Chapter 132: The White Cloak and the King
The rain had stopped sometime before dawn.
By morning, the clouds had begun to break apart, allowing thin shafts of pale sunlight to fall across the Kingsroad. The road itself, however, remained a ruined stretch of brown mud.
Wagon wheels sank deep into the softened earth.
Horses pulled against their harnesses.
Servants shouted.
Soldiers pushed.
And far behind the front of the royal procession, the queen's great wheelhouse groaned like a wounded beast every time its wheels struck another rut.
Robert Baratheon looked back at it from atop his horse.
His expression darkened.
"If that damned thing sinks one more time," he announced, "I am leaving it where it stands."
Ser Barristan Selmy rode beside him.
The old knight's white cloak moved gently in the cold wind. His armor was clean despite the mud covering nearly everything else on the road.
"Her Grace may object," Barristan said.
Robert snorted.
"Her Grace objects to breathing when the air does not ask her permission first."
Barristan's mouth twitched.
Robert noticed.
"Was that a smile?"
"No, Your Grace."
"You are a terrible liar."
"I have had little practice."
Robert laughed loudly.
Several guards riding behind them looked forward, surprised by the sudden sound.
It was the first genuine laugh they had heard from the king that morning.
Robert adjusted himself in the saddle.
His body was heavier than it had once been, and long hours of riding no longer came easily. Yet he stubbornly refused to remain inside a carriage.
He had once crossed kingdoms on horseback.
He would not allow age, fat, or a ridiculous royal procession to defeat him now.
He looked ahead.
The Kingsroad stretched northward beneath the clearing sky.
Fields rolled outward on either side. Small villages appeared and vanished behind them. Farmers stopped working to watch the king pass, bowing awkwardly as banners of the crowned stag moved along the road.
For several minutes, Robert said nothing.
Barristan understood that silence.
The king was thinking.
That was often more dangerous than when he was shouting.
Finally Robert spoke.
"You saw Jon Arryn before he died."
Barristan looked toward him.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"How long before?"
"Two days before he was taken ill."
Robert's grip tightened slightly around the reins.
"How did he look?"
Barristan considered the question.
"Tired."
"He was always tired."
"Yes."
"Old?"
"He was old."
Robert looked irritated.
"You know what I mean."
Barristan nodded.
"He did not look like a man near death."
Robert stared ahead.
The sound of hooves against wet earth filled the silence between them.
"He attended council?"
"Yes."
"Spoke normally?"
"Yes."
"Ate?"
"I believe so."
"Walked without help?"
"He used his cane, as he often did."
Robert's jaw tightened.
"And then suddenly he becomes ill."
"Yes."
"And suddenly he is dead."
Barristan said nothing.
Robert looked toward him.
"Well?"
"I do not know what answer you seek."
"The honest one."
"I have given it."
"No. You have given me facts."
Barristan's eyes remained on the road.
"Facts are safer than suspicions."
Robert gave a humorless laugh.
"There. That sounds like something Jon would say."
"Lord Arryn was a cautious man."
"He was a stubborn old bastard."
"He was that as well."
Robert's expression softened briefly.
Then the grief returned.
"He survived the rebellion."
"Yes."
"He survived the Mad King."
"Yes."
"He survived seventeen years of my court."
Barristan's mouth almost moved again.
Robert noticed.
"You may laugh."
"I would not dare."
"Liar."
Barristan inclined his head slightly.
Robert looked back toward the road.
"Seventeen years," he muttered. "Seventeen years of Pycelle coughing, Littlefinger counting coins, Varys whispering in corners, Cersei glaring at everyone, and me drinking enough wine to drown the Iron Fleet."
"That is an impressive amount of wine."
Robert stared at him.
Barristan kept his expression completely calm.
Then Robert burst out laughing.
"Gods, Barristan. You should speak more often."
"I am told silence is one of my better qualities."
"Who told you that?"
"Several kings."
Robert laughed again.
But the laughter did not last.
He looked down at the reins in his hands.
