The King of Winters

Chapter-111

"Don't let us hold you back from your duties, ser," Argella told them. "And do keep your eyes open during the patrol."

Ser Donnel gaped at her like a fumbling fish at the end of a fisherman's hook but he simply bowed his head.

She waved them down the road. "Go on with you, then."

"Aye, your grace." Donnel Haigh muttered a quick, angry word at his companions, and they were off once again. As the outriders went riding off Argella and her party resumed their weary trek once again.

Evenfall found them still trudging toward the Green Fork and Lord Frey's twin castles. I am almost here, Argella thought. She knew she ought not to feel anything about it, but somehow her belly was all knotted up tight. Somehow this proved to toughest part of the journey, to cross the Twins. And Argella didn't know why, or maybe she did. She was told that Frey had fancied taking a toll off Andrew by wedding a daughter to the King in return for allowing him to pass south. She didn't know why that never happened though. If that had happened the Frey maid would be on her way to Winterfell now and she would still be in Storm's End. Last night she'd had a bad dream, where she saw just that. She could remember what she'd dreamed of clearly, of seeing her husband wed another woman. Argella had no qualms about it. If anything she would have even preferred it instead. So she was actually surprised why it felt like a bad dream, but the feeling had lingered all day. It had taken half her strength to finally build up the courage to get past the dream. She had come a long way from her home. This was nothing but another castle between her and her journey.

The road had been running mostly northwest, but now it turned due west between an apple orchard and a field of drowned corn beaten down by the rain. They passed the last of the apple trees and crested a rise, and the castles, river, and camps all appeared at once.

They came upon Ser Ryman's camp before they came upon the castle. The camp was filled with horses and as much as two hundred men, most of them sitting around wooden crates, dicing and drinking.

"This is a poorly set up camp," Argella observed as soon as she saw it. The maid of Tarth nodded in agreement.

The sound of the river was louder here as the closed in towards the Green Fork. The angry rumbling of the river rolled across the camp. The paths between the cookfires were raw brown mud, mixed with horse dung and torn up by hooves and boots alike. Everywhere Argella saw the twin towers of House Frey displayed on shield and banners, blue on grey, along with the arms of lesser Houses sworn to the Crossing: the heron of Erenford, the pitchfork of Haigh, Lord Charlton's three sprigs of mistletoe. Her arrival did not go unnoticed. Around her she glimpsed the faces of men all staring at her.

Ryman Frey's great rectangular pavilion was the largest in the camp; its grey canvas walls were made of sewn squares to resemble stonework, and its two peaks evoked the Twins. Inside, Ser Ryman was enjoying some entertainment. The sound of a woman's drunken laughter drifted from within the tent, mingled with the strains of a woodharp and a singer's voice. I shall deal with you before I treat with your father, ser, Argella thought. Another one of the Freys stood before his own modest tent, talking with two men-at-arms. His shield bore the arms of House Frey with the colors reversed, and a red bend sinister across the towers. A bastard, she realised. When he saw Argella he paused and dismissed his companions at once. Argella held his gaze as she passed him, wondering if he knew who she was. If he did the man showed nothing of it as he simply stood and stared at her as if she was some lady who insulted him by refusing his wedding offer.

Two spearmen were posted at the entrance of Ser Ryman's camp. Argella hopped down from the back of her horse. "Where is Ser Ryman?" she asked them. "I have come to meet him."

"Ser Ryman is indisposed," one told Argella. "No one is to meet him without his leave."

Brienne stepped forward. "Do you know who you are talking to, ser?" The man frowned at Brienne and then looked at Argella before looking above to see the crowned stag and direwolf flying from the standards behind her. The spearmen looked at each other. "I'll go get him, your grace."