Chapter 30 Chapter 29 Caitlin

"Madame, you'd better cover your head," Ser Rodrik warned her repeatedly as they rode northward, "or you'll catch a cold." "A little rain is all right, Ser Rodrik," Catelyn replied.Her wet hair hung heavily, a loose lock stuck to her forehead, and it was easy to imagine how miserable she looked, but this time she didn't care.The southern rain is soft and gentle, and Caitlin likes to feel the lightness of a loving kiss on her cheek.The feeling took her back to her childhood, the gray days in Riverrun.She remembered the damp godswood, with its drooping branches; her brother chasing her through piles of wet leaves, laughing loudly.She also remembered playing with Lysa in the mud, the weight of the mud balls in her hands, the slippery brown mud flowing between her fingers.Later, they giggled and served the mud pies to Littlefinger, and he ate a lot of them, and he was sick for a week.Ah, I remember when I was young.

Caitlin thought she had forgotten these things long ago.The rain in the north is cold and relentless, sometimes turning to frost at night.It is said to be nourishing and reproductive, but it turns into a crop killer in a blink of an eye, and even adults run away when they encounter it.How could this kind of rain be for little girls to play with? "Wet to the bone," Ser Rodrik complained, "to the bone." The woods were thick around them, and the sound of rain on the tops of the leaves was accompanied by the muddy clatter of horses' hoofs. "Ma'am, we should find a place with a fire to rest tonight. It would be better if we can eat some hot food."

"There's an inn at the intersection ahead," Caitlin told him.When she was young, she stayed here many times when she went out with her father.Lord Hoster Tully couldn't stay in the city in his prime, and was always riding around on horseback.She remembered that the innkeeper was a fat woman named Martha Hyde who chewed tobacco day and night.Martha always seemed to have a smile on her face, and she often brought cakes to the children.Her cakes are dipped in honey and taste rich.Only Catelyn was afraid of her smile, because the tobacco stained her teeth a dark red, and it looked bloody and scary.

"It would be nice to have a hotel," repeated Sir Rodrik wistfully. "However... we'd better not take any risks. In order to avoid being recognized, it's better to find a folk house for the night..." At this time, the sound of armor clanging, horse neighing and rain splashing came from the road, and he hurriedly stopped talking. "Someone." He warned while reaching for the hilt of his sword.Even on the Kingsroad, it never hurts to be cautious. They followed the sound, rounded a lazy bend, and saw the procession of men in file, armed to the teeth, noisily crossing the swollen stream.Catelyn took the reins and let them go first.The banners held high by the riders at the front of the line were already soaked, hanging down, and they could not be seen clearly.But the people who came were all wearing blue-purple cloaks, and the silver eagle emblem of Haijiang City was flying on their shoulders. "One of the Mallisters," Ser Rodrik whispered to her, lest she not know. "Ma'am, I think you'd better pull up your hood."

Caitlin didn't follow through.Lord Jason Mallister himself was in the procession, surrounded by the knights, his son Patrick at his side, and his squires following.She saw at a glance that they were on their way to King's Landing for the Hand's Tournament.This past week the Kingsroad has been filled with knights and freeriders, bards with harps and drums, wagons laden with hops and corn and barrels of honey, businessmen, artisans and whores, the raging The crowds made the King's Row so congested that everyone headed south. Regardless of the risk of being recognized, she took a good look at Earl Jason.The last time I saw him was at her wedding banquet, when he was only interested in joking with her uncle.The Mallisters were vassals of the Tullys, who had always been generous with gifts.Now his brown hair is streaked with white, and the years have chiseled his face, but it has not diminished his pride. He looks fearless on horseback.Catelyn was envious, she had too many fears herself.When they passed by, Baron Jason nodded briefly, but that was just the basic courtesy of a nobleman when he met a stranger on the road.Those piercing eyes didn't recognize her, and his son didn't even bother to look.

"He didn't recognize you," said Ser Rodrik afterward, puzzled. "All he saw were two wet, weary, mud-spattered travelers standing by the roadside, and it never occurred to him that one of them was his lord's daughter. I think we'll be safe in the inn, Ser Rodrik. .” The hotel was at a fork in the road north of the confluence of three rivers, and it was almost dark when they arrived.Martha Hyde, still chewing her tobacco, was a little fatter and grayer than Catelyn remembered, but she only gave them a cursory glance, not a bloody smile of terror. "Only the two upstairs guest rooms, nothing more," she said, chewing. "The two rooms are under the clock tower, so you don't have to worry about missing meals, but some people think it's noisy. There's no way, there are too many people, and we are almost full. If you don't want it, please go on the road."

