By the time the sun had dispersed the sudden clouds in the sky, Jon Snow could see the tall trees surrounding the banks of the Last River. The water meandered slowly, the willows bobbing like long-bearded old men on either bank in a gust of wind that rose from the depths of the earth. Although the river was not as vast as Long Lake, their kinship was striking. The wolf spears rose high as Lord Rickard's scouts set out to test the river's suitability for crossing. It had been almost twelve years since Jon Snow had seen the girl. Hardly a day went by that he did not think of her face. Had anything changed since then? He thought he could have her by the fall. But Robert's sudden death under suspicious circumstances seemed to override all of Jon Snow's plans. With the name of Stannis coming up in connection with the inheritance following King Robert's sudden death, his situation changed. But it doesn't really matter who inherits Robert's throne, Stannis or Joffrey. As the grandsons of Rickard Stark and sons of Eddard, only he and Casta will be those closest to the Iron Throne in blood and birth, and that means new hopes and new responsibilities. Rickard was not in a very good mood today. As if he didn't want any of this. Like he didn't really want to face Robb Stark. "But it has to be done," Casta told him before they left the camp at the Riverlands border, "it has to be done before the great celebration of the founding of Winterfell."
- See the Cailin Trench, Jon Snow?" asked Rickard grimly as he rode up to him.
- I see it, Leader Karstark. The Last River. It separates and connects us to the Starks.
Rickard blew his nose.
- Just a ditch. Behind every ditch like this, there are enemies, maybe even pits full of stake traps. What would you do if it turned out King Robb was a traitor?
- A traitor? What do you mean, my lord?
He still hadn't forgotten the Pentos man's staring head as he rolled to Robert's boots. It would have been hard to forget. His commander's horse, covered in gleaming metal plates, jerked his head as if he'd seen a wolf on the other side of the river. Jon Snow watched as the commander's fingers gripped the bridle tightly.
- Of course he's not a traitor," he said in a colourless voice. - If it is not treason to confirm his alliance with Ramsay Bolton.
Jon Snow could sense the darkness in Rickard's voice.
- 'He promised Ryella to me,' he said firmly. - 'Almost two years since he put his royal seal on the scroll of the pact. And you, my lord, you supported him in it!
Perhaps he uttered these words with too much fire, for Rickard narrowed his eyes, and it did not escape Jon Snow's notice that a nervous twitch ran across his jaw. Even if the planned engagement to Ryella was jeopardised by Robb and Roose's alliance, he would not let the marriage fail, he had already made up his mind.
- I told you he wasn't a traitor. I'm just wondering, Jon Snow, what you would do if he were. What would you do if it turned out that Robb had called us here only to surround us with his men under the cover of night, under the pretext of hunting, and shoot us all to death with arrows, as Robert did the traitors?
- I would fight to the death for you, Lord Karstark!
- I expect that," said Rickard. - But you don't know Ramsay Bolton yet. He's not like Roose, he's not. He'll never admit it to you, but he's always been out to rule us all. Ramsay believes that only in his successor can the King of Winterfell be born, and we have come to the North to support his plans to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.
It seemed an impossible yet wonderful dream. And why shouldn't Ramsay be right? Why shouldn't the Stark arms overwhelm all of Westeros, even the kingdom beyond the Wall, once led by the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? Rickard looked into the distance and clenched his fists.
- I will not budge until the truth is known. And if my suspicions are confirmed... if it is true...
- And what does your suspicion suggest, Commander?
To cut into the older man's words was disrespectful, but he wanted to somehow stop him, stop Rickard from saying what he was thinking. It was better to keep the thought as a thought. Rickard turned his head slowly, looking at Jon Snow with a kind of awe as clarity dawned in his mind at how careless he had been, standing in the field where the fires of the ancients did not burn.
- I would not like to be proved right!
- My lord, as the seed and blood of Eddard, I ask thee!
