Chapter 26 Chapter 26 Brienne

It was Hyle Hunter who insisted on bringing the head. "Tally would stick them in the walls," he said. "We don't have tar," Brienne pointed out. "The meat rots. Leave it." She didn't want to carry the heads of the people she had killed as she walked through the spooky green pine forest. Hunter refused.He cut off the dead man's neck himself, tied the hairs of the three heads together, and hung them on the saddle.Brienne had no choice but to try to pretend they didn't exist, but sometimes, especially at night, she felt dead eyes watching her back, and once dreamed they were whispering to each other.

They returned the same way.The Crab Claw Peninsula was cold and damp, some days rainy, others cloudy, never warm, and even when camping it was difficult to find enough dry wood for a fire. When they came to Maiden Springs, a swarm of flies followed them like a shadow. Crows ate Shagwell's eyes, and "Piggy" Pug and Timon were covered with maggots.Brienne and Podrick had long kept riding a hundred yards ahead to keep the smell of corruption away, only Ser Hyle stubbornly claimed he didn't care. "Bury them," she advised him each time they camped for the night, but Hunter was stubborn as hell.Did he want to claim credit from Lord Randyll for killing all three of them?

Out of a sense of honor, the Cavaliers didn't say that. He and Brienne are taken to meet Tully in the courtyard of Mooton's castle. "The stammering squire threw a stone," he reported, "and the sword girl did the rest." The three heads were given to the sergeant, cleaned, tarred, and driven into the gate. "Three?" Lord Lando didn't quite believe it. "Looking at her fighting posture, you will believe that she can kill three more." "So have you found the Stark girl?" Tully asked her. "No, my lord." "Killed a few mice, are you satisfied?"

"No, my lord." "What a pity. Well, you've tasted the blood and proved what you set out to prove. Time to take off your armor and put back on your decent clothes. There are ships in port, one of which is going to Tarth, I'll arrange You ride." "Thank you sir, but no need." Lord Tully's expression showed that he wished he could put a gun in her head and hang it at the gate of Maiden Spring City, with Timon, Pug and Shagwei. "Are you going to continue this stupid thing?" "I'm going to find Miss Sansa." "Hear me, my lord," said Sir Hyle, "I saw her fighting the Mummers, and she was stronger and quicker than most men—"

"The sword is faster," Tarly interrupted him. "Valyrian steel is what it is. Stronger than most men? Yes, she's a freak, I don't deny that." No matter what I do, someone like him will never like me, Brienne thought. "My lord, perhaps Sandor Clegane has news of the girl. If he can be found..." "Clegane is a fugitive, and seems to have joined Beric Dondarrion's company. Of course, it may not be, the story varies. If I knew where he was hiding, I would immediately disembowel him and teach him to die It's horrible, but so far, although dozens of bandits have been hanged, we have never been able to catch the leader. Clegane, Dondarrion, the red monk, and now that 'Lady Stoneheart'...even I can't catch Here, how did you find it?"

"My lord, I..." She didn't answer, "I'll give it a try." "Forget it, try it. You have the letter, you don't need my passport, but I'll give you a copy anyway. If you're lucky, your only trouble is riding till you fall apart; After the rape with his pack, they might let you live. Then you can swim back to Tarth with the bastard in your arms." Brienne ignored the words. "Excuse me, my lord, how many people are there around the hound?" "Six, sixty, six hundred, depending on who is asking." Lando Tully obviously didn't want to talk to her anymore, and he turned to leave.

"Supposing my squire and I ask you to arrange lodging until—" "Whatever you ask, I can't stand you living under my roof." Ser Hyle Hunt stepped forward. "My lord, as far as I know, this is still Lord Mooton's territory." Tully gave the knight a stern look. "Mooton is as cowardly as a maggot, don't mention him to me. As for you, Miss, everyone says your father is very good. If so, I sympathize with him. Some people in this world have sons, some have daughters, it can't be helped, but only by being Cursed people get freaks like you. Life or death, Miss Brienne, as long as I sit in Maidenpool, you won't be allowed to come back."

