Chapitre 42: Mummers Trial
Standing dutifully in the corner of the room, Margaery took a cursory glance over the room at the gathered lords and ladies. Most were comprised of the Northern lords that had come south with Robb, but there were also a few lords from the Riverlands and even a small handful from the Westerlands.
Many had of course refused to surrender to Robb like Lord Damon Marbrand of Ashemark. But there were those like Lord Gawen Westerling of the Crag, Lord Sarsfield, and Lady Alysanne Lefford of the Golden Tooth. While they didn't have much in the way of troops to offer them, they did provide what little support they could, even using their influence in the politics of the Westerlands to try and make Robb's position more advantageous and secure.
Though with the recent losses he had taken, Robb's campaign in the Westerlands was brought to a grinding halt. He had around nine thousand men to spare last she was told, though about five thousand were spread about acting as a garrison force at all the conquered castles and at the four mines he had taken at Pendric Hills, Nunn's Deep, Castamere and Tarbeck.
That left him with a force of four thousand which wasn't a number Robb was willing to use in order to siege other keeps. Especially when one realised that each castle still unconquered had near one thousand men defending it. Admittedly, most were recruits and young men, but Margaery had learned in recent months that a simple recruit had a significant advantage when defending a wall against an experienced attacker.
The recent siege of Banefort had resulted in a significant number of casualties, the largest Robb had suffered when personally leading an attack.
She was broken from her train of thought when the door opened and in strolled Robb Stark. His typical armour, fur cloak and sword on his person, but this time accompanied with the Crown of Winter. Margaery was certainly surprised by the sight of it, Robb rarely every wore it, but when he did, Margaery found that he looked quite handsome in it.
However, she knew that now wasn't the time to be admiring him.
His handsome face, usually one fixed into one of calm, collectedness that helped inspire confidence and put men at ease, was now entirely blank. A palpable air of anger radiated from the young King as he made his way through the now quiet crowd of lords and ladies, each going silent as soon as he entered.
Especially when they looked at the small group of wolves that also accompanied him. The two largest being directly at his side, those being Grey Wind and the recently found Nymeria, the Direwolf belonging to Robb's younger sister, Arya. With them was a small pack of wolves, numbering no more than ten, but Margaery admired Robb's attention to his image.
He was seen as the Young Wolf, even Grey Wind deferred to his commands and amongst a wolf pack, the Alpha ruled. The idea that a small pack of wolves, including two Direwolves followed the Young Wolf made his legend grow further, an impressive thing considering it's already large size.
Behind him, Dacey Mormont, Ser Brienne, Olyvar and Perwyn Frey followed behind, each dressed in full armour. It was definitely a strange sight, especially as over the past few weeks, with the war being put on hold, many had stopped wearing armour constantly, even the King.
Moving up the stairs leading to where the head table would usually be positioned, now only a simple wooden chair, slightly larger than most others in the room was stood and Robb sat down in it.
Nymeria and Grey Wind lowering onto all fours at his feet, with the smaller wolves lying about on the stairs. His four guardsmen, standing behind the throne, two one either side.
All in all, it worked perfectly to keep him as the dominant power in the room, a show of force and strength that kept every lord and lady in the room silent. Margaery couldn't help but internally applaud him for his actions and she couldn't help but feel touched to know that he had been listening. As much as he didn't like being King, he certainly was getting used to acting like one and Margaery liked to think that she had something to do with that.
Well, that was a lie, she knew she had something to do with it.
She had made a number of suggestions on how to create silence using actions instead of words. They seemed to be working masterfully, Robb no longer having to speak or raise his voice, but simply making his presence known in order to create silence.
Even now, the lords and ladies in the Great Hall remained silent, each looking to Robb, waiting for him to speak but he never did. His gaze never once stopped staring at the door of the Great Hall as if oblivious to the nervous fidgeting of those in his court. Many wishing to ask why they were here, yet all were too afraid that in being the first to speak, they would bring about the anger of the King.
Truly, he had taken her lessons to heart and used them masterfully to control the room.