Rickard frowned. He sighed heavily. Jon Snow had never before seen such a deep darkness in his self-warring gaze. Rickard had avoided mentioning Robb's name almost embarrassingly in recent months. He had been looking for excuses to avoid meeting his cousin. But now, as the confusion and consternation following the Great King's sudden death began to dissipate, and Stannis with his armies on the move declared his claim to the Iron Throne, he could no longer avoid sending an envoy to Robb to discuss the terms of succession, nor could he sit in King's Landing waiting for a miracle to happen. Jon Snow had deduced this accurately from the news he had heard. But then what is it that Rickard wants? And why did he choose the path of trial instead of battle if he was absolutely certain of Robb's guilt? The commander suddenly turned his horse's head and turned back. There seemed to be tears in his eyes. Jon Snow clutched the bridle with cold hands.
- Jon Snow, I'm giving you a new command! If Robb does indeed trap me and kill me under the pretext of a trial, don't try to avenge me! I brought only a handful of warriors on purpose. You wouldn't stand a chance if I were killed. Flee at once beyond the Wall and throw yourself behind the mountains you know so well. The two of you, with Casta, may be able to resist the tyrant! Our Greystark brothers have a new leader, married to my daughter. You can count on him, as well as my staunch ally, the Blackfish. House of Tully and the other northern nations will support Eddard's sons should you clash with Robb Stark.
Jon Snow could almost not believe his ears. He had come for his betrothed first and foremost, not to ponder the possible death of his cousin or the possibility of a fight against his adopted brother. Yet against his will, he was touched by the edge in Rickard's voice and the dark power that emanated from his soul.
- Do you think King Robb would have the ruler of Winterfell's north-eastern lands, his own cousin, killed?
- 'King Robb has killed many, many people,' Rickard said in an icy tone. - I don't trust him in the least.
Jon Snow watched Lord Rickard's broad-fingered hand gently caress the neck of his startled horse. That hand wielded the straight sword like no other in the realm, and did not hesitate when he had to strike the stag or cut off the head of the treacherous Karstarks. If he raised his blade, who could stop him? Jon Snow looked deep into his cousin's eyes.
- 'Before King Robert died and you came for us, my father wanted to send me to King Robb's castle.
- Did he indeed? - Rickard raised his eyebrows, as if Jon Snow had shared something with him that he had no idea about, but had piqued his interest.
- "Indeed," said Jon Snow. - But death was quicker, and it beat him to it.
After the scouts gave the signal that the river had finally calmed down, the Karstarks' horses waded into the water one after the other. Even so, Jon Snow could feel the shadows of the undead scrambling for his horse's feet, and when he looked down he often saw dead faces rising from the mud.
- Lord Rickard!
It was not long after the whole escort had made the lucky crossing, Owen Norrey, leader of Rickard's forward scouts, rode up to them.
- My man reports some horsemen standing by a nearby stream, and says those horsemen were heading towards them at first, but when they called out to them, they disappeared behind a patch of woods.
- How many are there? - Rickard wiped his forehead, still wet from the water in the river, and took a long swig from the hose of horse-skin water. - Under whose flags?
- 'My man saw Robb Stark's flag marks.
- 'Then we have nothing to fear,' said a knight beside Rickard. - King Robb is our friend.
Jon Snow looked at Rickard and saw the grim look on his face.
- "Perhaps you fear that Robb's men are really spying for Ramsay Bolton?
- "He's a loyal friend", Rickard scoffed. - Until Ramsay promises him more than I do!
Where the white trunks had given way to low shrubs, horsemen in leather armour stood a few yards apart. At their sides were bows, straight swords and oval shields. The horsemen stood around the edge of the forest as if waiting for something or someone. Rickard and Jon Snow rode forward.
- Do you know the flag signal?
Jon Snow soon realized where he had seen this sign before.
- That would be Commander Ramsay, he replied. - 'Leader of the Bolton Cavalry and adopted son of King Robb.
Rickard beckoned, and the guards followed in step. Behind a clump of white-trunked trees, the thick, black-haired, green-robed Ramsay waited in a gleaming breastplate and a ring of men. As Owen Norrey left the cover of the trees, he raised his hands and rode forward, surrounded by Rickard's gleaming wolf-shielded bodyguards.
- 'Welcome to Winterfell,' said Ramsay, bowing low in the saddle.
His breastplated, wolf-helmeted men mimicked his bow.
- Gods bless you!" returned Owen in the northern language.
