Thank God, my friend, we have enemies,
So we must have friends too.(c) Vizbor
It is impossible to seat six people on five horses without losing one along the way, and the pursuers' horses were fresher, having not had to travel from the Wall to the Howling Pass before the chase, so the distance between the groups kept shrinking, even though the wolves attacked again, this time at dawn, and several more men fell behind the group pursuing Quoren. Quoren could, of course, have run away at night on his own and thinned out the pursuers more seriously, but he was going to take a "tongue," since Jon had decided to sort out his personal life instead of obtaining the information the Night's Watch needed. In the middle of the last stretch to Craster's house, Queren's horse limped as planned, and Queren stopped the group at the southern edge of a large clearing.
As Queren had advised, Lionel tried to explain to Sansa and Arya that they had to take Ygritte to Craster because she knew what the Night's Watch needed to know, but it wasn't easy to convince them to leave him behind before the battle.
"There are seventeen of them, I saw them myself," Sansa reminded him. "And Qhoren said they were good fighters."
"Qhoren said their armour is poor," Lionel reminded her.
"That means they'll be easy to shoot," Arya said harshly, and suddenly something inside her wavered, and she grabbed Lionel's arm, biting her lip so hard that even Jon, seeing it from the side, thought something was wrong, that people didn't cling so desperately to mere companions and travelling companions.
Quoren sympathised with Lionel and foresaw that his explanation would be difficult, but young people always had a way of surprising him, which was why he loved them.
"Give me back my axe and knife," Ygritte demanded. "I'll fight for you."
"You will," Coren remarked to himself, looking at Ygritte. "Jon isn't such a hopeless case after all. Although he was lucky with his sorcery, and I helped him."
"We can't risk someone as valuable as you," Qoren replied with a smirk. "What you know, the Watch must know. So you'll go with the girls to Craster."
"What do you want to know?" Ygritte asked, lowering her eyes, surprising Qoren.
"John, call the sisters!" Coren ordered. "This must be told to someone who will definitely remain unharmed."
"Then I'll tell Jon everything," Ygritte tried to trick him, but it was useless to try to outsmart Qhoren.
"Nice try, but no cigar," Qoren said indifferently. "Jon will go into battle today, and many times more. You are now a soldier's wife. Get used to it."
"I'm not..." Ygritte muttered, already realising what that word meant to Jon, but she stopped herself under Qoren's gaze.
"You are no longer with them, and you are not yet with us," Qoren said sternly, his gaze pressing down on Ygritte even as she turned away and hid her eyes. Perhaps at the Wailing Wall, Qoren could have broken her will and made her tell him everything without even touching her, but Qoren enjoyed entertaining the young ones and liked to play with her.
"The word has been spoken, and the choice has been made," Qoren continued. "When we return, I will go back to the Twilight Tower. The three of them will go to King's Landing. Who else do you know on our side of the Wall, besides Jon? Don't play coy with me. And don't play coy with yourself either."
"Can I at least ask him?" Ygritte said quietly, blushing a little and holding her breath. For the first time, she was afraid that maybe Jon didn't need her that much after all.
"Now's a good time to ask," said Qoren, softening his tone.
Jon and Ygritte stepped aside, and Qoren was pleased to see that Ygritte now looked like a normal girl, similar to those he occasionally remembered when thinking of his homeland. Qoren himself still had to help Lionel.
"How many yards is it to that pine tree?" Corren asked Sansa, who had approached him. He spoke briefly and to the point with people he trusted.
"Fifty yards.
"Can you hit it with a crossbow?"
"The wind might interfere," Sansa admitted.
"Right. How many shots can you get off before the horse gets here?
"Two, maybe three.
"From this we conclude that if at least six of them outflank us and charge you, you're done for. You can't fight in formation on horseback yet," explained Cuoren, and suddenly went on the attack. "You'll have one horse between the two of you, and it's lame. Do you want to be taken hostage? Do you want to ruin your fiancé? He'll be looking back at you the whole time — when you're in danger, he'll be as good as unarmoured. Are you going to Craster or not?!"
"Listen to what she has to say," Cuoren pointed to Ygritte, "remember everything and repeat it to Craster. If he tells you to leave before we return, do as he says.
Qoren looked at the sisters, who were more like granddaughters than daughters to him, and softened.
"Just don't cry," Cersei muttered. "There won't be any fighting here, I'm not that stupid. We'll take another 'tongue' for good measure, then we'll come back. We'll all come back, there's no need to cry yet.
When Sansa and Arya rode off to Craster, Qurren briefly and clearly explained the situation to the men who remained with him.