Of course they do.The room was in a low, dusty attic, climbed up by narrow old stairs. "Leave your shoes here," Martha told them after taking the money, "the boys will clean up later. I don't want to see you go upstairs in the mud. Watch the bell, you won't have anything to eat if you're late." There was no smile on her face, and she didn't say a word about the sweet cake. When the dinner bell did ring, it was deafening.Catelyn had changed into dry clothes and was sitting by the window, watching the raindrops trickle down the sills.The glass is blurred and water droplets are densely covered, and the rainy night is about to fall.Catelyn could just make out the muddy ferry where the two roads met.

Seeing the fork in the road, her erratic gaze couldn't help but stop.If they headed west from here, they would come to Riverrun with ease and pleasure.Her father always offered sage advice when she needed it, and she longed to talk to him, to warn him of the approaching storm.If Winterfell really had to fight, Riverrun would bear the brunt of it, for it was near King's Landing and to the west was the shadowy power of Casterly Rock.If her father had been in better health, she might have considered it, but Horst Tully had been bedridden for two years, and Catelyn would not add to his burden.

The road to the east was rougher and more treacherous, climbing over rocky hills and thick woods into the Moon Mountains, and through steep passes and abyssal cliffs to the Vale of Arryn and beyond the craggy and rocky Fingers.Standing at the top of the Vale of Arryn, the Eagle's Nest City is impregnable, with towers stretching toward the sky.There she would find her sister Lysa...and perhaps some of the answers Ned was looking for.Lysa must have had some reservations in her letter, and she didn't dare to say more. Maybe she has the evidence that Ned needs, which is enough to lead to the destruction of the Lannister family.If they really went to war, they would also need the support of the Ayrin family and their subjects, the nobles of the eastern region.

However, the mountain road is rugged and dangerous.Not to mention the shadow lynx haunts everywhere, falling rocks is a common occurrence, and the mountain tribes are even more lawless bandits. They roared from the mountains, and after killing people and stealing their goods, when they saw the valley and sent knights to hunt them down, they felt like snow melting. Disappeared without a trace.Even Jon Arryn, such a rare and wise lord, must bring a large number of people with him every time he crosses the mountains.At this moment, Caitlin's only support was an old knight, and the only barrier was his loyalty.