Jon Snow understood this, as he understood many other languages when simple words were spoken.
- Owen Norrey, the King's sworn sword, greets the noble Commander Ramsay on behalf of the Grand General Rickard!
Ramsay sat calmly in his saddle, and his voice seemed friendly.
- King Robb Stark, Sovereign King of the Starks, Karstarks, Greystarks and Boltons, has already received word from our border guards that you have crossed the border of our realm, General Rickard! As Lord of the Karstarks, King Robb welcomes you to his palace!
- "Thank you for the King's generosity," said Rickard, also in Norse, as he rode forward.
He had to switch to Valyr to express himself in more complex sentences.
- I ask the king, has my uncle, Lord Arnolf, arrived at the place we agreed, King Cregan Stark's Rocks, and is he already camped on the field? It was a long time before I set out, and I received no word from my uncle whether he had gone.
Ramsay nodded.
- 'The Lord of Carhold is already camped there with his retinue, noble leader,' the Bolton bowed his head as his horse took a few steps towards Rickard. - 'King Robb awaits you, and he is pleased that you have accepted his invitation to clear up your differences and misunderstandings on neutral ground!
Jon Snow looked first at the Boltons and then at his cousin. Rickard sat pensively in his saddle, and Jon Snow watched his large, scarred hands, accustomed to swordplay, fidget nervously with the bridle.
- How many men has the king brought with him, Lord Bolton? How many men?" he leaned forward and stared into the man's face as if to charm him. - How many tents, how many battalions, how many horsemen did you see?
Ramsay, as if he alone were the culprit on whom the suspicion of ambush had been laid, shook his head.
- 'I don't know, sir,' he said apologetically. - 'King Robb always travels with a large retinue. A suitable escort.
Jon Snow had seen Rickard watching out of the corner of his eye the Boltons, Ramsay's men, spread out in fan-like formation along the length of the woodland lane, as if their escort also meant close surveillance.
- Let me ask King Robb what size of escort he thinks is appropriate!
The Karstark riders walked in step along the banks of the small river. The Boltons who joined them, in pointed leather helmets with red-painted bows on their backs, led them through the open gates of Winterfell Castle, through the mass of spaced-apart wooden and stone-walled houses and leather tents. On the shore of the long lake stood the richly ornamented, turreted palace of the Boltons, with horse and buffalo skulls on high stakes and red X-marked flags before it. Jon Snow had hoped to have a word with Ryella in the foyer of her father's palace, which was adorned with deer antlers and huge wild boar horns. Robb would be waiting for him in a ring of wolf-coated nobles, or somewhere among the wolf-shielded royal guards and girls and women in falcon-emblazoned robes bowing to his cousin. But King Robb seemed to have hidden his daughter from him. He must have been informed that Jon Snow, Eddard's son, was also in Rickard's entourage when his cousin had sent word of his arrival. But there was also a chance that she had married someone else in the long time since the engagement. Jon Snow was saddened at the thought. It would be a bloodcurdling disrespect to Eddard's son, since her father had earlier sent a messenger to Rickard's castle, approving the betrothal. But it would be far more advantageous to Robb if his first-born daughter were to add to the bloodline of the strongest half, Ramsay. As the spit-fired oxen twirled in the fires outside the palace, and the Boltons' pointed septons cut off pieces of meat with broad blades to make singing offerings to their gods, Jon Snow took a good look at Robb, who was absent from Robert's funeral, among the chiefs, heads of clan and princes. Robb stood in a ring of a few of his seemingly distinguished men, and until the septons had ceased singing, sat down at a long log table set up in the inner courtyard of the palace. His ornate robe covered his battle-scarred wounds, his cold blue eyes shone with a glow that Eddard once said was 'soul-seer, like a good hunter who sees the game that passes among the trees'. When the septons retired to the wings of the palace, the servants brought out the meat. The talk among Rickard's bodyguards and Robb's nobles was of the succession to the throne, of Rodrik and Osric, who had taken their oaths on the rocks of the great king Barthogan, with the strange-tongued, wild folk who accompanied them. Even during the feast, Jon Snow was still scanning the king's face unobserved. Rickard had warned him early on that Robb Stark would use his ally to capture or threaten them to extract a decision in his favour.