"This is Craster's house," Qhoren drew in the snow. "They're coming from here. We'll stay here. When you see them, the two of you ride at a right angle — half a mile away there's a large beam. Remember the turns: this way, this way, and this way, one of them is bound to fit in there. We'll ski alongside her, we'll definitely catch a couple of them, and we'll kill the horse under the "tongue." You dismount in the beam after the third turn and let the horses go, cover yourselves with these white shrouds, they won't see you in the snow. Return along the beam when they pass you, finish off anyone who got caught in the turns. To hell with the horses, we'll catch them. If you hear them turning around and galloping towards you along the ravine, John, send the wolves back at them and signal to us. In a narrow place, they'll be outnumbered two to one, or even four to one, so we'll have the advantage.
Lionel and John stood on horseback at the edge of the clearing, while Cuoren and Igrith went into the forest, and when the horsemen appeared on the northern edge of the clearing, Lionel and John discussed the needs of the Night's Watch.
"You should make some good black armour," suggested Lionel.
"We need people to populate the castles along the Wall," Jon disagreed. "And our weapons are like something you'd find in a churchyard. We'll make do with old chain mail for now."
"Armour blinds the enemy with the light of past victories," said Lionel grandly, but immediately gave a practical demonstration by raising a golden pennant with a deer above his head.
Contrary to John's and even Quoren's expectations, the horsemen on the other side of the clearing stopped and began to confer.
"Something's not right, Mance, I don't feel like attacking," admitted Greasy Shirt. "You remember how seven years ago, people with pennants like that rolled us back into the forest. And now there are only seventeen of us, I can feel it, they'll spread us out over two hundred yards.
"What are you whining about, Thunderclap?" interrupted Tormund. "There are only two of them, where are the rest going to come from?
"Where did they come from last time?" asked Thunderclap Shirt reasonably. "I don't know what kind of healthy devil with a deer told you that, but he promised to burn me at the stake the next time he saw me. I think he even said he'd burn me alive. Let's swap armour if you're so brave."
"To be honest, I was also going to cut down ravens from the Watch, not a man with a fierce wolf on his chest," said Alfin, who called himself the Raven Slayer. "Not only did I not touch Bronze Royce's son, I've never even seen him in my life, but the Royces still came to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea a month ago, sent at least two squadrons beyond the Wall, and dragged my men away. And so the rumour goes that Stark's brother is missing somewhere, and if another Stark disappears, Winterfell will be next.
"We should have left you both in the forest," said Styr, the Magnar of the Tennos, angrily. "Those who were left without horses wanted to fight more than you.
"Shut your mouth and stay in your Tennia," suggested Alfin. "The Starks won't get to you, and I like standing in the forest better than standing in your ice."
As a result of lively discussions, which even Cuoren had come to listen to unnoticed, covered in a white shroud, two negotiators rode out from the group of pursuers, and the King of Westeros finally met the King Beyond the Wall.
"The young king of the Andals and son of Stark," Mans recognised the men riding towards him, but his attempt to boast about his secret visit to Winterfell turned out awkward because, considering the pennant and the coat of arms on Jon's chest, Mans simply confirmed with his own words that he was not completely blind. "How should I address you: 'Your Majesty'?"
"If you wish," Lionel replied. "The crown of Westeros does not need your recognition."
"You kidnapped my man and killed two others," Mance tried to approach from another angle.
"I was told you had no men of your own, that they were all free," Lionel objected, who in the early days had listened much more attentively to Ygritte berating her admirers than might have been apparent. "Did they swear allegiance to you? Are they your kinsmen? If not, why do you speak for them?"
"You are in my forest," Mance replied angrily, feeling that he was about to explain himself, but instead he was being led on.
"The forest isn't yours, the forest belongs to no one," Jon said, using the knowledge he had gained from his conversations with Ygritte. "You were asked a question. Answer it."
"The boys are messing with our law," the old ten who had come with him whispered to Mance in the language of the First Men. "You can't just throw that at them."
"Are you a scout?" Mance asked Jon, using the last resort to catch the boy in the act of being in a hostile camp.
"See the crest?" John asked in reply, tapping his armour.
"You're wearing a sentry's cloak.
"So are you.
"Will you answer my question?
"Will you justify your first claim?"
"That's enough, Mans, shake hands," suggested the old Tenn, taking advantage of the fact that John and Lionel did not know the language of the First Men. "These guys are pretty tough. We should talk to them like human beings. Peace is better than war. You know, the dead are coming for us, and we're caught between a rock and a hard place. This isn't the time to show off. We need to come to some kind of agreement, especially if he really is their king.The old Tenn called over a young man who knew the language of Westeros to tell him about the troubles of his people and the devastation of the plains of Tenni, which had collapsed under the onslaught of the hordes of the dead. while Mance rode past Lionel and Jon and met Queren, who had come to the edge of the forest for the first time in fifteen years.