Words are like the wind, Brienne told herself.It can't hurt you.Let it go.She wanted to say, "Yes, my lord," but before the words came out, Tully was gone.She walked out of the yard as if sleepwalking, not knowing where she was going. Ser Hyle followed her. "There are several inns in the city." She shook her head, not wanting to talk to Hyle Hunter. "Do you remember the Goose Tavern?" Her cloak still smelled of it there. "What?" "Meet me there at noon tomorrow. I'll speak to my cousin Alyn who was sent out to hunt the hounds."

"why?" "Why not? If I succeed and Erin fails, I can laugh at him for years." There are inns in Maidenpool, and Ser Hyle is right.But some of them had been burned during the raids to be rebuilt, and the taverns that remained were filled with Lord Tarly's soldiers.She and Podrick walked all over that afternoon but couldn't find a bed. "Sir? Mademoiselle?" said Podrick as the sun was about to set. "There's a boat here. There's a bed in the boat. A hammock. Or a bunk bed." Lord Randyll's men were still patrolling the pier, densely packed, like flies crawling over the heads of the three blood mummers. Fortunately, their leader recognized Brienne and waved her out.Local fishermen were tying their boats ashore for the night, hawking the day's catch, but her interest was in the larger boats, the ones that could ply the stormy narrow sea.There are five or six such ships in the dock, and one of them, a three-masted ship named "Daughter of Titan", is untying its ropes and preparing to go out to sea in the evening tide.She and Podrick Payne took turns asking about the remaining ships.The owner of the Maid of Gulltown treats Brienne as a whore and declares his ship is no brothel; the harpooner on the Iban whaling ship offers to buy her boy; Derek bought an orange, and the barge had just come from Oldtown, passing Tyrosh, Pentos, and Duskendale. "Next stop at Gulltown," the captain told her, "and round the Fingers to Sistersburg and White Harbor—if the storm isn't too bad. I tell you my Wavebreaker is always clean, and the Rats have no other ships So much, and fresh eggs and freshly churned butter. Would you like to take a boat to the north, miss?"

"No." Not now.She would love to go, but... As they walked toward the next pier, Podrick moved slowly and said hesitantly, "Sir? Miss? What if the lady does come home? Another lady, I mean. Ser. Lady Sansa. " "They burned her home down." "But her god is there. God doesn't die." Gods don't die, girls do. "Timon is cruel and murderous, but I don't think he lied about the Hound. We can't go north until we're sure the girl isn't in the riverlands. Keep looking, there's still a boat." At the eastern end of the quay they found shelter at last, in a storm-damaged galley merchant ship called the Daughter of Myr.She's heeled badly, losing her mast and half her crew, and the owner has no money for repairs, so is happy to take Brienne for a few pennies and let her share an empty cabin with Pod.

