章節 16: Chapter 16
Lady Mage was walking toward the moor. If one of her younger daughters was hiding somewhere, it was probably there. Different feelings and emotions were discordant in the woman's heart. On the one hand, she was glad that the eldest of her daughters had finally found a man worthy of her and was no longer calling anyone else into her bed. On the other hand, she was upset - no matter what they said about the old bear, she wasn't insensitive, especially when it came to her children.
Lyra liked the bastard, and the girl herself was overly sincere and in love, ready to give all of herself without a trace. But, unfortunately or fortunately for her, Dacey was the first to get involved. And frankly, she wasn't the only one. John hadn't visited a brothel, which is odd, as for a guy who should be actively interested in lovemaking, it's normal for his age. Perhaps his intentions are quite serious, perhaps he's just playing around with girls. Whatever the truth of the matter - there will be consequences.
Either way, Lady Mormont is no longer suffering from boredom on the island. With the appearance of the guy every week or a little less often something interesting happens, often requiring attention. The island has literally come to life. What is worth a mountain of crates of useless obsidian. The woman assumed that by the end of her nephew's guardianship of the boy, she would be completely grayed out.
The woman finally reached the mantis. Lyra was predictably sitting on one of the branches of a chartreuse tree, sobbing quietly. Some might call it blasphemy, but the Old Gods were unlikely to take offense at the girl. As soon as the woman approached the tree, the sobbing stopped, she must have been heard.
- It's me, my daughter. Come down," she said. A few moments later, the girl climbed down and immediately threw herself into her mother's arms.
- Dacy is a traitor! I hate her! - Lyra exclaimed, hiding her face and pressing herself against her mother.
- How exactly did she betray you?
- She knew I loved John! She stole him! - exclaimed the girl, at which Mage smiled sadly.
- Are you sure the feeling you have for the boy is love?
- What do you mean?
- Oh, my silly summer child," the woman murmured, sitting down under the chartreuse tree and pulling her daughter close to her. - You may be infatuated with a boy, you may fancy yourself to possess him, but that doesn't mean that the feeling you have for him is love.
- As if you know much about love," Lyra snorted, at which her mother smiled much warmer.
- I do, believe me. Your old woman's mother loved once, too. Really... - the last phrase was said quietly.
- And who was your true love? - Lyra arched an eyebrow.
- Dacey's father.
- You... you never told us about our fathers.
- For the most part, there wasn't much to tell. They were men I'd invited into my bed at one time or another. I wasn't attractive, as you can see, but I'm a lady and they could feel good about sleeping with a lady, however "unattractive".
- He, Dacey's father, was he different?
- Yes, he could see something in me beyond my origins. Maybe my inner beauty," the woman laughed hoarsely.
- Tell me about him.
- We met during a tournament in White Harbor, later on the night of the feast your sister was conceived. Those days spent in his company were the happiest of my life. He was a knight from the Expanse, and that is the reason I gave your older sister her name.
- What was he like?
- Tall and quite handsome by northern standards, I guess to southern ladies he seemed unassuming. He was kind and sang beautifully. Although maybe as I got older I just began to idealize my memories of him.
- Why didn't you get married?
- He had a fiancée in the southern lands. My brother and I could have offered him a dowry for me greater than that girl's parents, but our house never had much money.
- He could have run away with you to the island....
- You can't run away from obligations," Mage said, stroking her daughter's head. - Some of them you can't escape.
- What about him now?
- Unfortunately, he didn't live to see this day. He fell at the Battle of Ruby Brood during Robert Baratheon's rebellion. I stumbled upon his dead body by accident, how small our world can be at times. That day, I cried away from everyone so hard that it felt like I had cried for years to come. And you know, I really don't remember shedding a tear after that day.
- You must have really loved him. What was his name?
- Donavan, his name was Donavan. Unfortunately, we almost never get to choose who we love. Your sister really loves wolfman, you can see it in her eyes, she never looked at her other men that way.
- That doesn't change the fact that she stole John from me," Lyra stated stubbornly.
- You can't steal what doesn't belong to you, my girl, and the boy is not yours. John made a choice, and he chose your sister. I don't want you to think of Dacey as the enemy or hate her, it's not your sister's fault that the boy reciprocated her feelings, think about it.
- I...I hear you....
- Good, now we need to get back to the manor. We don't want to miss breakfast, do we?
- We don't," something resembling a smile finally appeared on Lyra's face.
Toward evening, the carcass of a slaughtered beast was brought into town. A large crowd of onlookers gathered to watch the beast. All the rest of the day John was pestered with requests to tell about the hunt for the beast, and the whole evening was spent retelling the story, albeit slightly altered. It turned into a little impromptu celebration.