No, she thought, Riverrun and the Eyrie later, and now she should be heading north for Winterfell, where her three sons and great responsibility were waiting for her.Once she was safely across the Neck, she would declare herself to Ned's vassals, and then send messengers on horseback to announce the king's road was under siege. The rain obscured the fields beyond the side road, but the scenery in Caitlin's memory was still clear.The market was at the other end of the road, and there was a village a mile further, with fifty or so white farmhouses surrounding a small stone church.There must be more houses in the village now after the long, quiet summer.From here north the Kingsroad ran parallel to the Green Fork, a tributary of the Trident, and passed through fertile valleys and green woods, through prosperous towns and solid farms and castles of nobles across the river. Caitlin knows every nobleman in the river: the Blackwood and Bracken families who have had feuds for a long time, and her father has to mediate every dispute; In the empty cellar of Lunburg, he was with the dead all day long; the violent Marquis Frey died of seven wives, and in the Twin River City on both sides of the majestic river, he had four generations living under the same roof. Hundreds of series, hard to count.They were all Tully vassals, sworn allegiance to Riverrun.But if war really breaks out, Caitlin doesn't know if such a lineup is strong enough.Father is the most steadfast and reliable person in the world, and he will definitely summon his vassals at that time... But will all the princes come?The Darrys, the Ryggs, and the Mootons were all subjects of Riverrun, but they fought alongside Rhaegar Targaryen at the Battle of Three Rivers.The Marquess of Frey arrived late with his men after the war ended, which made people wonder which side he originally planned to serve (afterwards, he solemnly stated to the victors that he had always been on their side, but never After that his father called him "Late Lord Frey").No war, Catelyn thought anxiously, no war must be allowed to break out. The bells stopped, and Ser Rodrik knocked on her door. "Madam, let's go down quickly, or I'm afraid we won't be able to eat anything." "Before we cross the Neck, we'll be safer if we don't look like lords and ladies," she told him. "You won't attract attention as ordinary travelers. Well, let's say we're father and daughter visiting relatives." "Then it will be done, my lady." Ser Rodrik agreed, and Catelyn laughed, and it dawned on him that he had said the wrong thing again. "I'm used to it, I really can't change it for a while, husband... daughter." He stretched out his hand to twirl his long-lost beard, and couldn't help sighing in embarrassment. Caitlin took his hand. "Come on, father," she said, "Martha Hyde cooks a fine dish, and I think you'll like it. But don't praise her to her face, it's better not to look at her smiling face." The hall was long and well-ventilated, with a row of large wooden casks on one side and a fire on the other.The waiter ran around with a barbecue spit, and Martha poured beer from the barrel, but the tobacco in her mouth did not stop. The benches were full, and villagers and farmers sat side by side with tourists of all origins.The master dyer with one hand black and the other purple sat next to the fishy river man; the muscular blacksmith huddled next to the thin old monk; We exchanged news on the road like friends. However, too many of the diners were carrying swords, which made Caitlin a little worried.The three who sat by the hearth wore the Brackens' red steed badge, and a large group of men in blue steel ringmail and silver gray cloaks, with the twin towers of the Freys on their shoulders that she knew well chapter.She looked at their faces one by one, but they were too young to recognize them.The older ones were only Bran's age when she married north. Ser Rodrik found two seats on a bench near the kitchen, and across the table sat a handsome young man, strumming a wooden harp. "Well-wishers, the Seven Gods bless you," he said as they sat down.An empty wine glass was placed in front of him. "Bless you too, good singer," Catelyn replied.Sir Rodrik ordered bread, meat, and beer in an "I want it now" tone.The singer was about eighteen years old. He looked at them boldly and asked them where they came from, where they were going, what news they had on the way, and so on. "We set off from King's Landing two weeks ago." Catelyn answered, choosing the safest question. "I'm going there," said the young man.Sure enough, as she expected, he was far more interested in talking about himself than listening to theirs.There's nothing singers love more than showing off their voices. "There must be a lot of rich men in the Prime Minister's Martial Arts Competition. Last time I made too much money to move...Uh, it's a pity that I bet on the 'King Slayer' and lost it all." "By gods, gamblers deserve to be damned," Ser Rodrik said sternly.As a northerner, like the Stark family, he doesn't like the martial arts conference. "I know God doesn't like me," the singer said, "so your gods and the Knights of Flowers teamed up to screw me over." "You must have learned your lesson," said Sir Rodrik. "That's right. I'm betting on Ser Loras this time." Sir Rodrik wanted to twirl his non-existent beard again, but before he had time to reciprocate, the waiter hurried over, and offered them trays of bread, cut off the fork and roasted brown, dripping with heat. Meat slices in soup.On the other fork there were shallots, red peppers and fat mushrooms.Rodrik immediately gobbled it up, and the waiter ran to serve them beer again. "My name is Marillion," said the singer, plucking a string. "I suppose you've heard me play somewhere else?" Hearing his tone, Caitlin couldn't help smiling.Bards seldom visited Winterfell in the far north, but she had known them often when she was a girl at Riverrun. "I'm afraid not," she told him. He played a mournful note on the piano. "That's your loss," he said. "Who's the best singer you've ever heard?" "Alia of Braavos," Ser Rodrik said immediately. "Well, I'm much better than that old bone," said Marillian. "I'd be glad to prove it to you, if you'd pay a silver piece." "I have two coppers, but