They slept restlessly that night.Brienne woke up three times.The first time was when it started to rain, and the other time when the boards creaked and she thought Dick Dick was going to sneak in and kill her—this time she had the dagger in her hand when there was nothing in the room.Lying in the small dark cabin, it was some time before she remembered that Dick Dick was dead.When drowsiness gradually came, she dreamed of those who died at her hands.They hovered around her, mocking her, torturing her, and she slashed with her sword, splitting them into bloody shards, and yet the shards surrounded her... Shagwell, Timon, Pug, no Wrong, and Lando Tully, Vargo Holt, Red Roland Clinton... Roland had a rose between his fingers.He held out the rose to Brienne, and she chopped off his hand. She woke up drenched in sweat, and spent the rest of the night huddled under her cloak, listening to the rain beating on the deck above her head.It was a stormy night, with thunder in the distance, and she couldn't help thinking of the Braavosi ship that was out at sea at the evening tide. The next morning, she found the Goose Tavern, woke up the sloppy owner, and bought some greasy sausages, fried bread, half a glass of red wine, and a pot of boiling water, plus two clean glasses.The woman squinted at Brienne as she boiled the water. "You're the big man who left with Dick Dick, I remember you. What's the matter, got him tricked?" "No." "Rape you?" "No." "Steal your horse?" "No. He was killed by gangsters." "The gangster?" The woman seemed more curious than panicked. "I always thought Dick was going to be hanged, or sent to the Wall." They ate fried bread and half a sausage.Podrick ate with wine-flavored water, while Brienne held the wine watered down and wondered why she came.Hyle Hunt was no real knight.His honest face was but an actor's mask.I don't need his help, I don't need his protection, I don't need him, she told herself, he won't come at all, the so-called meeting is just another prank. She was about to get up to leave when Ser Hyle entered. "Miss. Podrick." He glanced at the cup and plate, where the half-eaten sausage lay cold in a puddle of grease. "My God, I hope you don't eat from here." "Eating or not is none of your business," Brienne said. "Have you found your cousin? What did he say?" "Sandor Clegane was last seen at Saltpans, the day of the robbery, and he rode west along the Trident." She frowned, "The Trident River is very long." "Yes, but our dog doesn't wander too far from the mouth of the river. Westeros doesn't seem to appeal to him. You know? In Saltpans, he's looking for a boat." Ser Hyle drew a bag from his boot. Roll the parchment and push the sausage away to spread it out.This is a map. "The Hound killed three of his brother's men at the old inn at the Crossroads, here; then led the raid on Saltpans, here." He tapped his finger on Saltpans. "He's trapped. The Freys are upriver at the Twins, south across the Trident are Darry and Harrenhal, and to the west are the Blackwoods and the Brackens at war. Lord Randyll is here. , Maidensprings. And even if he had no fear of the hill tribes, the road to the valley is snow-covered. Where can a dog go?" "If he's with Dondarrion..." "He didn't. Alyn can be sure of that, because Dondarrion's men were looking for him too, and threatened to hang him for what he did at Saltpans. It had nothing to do with them, Lord Randyll said they were involved The purpose is to make the common people rise up against Beric's Brotherhood. As long as the common people are protecting Lord Lightning, he will never be caught. There is another team nearby, led by the woman called 'Lady Stoneheart'... …According to one story, she was Lord Berry's lover, hanged by the Freys, and resurrected by Dondarrion's kiss. Now she is as immortal as he is." Brienne studied the map carefully. "If Clegane was last found in Saltpans, that's where we should start." "There's not much left in Saltpans, Alyn said, except for an old knight hiding in his castle." "Nevertheless, that's the place to start." "There is a man," said Sir Hale, "a monk, who entered the gates I guarded the day before your arrival. His name is Meribald, a native of Three Rivers, and he has served here all his life. He will be here tomorrow. Going on a cruise, which visits Saltpans on every cruise. Let's go with him." Brienne looked up sharply. "us?" "I'll go with you." "no." "Okay, I'll go to Saltpans with Septon Meribald. You and Podrick go wherever you like." "Lord Randyro ordered you to follow me again?" "He ordered me to stay away from you. Lord Randyll thought it might do you good to be raped hard once." "Then why are you following me?" "Either so, or go back and watch the door." "Your