The bear carcass, unfortunately for the gawkers, was taken away very quickly. Still, the skin should be removed as soon as possible, as the healing properties of bear bile and the general quality of fat and meat deteriorate quickly. At least the weather was cold these days. John wanted to make the hide into a cloak for one of the girls. Dacey refused, joking that it would make her look even more like a bear, and Vel... Vel, as it turned out, was very good in white.
***
Bear Island a few days later
It was a very sunny day, a warm day even. Everyone from House Mormont gathered around the manor to say goodbye to John. They had decided not to see the boy off at the dock; it would be better if he sailed away from the island as soon as dusk fell.
Vel stood by the new gate, leaning on the shaft of her spear, and watched Snow say goodbye to each of the islanders in turn. He strokes little Lyanna's head, then says goodbye to Lyra, a low-key farewell that Alysanne receives as well. After that, he gives Jorel a hug. This is followed by a bone-crushing hug from Lady Mage, which makes the boy cringe a little. He finishes with a handshake and a hug from Lord Jorah. The boy whispers something in his ear and glances at the former Valyrian slave girl, causing a shadow of a blush to appear on the lord's cheeks. This elicits laughter from everyone present.
Vel hadn't noticed Dacey walking up to her.
- I think it will soon be very easy to identify a girl of importance to Jon," she said, smiling.
- And how would that be?
- She'll have an ebony weapon," Dacy pointed to the wildling's new spear, 'a recent gift from Jon,' Vel giggled.
- It's not like you're jealous.
- I have one of those, too, and a mace to go with it. John made five spearheads.
- They'd kill for a simple old chain mail or a rusty sword. Such a gift is more than valuable, it could save a life.
- And you don't think John's trying to buy you?
- No. In some tribes and clans, a man gives a woman the skin of a dead animal to show that he is a hunter worthy of her attention. So it could be considered courting, even if he gave her a weapon.
- He gives her the skin and that's it?
- If the girl agrees to become his woman, she will make clothes for the hunter from that hide. That's how she expresses her consent.
- And if she doesn't know how to make clothes?
- That means she will be a useless wife, and the hunter has made his gift in vain. A weak hunter will not get a woman. A useless woman will not get a skillful hunter.
John finally approached them:
- I said goodbye to everyone. It's just a matter of waiting until evening. Is the loading finished?
- Yes," Dacey replied.
That same night the ship sailed out of the harbor, heading for Staromest. Jorah let them sail on the Sorrow, the ship was still the fastest and most maneuverable the Mormonts had. If anything, there would be an escape from the problem. In addition to Vel and Dacey, Jon was accompanied by two dozen guardsmen, not a lot, but enough if they had to face an unfriendly longship. Some of them were all survivors of the Battle of Darkforest. The ship was also carrying a few curiosities from the Dull Shore, maybe they could sell them for a bargain in the city.
The wind was fair for most of the voyage, which pleased the crew. Two and a half weeks later they passed Lannisport, and another week later the Shield Islands. John practiced sword fighting on deck and helped the sailors. Vel looked after the puppies that had been brought to Crescentport from the Cold Coast and glared menacingly at the more insolent sailors, who often gave the girl dirty looks. Dacey was bored most of the time. Against this background, the lessons in languages, manners, and everything else that were held together with John and Vel were a real salvation from idleness, as was the game of kaiwassa. Travel by land, though many times longer, was more favorably regarded by the girl.
One day John stood near the side of the ship and looked into the distance. On his shoulder sat a raven, its head hidden under a wing, the animal was clearly not pleased with the early awakening of his master. Behind him, someone approached quietly. Snow felt the touch of a woman's breasts against his back, the guest's arms around him and snuggled close.
- Smells like shit," she said dryly.
- Good morning to you, too, Vel. We're approaching Old Town, and we'll dock in a couple hours.
- Did you realize that because it smells like shit?
- No, I realized it because I can see the High Tower from here.
- How long do we have to stay in town?
- I don't know. Maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks, maybe a couple months, it all depends on if we can negotiate with Vera or the lords.
- Hmm, a few weeks in a place that stinks of shit, I'm getting impatient.
- I don't know if it's any consolation, but the stories say it stinks even worse in the capital.
- Not much.
- Do you think if you go outside the wall and tell the free folk that it stinks outside the wall, they'll stop raiding?
- Quite possibly, wolf cub," the girl laughed. - Quite possibly.