'If there's an unexpected turn of events,' thought Jon Snow, 'I can kidnap the girl. Quick action could paralyze the guards, and they wouldn't take our weapons.
It was a strange thought, perhaps suggested by the dark sons of Cregan Stark. Lord Bolton still seemed friendly, affable.
- 'General Rickard,' he said, and tossed a piece of ox bone to the grey-furred dog panting under one of the tables.
The Karstark chieftain's completely gray hair hung like a lion's mane on his still steely muscular shoulders.
- It is important that you know my loyalty to the sons of Robb Stark is unswerving! The Starks and Boltons have fought together since the alliance of the Great King Aegon the Conqueror. An alliance I will never break!
Jon Snow heard Rickard's teeth crack on the bone.
- No one doubts that, Lord Bolton!
Rickard gnawed at the ox meat, his eyes searching the ornate carpeted walls of the great hall, covered with gleaming weapons, and then on Robb's gorging chieftains.
- Don't blame me for not coming to you sooner. A rebel on the eastern frontier was preparing to attack King's Landing, and I was ordered by the late Great King Robert to raise an army to punish the attackers, those who fought against the House of Baratheon.
Rickard listened to the effect the mention of Robert's name had. The Bolton nobles nodded and whispered, King Robb stroked his sheepskin waistcoat.
- I heard about this, bright-faced Karstark leader. I have heard that the Great King has sent troops to fight the rebels who are disrupting the unity of the empire, and that the defender of the eastern frontier has received more praise than anyone else for his service.
- My nephew, Jon Snow, son of Eddard!" Rickard pointed towards him with fingers glistening with the fat of his ox. - He decorated himself, not me! He was able to use his personal example to inspire courage in men when the battle seemed to be turning. The Others could not have stood up to him when he took the place of his fallen commander, and perhaps I would not be here now.
Silence fell, and all heads turned towards him.
- 'You are young, but already legends are told of you, son of Eddard,' said Robb, and a smile seemed to cross his bearded face.
- 'Thank you, my king,' said Jon Snow, bowing his head. - I am my father's son!
- 'We know who you are,' interposed Ramsay, who had taken a seat at the king's right, 'and we know why you have come!
At first Jon Snow felt anger coiling like a venomous snake in his soul, but as soon as he realised the source of the stormy whirlwind of jealousy, he ordered himself to calm down and spoke calmly:
- I am come, great king, to take what you have promised me!
- "You'll get it," Robb nodded, before he could get out of hand, "if you wait patiently. I always keep my promises to my friends, just as I never forget my enemies.
Jon Snow's hand tightened on the bone he held in his hand. But his face reflected nothing of the storm raging in his soul. Robb looked at him with cold blue eyes.
- The time of rejoicing is at hand!
Rickard set down the silver plate he held with an unexpected clang.
- 'There is a time for comfort, great king, and there is a time for mourning, as there is a time for blood and war. These are not times to be concerned with consolation!
Jon Snow felt the dark edge in his cousin's voice.
- Not those times," the king nodded in approval. - The world has turned around us. But we here will do our best to restore the ancient order!
- Just as we are working on it.
A Bolton nobleman said something to Robb in his own language, which neither Jon Snow nor his cousin could understand. Jon Snow caught his cousin's eye. Rickard leaned forward so suddenly that his considerable weight almost toppled the huge table.
- My king! Looks can be deceiving. However much our enemy pretends to be at peace, Tywin's goal is to move quickly and gain dominance over us all! So I ask you, will you stand with him when he claims the Iron Throne?
There was another silence. Robb was silent for a while, and his gaze roved over the distinguished company gathered around the table. Ramsay also tried not to look at the Karstarks.
- May the One God light your way with his cleansing flame upon the world, Lord Rickard! Sadly, I do not see as clearly by the flames of the One as I once did. My Septons tell me that they can hardly distinguish light from darkness by the light of the northern fires! Especially after the unfortunate event that happened to the Great King, no one can be sure, Great Leader, on whose side the gods of truth are.
Jon Snow's hand paused as he ate, his gaze sliding to his cousin. Rickard's bodyguards, seated at the table, themselves stopped feasting almost immediately, as one, and watched the war of words with rapt attention. Rickard coughed some, cleared his throat.
