour. His face was cold as the heart of winter, unmoving as if carved from stone, silent tears glistening on his cheeks. In his arms was my brother, shot by a hundred arrows, dead."
"From that day, my father never looked upon me with love, or pride, or any kind of kindness. I put away the misdeeds of childhood, listened to the septon and maester. Learned the martial arts dilligently from the master at arms. And when I grew and my jousting was better, I rode in tourneys for glory. For glory, but a glory that would get me a kind, or proud word from my father."
"Not even on his deathbed did he show mercy to me. He died and I remained, unforgiven. The only words before his last breath were to ask to be buried under that oak tree – with his son."
"After I lowered him into the ground, I swore an oath. An oath that I would take one of Wyl's kin and hang him from the same oak. In the year since, I have been great in wrath against the Dornish and their reivers – as every Marcher can attest – unmerciful, cruel, unyielding. I have judged even the innocent guilty in my great zeal, have killed men without judgement, showing disdain for the king's justice. I have spent many nights in drunken stupor, cursing the gods. When Daeron came to conquer Dorne, I relished the opportunity. But it was not meant to be – Wyl bent the knee. When the Dornish rebelled, I hoped again. Then Daeron died by perfidy. Then the king came, and Wyl's doom was the king's vengeance, not mine."
"And here I must ask His Grace's pardon. When my king asked that Wyl's sons be thrown to the scorpions, I snuck away one of them. My men took him to Nightsong and hung him upon the oak. I judged it that the king would be more forgiving if I hanged one of the boys he wished dead, and not the one he swore will be spared – for if the youngest would have been the only left alive – I would have slighted the king more greatly and stormed Ghaston Grey to fulfil my fell oath. I have now fulfilled my oath, and I can only subject myself to my sovereign's mercy. I am old and weary of my days and prepared to face my doom in the Seven Hells." he said and knelt before me.
Suddenly, I heard a harsh and loud voice that said "Beware." Startled, I jumped to my feet and drew Blackfyre forth from its sheath, the lords bewildered – thinking I would slay Caron then and there. A sudden gust of wind blew in, and the candles guttered, and darkness came. A cold shiver went through me and a shadow flowed forth through the doors of the tent and flew straight at me. It was fortunate for me that Caron rose and turned, and it flew straight at him. Once he fell dead, the shadow dissolved upon the wind, one life all it was meant to take.
Once the candles had been lit again, the lords and commanders clamoured: "What was that?", "A demon!", "That thing came straight out the Seventh Hell, I swear to you." "The Martells consort with demons now?".
"Silence" I yelled over their loud blathering. "That was the work of a shadow binder, no doubt a red priest of R'hllor, the so-called Lord of Light, and God of Flame… and Shadow."
"The shadow city of Sunspear has a Red Temple," said Ser Jonos. "My father told me of it. It is most certainly the work of a Martell."
I turned towards the Oakenfist with orders: "Find learned men to write down my words, and send letters to my seal to every port in the realm: Any red priests that sets foot in our realm, shall be slain without judgement, for they are consorters with demons, masters of malice that seduce good men from the Faith and corrupt the morals of the innocent. On further thought, have them thrown back into the sea – their god is one of flame, let us throw them in water, to the sea and its gods instead."
"And if they learn to swim?" asked Bastyen, now present in every council, to sanction any possible foolishness spoken aloud.
"Then we'll tie a mill stone to their feet before we throw them to the fishes" I answered him, returing his jest, before reverting to my prior, sombre demeanour.
I turned then to Aemon: "Find me that red priest, or priestess with all haste! Whoever they were, they could not have fled very far. And once we take Sunspear, that Red Temple needs to be destroyed. But burn it not by fire, for their Red God loves his fire, smash it all to nothing."
I returned my attention to the council of war and spoke with them: "Lord Caron is dead, putting himself in front of his king to defend him. Naught but good will be spoken of him. I need men for an escort of honour to Nightsong. Let his bones be buried under that oak and mayhap he'll find some peace."
"Tell his son to burn that tree – it's fate is fulfilled and tell him that I will buy that land from him and build there a grand septry out of my own coin, their brothers forever bound to pray for Lord Caron's soul."
"And, my lord Hayford, I shall hear no unkind word from you of him. Lord Caron might have been a great sinner, but no doubt there were such among your line. Even my father was guilty of that great sin of sloth, not of body, but an indolence of the mind – that melancholy that led him to refuse joy and lack of care for his duties towards other, lack of feeling about others. He ever lived in a winter of discontent."
"I myself have shown myself a sinner in this endeavour of war, for I showed great wrath in my vengeance, and shall make penance for it for the rest of my days. If you would judge Lord Caron a great sinner, my lords, judge me no lesser of one than him."
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