master orders you—" "In fact, he is no longer my master." She was taken aback. "You don't work for him anymore?" "My lord has informed me that he no longer needs my sword, or tolerates my arrogance. Anyway, the result is the same. From now on, I am ready to enjoy the adventurous life of a hedge knight... but if I really find Sansa Stark, we shall surely be well rewarded." Money and land, that's what he's looking for. "I want to save the girl, not sell her. I made an oath." "I don't remember ever making an oath." "So you can't follow me." When the sun rose the next morning, they set off. It was a strange procession: Ser Hyle on a sorrel steed, Brienne on a tall gray mare, Podrick Payne on a hunchback, and Septon Meribald walking beside him with a staff in his hand , leading a little donkey and a big dog.The donkey's load was so heavy that Brienne was a little worried that it might break its back. "It's all food, brought to the poor and hungry people of Three Rivers," Brother Meribald explained at the gate of Maiden Springs, "seeds, nuts and dried fruits, oatmeal, flour, barley bread, three rounds from the inn by the Clown's Gate yellow cheese, salt cod for myself, mutton for the dogs... oh, and salt. Onions, carrots, turnips, two sacks of beans, four sacks of barley, nine oranges—I confess, the oranges are My weakness, these are the ones I got from the sailors on purpose, and maybe the last ones to taste before spring." Meribald is a monk without a sanctuary, and in the hierarchy of the church, his status is only a little higher than that of the brothers of the beggars.There were hundreds of ragged monks like him across the Seven Kingdoms, working at the grassroots level, trudging through squalid hamlets, performing religious ceremonies, officiating at weddings and confessions.Theoretically, people should be provided with food and lodging wherever he visited, but the common people were mostly as poor as he was, so Meribald could cause difficulties for the host if he stayed too long in one place.Well-meaning shopkeepers sometimes allow him to sleep in the kitchen or stables, and some monasteries, manors, and even a few castles will accept him. When there is no convenience, he sleeps under a tree or behind a fence. "There's plenty of good hedges in the Riverlands," said Meribald. "The older the better, there's nothing like a hedge that's been left untended for a hundred years. In it a decent man sleeps as warm as an inn, And don't worry about fleas." The monk happily admitted that he could not read or write, but he could read a hundred prayers and recite long passages from the Book of the Seven Stars, which was all the peasants needed.His face is very rough, which is caused by years of wind and sun. He has thick gray hair and wrinkles around his eyes.Despite being six feet tall and stocky, he walks a bit stooped, making him appear much shorter from a distance.His hands were large and callused, with red knuckles and dirt under the nails, and he had the largest feet Brienne had ever seen in her life, feet that had never been shod, covered with Black, hard calluses. "I haven't worn a pair of shoes in twenty years," he told Brienne. "In the first year, I had more blisters on my feet than my toes. Whenever I stepped on a hard rock, the soles of my feet were bloody like butchered pigs. But I kept praying, and the shoemaker god made my skin as pliable as leather." "There is no shoemaker god," Podrick objected. "Yes, child...you may call him another name. Tell me, which of the seven gods do you like best?" "Soldier." Podrick said without hesitation. Brienne cleared her throat. "In Evening Hall, my father's monks always say there is but one God." "There are seven images of God, that's right, ma'am, you're right to point that out, but the divine revelation of the seven in one is not something ordinary people can comprehend, and I'm a clumsy eloquent, so I say there are seven gods." Meribald turned back to face Podrick. "There's not a boy I know who doesn't love warriors. But I'm old, and old men love blacksmiths. What do warriors guard without the work of blacksmiths? See, every town and every castle has blacksmiths. They make the fields we plow and crops our plows, the nails with which we repair our ships, the horseshoes that protect the hooves of our faithful horses, and the shining swords of your lords. The value of the blacksmith is undeniable, which is why we honor him as one of the seven gods, actually called It is the same whether he is a farmer, fisherman, carpenter or shoemaker. It does not matter what kind of work he does. What matters is that he is working. The Father rules, the warrior fights, and the blacksmith works. Together they represent the duties that a man should