"I always thought Jon would outlive me."
Barristan said nothing.
"He seemed older when I was a boy than he did at the end."
"Children often see age differently."
"He was ancient when I first met him."
Barristan glanced toward Robert.
"You were eight."
"He was still ancient."
A faint smile touched the knight's face.
Robert saw it and let the moment remain.
Then his expression became serious again.
"Do you believe Pycelle?"
Barristan's gaze sharpened.
"Regarding what?"
"Do not play games with me."
"I do not play games, Your Grace."
"Then answer."
Barristan rode in silence for several breaths.
"I am a knight."
Robert frowned.
"I know."
"I understand wounds. Broken bones. Bleeding. Fever after battle."
"And?"
"I am not a maester."
"That was not the question."
"No."
Barristan's voice remained even.
"It was not."
Robert waited.
Barristan finally continued.
"Lord Arryn's death was sudden."
"Yes."
"Sudden death is not impossible at his age."
"No."
"But neither is it wrong to wonder."
Robert's eyes hardened.
"Wonder what?"
"That there may be more we do not yet know."
Robert stopped his horse.
Barristan stopped beside him.
The guards behind them slowed immediately, keeping their distance.
Robert looked directly at the old knight.
"Are you saying Jon was murdered?"
"I am saying no such thing."
"You are thinking it."
"I am thinking that certainty without evidence is dangerous."
Robert's nostrils flared.
"That is exactly what he used to say."
"Then perhaps he was right."
Robert stared at him for several seconds.
Then he urged his horse forward again.
Barristan followed.
The king's voice was quieter when he spoke.
"If someone killed him…"
Barristan waited.
Robert's hand tightened around the reins.
"If someone killed that old man in his own bed…"
The warrior beneath the king stirred.
His shoulders straightened.
His eyes grew cold.
"I will tear apart every stone in King's Landing until I find them."
Barristan believed him.
The Robert who drank and hunted could be careless.
The Robert who loved could be terrible.
"Then find proof first," Barristan said.
Robert glanced sharply toward him.
"You would lecture your king?"
"If my king intends to tear apart his own capital, yes."
Robert's anger held for one moment.
Then it broke into a rough laugh.
"You truly are becoming bold."
"I am becoming old."
"Is that the secret?"
"It removes much fear."
Robert grinned.
"Perhaps I should make every councillor wait until seventy before speaking."
"Then the realm might enjoy peace."
Robert shook his head.
They rode onward.
The road improved slightly as the land rose. The mud remained, but the horses no longer struggled with every step.
Robert looked toward Barristan again.
"Was I a good king?"
The question came without warning.
Barristan did not answer immediately.
Robert barked a laugh.
"That pause was crueler than any insult."
"You asked a difficult question."
"I asked a simple one."
"No, Your Grace."
Barristan's voice was respectful.
"You asked a question with many answers."
Robert's expression darkened.
"Then give me one."
Barristan considered his words carefully.
"You ended a dynasty that had fallen into madness."
Robert listened.
"You pardoned many who fought against you."
"Jon told me to."
"You accepted his counsel."
"Continue."
"You brought peace after rebellion."
"Jon brought peace."
"You allowed him to."
Robert looked disgusted.
"That is a fine way of saying I let him do my work."
"It is a way of saying you trusted a capable man."
Robert snorted.
"I trusted him to govern while I hunted."
"You also trusted him not to steal your crown."
"Jon would never have wanted it."
"Which made him worthy of trust."
Robert's gaze returned to the road.
"Was I a good king?"
Barristan exhaled slowly.
"You were a good warrior."
Robert laughed bitterly.
"That I know."
"You were merciful when many expected vengeance."
"Sometimes."
"You did not slaughter the families of your enemies."
"Not all of them."
"You kept the realm together."
"Jon did."
"With your authority."
Robert shook his head.
"You are twisting words to spare me."
"I am speaking carefully."
"Stop."
Barristan looked toward him.
Robert's voice hardened.
