Down at the main hall, the
guest were seated. Ser Kevan himself was personally greeting guests at their
tables; lords, ladies and their companions all alike. Most guests were from
houses Cersei had either never heard of or didn’t care enough to remember. Her
father, clad in all Lannister-crimson-leather, was sitting next to Jaime; her
uncle’s and Tyrion’s seats remained empty. Now, where in the seven kingdoms
might this dwarf be? This potion might be the best chance to rid us from him
without raising many suspicions. Two score servants were tending to the
guests, bringing them beef-and-barley stew, roast rabbit stuffed with onions
and mushrooms, and iced lemon cakes while others poured honeyed wine for the
ones who raised their hands. At one time, Cersei caught a glimpse of her
cousin, Damion, as he tapped the shoulder and spoke something into the ears of
a short-bearded man who casually stood company of other four men. The man nodded,
and with a gesture the others gathered their goods and trailed behind him
towards an elevated platform placed in the corner of the hall. Shortly after,
no voices could be heard save for the whispers and giggles of the servant girls
who evidently recognized him. He closed a fist over his mouth and cleared his
throat.
“My
lords and ladies, I am myself quite privileged to be here amongst you on this
occasion. A raven was sent to me with words from Lord Tywin himself requesting
from me a performance in honor of his brave son and graceful daughter,” the
singer said. Harrin Blacktyde bowed and took up his copper-colored stringed
wood harp and gestured his fellow singers to add their instruments and voices
to his own. The first song was an original of his titled At Your Name Day,
Dance With Me ‘til the Morrow followed by many others that made servant
girls and some ladies weep every time he put down the harp.
When the
music had filled the room with a festive mood, Harwin prompted guests to take
part in the dance at the center of the hall. The first to join were Lord
Eddison Clanet and his wife, Lady Liane. At the next table were round-bellied
Sir Roland and his sister, Marylla Weams. Many had seen her storming out of the
room after their friends had roared with laughter when Sir Roland, having
already drunk a full flagon of wine, pounded his fist on the wooden table and
yelled to her “I’ve got a big arse. Our mother’s got a big arse. Arses are big
in this family; you damned well better get used to yours, woman.” He might
be a drunken fool, but at least he’s not a liar. I ought to give him that much.
At some
point, a younger lady was seen requesting for Lord Tywin to be her dancing
partner, but then her father approached them and claimed that if it was true that
Lord Tywin did in fact shit gold, he would not see trouble in being most
generous and paying her stone weigh in dragons as a way of complimenting her
beauty. That remark, naturally, was not well received by her father, Cersei
noticed. “You have a most graceful daughter, certainly,” Tywin said with a hard
mouth, and then turned to one of the Lannister men that guarded the gates. “Sir
Addam, if you would cordially show our guests to my solar. I shall meet them
there shortly; I will not have it said that a Lannister failed to acknowledge a
woman’s grace in front of her kin.” The knight opened the doors for the man and
his daughter and asked of them to trail behind him. Lord Tywin did not even
once take his leave from the hall. Words are wind, Cersei reflected. She
did not remember seeing neither the girl nor her father return to the the
feast.
Without
doubt, her brother was more entertained than Cersei was, and was taking far
more pleasure in all the foods and guests that were part of the celebration. He
was no longer sitting in the seat next to his father, but rather shared a table
and a stuffed rabbit with slim, red-haired Mark Minwell, Terrance Pettysmith
and his bastard half-brother, Emrick Hill. All were boys of no more than
four-and-ten, meaning that today Jaime was the eldest among them. He grows
more manly by the day. His hair seems more radiant, his smile is getting
sharper. I can even see a hint of a beard starting to grow on the point of his
chin. Oh, how I wish you were not my brother. Many women live their lives
searching for their true lovers, only to lose him in some battle or to another
woman. But I am fortunate; mine was brought along with me into this world. Stay
with me, Jaime, and be mine fore…Cersei’s thoughts came to a sudden halt
when someone approached, lightly kissed Jaime on the cheek and occupied the
space next to him. She was a fair girl of around her own age with long way hair
that hanged from a friendly face and fair skin that elegantly complimented her
deep, brown eyes. Her gown left the top of her shoulders uncovered and a wide
belt helped accentuate her figure. She wore a daisy flower headband, a subtle
necklace and several gilded bracelets.
“Does m’lady
wish more pomegranate juice?,” asked one serving woman. “m’lady?”
Cersei could
not help but notice how Emrick and Mark sat there fascinated by her presence.
“What do you make of that?,” she asked the woman and turned her face to the
table, “and be honest.” But watch your words.
“Well . . .
m’lady. . . I . . . in the town I come from we’d say they are bewitched. . .
done by a crone, or a wicked princess o’ sorts, like in the old folk tales.” Or
a Queen! Maybe they have seen her in some whore house. Might be she’s a queen,
the queen of whores, for all I know. She even wears her crown. The fact
that Cersei had not met the girl before made no matter; she had given her
reason enough to be despised. “I need you to deliver a message. I need you to
go to that table and tell my brother that my father has urgent need of him, and
if he asks tell him it regards a gift from King’s landing,” she said. “And hand
me that flagon over. I’ll see that our guests don’t lack for a drink.”
“But . .
.m’lady shouldn’t . . .take care of such things. If someone were to find out. .
.I”
“Someone
should be the least of your concerns. You should not make my father keep on
waiting for my brother. Now go on, and do as you’re told.”
Trembling,
the woman handed the flagon over to Cersei and wend her way towards the table
where Jaime and the others were seated. I guess the dwarf will have to wait,
she thought as she hurriedly pulled the cork out from the vial and let
several drops into the flagon. She hid the bottle back up her sleeve. The sound
of Harrin’s sweet harp still lingered behind as she saw her brother leaving the
hall. She walked towards the table. They all paid close attention to her hand.
“As you see,
it appears we lack enough servants to tend to everyone. I took the freedom to
assist. Do any of you want more juice?” Only Mark and the friendly-faced girl
nodded. “How do you fair today? I hope you have found the feast most
entertaining,” she asked as she poured steadily into their mugs. I must
serve him, too, else I would look suspicious.
“We have, my
lady,” Terrance answered for himself and his bastard brother. “It saddens me to
think that we my father does not employ cooks this capable back at Darfield.”
“That is
certainly a satisfying remark you make, my lord. You’re most welcome to take
some of what you most like to your father, and if the seven so wish, he’ll hire
new cooks.”
The comment
made the three boys laugh, but the girl kept her face solid.
“Where did
you find this singer, may I ask?. It’s not even midnight and I have heard him
play the same songs more than thrice already,” she suddenly said.
“We must not
have been properly introduced,” Cersei answered defiantly.
“They call me
Ellena . . . Ellena Torrent, if it please my lady,” the girl said with a
halting voice. Have you lost your courage now?
“A Torrent. I
assume your mother is Lady Alyna? Your names sound almost identical.”
“It would
please mother to hear that my lady remembers her.” She sipped her drink.
“Indeed.
Maester Ranald is a capable man. I am sure he is taking good care of her.”
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