Arguments in the AnteroomIndex | HomePage | GameLogs | HoldfastGameLogs | Arguments in the Anteroom Rather than answer, Kenrith led the way into the anteroom. His fist was clenched tight enough that his knuckles popped. Syndra followed, her jaw clenched tight as stone. "Close the door," he said. She did so, then turned to Kenrith, temper blazing behind controlled blue eyes. "If Godwyn willfully sought to deceive me about a matter like that, in my capacity as acting Lord, he would be on the back of a mule for the Wall before he could say 'but... but...'" "Godwyn would never do that. He is loyal. It is not for you to judge whether I should spare a man or not, to judge which facts I need and what can be swept under the rug... and if you are going to dissemble, don't do it when those a pace away are incapable of concealing their own guilt and trepidation. Don't you dare trying to trick Stark like that... he'll see through you." "You think he should be trusted and given succor. Fine. Consider this, though... if you are wrong, he may wake in the middle of the night and slit your father's throat and Rhys', and be away before anyone knows the difference," Kenrith said. "You saw him, Kenrith. The boy's on the verge of death. He's not going anywhere. Once Rhys pumps him full of poppy, he'll be out like a candle in a gale," Syndra argued. "As for Godwyn, I'm not calling him a liar because I have no idea what he told you. All I can tell you is what I saw out there. If that contradicts Godwyn's version of events, then it's up to you to decide who's being deceitful." "This is not about he-said you-said. He would not do what you just did, and not tell me something I might need to know when I asked. I know you tried to poison Evan's food, and I know why you did it-- but did you consider the gods might have favored Evan because of it?" Syndra winced, stung. She sighed, then said, "Yes, I did that. I admit it. I was scared and it was stupid and if I had it to do over, I wouldn't. I was wrong. And perhaps I was wrong up there too by not telling you," she admitted, nodding toward the sickroom. "But what would you have done if I said he was a Bolton? Run him through? Hasn't there been enough death today, Kenrith? That boy had nothing to do with Evan, or Herys hurting Celia or the Boltons bringing us the summer fever. He's a boy, and he's scared and hurt. I helped him, and I'd do it again." Despite her best efforts, her eyes started to get bright. She clenched her jaw anew, refusing to cry. "When did I say a word about harming him... this is about you, Syndra. Question the decisions I do make... but don't you presume to judge me. Stark will have to do that, when all is said and done," Kenrith said, concern and pain showing on his face for a moment before he literally wiped it away with his hand as he stroked his stubbly chin. "In answer to your question, if you had said he was one of the Boltons-- and predictably, would have follwed that with telling me he was a craven fool following orders, I would have looked at Rhys to see if he'd know this fact. If he hadn't, I would have been very upset, as it would mean you'd brought a dangerous man into his tower without his knowledge. Make no mistake-- as hurt as you think a man is, he is still dangerous. A wounded animal is more dangerous, not less," Kenrith said as he unconsciously wrapped his arm across his chest to hold his own withered limb. "I would not have summarily chopped off his head, as I nearly did to Sewell a moment ago. I may come back and do it still, depending on what happens in the Godswood... but the Wall needs men. Just as I've promised the nine I brought back from the wolfwood, I will hear him speak before I pass judgement," Kenrith said somberly. Syndra regarded Kenrith with a gaze like stone. This man before her was similar to, but so different from the boy who left Holdfast almost seven years ago. Kenrith had always been serious, yet she used to feel a certain closeness to her cousin. But now he was Lord in Uncle Oswain's stead and it occurred to Syndra that yes, it did feel as if she were talking to Uncle Oswain. She bit down her angry words and rubbed her temples. She had suddenly developed a massive headache. "I'm sorry, Kenrith," she forced out a clipped apology. "It was wrong of me to presume. With all the madness that's happened here today, I don't know what to expect anymore." She turned away from him, moved to the sideboard, and poured two goblets of wine. Taking a place across the table from Kenrith, she placed a goblet before him. She kept one for herself, sipping before speaking, but she did not sit down. "In the interest of telling you everything that I know, I must admit that Rhys had no knowledge of the boy. I'm prepared to accept all the blame for that. Shackle Hanley to the wall if you must, but I promised him that he would not be harmed so long as he harmed no one at Holdfast." She obviously had more to say, but she paused to allow him to speak. He motioned 'enough' after she'd poured a splash into his cup. He sipped it, and motioned for her to continue. She sipped again and continued in a quiet voice. "As for what happened on the field..." She sighed and this time she did avert her gaze to stare at the table. "You wanted to know everything, so I'm telling you. After Evan rode Father down, I stabbed Corryn. It was an accident, but it happened. Evan came back to Father for the killing blow. Rhys was holding me back and Corryn was begging Father to yield. Evan leaned over like he was listening, and said Father yielded. I'm not sure I believed it, but at any rate, the trial was done and Evan was free to go. Ser Herys pushed Celia down then and called his troops to kill Evan. They seemed confused. Then Godwyn ran after Herys and called for Holdfast to kill all the Boltons... " She paused, her voice becoming even softer as she struggled with her emotions. "And then...," she shook her head sadly, "...and then it was a bloodbath. Rhys and I were in the middle of the field tending to Father and everything just... erupted around us. I picked up Father's sword to try to hold everyone off of us, but we were nearly ridden down by our own guards. A Bolton came at me and..." she grimaced, "...and Evan killed him. Smashed his head all over us. Boltons were trying to surrender and they were run through. Even the small folk were killing each other for the honor of killing a Bolton." She sniffed, wiping away her tears with the heel of her hand and looked up at her cousin. "Kenrith, I know I'm just a girl. I probably have no understanding about war and honor. But that didn't feel like justice out there. It didn't look like honor." She paused again, and her last words came out as a whisper. "It looked like murder." "It looked like war," he said as if he were correcting her. "Honor and justice in war is seldom on the battlefield... and all knights are lesser men since Rhaegar died. Godwyn is no knight, nor does he seek to be... and perhaps he is wiser for it. I know that doesn't explain it... suffice to say, Godwyn made the right decision given what he knew, but I don't know if I can explain it to you," Kenrith said before finishing what little wine was left in his cup. Syndra bit her lip and nodded in acceptance. She hated thinking ill of Godwyn. Perhaps Kenrith was right and he had made his decision based on what he could see at the time. Perhaps. "Just because Hardy won in the end... doesn't mean this would have happened if he hadn't given that order. Words like those put fear into a man's heart, and that matters much in battle... and it is why Holding Fast before terrible odds is our greatest strength- we don't break, we just fight and die where we decide to. Casualties occur when men drop their shields and flee-- to kill a man that means to hold his ground and fight to the death, when his attackers are not prepared to die to do it-- it can turn the tide of great battles," Kenrith said, hoping she'd understand what he was trying to explain. He had little practical experience in the matter himself, but he trusted the men who had made him understand it. Her dubious expression indicated she did not, but she chose not to argue the point. Instead, she sighed and settled into one of the chairs. "So what do we do now? Given what you've learned in these last few minutes, do you still trust me to talk to Lord Stark?" Kenrith sighed, then smirked. "I'm sorry-- I don't mean it like this, but there isn't anyone else I can send. I do trust you to do what you think is right... I'm just trying to correct your misperceptions as to what that constitutes," he said as he shook his head. Syndra chuckled as a warm smile slipped through the tension. That was the Kenrith she remembered. "I wish I didn't have to send you, for your own safety. But I need to send someone Stark will take seriously. Head to your room, and try to get some rest. Don't forget the existing messages," Kenrith said. "I will in a moment," she nodded as she rose. "I wonder, though... what if the Boltons have a larger force, set further out, waiting to come in while we're weak? If they know about the ravens, they'd be expecting someone to head for the King's Road to Winterfell, wouldn't they? What if we were to go west instead, to Deepwood Motte? From there we could send ravens to Winterfell and to my uncles at Torrhen's Square. Or don't you think that would be necessary?" She did not seem to be questioning his orders, merely testing her strategic genes. Kenrith could tell she valued his opinion and advice for the treacherous journey ahead. "It is a good idea, Deepwood Motte is about the same distance, but it would take much longer to reach and there is no garuntee of a warm reception. We have to weaken the garrison to send anyone out with you in the first place... so if we are to send you, it must be swiftly. Finally... and this is why it is so important you speak the unvarnished truth... I need Stark to hear the truth from Godfrey's daughter's own lips," Kenrith said. "I understand," Syndra said as she strode around the table, apparently taking his desire for speed to heart. She touched his good shoulder on her way toward the door. "Thank you, Kenrith. I just need to say good night to Father, then I'll go up to my room." Back to Tending the Wounded |