"Do not speak to me as if I were Joffrey."
Barristan went still.
Robert continued.
"I did not ask for flattery."
"No."
"I have enough men in silk telling me how magnificent I am."
"Yes."
"Tell me the truth."
Barristan looked ahead.
"The truth?"
"The truth."
The old knight nodded once.
"You won the throne."
Robert waited.
"You did not enjoy ruling it."
"No."
"You often allowed others to make decisions you should have made yourself."
Robert's face tightened.
Barristan continued.
"You neglected the treasury."
"Littlefinger manages it."
"That was not praise."
Robert almost smiled despite himself.
"You avoided council."
"Yes."
"You allowed quarrels among your family and councillors to grow because confronting them was unpleasant."
Robert's eyes narrowed.
"You speak boldly for a man within striking distance."
"You asked."
"I did."
"You brought peace," Barristan said. "But you did not build upon it as well as you could have."
Robert remained silent.
The guards behind them continued riding, far enough away not to hear.
Barristan's voice softened.
"You are not Aerys."
"That is a low bar."
"It is."
Robert gave a short laugh.
"You are not cruel for pleasure."
"No."
"You do not burn men alive."
"No."
"You do not fear every shadow."
Robert's expression shifted.
"I fear some shadows."
"All men do."
Barristan looked toward him.
"But a king must do more than avoid becoming a monster."
Robert stared ahead.
"That sounds like Jon."
"He was your Hand."
"He was more than that."
"Yes."
Robert's face grew tired.
"I was good at war."
"You were."
"Battle made sense."
"Yes."
"A man either stood with you or tried to kill you."
"Often."
"No ledgers. No whispers. No smiling bastards hiding knives behind compliments."
"Court has different weapons."
"I hate those weapons."
"I know."
Robert looked toward the fields.
"On a battlefield, a man trying to kill you has the decency to carry a sword."
Barristan nodded.
"Usually."
"King's Landing is filled with cowards."
"It is also filled with capable men."
"Name five."
Barristan remained silent.
Robert laughed.
"That is what I thought."
The old knight allowed himself a faint smile.
Robert sighed.
"I need Ned."
"Yes."
"You agree?"
"I do."
That surprised him.
Robert turned.
"You think he will be a good Hand?"
"I think he will be an honest one."
"That is not the same."
"No."
Robert frowned.
"You sound like Cersei."
"I hope not."
Robert laughed loudly.
"No. She used far more words."
Barristan nodded solemnly.
"That is reassuring."
Robert shook his head, still smiling.
Then he asked:
"Will Ned accept?"
Barristan did not hesitate.
"Yes."
Robert's smile widened.
"He will complain."
"Yes."
"He will tell me he belongs in Winterfell."
"Yes."
"He will say the South does not suit him."
"Yes."
"And then he will accept."
"Yes."
Robert looked satisfied.
Then Barristan added:
"He will not accept gladly."
The satisfaction faded.
Robert looked toward him.
"He loves me."
"Yes."
"I am his king."
"Yes."
"He will accept."
"Yes."
"But?"
Barristan met his gaze.
"Burden accepted from love remains a burden."
Robert's face darkened.
"I need him."
"I know."
"If he stays here, who do I trust?"
Barristan said nothing.
"Renly enjoys games."
"Yes."
"Stannis enjoys misery."
Barristan wisely avoided answering.
"Pycelle enjoys pretending to be asleep."
Robert continued.
"Littlefinger enjoys gold."
"Yes."
"Varys enjoys secrets."
"Yes."
"Cersei enjoys being right."
Barristan's expression became carefully blank.
Robert barked a laugh.
"Even you will not deny that."
"I value my life."
Robert looked ahead.
"Ned is the only one."
"Yes."
"Then I will ask him."
"Yes."
"And he will come."
"Yes."
Robert's voice became quieter.
"Even if it costs him."
Barristan looked toward the northern road.
"Yes."
For a while, neither man spoke.
The procession continued behind them.
