41:Robb

Robb

White Harbour was a clean and well-ordered city with straight cobbled streets that made it easy to move around. The houses were made of whitewashed stone and had steeply-pitched roofs of dark grey slate. The walls surrounding the city were thick and well-fortified as any city in the south.

Robb had visited White Harbour only once when he was a young boy of eight, but he remembered only bits and pieces.

The sun lurking over the walls, its bright beams pleasant to the eye as was the pink sky that spread above them. The ride from the Neck to White Harbour had been rather unpleasant, full of rain and bogs and later two stormy nights that had made it hard to build a fortified camp.

The Greatjon, Lord Glover, Maege Mormont and Roose Bolton had advised Robb to march for Winterfell, but he had refused. Roslin was with child and he didn't want her to force to live in a burned-down ruin. Once Winterfell was returned to its former glory he would send her there, but until this matter was taken care of she would be a honored guest in Lord Manderly's home.

Robb doubted Lord Manderly would refuse him. What little he recalled of him gave Robb the impression that he would be welcoming to anyone of Stark blood.

"It simply beautiful!" Roslin's excited voice rang in his ears and caused him to turn his head. Like Robb she was seated on a horse, though she looked much different now as she had lowered her thick brown pelt and wore a warmer dress made of dark wool and inlaid with fur. Even her hair looked different. It was braided atop of her head and her face was hidden behind her shawl, which he had pulled down to be able to speak to Robb. "And it smells like salt and storm."

"Fishy would be a more accurate description," Olyvar Frey added cheerfully. Next to him rode the mighty Smalljon, who loomed over the lanky young man like a giant and a bit further behind followed Dacey Mormont. She was a tall and lean beauty with black hair and always carried her axe wherever she went. Robb had yet to find anyone among these men that would ever dare to show him disrespect.

That was until Lord Bolton had brought Halys Karstark before him, who had been freed by the same Lord Bolton after he had retaken Harrenhall in Robb's name. He was a solemn young man with a long face that betrayed his Stark blood, though his eyes were blue instead of grey.

He looks more like a Stark than me, Robb realized and thought of Jon. His brother had inherited the Stark looks, but wasn't even his father's son. Truly, it was a mad world they lived in. And he hates me for killing Lord Rickard.

It wasn't like Robb had had much of a choice. The man had not only tried to murder a valuable hostage, but had also refused to take the black. Pardoning him would have made Robb appear weak. Even so, he doubted that Halys Karstark cared about Robb's reasoning. He had lost half his family to Robb's war. He had every reason to hate him.

Yet I am still his lord, Robb reminded himself and shifted his attention to Roslin. She was smiling at him warmly and pointed at the strange street that loomed before them. It was called Castle Stair, Robb recalled vaguely and was a broad stone way that lead up from the Wolf's Den to the New Castle, located on a hill overlooking the stormy sea below. It was there where Lord Manderly's guardsmen awaited them and took hold of their horses. They looked like mermen, their cloaks striped white and turquoise and armed with spears that looked like tridents.

"Welcome Lord Stark," the Captain of the Guards greeted them. "Lord Manderly awaits."

He led them up the broad stairs, marble mermaids lighting their way, bowls of burning whale oil cradled in their arms. From atop here one had an even more beautiful look at the harbors, but they had no time to linger, for a sharp wind was blowing from the north. Roslin had yet to get used to the icy winds of his lands north and he didn't want her to get sick.

The Merman's Court, the great hall of the New Castle, was as colorful as his childlike mind recalled. Its walls, floor and ceiling were made of wooden planks notched cunningly together and decorated with all kinds of fearsome sea creatures. The floors and walls were even more colorful. It was painted with crabs, clams and starfish, half-hidden amongst twisting black fronds of seaweed and the bones of drowned sailors. On the walls he found pale sharks prowling painted blue-green depths, whilst eels and octopods were slithering amongst rocks and sunken ships. Higher up, he saw fisher nets spread over the rafters and to the right a war galley and the sinking sun. To Robb it looked more like a harbor than a feasting hall.

