A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

Dontos tried to mount, but the animal would not stand still and the knight was
so drunk that his bare foot kept missing the stirrup.
    By then the crowd was howling with laughter . . . all but the
king. Joffrey had a look in his eyes that Sansa remembered well, the same look
he’d had at the Great Sept of Baelor the day he pronounced death on Lord Eddard
Stark. Finally Ser Dontos the Red gave it up for a bad job, sat down in the
dirt, and removed his plumed helm. “I lose,” he shouted. “Fetch me some
wine.”
    The king stood. “A cask from the cellars! I’ll see him drowned in
it.”
    Sansa heard herself gasp. “
No,
you can’t.”
    Joffrey turned his head. “What did you say?”
    Sansa could not believe she had spoken. Was she mad? To tell him
no
in front of half the court? She hadn’t meant to say anything,
only . . . Ser Dontos was drunk and silly and useless, but he
meant no harm.
    â€œDid you say I
can’t
? Did you?”
    â€œPlease,” Sansa said, “I only meant . . . it would be ill
luck, Your Grace . . . to, to kill a man on your name
day.”
    â€œYou’re lying,” Joffrey said. “I ought to drown you with him, if you care
for him so much.”
    â€œI don’t care for him, Your Grace.” The words tumbled out

desperately. “Drown him or have his head off, only . . . kill
him on the morrow, if you like, but please . . . not today, not
on your name day. I couldn’t bear for you to have ill
luck . . . terrible luck, even for kings, the singers all say
so . . .”
    Joffrey scowled. He knew she was lying, she could see it. He would make her
bleed for this.
    â€œThe girl speaks truly,” the Hound rasped. “What a man sows on his name day,
he reaps throughout the year.” His voice was flat, as if he did not care a
whit whether the king believed him or no. Could it be
true
? Sansa
had not known. It was just something she’d said, desperate to avoid
punishment.
    Unhappy, Joffrey shifted in his seat and flicked his fingers at Ser Dontos.
“Take him away. I’ll have him killed on the morrow, the fool.”
    â€œHe is,” Sansa said. “A fool. You’re so clever, to see it. He’s better
fitted to be a fool than a knight, isn’t he? You ought to dress him in motley
and make him clown for you. He doesn’t deserve the mercy of a quick
death.”
    The king studied her a moment. “Perhaps you’re not so stupid as Mother says.”
He raised his voice. “Did you hear my lady, Dontos? From this day on, you’re
my new fool. You can sleep with Moon Boy and dress in motley.”
    Ser Dontos, sobered by his near brush with death, crawled to his knees. “Thank
you, Your Grace. And you, my lady. Thank you.”
    As a brace of Lannister guardsmen led him off, the master of revels approached
the box. “Your Grace,” he said, “shall I summon

a new challenger for Brune, or proceed with the next tilt?”
    â€œNeither. These are gnats, not knights. I’d have them all put to death, only
it’s my name day. The tourney is done. Get them all out of my
sight.”
    The master of revels bowed, but Prince Tommen was not so obedient. “I’m
supposed to ride against the straw man.”
    â€œNot today.”
    â€œBut I want to ride!”
    â€œI don’t care what you want.”
    â€œMother
said
I could ride.”
    â€œShe said,” Princess Myrcella agreed.
    â€œMother
said,
” mocked the king. “Don’t be childish.”
    â€œWe’re children,” Myrcella declared haughtily. “We’re
supposed
to
be childish.”
    The Hound laughed. “She has you there.”
    Joffrey was beaten. “Very well. Even my brother couldn’t tilt any worse than
these others. Master, bring out the quintain, Tommen wants to be a
gnat.”
    Tommen gave a shout of joy and ran off to be readied, his chubby little legs
pumping hard. “Luck,” Sansa called to him.
    They set up the quintain at the far end of the lists while the prince’s pony
was being saddled. Tommen’s opponent was a child-sized leather warrior stuffed
with straw and mounted on a pivot, with a shield in one hand and a padded mace
in the other. Someone had fastened a pair of antlers to the knight’s head.
Joffrey’s father