The queen's wheelhouse creaked.
Soldiers shouted.
Somewhere in the distance, a hunting horn sounded as riders searched the nearby woods for game.
Robert seemed to consider following it.
Instead, he remained beside Barristan.
After several minutes, he spoke again.
"What do you think of Ned's boy?"
Barristan glanced toward him.
"Lord Robb?"
"The other one."
"Jon Snow."
"The king beyond the Wall."
Barristan noted the title.
Robert noticed that he had noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing, Your Grace."
"You thought something."
"I was considering your phrasing."
"What of it?"
"You called him king."
Robert shrugged.
"That is what everyone calls him."
"Yes."
"Do you object?"
"It is not my place."
"Coward."
"Cautious."
Robert grinned.
"What do you think of him?"
Barristan took time before answering.
"I have never met him."
"You have read the reports."
"Yes."
"Everyone has."
"Yes."
"Then speak."
Barristan looked toward the horizon.
"The reports agree on some matters."
"Such as?"
"Winter's Titan exists."
Robert laughed.
"That would be difficult to invent after half of White Harbor saw it."
"It is said to be larger than any vessel known to Westeros."
"Four kilometers."
"That measurement remains uncertain."
"Everything about it remains uncertain."
"Yes."
Robert leaned forward eagerly.
"The soldiers?"
"Disciplined."
"Ten thousand."
"At White Harbor."
"Giants?"
"Twenty were displayed."
"Displayed," Robert repeated.
Barristan nodded.
"The word is intentional."
Robert's eyes brightened.
"You think the boy planned every detail."
"I believe King Jon showed the North exactly what he wished it to see."
Again, the title.
Robert smiled.
"You call him king easily."
Barristan remained calm.
"His people call him king. The Northern lords addressed him as king during negotiations. Refusing the title does not make the kingdom disappear."
Robert laughed.
"Gods, I like that answer."
Cersei would not have.
That made him like it more.
"What impressed you most?" Robert asked. "The ship? The giants? The direwolves?"
"I did not see them myself."
"The reports."
Barristan considered.
"The restraint."
Robert frowned.
"Explain."
"Boys with sudden power often display too much of it."
Robert listened.
"They boast. Threaten. Demand recognition."
Barristan's voice remained thoughtful.
"Jon Snow arrived with enough soldiers to establish strength, but not enough to suggest invasion."
"Ten thousand men is a great many for peace."
"Yes."
"Twenty armored giants."
"Yes."
"Direwolves."
"Yes."
Robert grinned.
"That sounds like boasting."
"Perhaps."
Barristan's eyes remained forward.
"But he negotiated instead of threatening. He offered trade. He paid fairly. He did not demand northern allegiance. He did not reveal his route home."
Robert nodded slowly.
"He kept the important secrets."
"Yes."
"And the thirty swordsmen?"
"The reports describe them as exceptionally disciplined."
"Valyrian steel blades."
"Thirty of them."
Robert whistled softly.
"That alone could buy a kingdom."
Barristan said nothing.
"They fought?"
"There were demonstrations."
"And?"
"They were superior to the northern soldiers who faced them."
"How superior?"
Barristan glanced toward him.
"The reports differ."
"Cowards always reduce numbers."
"Some claimed one man could defeat ten knights."
Robert laughed.
"Now that sounds like ale."
"Perhaps."
"You do not believe it?"
"I believe men often misunderstand speed and discipline when they have never witnessed either at a high level."
Robert's eyes sharpened.
"You think the claim may be true."
"I think dismissing it entirely would be foolish."
Robert grinned widely.
"Could one defeat Jaime?"
Barristan sighed.
"I knew this question would come."
"Answer it."
"I have not seen them fight."
"Based on the reports."
"Reports do not win duels."
"Barristan."
The old knight looked toward him.
"Could Jon defeat Jaime?"
"I do not know."
"Could one of his thirty?"
"I do not know."
Robert looked disappointed.
"You are very boring."
"So I have been told."