- My King! No one knows exactly what could have happened. Some say that after King Robert sent an envoy to Tywin's castle, the undead summoned from the Inferno of Ice Beyond the Wall killed King Baratheon. Don't you find that strange?
Jon Snow looked at the bearded faces of the Boltons as they looked away or rolled their eyes. In the air, you could actually cut the power of the summoned forces of fear and uncertainty. Had they really been frightened by the word of their king? Or was it merely a disguise of deception?
- 'It is rumoured that dark powers have taken his soul,' Rickard continued, 'as his horse, stumbling, threw him from his back. What is your opinion, was it the undead who brought about King Robert's doom, or was it the hand of a mortal stranger? What has Oberyn Martell, with whom you have such a good relationship, revealed to you?
Despite the thick beard, Jon Snow could see the Stark King's features twitch clearly and conversationally. Ramsay now leaned over and whispered something to him so that no one else could quite understand. Robb set the bowl down and slowly straightened up. Jon Snow watched intently as Rickard's bodyguards similarly kept an eye on every movement of the visiting army. If any of them drew swords now, they might win the day, but they would pay a heavy price. Rickard's guard was made up of the finest knights.
- 'I beg you, General Karstark,' said King Stark in a conciliatory tone, 'I beg you, at this table, not to speak of evil. No talk of misfortune and the cold-faced gods of the kingdom beyond the Wall! What has happened may as well have been ordained by the God of Seven. King Robert's human body had grown old and his bones were brittle. He was old enough to hunt wolf, panther, bear, boar! Yet he clung to his youthful passion. So he died a glorious death, worthy of a king, worthy of a man, on horseback, bow in hand!
Rickard's steel forearm-guard clattered on the planed plank as he rose from the table.
- And I have heard, my king, that the boar has crushed him to death! And that by the time they found him, his face was unrecognizable. A Lannister found the bloated carcass of his horse, stranded on the rocks of a reef. Somewhere in the back of the god. When the septons cut open the horse's belly to examine the integrity of its liver, the animal's body was teeming with worms.
Jon Snow watched as Robb suddenly leaned forward and the golden girdles tightened on his hard-looking belly. His eyes were particularly cold now, like diamond stars in a blizzard. Slowly he rose from his seat, and, with his arms still thick with muscle and bear-like, he would have reached for his knife suddenly, but his hand was caught by the glint of Rickard's eyes. Robb's mouth opened into a smooth smile as he placed his hand on the golden cup he had made on the table.
- I would like us all to drink a toast to Grand General Rickard! Let's banish all dark thoughts! Not a word of trouble or misfortune. Nor evil demonic spirits. Let this be the day to reaffirm the covenant of blood of the Starks, forged between our glorious ancestors!
A shaven-headed servant was already running to fill the king's cup with heavy, spicy wine. Jon Snow watched Rickard, who felt a sense of satisfaction at the flattery. The servants appeared around the table and, at Robb's command, began to fill the Karstarks' cups as well. One by one the servants handed Rickard and his entourage the ornately carved gold and silver cups, decorated with wolves and deer.
- 'So be it, King Robb,' Rickard agreed.
When Jon Snow rose from the table at the end of the feast to return to his quarters, a cloaked servant girl came from somewhere in the rear of the palace and bowed to him.
- 'Come with me, my lord,' she said to him in Valyrian. - 'Princess Ryella, the king's daughter, is waiting for you. Our King in his great wisdom makes no promises to anyone that he cannot or will not fulfil.
The man was led to a large, richly decorated bedchamber, a lonely jewel among the scattered rooms and toilets. Ryella showed no surprise. She stood in the hallway, head proudly held high, her face alight with the flame of the iron braziers flanking either side of the room door. In her dark brown wolf fur and her beautiful long braids of hair, Jon Snow saw her as even more beautiful than in his dreams. Then she spoke before he could greet her.
- I looked into your eyes and saw into your soul. I read from that that I could trust you. I waited for you for a long time. Have you come to me now to leave me or to take me with you?
- "I have come for that," said Jon Snow. - I came to take you as my own!