"Is the food to your liking, Lord Stark?" Lord Manderly asked. He was a man of sixty and so fat that he was no longer able to ride a horse which had earned him the name Lord Too-Fat-to-sit-a-horse. Yet, he was an amiable man with a shrewd mind or that is at least what his Lord Father had always told him. "Your plate is still full."

The food he was serving was impressive. They had boiled eggs, capons, roasted eels, lampreys, delicious pork pies, sweetened porridge and all sorts of different sausages which Lord Manderly had ordered from the Free Cities.

Robb had tasted everything enthusiastically and so had his men, but there was always more and more being offered to him and he had no intention to reach as full as a form as his generous host.

"On the contrary," Robb assured him and watched with satisfaction as Roslin was shoveling a piece of tart into her mouth, Lord Manderly's granddaughters smiling and laughing with her. They seemed just as pleasant as their grandfather, though the green hair looked rather odd on the younger one. Wylla was her name, he recalled now. "I was delicious…and it seems my men enjoy your bitter ale even more. Well, my wife enjoys your tarts."

"That is good to hear," the old man replied with a smile. "I am just trying to make sure that your heir will be a fat and healthy babe."

Robb didn't want to think about that. Roslin was such a fragile girl. Pushing out a fat and healthy babe would most likely tear her apart, but then Lord Manderly probably meant well.

"I hope so," Robb replied and took a sip from his cup as he continued to watch his men. They were in a good mood, drinking and singing songs, their loud voices echoing over the Merman's Court. They were acting as if they had already re-taken the North, but the contrary was the case. The Ironborn still held Deepwood Motte. "My brothers are dead. I need a son to succeed me."

Suddenly, Lord Manderly's demeanor changed, his blueish gaze wandering over Robb's face.

He smiled and tapped his finger on the table, indicating for Robb to lean closer.

Robb complied.

"About that, my Lord. I have made a curious discovery, but we shouldn't speak about this while our men are celebrating."

Robb's heart had nearly stopped when he had heard this.

"Why not?" he asked impatiently. "If you know something…," he trailed off when Lord Manderly started to shake his head.

"Not here, my Lord. This should be spoken about in private. Later, if it pleases you. Now you should rest and enjoy your feast."

That was easier said than done, but Robb managed to bridge the time as best of possible. The ale and the song of the men certainly helped.

"You look tired," Roslin remarked later and touched is cheek. Her hands were cold, but her smile was as bright as the summer sun. "You should rest. Speak to Lord Manderly on the morrow. I am sure he will understand."

"I can't," Robb replied and squeezed her hand. Then, he leaned closer and kissed her chastely, first on the cheek and then on the mouth. It would be so easy to lose himself to her embrace, but he was eager to consult Lord Manderly about his "curious discovery". "But I won't stay long. Go to bed if you like."

Roslin looked disappointed, but accepted his wish. "As you wish, but I will be waiting for you."

Then, she angled her head and pointed at Greywind, who lay seated beside the large hearth. "Greywind will keep me company while you are gone."

Robb was not surprised by her answer. She had always been drawn to his wolf, though it had taken its good time until Greywind had warmed up to her. He had never liked strangers, but it seemed the fact that she was carrying his child helped.

"Greywind will bore you to death. He is sleepy," he remarked and walked over to pat the wolf's head. His loyal beast yawned and went back to sleep.

Not long after, Robb left Roslin and sought out Lord Manderly's solar.

He was already waiting for him with two cups of summerwine and a serious expression, so unlike the cheerful smiles he had carried all day.

"Please make yourself comfortable," he said and sent the servant out of the room. "I have bad and good tidings for you, my Lord."

"I assumed so much," Robb replied, his heartbeat speeding up as she watched Lord Manderly shove a folded parchment over the table. "What are these bad tidings you speak of?"

"Read," Lord Manderly said. "Read my Lord."

Robb followed his advice and unfolded the piece of paper. He soon understood what Lord Manderly had meant with bad tidings. The letter had been written by the hand of the Maester of Castle Black, asking for assistance against the Wildlings. That the letter was several weeks old scared him even more. He not only worried about his Lord Father, but also his people. A horde of Wildlings marching south was the last thing he needed now.

