Chapter 28
BAELOR TARGARYEN
Ashford had been their home for far longer than they had intended, but now preparations were being made for the departure. Many houses had departed already, but Matarys's condition made it difficult for the Royal house to depart the foreign lands, and so the wait began for him to recover enough to make the journey back to the capital.
Thankfully, he made quick strides, and by the end of the week, since he had woken up, he could sit up in the bed, and even walk a bit. He was far too weak to ride a horse himself, but the master had declared him healthy enough to ride the carriage, and the truth was that they could wait no more.
The King grew impatient, and the summons grew more and more stern with every passing day as he sought the return of his two sons, one of whom was dead. So, they could wait no more, and Baelor came to his son to tell him that.
"We will ride out tomorrow," he told Matarys, who was still resting in the bed.
"Will you be able to make the journey?" and he was old enough to know his own limits.
"I will be fine," his son assured him, and they had relied too much on Lord Ashford's hospitality already, and staying here any more would be an undue burden for the lord and his family.
"Are you certain?" Baelor asked with some concern, and Matarys offered him a brittle smile.
"Aye," he assured him, and that was good. And that was one of his worries handled, and Baelor had too many of them these days.
The trial had seen seven men die. Seven knights who had lost their lives in the name of the Seven and the Royal family, and no matter whose side they had fought for, each and every one of them had chosen to pick their blade for the Royal Family.
Amongst the seven was his own wife's cousin and Manfred. They had not been very close, but he was still family, and the loss of family always came with pain.
Baelor himself had found himself having trouble with his sleep, as he found himself longing for his brother. He spent the nights wondering if there was anything he could have done differently to save Maekar from the fate he had suffered.
But it was too late to wonder now. Too late.
Maekar was gone, and with him gone, his four sons and two daughters had been truly orphaned. Daeron would inherit his seat, and Aemon was in the capital. He could help them, but it was the youngest, Aegon, who worried him, for the boy had come to him with a rather daunting request.
"Aegon came to me a few days ago," and he knew that the boy and Matarys were close, and Maekar's youngest son saw him as a brother. Thankfully, this whole ordeal had not changed that.
Valarr had told him about what Aerion had tried to do, and how the young Aegon had stopped his brother from harming Matarys. The boy was too kind and mature for his age, but most Princes were.
Aerion had been chained in his room ever since that day, and would be heading for the Wall soon enough to take the Black. That was punishment enough for him, and Baelor did not have the heart to punish him anymore.
"I know," Matarys answered, as he sat down.
"Then you must also know about what he asked of me?" and it was a strange request as any. Aegon was ten years old now, and it was the same age as when Matarys had begun squiring for Maekar, and Maekar had hoped to have his youngest son squire for Daeron, but little Egg had different plans for himself.
He wished to squire for a true knight, and he had already made his choice.
Ser Duncan the Tall.
"It is not a bad choice," Matarys defended little Egg's choice, and he had nothing against the hedge knight himself. But with Maekar gone, he owed it to his brother to care for his sons and see to their prosperity, and he did not know if this was the best choice for him.
"He is a good man," and he nodded.
"I do not deny that, but Aegon is a Prince. He needs more than just a good man," and he could squire for anyone. The truth was that Baelor had been thinking of taking the boy in himself, but then he had come to him with his request, and so he had held off on his offer.
"Duncan will care for him. He will not let any harm come to Egg," but that was not enough for him, and his doubt must have been evident as Matarys sighed.
"Egg wishes to understand me," and now Baelor was frowning, as his son continued.
"He wishes to understand Aerion and his own father. He wishes to understand justice, the smallfolk, and the knights who take vows of servitude, and septons who serve the Gods. He is filled with questions, and he seeks answers so that he can better understand himself and his place in the world," and few knights could help him with that.
"And you think Ser Duncan can help him find these answers?" and Matarys nodded.
"Better him than any other knight who would simply seek the glory of having a prince esquire for him," and he raised a brow at that.
"He rejected him," Matarys clarified.
"Ser Duncan rejected Aegon?" he confirmed, and Matarys nodded, as he pushed himself up and sat up on the bed.
"Yes, but I think I can convince him to take Egg under his wing," Matarys added, and he could indeed. The man owed him his life.
Baelor thought about it for a second, and he knew that the decision lay with him. With Maekar gone, the care for his sons would fall into his hands, and he could deny Aegon's request, but he did not wish to.
His own blood had caused them enough pain.
"He is not ready," he countered.
"A good man he man he may be, but Ser Duncan is but a hedge knight with poor technique and skills," and Matarys seemed to think about it for a few seconds before he finally offered a solution.
"Then let me finish his training," he added, and now Baelor was listening.
"I will have him ready in six months, and if Aegon still wishes to squire for him after that time, you allow him to leave with the man," and the hedge knight had already denied coming into their service. He wished to remain a hedge knight.
But this seemed apt enough, and after some thinking, he gave Matarys a nod.
"So be it," he assured him, and Matarys nodded.
"Thank you, father," and he had done nothing to be thanked for. When Baelor was at the door, he stopped for a second.
