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Renly
led
his
bride
back
toward
the
castle
while
his
steward
conducted
Catelyn
to
the
king
’
s
green
silk
pavilion
.
"
If
you
have
need
of
anything
,
you
have
only
to
ask
,
my
lady
.
"
Catelyn
could
scarcely
imagine
what
she
might
need
that
had
not
already
been
provided
.
The
pavilion
was
larger
than
the
common
rooms
of
many
an
inn
and
furnished
with
every
comfort
:
feather
mattress
and
sleeping
furs
,
a
wood
-
and
-
copper
tub
large
enough
for
two
,
braziers
,
to
keep
off
the
night
’
s
chill
,
slung
leather
camp
chairs
,
a
writing
table
with
quills
and
inkpot
,
bowls
of
peaches
,
plums
,
and
pears
,
a
flagon
of
wine
with
a
set
of
matched
silver
cups
,
cedar
chests
packed
full
of
Renly
’
s
clothing
,
books
,
maps
,
game
boards
,
a
high
harp
,
a
tall
bow
and
a
quiver
of
arrows
,
a
pair
of
red
-
tailed
hunting
hawks
,
a
veritable
armory
of
fine
weapons
.
He
does
not
stint
himself
,
this
Renly
,
she
thought
as
she
looked
about
.
Small
wonder
this
host
moves
so
slowly
.
Beside
the
entrance
,
the
king
’
s
armor
stood
sentry
;
a
suit
of
forest
-
green
plate
,
its
fittings
chased
with
gold
,
the
helm
crowned
by
a
great
rack
of
golden
antlers
.
The
steel
was
polished
to
such
a
high
sheen
that
she
could
see
her
reflection
in
the
breastplate
,
gazing
back
at
her
as
if
from
the
bottom
of
a
deep
green
pond
.
The
face
of
a
drowned
woman
,
Catelyn
thought
.
Can
you
drown
in
grief
?
She
turned
away
sharply
,
angry
with
her
own
frailty
.
She
had
no
time
for
the
luxury
of
self
-
pity
.
She
must
wash
the
dust
from
her
hair
and
change
into
a
gown
more
fitting
for
a
king
’
s
feast
.
Ser
Wendel
Manderly
,
Lucas
Blackwood
,
Ser
Perwyn
Frey
,
and
the
rest
of
her
highborn
companions
accompanied
her
to
the
castle
.
The
great
hall
of
Lord
Caswell
’
s
keep
was
great
only
by
courtesy
,
yet
room
was
found
on
the
crowded
benches
for
Catelyn
’
s
men
,
amidst
Renly
’
s
own
knights
.
Catelyn
was
assigned
a
place
on
the
dais
between
red
-
faced
Lord
Mathis
Rowan
and
genial
Ser
Jon
Fossoway
of
the
green
-
apple
Fossoways
.
Ser
Jon
made
jests
,
while
Lord
Mathis
inquired
politely
after
the
health
of
her
father
,
brother
,
and
children
.
Brienne
of
Tarth
had
been
seated
at
the
far
end
of
the
high
table
.
She
did
not
gown
herself
as
a
lady
,
but
chose
a
knight
’
s
finery
instead
,
a
velvet
doublet
quartered
rose
-
and
-
azure
,
breeches
and
boots
and
a
fine
-
tooled
swordbelt
,
her
new
rainbow
cloak
flowing
down
her
back
.
No
garb
could
disguise
her
plainness
,
though
;
the
huge
freckled
hands
,
the
wide
flat
face
,
the
thrust
of
her
teeth
.
Out
of
armor
,
her
body
seemed
ungainly
,
broad
of
hip
and
thick
of
limb
,
with
hunched
muscular
shoulders
but
no
bosom
to
speak
of
.
And
it
was
clear
from
her
every
action
that
Brienne
knew
it
,
and
suffered
for
it
.
She
spoke
only
in
answer
,
and
seldom
lifted
her
gaze
from
her
food
.
Of
food
there
was
plenty
.
The
war
had
not
touched
the
fabled
bounty
of
Highgarden
.
While
singers
sang
and
tumblers
tumbled
,
they
began
with
pears
poached
in
wine
,
and
went
on
to
tiny
savory
fish
rolled
in
salt
and
cooked
crisp
,
and
capons
stuffed
with
onions
and
mushrooms
.
There
were
great
loaves
of
brown
bread
,
mounds
of
turnips
and
sweetcorn
and
pease
,
immense
hams
and
roast
geese
and
trenchers
dripping
full
of
venison
stewed
with
beer
and
barley
.
For
the
sweet
,
Lord
Caswell
’
s
servants
brought
down
trays
of
pastries
from
his
castle
kitchens
,
cream
swans
and
spun
-
sugar
unicorns
,
lemon
cakes
in
the
shape
of
roses
,
spiced
honey
biscuits
and
blackberry
tarts
,
apple
crisps
and
wheels
of
buttery
cheese
.
The
rich
foods
made
Catelyn
queasy
,
but
it
would
never
do
to
show
frailty
when
so
much
depended
on
her
strength
.
She
ate
sparingly
,
while
she
watched
this
man
who
would
be
king
.
Renly
sat
with
his
young
bride
on
his
left
hand
and
her
brother
on
the
right
.
Apart
from
the
white
linen
bandage
around
his
brow
,
Ser
Loras
seemed
none
the
worse
for
the
day
’
s
misadventures
.
He
was
indeed
as
comely
as
Catelyn
had
suspected
he
might
be
.
When
not
glazed
,
his
eyes
were
lively
and
intelligent
,
his
hair
an
artless
tumble
of
brown
locks
that
many
a
maid
might
have
envied
.
He
had
replaced
his
tattered
tourney
cloak
with
a
new
one
;
the
same
brilliantly
striped
silk
of
Renly
’
s
Rainbow
Guard
,
clasped
with
the
golden
rose
of
Highgarden
.