He really was becoming a good King.
As seconds ticked by and the fidgeting lords and ladies looked ready to burst, the doors opened and in strolled the remainder of Robb's personal guard. Their presence caused a ripple of whispering and pointing to take place, those around the room taking careful note of how they were dressed, but more specifically as to who they were escorting into the room.
Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort.
As the man was led through the Great Hall and to the bottom of the stairs, he was held in place firmly by Lucas Blackwood and Patrek Mallister. The latter kicking the back of the man's knees forcing him to the ground, while the rest of Robb's personal guard formed up behind the King.
And once again, silence reigned.
At this point, even Margaery was starting to find herself in a similar position to those around her.
Her desire for answers nearly making her speak out, but then she would remember where she was and would stop. Truly, Robb Stark had taken her lessons to heart, even forcing her to nearly fall for the same tricks.
Walking forward, Smalljon Umber glared down at the Lord of the Dreadfort. "Lord Roose Bolton, you have been called before the King to answer for the actions of your bastard son, Ramsay Snow who has taken Winterfell and proclaimed himself the Lord of Winterfell and forcibly marrying Lady Catelyn Stark as well as to answer for your own acts of treason. What do you have to say for yourself?"
There were mutterings from around the room, many unaware of the news they had been told. Margaery was one of them, looking from Roose Bolton to Robb Stark. Neither man letting their inner thoughts show on one another's face.
Eventually though, it was Roose that spoke. "I am afraid, your grace that I am at a loss for actions of my bastard, I had no part nor any knowledge of his actions up until now. As for treason, I have been nothing but loyal, so I do not know of what treason you speak of."
Noise erupted in the Great Hall, shouts of "traitor" and men calling for Lord Bolton's head rang around the room. Mostly from the lords and ladies in the North, it was obvious that the man was not very popular amongst his own kind.
"How convenient for you." Robb uttered quietly, almost unheard by the room.
Almost.
The shouts and jeers disappeared as those in the Great Hall looked to Robb in questioningly.
"Your grace?" Roose asked, a slight frown coming to his face when he looked at the growling wolves, many of the smaller ones having risen to their feet.
"How convenient for you to be able to claim ignorance to the crimes levied against you, especially with the evidence we have against you." There was a pause and for the first time, Margaery noticed the first flash of emotion on Roose's face that she had seen; confusion.
"What evidence? I have served you loyally."
"Only because it benefitted you, do you deny it?" The question seemed to stump the man who did not answer, but his silent said more than words ever could. "In the Battle of the Green Fork, you didn't need to engage the Lannister army, you had plenty of time to retreat before the vanguard reached you according to the reports from the lords under your command. Hundreds of men died there when they didn't need to, the purpose of you march south had been served long before the battle."
Mutterings once again sprung up, but this time they were only from a few lords. Nearly everyone all looking either at Robb in curiosity as to what other evidence he had, or some looked towards Roose with anger. One such individual seemed to be Daryn Hornwood from Robb's personal guard, if she remembered correctly, his father Halys Hornwood had been captured at that battle.
"But the most obvious instances of your treason have been in the campaign here in the Westerlands. When raiding, you routinely would be engaged with large Lannister patrols resulting in large skirmishes and dozens of casualties. However, the worse was at the Crag. Lady Mormont, step forwards."
The short, stout, grey-haired She-Bear of House Mormont stepped forwards, a deep scowl on her face directed towards Roose Bolton.
"Regale everyone here with your report of the siege of the Crag."
"Yer grace ordered the castle to be captured by the time he returned from the Riverlands." The woman started gruffly. "The city supplies were short, no more than a few days rations, I made sure of that with ma focused raids on the livestock of surrounding lands. Started sieging the castle and once the city ran out of supplies in the days we estimated they would, Roose ordered the attack despite ma suggestions we should wait a few more days."
As the lady of Mormont's Keep spoke, Margaery took a moment to study Roose Bolton who seemed to have remained stone-faced throughout the whole procedure. His eyes never once looking away from the King who returned the favour in kind.