perform. Blacksmith An incarnation of divinity, as the shoemaker is an incarnation of the blacksmith. He heard my prayer and healed my foot." "The gods are merciful," Haile said dryly, "but you can wear shoes, why bother the gods?" "Bare feet are my way of redemption. The most holy monk can commit crimes, but my body is extremely weak. I think back then when I was young and energetic, those girls... If you were the only man within a mile of the village, then the monk Looks as heroic and noble as a prince too. I recite the "Seven Stars Book" for them, oh, the "Volume of Girls" is the most effective. Yes, I was a moral person before I threw away my shoes. Thinking of those who were defiled by me girls, I'm ashamed." Brienne shifted uneasily in the saddle, thinking of the camp below Highgarden, of the bet Ser Hyle and the others had made about who would sleep with her first. "We are looking for a maiden," revealed Podrick Payne, "a noble maiden of thirteen, with auburn hair." "I thought you were looking for bandits." "See them too," Podrick admitted. "Travellers try to avoid bandits," said Septon Meribald, "but you seek them." "We're only looking for one bandit," Brienne said, "The Hound." "Sir Hyle told me about it. May the Seven bless you, boy, it is said that he killed a lot of babies and ravaged many girls, and they called him 'the mad dog of Saltpans.' Why should a decent man deal with such a beast Woolen cloth?" "The girl Podrick said might be with him." "Really? Then we'll have to pray for the poor girl." Pray for me too, Brienne thought, saying a prayer for me.Ask the crone to hold up the golden lamp and lead me to Miss Sansa, and ask the warrior to give me strength so I can protect her.But she didn't say it, and if Hyle Hunter heard it, he would laugh at the woman's weakness. Septon Meribald was on foot, and his donkey was heavily burdened, so they had to move slowly all day.They did not go west by the road that Brienne had taken with Ser Jaime to the sacked and corpse-strewn Maidenpool.They turned to the northwest, and there was a winding path along Crab Bay, so small that none of Ser Hyle's precious parchment maps could be found.On this side, there are no steep mountains, dark swamps or pine forests on the Crab Claw Peninsula. The land is low-lying and humid, and the blue-gray sky is full of barren sand dunes and salt marshes. The road sometimes disappears among weeds and tide puddles. Lidi appeared again.Brienne knew they would be lost if it wasn't for Meribald.The ground is soft, so in some places, monks will go to the front and beat with wooden sticks to make sure they can stand.There are no trees for several leagues, just sea, sky, and sand. There is no place in the world more beautiful than Tarth, with its mountains and waterfalls, its alpine pastures and its shadowy valleys, but there is something charming about it.They crossed a dozen gentle creeks where frogs and crickets lived, terns glided high above the bay and sandpipers sang from the dunes.Once a fox crossed their path, causing Meribald's dogs to howl. There are people here.Some lived in mud and thatch houses among the weeds, while others fished the bay in leather canoes and built their homes on crooked wooden poles at the top of the dunes.Most of the people seemed to be living alone without much communication, as if they were very shy, but at noon, Meribald's dog barked again, and three women emerged from the weeds and stuffed Meribald with a straw basket , filled with clams.He gave them each an orange in return, though clams were as common as slime in this land and oranges were rare and expensive.One of the women was very old, another was pregnant with a child, and a third was a fresh and beautiful girl, like a spring flower.Ser Hyle snickered when Meribald went to hear their confession. "They're the gods incarnate...maiden and madonna and crone." Podrick looked so startled that Brienne had to tell him it was just It was three swamp women. After continuing on the road, she asked the monk: "These people live less than a day's ride from Maiden Spring City. Why didn't the war affect them?" "They have nothing to suffer, my lady. Their possessions are shells and stones and leather canoes, and their best weapons are rusty knives. They live and die, and love what they love. They know Lord Mooton rules the land." The land, but few have seen him, and Riverrun and King's Landing are but names to them." "Yet they believe in the gods," Brienne said. "I suppose that's all your fault. How many years have you walked the riverlands?" "Nearly forty years," said the monk, and his dog echoed loudly. "From Maidenwell to Maidenwell, it would take me half a year, maybe longer, to walk around, but I wouldn't say I know