***
Staromest's harbor was one of the largest on the mainland, perhaps rivaling the capital as the largest. The city was bustling with life, and even the largest cities of the north seemed like mere villages against the backdrop of Staromest. Crescentport could not even be compared. The port welcomed hundreds of ships of all kinds from all over the known world. Whatever a rich man wanted, he could find it in the city.
The Hightower's were the only people you'd ever meet. There were aristocrats of all stripes, countless merchants and artisans of all trades. Well, except for glassmakers, of course. People from Dorne, Essos, the Summer Isles, or anywhere else for that matter, were no strangers here. Not to mention that even the Northerners - tall, long-haired men dressed in hides, fancy armor, and fur cloaks - were able to get lost in the city without any trouble.
Jon was impressed with the city. The walls seemed simply impregnable, all the houses in the city were exclusively stone, and the streets were paved with cobblestones. To say nothing of the city's landmarks, such as the High Tower, the Citadel, or the Star Sept. The city was on par with Windhelm and Solitude, both of which had once been the capitals of Skyrim.
In the meantime, the sailors had shipped what goods could still be sold, despite Vera's dislike of the people of Bear Island. Buying grain, on the other hand, had become problematic, and the few merchants who were still willing to trade were charging nearly triple the price. In fact, it wasn't even that much, especially when you consider that with the coming winter, food prices for the north would skyrocket. Both on the Prostran side and the Riverlands side. After all, the northern lords and merchants would be buying them anyway.
It took the entire first day in town to settle in and get used to the local climate. As one traveled south, the skins and clothing on the northerners became less and less. The warm sea breeze was quick to get used to, but the mild climate still caused some discomfort.
On the second day, John and Dacey went about the task at hand. Mostly unsuccessfully. The islanders were known as blasphemers, and since the Church of the Seven had the greatest influence in Spaceland, no one wanted to do business with them. John tried to discuss this with the lords, both local and those who were temporarily in the city.
The Hightowers would not condescend to talk to a bastard, albeit a knight, nor to talk to the Lady of Bear Island. The fact that the title of knight is the most valued in Prostor, no one even remembered. Those lords who were able to talk to were not very willing to cross the line of the church. The conversation with the septons in the Star Sept also yielded nothing; it ended with John verbally showering them with liters of bile. "You can see who Lady Catelyn is taking an example from," Snow thought in those moments. Well, and traveling through the maze of city streets completely spoiled the mood at the end of the day. But nothing, Dovakin had learned to navigate in Markarth, he would learn to navigate in Staromest as well. In total, the northerners spent two weeks in the city, unfortunately, completely fruitless, as far as the purpose of the trip was concerned.
But during the time spent on the island, they managed to acquire a couple of useful acquaintances, learn some interesting rumors and news. So it was decided to go to Highgarden, where a tournament in honor of the High Lord's daughter's birthday would soon be held. If one could not reach an agreement with the local lords, one could try to talk to those above them. Besides, rumor has it Jon has something to offer the Tyrells.
***
Three days later, the Northmen left Staromest, joining a trade caravan. "Sorrow sailed back to the island with a letter to be delivered personally to Lord Mormont. The caravan traveled along the Road of Roses to the Tyrell residence. It was a vast expanse of sown fields that stretched far beyond the horizon.
Daisy was fascinated by the surroundings, her younger sister had told her about her father's origins and Daisy wanted to know more about his homeland. Snow turned fourteen in the second week of the trip, and Dacy promised him a grand party on his return to the island. The rest of the journey passed quietly, with no events worth mentioning. When the Northerners finally arrived at the stronghold of the Lord of Spaceland, the tournament was nearly two weeks away.
Not without the help of John's charm, they managed to rent a three-story stone house with a courtyard for a quiet stay in the city, where the northerners settled in. The town was bustling with life, and preparations for the upcoming event were evident. The builders were assembling the ring, lords and knights and their retinues were coming from all over the kingdom. Crowds of gawkers wandered aimlessly around the city looking for something interesting. Merchants were bringing in new goods and raising prices, artisans in the markets were shouting loudly that their goods were the best. The organizer of the tournament clearly wanted to outdo the Lannisters on a grand scale.
...
Jon sat in the tent and prepared for the coming battle. Even from here, the roars and shouts of the crowd could be heard as they enjoyed the spectacle. Snow sighed heavily, even though he had a pretty good command of the spear, being a knight was new to him. The institution of knighthood was foreign to Skyrim as well as the North. There were knights there and there, of course, but they didn't play such an important role in the kingdom and its society.
