chapter 147 part 2
They fought for nearly three hours. The recorder's final tally of injuries included two broken legs, a shattered collarbone, more than a dozen smashed fingers, two horses that had to be put down, and more cuts, sprains, and bruises than anyone cared to count.
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After watching the mêlée, Robert told him that the hot blood in his veins was about to get out of control. He then led a group of men from the tourney grounds. It was said that someone had spotted a white hart deep in the forest, and Robert proclaimed that he would hunt it down himself.
On the way back, Lord Eddard sighed to himself. He thought that for Robert, the allure of the hunt would always be far greater than the affairs of the kingdom.
Lord Eddard knew that the Tyrells' hatred had only been temporarily suppressed by him and Robert... He hoped they wouldn't cause any trouble before he had finished dealing with the matters at hand.
The accident at the tourney would be interpreted as a conspiracy. Because Highgarden had lost the lord's son, hatred was now at its most intense, and war could break out over the slightest misstep.
If war really did break out... Lord Eddard shook his head. There was only one way to make Robert return immediately from his hunting obsession, and that was a war.
Faced with Robert's warhammer, any wise man would choose to go home obediently.
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Tower of the Hand.
At the top of the stairs, Lord Eddard met Arya practicing standing on one foot. His younger daughter had become more and more proficient at it lately.
"How is your practice going?"
"I'm sore all over!"
Arya happily reported her progress to her father, proudly showing him a large purple bruise on her leg.
Lord Eddard personally inspected his little daughter's bruise and frowned. "Arya, I hope Syrio hasn't been too harsh with you."
Arya said proudly, "Syrio says every hurt is a lesson, and every lesson makes us stronger."
Syrio Forel's swordsmanship was quite famous, and yet... he had Arya practicing somersaults and had his little daughter tie a black silk scarf over her eyes to walk around. Arya told him that Syrio was teaching her to use her ears, nose, and skin to perceive her surroundings.
Lord Eddard said, worried, "Arya, do you really want to continue with this?"
Arya nodded without hesitation, saying excitedly, "Tomorrow we start practicing catching cats."
"Catching cats?"
Lord Eddard was slightly taken aback. He sighed, "Perhaps I shouldn't have hired this Braavosi to teach you. If you're willing, I'll have Jory take over and teach you swordsmanship. If not, I could also have a word with Ser Barristan. In his youth, he was the finest knight in all the Seven Kingdoms."
Arya shook her head resolutely. "I don't want them! I only want Syrio!"
Lord Eddard rubbed his hair with a headache. He felt that any half-decent master-at-arms could teach Arya the basic cuts and parries, without resorting to these tricks of walking blindfolded, doing somersaults, and hopping on one foot.
Lord Eddard knew his younger daughter's temperament well. He knew that arguing with Arya was useless; it would only make her more determined.
Besides, she would get bored of it sooner or later. He didn't insist any further. "Syrio it is, then."
Lord Eddard added another admonition, "You must be careful not to hurt yourself."
Arya promised her father with a straight face, "I will!"
After speaking, she smoothly hopped from her right foot to her left.
Bran likes to climb walls, and my little daughter likes to climb... spiral staircases. It's probably just temporary, he thought.
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Evening, Tower of the Hand.
Petyr stepped onto the stairs, a mocking curve on his lips.
"Lord Glyn, it seems our Hand of the King is very troubled..."
*Shing!* Petyr suddenly heard the sound of a sword being drawn. He froze, stiffly turning his head to look at Glyn as a drop of cold sweat slid down his forehead.
Glyn's longsword was pressed against Petyr's back. He dared not make any extra movements.
Glyn took the initiative to explain, "Lord Petyr, the matter between you and Lady Lysa... the Hand of the King has found out. And he has already gathered sufficient evidence."
Petyr's pupils contracted. He smiled and said, "Lord Glyn, you should know that many people dislike me. Sometimes, so-called evidence is not reliable. It's nothing more than..."
Glyn interrupted, "The Spider."
A fine, cold sweat instantly broke out on Petyr's back, but he still maintained a calm expression.
After a pause, he said, "The Master of Whispers' information is even less reliable. Everyone knows that. Isn't that right, Lord Glyn?"
Glyn shook his head. "Lord Petyr, you don't need to explain this to me. As your friend, I am reminding you here because the evidence is solid and irrefutable."
Petyr's eyes trembled, and his smile became forced. "It seems my luck isn't bad. My friend has chosen to help me."
Glyn sheathed his longsword.
He lowered his voice. "Lord Petyr, I believe you were forced to assist. The real murderer... was actually Lysa Tully."
Petyr: "..."
Glyn reached out and grabbed Petyr's shoulder. "As long as the Hand of the King believes this, I will see to it that you leave King's Landing safely."
Petyr let out a short laugh. "So I'm to become a homeless stray?"
Glyn's straight eyebrows twitched slightly. "Lord Petyr, the Vale is your home."
Petyr glanced at Glyn, paused, and then said, "You would send me to the Vale?"
Glyn removed his hand and placed it back on the hilt of his sword. "The affectionate Lady Lysa will surely welcome you. The little lord also needs your guidance, and there is no safer place than the Eyrie and the Bloody Gate."
"Heh, the nobles of the Vale won't tolerate Lysa and me."
"How could they possibly be a match for you?"
Petyr: "..."
After a moment of silence, a look of shock flashed across Petyr's face.
He said, "You want to use me to stir up chaos in the Vale? And then..."
As he spoke, Petyr looked at Glyn with a degree of disbelief.
He continued, "You want to destroy House Arryn?"
Glyn spread his hands. "As expected of Lord Petyr... Only the blood of House Arryn can quell the hatred of Crackclaw Point. My little selfish desire could never be hidden from you. So... after you return to the Vale, we two will still be friends."
Petyr took a breath to compose himself.
"Lord Glyn, cooperation requires trust as a foundation. I have yet to see any sincerity from you."
(end of chapter)