"Will you give me your hand?" Qoren asked, a little angrily.
"So you can give my regards to the Watch under the fifth rib?
"As our maester would say, 'you speak insultingly,'" Queren complained. "All these years, and all because we hid your cloak. When I was young, they even nailed my boots to the floor.
"Funny," Mance replied grimly, after a moment's pause. Either his sense of humour had never awakened over the years, or the irony of fate, in which so much had changed since the cloak had been hidden as a joke, seemed too bitter to him.
"Did you marry her then?" asked Cuoren, and Mans just grimaced and waved his hand dismissively. The young witch had driven him crazy in the first year with her rituals and witchcraft, which were more important to her than her husband or her household. "Our boys who haven't died yet are still serving. And you're just fooling around. At least come visit."
"So you can chop off my head for desertion?" Mans replied angrily. He was as proud as he had been in his youth and did not recognise any authority over himself.
"Oh, you fool, old man," grumbled Cuoren. "Of course we'll burn you on a huge bonfire. We have government-issued firewood, and we don't need it in winter. And then we'll fight you to the death with rake handles. You're a fucking Bael-bard, you just wander around. I've already worn myself out explaining to the young ones what you look like and how you walk and stand, so they don't shoot you by mistake.
Meanwhile, around the bonfire in the centre of the clearing, a council of chiefs and a meeting of cultures was taking place, and important issues were being discussed decisively and sharply, so that when Ygritte timidly approached the bonfire and sat down next to Jon, no one but Jon paid any attention to her.
"We want to go south," insisted Magnar Steer — although he had not told anyone about this, his people had practically lost the land of their fathers and were hiding from the Others and their army of ghouls in the mountain gorges.
"South of the Wall is not your land," Jon replied.
"The land belongs to no one.
"South of the Wall, the land belongs to those who fought for it," explained the young king. "Fight for your land. We will send you weapons. Those who are unable to wield a weapon may pass.
"You can't fight the dead," replied Styr, who had already tried several times to defend and reclaim his fathers' land, and even Mance and other chieftains had come to his aid.
"And that's why we have to fight them?" John snapped. By the standards of courtly Westeros, where there were more than its fair share of pompous and proud knights, John was not a good negotiator, but the wildlings beyond the Wall did not take offence at his directness. "You will go further and further south, taking the meagre bread that you did not grow, and the North will fight for you?"
"The Wall protects you," several people reminded him at once.
"He is right," said an old Tenn slowly in the language of the First Men, looking around for someone to translate. "When the Long Night comes, the sea will freeze, and it will be possible to walk around the Wall on the ice. I may not live to see those days if I go south. But many of you will not be able to escape the war. The young king of the Andals does not want to run and wants to meet the war now — Magnar Loboda in the Harsh House is going to do the same.
"You are leaders," Lionel said sternly when the old man's words were translated to him. "Every soldier and warrior south of the Wall lives better than a peasant in times of peace, but when war comes, warriors pay for their peaceful lives with blood. Now it is our time to pay — yours and mine."
It was difficult to respond to such words, and especially difficult to be the first to speak in the suspended silence, but fortunately for the leaders of the Wildlings, Queren approached the fire, and many of them were glad to see him for the first time in their lives.
"Hey, beggars, want an eagle?" suggested Quoren. "It's a good bird, just magical. Search your pockets, maybe you'll find something interesting for me.
The conceited Alfin, who was a good fighter but a poor military leader, could not compete with Quoren, stood up to him with ill intentions, and it seemed that nothing could stop him, because the guards were always considered enemies behind the Wall simply because they belonged to the brotherhood of the Watch, but Lionel blocked his way.
"We shook hands," Lionel reminded him.
"Well?
"You said we were even.
"Well?
"Well, here he is, my subject.
Perhaps, after some time, Alfin the Raven Slayer would have found some answer, he really didn't want to change his formidable nickname, but his thoughts were interrupted by the enthusiastic roar of Tormund, who wasn't such a fool and quickly realised what unexpected difficulties could arise during the assault on the Wall and the march beyond it, and how easy it would now be to be considered a lawless man on both sides of the Wall who did not keep his word.
"Brothers, they've really screwed us over! " said Tormund cheerfully, noticing signs of similar realisation on the faces of the other chieftains.
***
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