Jon shifted his gaze to his shield, it was a triangular tarch with the image of his crest on it. The boy stroked the image of a wolf with the palm of his hand in an attempt to gather his thoughts. After so many years of fighting in Tamriel, he could still get excited and anticipate a good, interesting fight, even if it was a tournament fight. Vel preferred to stay inside, she found the 'fan entertainment' boring.
The fabric of the tent opened and Dacey stepped inside.
- John, your fight is next.
- Is the opponent the same as yesterday?
- No, he managed to get drunk and fight with the locals, so you're up against someone from old Frey's countless brood.
- Let me guess, his name is Walder?
- You're a smart one. But you'll beat him.
- You exude confidence.
- I bet three gold dragons on you. So you better win.
- Good odds?
- Sixteen to three against you.
- They underestimate me," John muttered.
- Make them pay for it," Dacey smiled and left a kiss on the boy's cheek.
The boy staggered toward the exit of the tent, the Mormont Guardsmen clapping him encouragingly on the shoulder. One of them began to hum "Bastard of Winterfell." Jon was given his helmet and mounted, and when all the preparations were complete, Snow rode forward. He turned around one last time to see a reassuring smile from Dacey.
Meanwhile, the herald announced Jon's opponent, Jon himself not really listening. He frankly didn't care which Walders were in front of him, whether they were the son, grandson, or even great-grandson of the current Lord Frey, and it was better not to know which one he was.
John shifted his gaze to the bleachers. The stands were bursting with people, no doubt there were more people there than originally thought. People were looking out of the windows and from the rooftops of the nearest houses. Fortunately, though there were no trees near it, crowds of gawkers on the branches would have looked wild, in Dovakin's opinion. It was surprising that the tournament had caused such a stir: they were not at all uncommon in Spaceland. Perhaps people wanted to see knights from other kingdoms, or perhaps they had been forced here to beat the Lannisters to the punch.
The lord's box looked different. Lots of empty space for guests, furniture of all sorts, from tables with viands to closets. There were servants here and there, ready to fulfill any whim. All the color of the Prostor in expensive clothes were discussing something passionately. The ladies were talking quietly among themselves, the younger girls were in small groups and giggled, looking both at the ring and at the young men who were in the box.
On the most honorable seat sat a tall but fat lord with thick brown hair, which was already beginning to worry about gray. From the description he had heard, it must have been Mace Tyrell, the High Lord. Next to him sat a tiny, dried-up old woman who looked like a doll, and a slender young man with a small beard and brown hair who was obviously bored. Not far from them at one of the tables sat and vaguely familiar girl in the company of friends. The giggling children from three to ten years of age running back and forth from their lady mothers made John smile.
Finally the herald began to announce John:
- Son of the Guardian of the North, Lord Eddard Stark. The knight known as the Nightmare Wolf is Ser Jon Snow.
Jon's face contorted into a smile, he was ready to swear he heard a few disappointed sighs after his name was called. However, he did catch a few interested looks. Lord Winterfell's bastard would clearly be more interesting than another Frey. The boy lowered the visor of his helmet and bowed. Meanwhile, spears were brought to him and his opponent.
A horn sounded, and the herald's assistants lowered their flags, signaling the start. John's feet struck the horse's rump, and he moved forward. His opponent did the same, clearly confident and anticipating a quick victory over the brat. The riders approached each other with their spears down. A few moments later there was a distinctive cracking sound. John hit his opponent in the shield and broke his spear, the blow was so swift and sharp that Frey could not make his own, but at least he stayed in the saddle. During the next run Snow hit his opponent in the chest and knocked him out of the saddle. From the stands heard shouts and applause, someone even threw flowers into the ring.
A little more than an hour later was John's second duel, this time against a knight from the Western Lands, his guy knocked out of the saddle with the third run. So far, the opponents had been lucky. The only thing that spoiled the mood was that the beggar Frey and the cheapskate Westerner had bought their armor for a combined seven gold dragons. But Dacey was happy, her bet had played out.
John's third but most interesting opponent that day was a knight with a crest of two golden roses on a green field. Garlan Gallant himself, the son of the High Lord of Spacious, became Jon's opponent. The bastard noticed Tyrell's contemptuous wince as he looked at Jon's simple, unadorned armor before he lowered his visor.
- Are you not afraid of your new adversary? - Dacey asked John, handing him a spear.
- I am wary of him. Only idiots fear nothing, and that's why they die first.
- I've bet on you against him, too.
- Lady Mormont leaves me no choice," Jon laughed, lowering his visor.
- Don't hurt yourself, wolf cub.
- Unless it's just so you'll look after me.
- Asshole.