"Then, during the siege, Roose would just order men to charge at the most well-defended parts of the city, though he claimed it was the work of Lord Cerwyn and the man's dead so he can't speak out against it." A bit circumstantial, but Margaery doubted that the vague piece of evidence wouldn't be believed.
It was obvious from the whole procedure that this was nothing but a farce. The fate of Roose Bolton was already decided and this was nothing more than an attempt to be seen treating a lord fairly, even a fool could see it. But from the looks of the various lords and ladies around the room, the Leech Lord did not have many allies, if any at all.
"Thank you, my lady." The She-Bear bowed her head and stepped back in line along with the rest of the lords of the North, watching and waiting to see what the Young Wolf would do next.
"What do you have to say in your defence, Lord Bolton?" Robb asked.
"This is a mummers trial. All you have is nothing more than circumstantial evidence." Roose said the very thing she was thinking.
Though that changed when she noticed the slight upturn of Robb's lips as they twisted into a small, almost unnoticeable smirk.
"True." Robb agreed shocking those in the Great Hall, each looking at the young King in askance. "But you see, that's not all the evidence I have against you, Lord Bolton. When I talked of my intentions for the Westerlands, do you remember where I told you our main attack would be focused?"
There was a pause.
"Lord Bolton?" Robb repeated, the smirk on his face growing.
"The King asked you a question." Patrek Mallister spat, roughly shoving the Leech Lord.
Again, there was silence, and it was then that Margaery noticed the look on Roose's face, it was one of realisation. Realisation that he had been cornered like a rat, baited, and fell for it like a fool.
"It seems your memory is failing you, Lord Bolton. No matter, there were others in that room. Lord Karstark?"
"The south, your grace." The Lord of Karhold answered quickly, a savage smirk growing on the older mans scarred face. He looking all too delighted with the events unfolding before his eyes.
"The south." Robb repeated. "And if my memory serves correctly, it is the south that fortified the quickest upon our arrival, is that not correct, Smalljon?"
"Aye, yer grace. Too quickly, almost as if they were warned beforehand."
"That is still not enough proof, your grace. As you said, there were others in that room." Roose pointed out, looking a little more panicked than he ever had before.
"Perhaps, but you see, I split the details of my campaign. I told half of my war council that the main aim of our campaign would be centred on the North. I told the other half that the main aim would be the south. This allowed me to learn who I could and couldn't trust and unlike you, Lord Bolton. Lady Maege Mormont, Lord Karstark and all those that were there have proved their loyalty to me time and time again." Robb admitted, those in question looking all too pleased.
And all the while Margaery couldn't help but praise Robb for how he had done this.
Individually, each piece of evidence was useless. That all changed when one looked at them all as a whole. Roose Bolton had done masterfully well and all of this could have perhaps been overlooked if it weren't for the fact that Robb must have been suspicious of Lord Bolton from the very beginning.
The fact was that as good as Roose Bolton had been at covering his tracks, Robb had just been far too suspicious and because of that, studied the Leech Lords action too deeply for his true aims to not be discovered. And now, faced with all this evidence, Roose was effectively at the mercy of the Young Wolf.
It didn't matter that he had nothing to do with his bastards action in the North.
It didn't matter that he had won a strategical victory at the Battle of the Green Fork despite being the retreating army, but in doing so cost unnecessary lives.
It didn't matter that the evidence of his treason in the Westerlands was circumstantial and vague.
All of them combined along with the Leech Lords lack of popularity was enough reason alone to execute the man. There would be no lord or lady that would speak about the injustice of it all.
Even if it later came out that maybe Lord Bolton was innocent of one or two of the things he's being accused of, no one would care to speak out against it because it's too late to do anything about it. Lord Bolton's fate was sealed and by the look on his face, he knew it.
"Your execution will be on the morrow. Say your piece with the Old Gods." With a wave of his hand, both Patrek Mallister and Lucas Blackwood grabbed Roose Bolton by the arms and dragged him out of the room.
And as the door shut behind them, no one knew what to say.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone