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worse； he'd thought。。 。 until Ser Pate decided he could win renown by defeating Ser Gregor Clegane。 Ami had e running back a widow； to Merrett's dismay and the undoubted delight of every stablehand in the Twins。
Merrett had dared to hope that his luck was finally changing when Roose Bolton chose to wed his WaIda instead of one of her slimmer； elier cousins。 The Bolton alliance was important for House Frey and his daughter had helped secure it； he thought that must surely count for something。 The old man had soon disabused him。 〃He picked her because she's fat；〃 Lord Walder said。 〃You think Bolton gave a mummer's fart that she was your whelp？ Think he sat about thinking； 'Heh； Merrett Muttonhead； that's the very man I need for a good…father'？ Your Walda's a sow in silk； that's why he picked her； and I'm not like to thank you for it。 We'd have had the same alliance at half the price if your little porkling put down her spoon from time to time。〃
The final humiliation had been delivered with a smile； when Lame Lothar had summoned him to discuss his role in Roslin's wedding。 〃We must each play our part； according to our gifts；〃 his half…brother told him。 〃You shall have one task and one task only； Merrett； but I believe you are well suited to it。 I want you to see to it that Greatjon Umber is so bloody drunk that he can hardly stand； let alone fight。〃
And even that I failed at。 He'd cozened the huge northman into drinking enough wine to kill any three normal men； yet after Roslin had been bedded the Greatjon still managed to snatch the sword of the first man to accost him and break his arm in the snatching。 It had taken eight of them to get him into chains； and the effort had left two men wounded； one dead； and poor old Ser Leslyn Haigh short half a ear。 When he couldn't fight with his hands any longer； Umber had fought with his teeth。
Merrett paused a moment and closed his eyes。 His head was throbbing like that bloody drum they'd played at the wedding； and for a moment it was all he could do to stay in the saddle。 I have to go on； he told himself。 If he could bring back Petyr Pimple； surely it would put him in Ser Ryman's good graces。 Petyr might be a whisker on the hapless side； but he wasn't as cold as Edwyn； nor as hot as Black Walder。 The boy will be grateful for my part； and his father will see that I'm loyal； a man worth having about。
But only if he was there by sunset with the gold。 Merrett glanced at the sky。 Right on time； He needed something to steady his hands。 He pulled up the waterskin hung from his saddle； uncorked it； and took a long swallow。 The wine was thick and sweet； so dark it was almost black； but gods it tasted good。
The curtain wall of Oldstones had once encircled the brow of the hill like the crown on a king's head。 Only the foundation remained； and a few waist…high piles of crumbling stone spotted with lichen。 Merrett rode along the line of the wall until he came to the place where the gatehouse would have stood。 The ruins were more extensive here； and he had to dismount to lead his palfrey through them。 In the west； the sun had vanished behind a bank of low clouds。 Gorse and bracken covered the slopes； and once inside the vanished walls the weeds were chest high。 Merrett loosened his sword in its scabbard and looked about warily； but saw no outlaws。 Could I have e on the wrong day？ He stopped and rubbed his temples with his thumbs； but that did nothing to ease the pressure behind his eyes。 Seven bloody hells 。 。 。
From somewhere deep within the castle； faint music came drifting through the trees。
Merrett found himself shivering； despite his cloak。 He pulled open his waterskin and had another drink of wine。 I could just get back on my horse； ride to Oldtown； and drink the gold away。 No good ever came from dealing with outlaws。 That vile little bitch Wenda had burned a fawn into the cheek of his arse while she had him captive。 No wonder his wife despised him。 I have to go through with this。 Petyr Pimple might be Lord of the Crossing one day； Edwyn has no sons and Black Walder's only got bastards。 Petyr will remember who came to get him。 He took another swallow； corked the skin up； and led his palfrey through broken stones； gorse； and thin wind…whipped trees； following the sounds to what had been the castle ward。
Fallen leaves lay thick upon the ground； like soldiers after some great slaughter。 A man in patched； faded greens was sitting crosslegged atop a weathered stone sepulcher； fingering the strings of a woodharp。 The music was soft and sad。 Merrett knew the song。 High in the halls of the kings who are gone； fenny would dance with her ghosts 。 。 。
〃Get off there；〃 Merrett said。 〃You're sitting on a king。〃
〃Old Tristifer don't mind my bony arse。 The Hammer of justice； they called him。 Been a long while since he heard any new songs。〃 The outlaw hopped down。 Trim and slim； he had a narrow face and foxy features； but his mouth was so wide that his smile seemed to touch his ears。 A few strands of thin brown hair were blowing across his brow。 He pushed them back with his free hand and said； 〃Do you remember me； my lord？〃
〃No。〃 Merrett frowned。 〃Why would I？〃
〃I sang at your daughter's wedding。 And passing well； I thought。 That Pate she married was a cousin。 We're all cousins in Sevenstreams。 Didn't stop him from turning niggard when it was time to pay me。〃 He shrugged。 〃Why is it your lord father never has me play at the Twins？ Don't I make enough noise for his lordship？ He likes it loud； I have been hearing。〃
〃You bring the gold？〃 asked a harsher voice； behind him。
Merrett's throat was dry。 Bloody outlaws； always hiding in the bushes。 It had been the same in the kingswood。 You'd think you'd caught five of them； and ten more would spring from nowhere。
When he turned； they were all around him； an ill…favored gaggle of leathery old men and smooth…cheeked lads younger than Petyr Pimple； the lot of them clad in roughspun rags； boiled leather； and bits of dead men's armor。 There was one woman with them； bundled up in a hooded cloak three times too big for her。 Merrett was too flustered to count them； but there seemed to be a dozen at the least； maybe a score。
〃I asked a question。〃 The speaker was a big bearded man with crooked green teeth and a broken nose； taller than Merrett； though not so heavy in the belly。 A halffielm covered his head； a patched yellow cloak his broad shoulders。 〃Where's our gold？〃
〃in my saddlebag。 A hundred golden dragons。〃 Merrett cleared his throat。 〃You'll get it when I see that Petyr…〃
A squat one…eyed outlaw strode forward before he could finish； reached into the saddlebag bold as you please； and found the sack。 Merrett started to grab him； then thought better of it。 The outlaw opened the drawstring； removed a coin； and bit it。 〃Tastes right。〃 He hefted the sack。 〃Feels right too。〃
They're going to take the gold and keep Petyr too； Merrett thought in sudden panic。 〃That's the whole ransom。 All you asked for。〃 His palms were sweating。 He wiped them on his breeches。 〃Which one of you is Beric Dondarrion？ 〃 Dondarrion had been a lord before he turned outlaw； he might still be a man of honor。
〃Why； that would be me；〃 said the one…