the Trident River." I have only glimpsed the great lord's castle from a distance, but I know the towns and manors, the villages so small that they have no names, the hedges and the hills, the streams that bring water to the thirsty And the caves where travelers live, and the paths that ordinary people walk. Yes, there are no muddy and winding paths on the parchment, but I know them all." He giggled. "Of course I know. My bare feet have crossed every mile no less than ten times." The remote path is for bandits, and the cave is a good place for fugitives to hide.Brienne couldn't help but wonder a little: How much did Ser Hyle really know about this man? "You must have lived a lonely life, monk." "The Seven are always with me," replied Meribald, "and I have faithful servants, and dogs." "Does your dog have a name?" Podrick Payne asked. "He must have," Meribald said, "but he's not my dog, huh." The dog wagged its tail and barked.He was big and shaggy and weighed at least ten stone, but friendly. "Who does he belong to?" Podrick asked. "Oh, of course he belongs to himself and the Seven Gods. As for the name, he didn't tell me. I call him Dog." "Oh." Apparently Podrick didn't understand a dog named Dog.The boy pondered for a while. "I had a dog when I was a kid. I called him a hero." "Is he?" "What is it?" "hero." "No. But he was a good dog. He died." "During the journey, the dog will protect my safety. Even in such a difficult time, with the dog by my side, neither wolves nor gangsters dare to harass me." The monk frowned. "Lately, wolves have become very scary. In some places, single travelers have to sleep in trees. The largest pack I've seen in the past was no more than a dozen. Now the number of wolves in the large pack cruising along the Trident River is more than 100,000." By the hundreds." "Have you ever experienced it yourself?" asked Sir Hyle. "Gods be blessed, I haven't, but I've heard them howl more than once in the night. The cacophony of howls . ’ He rubbed the dog’s head. "They're demons, some will tell you, and they say the pack is led by a dire she-wolf, a formidable, haughty, gray figure. She kills the buffalo all by herself, and no snare or snare can catch her, and she's not afraid Iron is not afraid of fire, and she kills all wolves who try to ride her. And she eats nothing but human flesh." Ser Hyle Hunt laughed. "That's all right, septon, poor Podrick's eyes are like eggs." "I didn't," Podrick said indignantly.The dog barked. ．That night, they pitched a cold camp among the dunes.Brienne sent Podrick out to the shore to find driftwood for the fire, but he returned empty-handed and muddy to his knees. "The tide is out, ser. Miss. No water, only mudflats." "Stay out of the mud, boy," advised Septon Meribald. "Slime doesn't like strangers. If you go to the wrong place, you will be swallowed by its mouth." "It's just mud," Podrick insisted. "It fills your mouth, crawls into your nose, and then dies." He smiled to remove the chill from the words. "Wipe off the mud and eat an orange, boy." The next day was about the same.They breakfasted on salt cod and a few slices of orange, and were on their way before the sun had fully risen.With the pink sky behind and the purple ahead, the dog led the way, sniffing every bundle of wild leather, stopping to pee at the edge of the grass; he seemed to know the road as well as Meribald.The cries of terns rang through the air, and the tide poured in. At noon, they stopped in a small village, the first village they encountered, and erected a total of eight houses with wooden stakes beside the stream.The men were out fishing in the coracles, and the women and boys climbed down the rickety rope ladder and gathered around Septon Meribald in prayer.After the ceremony, he pronounced their absolution, and gave them some turnips, a sack of beans, and two precious oranges. Back on the road, the monk said, "You better have a watch tonight, my friends. The villagers say they saw three disabled people hiding near the dunes, west of the old lookout tower." "Three?" Sir Hyle smiled. "Three is a piece of cake for our sword girl. Besides, they are not likely to provoke people with weapons." "Unless the hunger is unbearable," said the Friar. "There is food in the swamp, but only those who know how to find it, and these are strangers, survivors of the war. If they accost, ser, I beg you to leave it to me." "What are you going to do?" "Give them food and make them confess their sins. I will forgive them and invite them to the Quiet Isle." "Invite them to cut our throats while we sleep?" Hyle Hunter asked back. "Lord Randyll has a better way to deal with deserters—steel knife and hemp rope." "Sir? Mademoiselle?" said Podrick. "Are cripples