"Before we go back to the capital, I must tell you something," and he turned to face his son.
"What?" Matarys asked.
"My father. The King," he began.
"He has not taken the news of Maekar's death well," and Matarys's lips thinned at that.
"He is rather angry, and while I will do everything in my power to protect you and shield you. The King holds you responsible for the death of his son," and he was the King, and while Matarys was his blood as well, rage could make a man do strange things.
"Hopefully, it won't be anything much. But I just wanted to warn you beforeha...."
"I understand," Matarys cut in somberly, and Baelor nodded.
"I will be careful," he assured him, and that was all he could ask for now.
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SER DUNCAN THE TALL
He had come here as Dunk the lunk. He had come to prove himself worthy of being a knight, but he was set to leave Ashford with more doubt than he had come with. He had many doubts and debts weighing him down now, and he was no longer Dunk the lunk, but Ser Duncan the Tall.
Still, he felt no different, and he felt himself in no way capable of training any other person, let alone a Prince of the realm.
He had thought himself ready for the life of a hedge knight, but a glimpse of the jousting during the first day had been enough to make him realise just how unprepared he was. Still, Duncan was not a thankless man, and when Prince Matarys himself offered to help him train, he had no choice but to lower his head in acquiescence.
He owed the Prince his life, and he had seen no finer knight in his life. It would be an honor to train under him, even though he truly doubted himself in his capability to train a Prince of the realm.
But the Prince was not the only one to call on him, and on the night before they were set to depart the lands of Lord Ashford, he was called on by another great Lord of the realm.
Lyonel had been wounded gravely during the fight, and the last strike from Prince Maekar had cracked his jaw. He had not heard much from him, and so he was much surprised when a sudden summons came for him, and he was in no position to deny a great lord of the realm.
So, he came to his tent and walked in. It was emptier than before, and Lyonel sat there sipping his wine with what seemed to be a hollowed-out young bamboo.
"Ahh, you are he...," but he grunted midway between his greeting, as he quickly reached for his jaw.
"AGHH!" and he could see some stitches over the skin of his jaw, and his once mighty beard had been shaved off, to reveal a rather young-looking and comely face underneath.
"You must be careful, my lord," the Maester added.
"The bone has yet to fully set, and the wound is still raw," and Lyonel waved him off.
"I know. I know, you old fool," he winced as he pushed him away, and turned towards him.
"The mace broke my jaw with that last strike," and he already knew that.
"I couldn't eat, or drink, or speak at all for the last two weeks," and he made a face as he added in a whisper.
"I never thought that one could miss the taste of water," and he did not know that as well.
"You seem better now, my lord," Duncan added, refusing to let his gaze linger on that shaven face.
"I was," he agreed, and he noticed how his tone shifted.
"Until I heard that you were going to the capital with that fake knight," and Duncan was taken aback by the anger in that tone.
"Fake knight?" he could not understand.
"So, you are not going?" questioned Lyonel.
"No, my lord..."
"Call me Lyonel," he said, and even he knew that would be improper.
"I am going to the capital, but I am going with Prince Matarys," he clarified, and saw his face shift once more.
"So, I had heard right, you truly have joined hands with that fake knight," but he was no fake knight.
"Prince Matarys is no fake knight," he clarified, and Lyonel's eyes widened.
"I thought so myself. But the trial revealed his truth, and he is no different than the rest of his family. Still, I shouldn't have expected much given he is the blood of the dragon," and those were treasonous words.
Prince Matarys had fought for him. He had nearly died for him. Duncan owed it to him, to protect his honor.
"The Prince fought bravely. He fought his own family for me...."
"He hesitated!" Lyonel nearly roared, and then scrunched up his face.
"AGHHHHH!" and the old Maester rushed towards him.
"Please, my lord," but he wa snot listening as blood began to ooze out his stitches.
"Shut up," the Baratheon lord was quick to push away the old man, as he turned and met Duncan's gaze once more.
"He hesitated to strike down his uncle. I saw it. I saw his blade slow down. The bastard even spared his own cousin," and Duncan could not believe his ears.
"Prince Maekar was his uncle. Aerion was his cousin," and Lyonel clicked his tongue.
"But true justice does not care for that. A true knight would not care for that," and he could not make sense of that, as Lyonel rose up from his chair and walked up to him, until his face was inches from him.
"He rode into battle claiming to fight for justice, yet when the time came, he hesitated," and maybe he was right, but Maekar was his uncle.
"He is a fraud just like the rest of them, and you intend to go to the capital with that fraud," and then he shook his head.
"No. I will not have it," and now Duncan raised a brow, but before he could say anything, he continued.
"Whatever he is offering you, I will make you the same offer. No! I will double it," Lyonel rambled.
"We will hunt in the woods, and drink in taverns. We will dance to songs and slay great monsters on our rides," and he slapped his shoulder hard.
"Come with me, and I will treat you like a brother," he offered, and Duncan liked him. He truly liked Lyonel, but he had already made up his mind.
"I am afraid I cannot do that...."
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