Carliene Stark

II Chapter 42

Carliene

"I was afraid you might not be so inclined to go riding again anytime soon after that incident with her" Lord Willas admitted as he looked down at my grey horse. It was another chilly morning, but I was not about to turn away an invitation to go riding through the encampments surrounding the castle, even when Willas had warned me that it would probably be a little boring.

I pat Tansy's neck. "It was hardly enough to deter me" I assured half amused. "As I said she had no fault in it and the meadow was soft enough to leave me unbruised" 

"The gods do seem to be looking out for you" he stated as he leaned down to retrieve something form his saddlebag. It and been said n passing but I couldn't help but think about how similar his words were to those of the Septon. There are no indication that his gods are real, at least that was hat I had decided on after the talk I had with Bran. "Before I forget" he straightened again in his saddle and handed me something, guiding his gelding to step closer to my horse. I took the brown gloves from him and marvelled at how soft the leather felt. "The days are growing far too chilly to be riding without gloves. They are made from moleskin" he told me. 

"They are amazing" I decided as I slipped my hand into one. They fit like a second skin. "Thank you my Lord" He nodded his head before clicking his tongue to guide his horse forward.

I quickly slipped into the second glove before following him. Behind us followed Igon Vyrwel and Ser Vortimer with a handful of Tyrell guards. I had been avoiding Vortimer the entire morning like my life depended on it, afraid that if we shared only one glance everyone would know of our secret. The tension was nearly unbearable, but i told myself to remain calm and simply concentrate on Willas. I smiled at the small folk in the outer castle, waving at small children we passed. Most just stared in awe and maybe fear, but there were one or two who's fails brightened in a smile before they sheepishly waved back. at the second gate Lord Jon Fossoway waited with a few of his men, taking the spot next to Willas as we rode through the straight path of the labyrinth. I let my gaze wander across the hedges again, wondering once more what kind of secrets hid between them and if one could truly get lost in there. We left the castle through the north-western gate, leading the part of the outer wall that faced the bending arm of the Mander. Th small town that leaned against the castle and crowded around the busy river was bustling with life, everyone respectfully moving aside for their Lord. I wondered what the people we passed through of me when we passed them. What tales had they heard and which of them had they decided to believe? As we left the roads of the town and headed onto the path across the open field I guided Tansy next to Willas' horse. I intended to be a part of this as much that had to do with the army and the preparation for the siege as I could and luckily Lord Jon or my betrothed did not speak up against my presence at their ranks. 

The first tents and camps we passed held the apples of Fossoway. If once there had been a dispute between the two related houses, it was not apparent today. The sigils of green and red apples intermingled between the tents most of which had the matching yellow colours. Lord Jon proceeded to explain their numbers, the resources they brought and the tradesmen they had enlisted. Soon the yellow of the Fossoways gave way to the orange of the Ashfords and so we slowly made our way through the camps. The Lord Commanders of the different troops, joining us momentarily to give a report of their numbers an resources and introducing some of their senior officers. Ashfords were followed by the Florents and Blackbars, with smaller houses offering different dots of colour between the unity of their liege lords. I spent a lot of time studying the sigils and making sure I knew each on of them and who their lord and what their keep was.

There were the three leaves of Oakheart and golden tree of Rowan. The red ants of House Ambrose and the butterflies of Mullendore. Some of the Lord made requests, which Willas had his squire take note of on a long roll of paper. The poor boy sometimes had a hard time holding onto his small writing board, the paper and the quill and ink while also steering his horse. There were quite a few times where I thought he might drop it all onto the muddy meadow. To make it a little easier for him I reached out for his horse and concentrated on keeping it moving calmly and exactly where he needed it to go. Surely he had no idea of what was transpiring, but soon he looked farm more relaxed than when the morning began. It was nearly midday when we passed the southern gate of the castle and the sun momentarily peaked through the grey clouds above. The wind remained chilly however and I puled my cloak tighter around my frame.