A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

nearby at Darry with his garrison, and Lord Randyll holds Maidenpool. Together we three shall hunt down and destroy whatever outlaws prowl these parts. Once that is done, the Seven will guide the goodfolk back to their villages to plow and plant and build anew.”
    The ones the Goat didn’t kill, at least.
Jaime hooked his golden fingers round the stem of his wine goblet. “If any of Hoat’s Brave Companions fall into your hands, send word to me at once.” The Stranger might have made off with the Goat before Jaime could get around to him, but fat Zollo was still out there, with Shagwell, Rorge, Faithful Urswyck, and the rest.
    â€œSo you can torture them and kill them?”
    â€œI suppose you would forgive them, in my place?”
    â€œIf they made sincere repentance for their sins . . . yes, I would embrace them all as brothers and pray with them before I sent them to the block. Sins may be forgiven. Crimes require punishment.” Hasty folded his hands before him like a steeple, in a way that reminded Jaime uncomfortably of his father. “If it is Sandor Clegane that we encounter, what would you have me do?”
    Pray hard,
Jaime thought,
and run.
“Send him to join his beloved brother and be glad the gods made seven hells. One would never be enough to hold both of the Cleganes.” He pushed himself awkwardly to his feet. “Beric Dondarrion is a different matter. Should you capture him, hold him for my return. I’ll want to march him back to King’s Landing with a rope about his neck, and have Ser Ilyn take his head off where half the realm can see.”
    â€œAnd this Myrish priest who runs with him? It is said he spreads his false faith everywhere.”
    â€œKill him, kiss him, or pray with him, as you please.”
    â€œI have no wish to kiss the man, my lord.”
    â€œNo doubt he’d say the same of you.” Jaime’s smile turned into a yawn. “My pardons. I shall take my leave of you, if you have no objections.”
    â€œNone, my lord,” said Hasty. No doubt he wished to pray.
    Jaime wished to fight. He took the steps two at a time, out to where the night air was cold and crisp. In the torchlit yard Strongboar and Ser Flement Brax were having at each other whilst a ring of men-at-arms cheered them on.
Ser Lyle will have the best of that one,
he knew.
I need to find Ser Ilyn.
His fingers had the itch again. His footsteps took him away from the noise and the light. He passed beneath the covered bridge and through the Flowstone Yard before he realized where he was headed.
    As he neared the bear pit, he saw the glow of a lantern, its pale wintry light washing over the tiers of steep stone seats.
Someone has come before me, it would seem.
The pit would be a fine place to dance; perhaps Ser Ilyn had anticipated him.
    But the knight standing over the pit was bigger; a husky, bearded man in a red-and-white surcoat adorned with griffins.
Connington. What’s he doing here?
Below, the carcass of the bear still sprawled upon the sands, though only bones and ragged fur remained, half-buried. Jaime felt a pang of pity for the beast.
At least he died in battle.
“Ser Ronnet,” he called, “have you lost your way? It is a large castle, I know.”
    Red Ronnet raised his lantern. “I wished to see where the bear danced with the maiden not-so-fair.” His beard shone in the light as if it were afire. Jaime could smell wine on his breath. “Is it true the wench fought naked?”
    â€œNaked? No.” He wondered how that wrinkle had been added to the story. “The Mummers put her in a pink silk gown and shoved a tourney sword into her hand. The Goat wanted her death to be
amuthing.
Elsewise . . .”
    â€œ. . . the sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed.
    Jaime did not. “You speak as if you know the lady.”
    â€œI was betrothed to her.”
    That took him by surprise. Brienne had never mentioned a betrothal. “Her father made a match for her . . .”
    â€œThrice,” said Connington. “I was the second. My father’s notion. I had heard the wench was ugly, and I told him so, but he said all women were the same once you blew the candle out.”
    â€œYour father.” Jaime eyed Red Ronnet’s surcoat, where two griffins faced each other on a field of red and white.
Dancing griffins.
“Our late Hand’s . . .