"Did you answer the call to arms?" Robb asked.

"I sent a hundred men and encouraged the others lords to do the same, but I do not know if they made it in time. The storms are growing worse by each passing day. You can only imagine how hesitant they were. Most preferred to keep their men at home to guard their keeps. The roads are no longer safe which brings me to my next point."

Robb nodded his head and took a sip from his cup. "Continue."

"Very well," Lord Manderly replied and pursed his lips. "Have you heard about the sad fate of Lady Hornwood?"

Robb had, but he didn't know the details.

"She was killed, wasn't she?"

"The bastard of Bolton killed her," Lord Manderly added. "He seized her, forced her to marry him and locked her up in her own home until she died of starvation. He now calls himself Lord Hornwood."

Robb shuddered after he heard these gruesome details.

"I shall take his head for this. He helped my cause by killing the Ironborn men at Winterfell, but a rapist is a rapist. Well, he is also Lord Bolton's only living son. A bastard at that, but Lord Bolton's marriage to Lady Walda is still young and there is no certainty he will have another heir. I will have need of his men, even if I mistrust him. I fear I am in a difficult situation."

"Soon you will find yourself in an even more difficult situation," Lord Manderly added sadly. "Now to the good tidings. There is a great possibility that your brothers are still alive."

Robb gave him a look of disbelief. "How is that possible? Ser Roderik's last letter to my mother was quite clear."

"There is a man named Wex Pyke who survived the sack of Winterfell. He was Theon Greyjoy's squire. He cannot speak, but he indicated through his chalk writings that Ramsay Snow was in truth the person who sacked Winterfell and that Wex followed a boy, a woman and a direwolf after they left the castle. The woman was called Osha and she supposedly took young Lord Rickon to Skagos. I do not know where they took Lord Brandon, but one can assume that he is also alive."

It was not hard to understand the implications of what Lord Manderly had just told him. This Ramsay was not only a vicious murderer and rapist, but he was also a traitor.

Though that didn't solve Robb's dilemma. Roose Bolton was a shady man, but was far away from the North when his bastard son was committing these crimes. On top of that, he had retaken Harrenhall for him and had freed Halys Karstark, whom Robb needed to keep the Karstark men in control. Ramsay needed to die, but it would be unjust to kill Lord Roose for the crimes his son committed, though Robb had a hard time believing that he had no connection to these incidents. House Bolton was never a true ally to House Stark and Roose Bolton was and always will be a dangerous man.

"Skagos, you say," Robb sighed and brushed his hands over his face. "That is a dangerous place. I know no one who would be willing enough to go there."

"I would recommend sending the Mormont men," Lord Manderly advised. "They know how to talk to Wildlings. The people there are of a similar kind, only more dangerous. I could offer you my best ship. The Stormwhipper. It is freshly build and could make it there within a few weeks."

"A good idea," Robb agreed and took a heavy gulp from his cup. He should feel relieved to hear about his brother's survival, but he felt only more anxious. Bran was still missing and he had a possible Wildling invasion to deal with. It felt as if the gods were conspiring against him by throwing more and more obstacles at him. "I thank you, but I must ask another favor of you."

Lord Manderly smiled kindly and nodded his head agreement.

"Of course."

"Do not tell anyone about my brothers until I have dealt with the bastard of Bolton."

"Of course," Lord Manderly agreed. "My lips are sealed, but if I may ask…How do you intend to get him? I doubt Lord Bolton is going to hand him over."

"I could demand it," Robb replied. "But that would displease Roose Bolton. And I have no time for infighting between my men. That is why I intend to send a small group of men to capture him while Roose Bolton will be tasked to prove himself useful. He captured Harrenhall from the enemy and now he can retake Deepwood Motte. That way I can also keep him away from me. After what you told me I cannot trust the man anylonger."

"A wise choice," Lord Manderly agreed. "And the Wildlings?"

"I have no other choice. I must assemble my men and march for the Wall. The Ironborn are much less of a threat than these Wildlings. I can't have them march south."