I'd rather throw it down the well than hear you scream," said Ser Rodrik gruffly.He was famous for his distaste for singers. He thought it would be great for a girl to learn some music, but it was outrageous that a healthy boy would hum and sing with a harp instead of a sword. "Your grandfather speaks bitterly," Marillian said to Catelyn. "I meant to sing of your beauty. I tell the truth, my voice was made to sing to kings and high lords." "Oh, I can tell," Caitlin said. "It is said that the Tullys love listening to music. You must have been to Riverrun, right?" "I've been there so many times," the singer said lightly, "They even prepared a guest room for me. I know his young master like buddies." Caitlin smiled, wondering how Edmure would react?Her brother has hated this industry ever since the girl he liked was slept with by a singer. "What about Winterfell?" she asked again. "Have you ever been to the North?" "What am I going to do there?" Marillion asked back, "It's full of ice and snow, and the door is thickly wrapped, and the Stark family doesn't know any music? They just like to hear wolves howling." She vaguely heard the door opening from the far end of the room. "Boss," came a voice from behind her, "find someone to feed our horses, and our Lord Lannister wants a room and a hot bath." "By the gods," Rodrik said, and Catelyn quickly stopped him, her fingers gripping his forearm. Martha Hyde was busy bowing and bowing with her trademark bloody smile of terror. "My lord, I'm sorry, but we are really full." Catelyn saw a group of four of them: an old man in the night watchman's black shirt, two servants... and him, a small man standing there in good shape. "It's fine for me to sleep in the stables. As for me, you can see that I don't need a big room." He laughed self-mockingly. "So as long as the fire is warm enough and there aren't too many fleas in the straw, I'm happy." Martha Hyde was too anxious to know what to do. "My lord, we really can't help it. It's all caused by this martial arts tournament. There are too many people, oh..." Tyrion Lannister took a coin from his pocket, tossed it over his head, caught it, and flicked it again.Even Caitlyn, sitting across the room, could see it was gleaming gold. A freerider in a faded blue cloak staggered to his feet. "My lord, if you don't dislike it, just take my room." "Smart fellow," Lannister said, tossing the coin, which the freerider caught in the air. "Not bad at all," said the dwarf, turning to Martha Hyde. "As for the food, I suppose it should be all right?" "Anything is fine, my lord, you can eat whatever you want." The proprietress reassured.Best to choke to death, Catelyn thought, but all she saw was Bran drenched in blood and suffocating. Lannister glanced at the table closest to him. "My men eat the same as these men, but double the portion, and we rode a long way. Roast a bird for me, chicken, duck, pigeon. And a jug of your best wine. Yoren, you Want to eat with me?" "Okay, my lord, let's eat with you." The brother in black replied. The dwarf didn't even look across the room, and Catelyn was glad that she was so far away from them by so many crowded tables and benches.Suddenly Marillion jumped to his feet. "Lord Lannister!" he cried, "may I have the honor of entertaining you at your table? Let me sing you a song of your lord's victory!" "Then it's no wonder I don't feel sick to death." The dwarf said sourly.He sized up the singer with eyes of different sizes, and was about to look away...but saw Caitlin.He looked at her in confusion for a moment, and she turned away, but it was too late.The dwarf smiled. "What a pleasant surprise, Lady Stark," he said. "I'm sorry I didn't see you at Winterfell." Marillian opened his mouth wide and watched her get up slowly, his expression changed from confusion to annoyance.She heard Ser Rodrik curse.If only Tyrion stayed on the Wall for a few more days, if only... "Madam Stark...?" Martha Hyde grumbled. "The last time I lodged here, I was Catelyn from the Tullys," she told the landlady.She heard the crowd talking in low voices, and felt that everyone's eyes were on her.Caitlin looked around the room, looked at the knights and sworn knights, and then took a deep breath to calm her frantic heartbeat.Is she really going to take the risk?There is no time to think carefully, and the opportunity is fleeting.All she could hear was her own voice echoing in her ears. "The gentleman in the corner," said the older man, whom she hadn't noticed before. "Is that the black bat of Harrenhal embroidered on your coat?" The man got up quickly and replied, "Yes, ma'am." "My father is Hoster Tully of Riverrun. May I ask if Mrs. Hean is his loyal ally?" "Of course she is." The man replied firmly. Ser Rodrik stood up quietly and drew his sword from its sheath.The dwarf blinked his eyes in a daze, his two eyes of different sizes gleamed with confusion. "The red horse is always welcome at Riverrun," she told the three by the fire. "My father counts Lord Jonos Bracken as his oldest and most loyal vassal." The three soldiers exchanged uncertain glances. "My lord is grateful for your father's trust." "I envy your father for having so many good friends," Lannister said sarcastically, "but I don't see what you want, Lady Stark." She ignored him and turned to the group of people in gray and blue clothes.These more than 20 talents are the key. "I am also familiar with the symbol of the twin towers of the House of Frey. Sirs, how is your master?" Their leader stood up. "Ma'am, Mr. Wade is very good. He plans to marry his new wife on his 90th name day, and he hopes that he will be honored to have his lord present there." Tyrion Lannister snickered, but by then Catelyn was sure he couldn't escape. "This person came to my house as a guest with the intention of murdering my seven-year-old son." She pointed it out to the audience.Ser Rodrik came up to her, sword in hand. "In the name of King Robert and all your lords who serve, I beg you to bring him to justice, and help me to send him to Winterfell, where the king's laws may pass." For a moment, Caitlin didn't know whether the sound of dozens of long swords unsheathing in unison was more pleasant, or the expression on Tyrion Lannister's face was more delightful? !