"What about Jon himself?"
"Very little is known about his personal skill."
Robert frowned.
"He defeated thirty soldiers."
"There are accounts."
"Accounts from men who saw it."
"Yes."
"Then?"
"They say he defeated them."
Robert leaned closer.
"How?"
"Quickly."
"That is not enough."
"It is all the reports provide."
Robert sat back.
"Could he defeat you?"
Barristan looked forward.
Robert waited.
"Well?"
"Every man can be defeated."
Robert burst out laughing.
"That means yes."
"It means exactly what I said."
"It means yes."
"No, Your Grace."
"Would you fight him?"
"If duty required."
"That was not what I asked."
Barristan sighed.
"You have adopted my methods."
"I improve everything I steal."
Barristan ignored that.
Robert pressed.
"Would you want to fight him?"
"I do not seek fights with young kings for entertainment."
"I do."
"That is one difference between us."
Robert laughed.
"When I meet him, I will ask for a spar."
"That would be unwise."
Robert turned sharply.
"You think I would lose?"
"I think you are the king."
"That is not an answer."
"I think you are no longer twenty."
Robert's eyes widened.
The guards behind them looked forward nervously.
Barristan continued calmly.
"You are heavier."
Robert stared.
"Slower."
Robert's face reddened.
"Your endurance is not what it was."
"Barristan—"
"And if even half the reports regarding Jon Snow's training are accurate, challenging him without preparation would be unwise."
Silence.
Then Robert threw his head back and roared with laughter.
The sound rolled across the road.
Several riders ahead turned.
Barristan remained composed.
Robert wiped moisture from his eyes.
"Gods, old man. Cersei would have you flogged for half that honesty."
"You asked for honesty."
"I did."
Robert was still laughing.
"Too old."
"Yes."
"Too fat."
"I said heavier."
"You meant fat."
Barristan said nothing.
Robert slapped one hand against his stomach.
"This killed Rhaegar."
"Your hammer killed Rhaegar."
"This carried the hammer."
"Yes."
Robert looked offended.
"You agree too quickly."
Barristan's expression remained solemn.
Robert shook his head.
"Very well. I will train before I fight him."
"That would be wiser."
"One week."
"One year."
Robert stared.
Barristan looked ahead.
Robert began laughing again.
"You truly have lost your fear."
"I told you. Age."
Robert grinned.
"Perhaps I will make you Hand."
"I would decline."
"Wise man."
They rode onward.
The road stretched farther north.
The air had begun to change.
It was colder now.
Cleaner.
The southern warmth was fading behind them, replaced by winds carrying the first distant promise of the North.
Robert drew in a deep breath.
"First Ned," he said.
Barristan nodded.
"Then perhaps the impossible son."
"One Stark at a time, Your Grace."
Robert looked toward him.
"Where is the fun in that?"
Barristan gave the faintest smile.
"Fun is rarely the purpose of governance."
"That is why governance is miserable."
"Yes."
Robert looked forward again.
Somewhere beyond the road waited Winterfell.
His oldest friend.
A Hand he trusted.
A past he missed.
And beyond Winterfell, farther north than any king of the Seven Kingdoms had reason to look, waited another figure.
A boy who had left home with nothing.
A king who had built something from snow.
Robert smiled.
"Tell me one thing, Barristan."
"If I can."
"Do you think the boy will like me?"
Barristan took far too long to answer.
Robert slowly turned toward him.
The old knight remained perfectly serious.
"That depends, Your Grace."
"On what?"
"Whether you speak before or after drinking."
Robert stared.
Then he roared with laughter once more.
Behind them, the royal wheelhouse struck another rut.
A wheel sank deeply into the mud.
Servants shouted in panic.
Cersei's furious voice rose above them all.
Robert looked back.
Then forward.
"Ride faster," he ordered.
Barristan nodded.
"A wise command."
Together, the king and the white knight urged their horses onward, leaving the struggling royal court farther behind.
End Chapter 132
-----------------------
Author's Note
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