deserters? Are they bandits?" "More or less," Brienne replied. Septon Meribald disagreed. "More or less. There are as many bandits as there are birds. Sandpipers and gulls have wings, but they are not the same. Singers like to sing that good men are framed by traitors and forced to become bandits. , but most of the bandits are more like the plundering hound than the Lightning King. They are bad people, driven by greed, malicious, despise the gods, and only care about themselves. Compared with them, the so-called disabled More worthy of sympathy, though they may be just as dangerous. They were simple commoners who never left their houses for a mile until one day the lord's call came. So they wore worn shoes and worn Clothes, set out under the splendid banners of the lords, often with little weapons but a scythe, a sharpened hoe, or a crude hammer made of stones tied with leather ties to a stick. Brothers, fathers and sons, and friends embark on the journey together .They heard the songs and the stories, and set out with eager hearts, dreaming of seeing wonders and winning riches and glory. War seemed like a great adventure, a journey most men never dream of." "And then they got a taste of war." "For some, a little taste is enough to break him, and many more carry on, year after year, until the number of battles fought is too many to count, but even the hundredth fight survived A man who is still alive may break down in the hundred and first battle. The younger brother saw his older brother die, the father lost his son, his friend's belly was split open with an ax, and he tried to stuff his own intestines." "They saw the lord who led them into battle felled, and another lord loudly proclaimed that they were his now. Their wounds were half healed, and they took fresh wounds. Never enough to eat, shoes on the endless march The clothes gradually disintegrated, the clothes rotted into strips, and many people became sick because of drinking dirty water, and their feces and urine were in their trousers." "If they wanted new boots, or a warmer cloak, or a rusty iron half-helmet, they had to take it from a corpse, and soon they began stealing from the living too—in lands where war was fought, there were They were the same people they used to be. They stole from these people, stole chickens and dogs, slaughtered cattle and sheep, and it was one step away from taking the daughters of common people. One day, when they looked around, they realized that all their friends and relatives Gone, surrounded by strangers, with unrecognizable banners on their heads, at a loss as to where they are and how to get home. They fight for their lords, who don't know their names They shouted loudly, asking them to form formation, take up spears, sickles and sharpened hoes, and stand firm. Then, the knights attacked, those knights who were full of iron armor and could not see their faces, and they charged with steel The roar fills the whole world..." "Then the man collapsed. He became a deserter and a disabled person." "He flees immediately, or crawls away with the dead after the battle, or sneaks out of the camp in the dark of night to find a place to hide. By this time, all sense of home has disappeared, and kings, lords, and gods have respect for him. It is not as good as a piece of rotten meat, at least the meat can make him live another day; it is not as good as a bag of bad wine, which can temporarily submerge his fear. The life of a deserter does not know the future, and he does not know the next meal. Beasts are not like people. Miss Brienne is right, in the current situation, travelers should be careful of deserters, be wary of deserters... but they should also sympathize with them." After Meribald finished speaking, a deep silence enveloped the small group of people.The wind blew through a clump of weeping willows, rustling, and there was a faint cry of a bird in the distance. The dog jogged beside the monk, panting slightly, and the donkey stuck out its tongue from the corner of its mouth to breathe.The silence stretched on and on, until finally Brienne said, "How old were you when you went into battle?" "Ah, like this boy of yours," replied Meribald. "Actually, it's too young to go to war, but my brothers have all gone, and I'm not far behind. William said I could be his squire, but he's not a knight, just a hotel boy with a knife stolen from the kitchen as a weapon He died on the Stepstones without really swinging a weapon. The fever killed him and my brother Robin. Owen died with a mace and his head was smashed in half. His friend Jon 'Pocky' Hanged for rape." "You mean 'Nine Copper Kings'?" asked Hyle Hunter. "They named it that, but I neither saw a king nor earned a penny. It was just a war."