A horn sounded and the rivals moved toward each other. The first run was inconclusive, Snow only managed to hit his opponent's shoulder, who in turn hit his shield, but was also unable to achieve any visible success. The second run was the exact opposite of the first. The third also failed to determine a winner. John felt that his opponent had many years of tournament experience and in spear fighting the bastard was no match for him. Keeping relatively evenly matched is due to physical strength, reaction and the simple control of an incredibly docile horse, aided by the fact that Jon is a werewolf. In short, cheating that won't be caught. It's possible to win by shouting, but it's too risky to use it in full view of everyone.
Meanwhile, the tournament host had to decide which challenger would go next, which caused some hiccups. He was leaning over an old woman and she was saying something, but apparently quite quietly so that only he could hear it. On the one hand, both riders are equal in their skill, but if you declare your own son the winner, it may cause some resentment in view of the blatant favoritism. On the other hand, one would like it to be Garlan and not the bastard who goes next. A couple minutes later, it was announced that the riders would make three more runs. This option would have suited everyone.
Unfortunately, the next three heats still ended in a tie, failing to determine the best of the contenders. Jon and Garlan stopped by the box and waited for the final decision. Mace Tyrell was arguing with his mother about something, but apparently he didn't feel like the master of the situation, she just stared blankly at her son, clearly unhappy with his decision.
- Allow me to suggest a way out of the situation, my lord," John said, unexpectedly to everyone in the box. This is an unheard-of impudence. The old woman arched an eyebrow at the bastard.
- Speak," she said, not letting her son answer first.
- Since Ser Garlan and I are equally good with a spear, let the one of us who is better with a sword go next," Garlan laughed, clearly pleased by the suggestion.
- Ser Garlan, will that be all right with you? - The woman turned to her grandson.
- More than satisfactory," he replied.
- So be it.
The riders dismounted, their horses were led away, and swords were brought. Garlan was ready, and they brought him a drop-shaped shield with his personal crest, but John refused the shield and took a dagger in his other hand.
- A showman," came a muffled remark from beneath his helmet.
- I'd answer you, but they'd make me pay for it," John said with a cocky smile that was not visible from behind his helmet.
Soon the horn sounded again, signaling the start of the fight. Garlan stepped forward and with a challenge struck his sword a couple times on his shield. Jon accepted the challenge and stepped forward as well, taking up his stance. His right hand with the ebony blade extended forward, his left hand slightly behind him with the dagger clutched in a reverse grip. The four meters separating the combatants disappeared in a flash.
Garlan's first blow was quite powerful, even though John fought it off, his arm still felt a little numb. Jon threw a punch of his own, but it was taken on his shield. The opponents staggered around in a circle looking around and assessing their opponent. Garlan made a sharp dash, intending to strike Snow with his shield to the body, but he dodged without any trouble. Jon made a new swing, but he couldn't get around his opponent's defense, so he stopped the attack. Only a complete idiot would deliberately strike a shield with a sword, even if it was an ebony sword.
Jon was attacking and fending off Garlan's blows in a style unfamiliar to the southern knight: some elements of the Northern style and even Dorne style. But Tyrell could not pinpoint its origins. Blow by blow, the pace of the fight increased. Garlan was incredibly skillful and masterful with his weapon, but the protracted bout was playing against him, and it was turning into a protracted fight, as both warriors did not want to kill their opponent and tried to make such an outcome impossible. But soon the bout was over. When Garlan once again tried to bring Jon to the ground, the bastard rolled over and landed a low blow on his opponent's back, knocking him to the ground. As Garlan rolled over onto his back, at the slit of his helmet was the blade of his opponent's dagger.
- The winner is Jon Snow! - proclaimed the herald. The stands erupted in shouts, some joyous, others shouts of disappointment.
Jon's triumph, however, was short-lived. In the fourth and final fight of the day, he was knocked out of the saddle by the Knight of Flowers in the first ride.
***
Jon finally finished changing and getting out of his armor. He wanted to take a bath more than anything else, he stank, but he had to get to the lodge. All that was left was to sigh heavily and go to rest. Jon could clearly hear Dacey laughing nearby, probably in reaction to another joke from one of the guardsmen. Snow stepped out of the tent and headed in the direction where the familiar laughter was coming from. Suddenly an unfamiliar voice called out to him:
- Wolfman?
John turned around. He looked at the person speaking, but still didn't realize who she was. Something inside said that they knew each other, but he didn't recognize the girl outwardly, and it seemed impossible to remember her name. He looked up and stared into her eyes. Brown, he definitely remembered the shape of her eyes, he just had to remember where they were from.
- Uh... Lady Piggy? - he said suddenly, even to himself.
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