A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

That was when he brought
his bastard to the Dreadfort. The boy is a sly creature by all accounts, and he
has a servant who is almost as cruel as he is. Reek, they call the man. It’s
said he never bathes. They hunt together, the Bastard and this Reek, and not
for deer. I’ve heard tales, things I can scarce believe, even of a Bolton. And
now that my lord husband and my sweet son have gone to the gods, the Bastard
looks at my lands hungrily.”
    Bran wanted to give the lady a hundred men to defend her rights, but Ser Rodrik
only said, “He may look, but should he do more I promise you there will be
dire retribution. You will be safe enough, my lady . . . though
perhaps in time, when your grief is passed, you may find it prudent to wed
again.”
    â€œI am past my childbearing years, what beauty I had long fled,” she replied
with a tired half smile, “yet men come sniffing after me as they never did
when I was a maid.”
    â€œYou do not look favorably on these suitors?” asked Luwin.
    â€œI shall wed again if His Grace commands it,” Lady Hornwood replied, “but
Mors Crowfood is a drunken brute, and older than my father. As for my noble
cousin of Manderly, my lord’s bed is not large enough to hold one of his
majesty, and I am surely too small and frail to lie beneath him.”
    Bran knew that men slept on top of women when they shared a bed. Sleeping under
Lord Manderly would be like sleeping under a fallen horse, he imagined. Ser
Rodrik gave the widow a sympathetic nod. “You will have other suitors, my
lady. We shall try and find you a prospect more to your taste.”
    â€œPerhaps you need not look very far, ser.”
    After she had taken her leave, Maester Luwin smiled. “Ser Rodrik, I do believe
my lady fancies you.”
    Ser Rodrik cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable.
    â€œShe was very sad,” said Bran.
    Ser Rodrik nodded. “Sad and gentle, and not at all uncomely for a woman of her
years, for all her modesty. Yet a danger to the peace of your brother’s realm
nonetheless.”
    â€œHer?” Bran said, astonished.
    Maester Luwin answered. “With no direct heir, there are sure to be many
claimants contending for the Hornwood lands. The Tallharts, Flints, and
Karstarks all have ties to House Hornwood through the female line, and the
Glovers are fostering Lord Harys’s bastard at Deepwood Motte. The Dreadfort has
no claim that I know, but the lands adjoin, and Roose Bolton is not one to

overlook such a chance.”
    Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. “In such cases, her liege lord must find
her a suitable match.”
    â€œWhy
can’t
you marry her?” Bran asked. “You said she was comely,
and Beth would have a mother.”
    The old knight put a hand on Bran’s arm. “A kindly thought, my prince, but I
am only a knight, and besides too old. I might hold her lands for a few years,
but as soon as I died Lady Hornwood would find herself back in the same mire,
and Beth’s prospects might be perilous as well.”
    â€œThen let Lord Hornwood’s bastard be the heir,” Bran said, thinking of his
half brother Jon.
    Ser Rodrik said, “That would please the Glovers, and perhaps Lord Hornwood’s
shade as well, but I do not think Lady Hornwood would love us. The boy is not
of her blood.”
    â€œStill,” said Maester Luwin, “it must be considered. Lady Donella is past
her fertile years, as she said herself. If not the bastard, who?”
    â€œMay I be excused?” Bran could hear the squires at their swordplay in the
yard below, the ring of steel on steel.
    â€œAs you will, my prince,” said Ser Rodrik. “You did well.” Bran flushed
with pleasure. Being a lord was not so tedious as he had feared, and since Lady
Hornwood had been so much briefer than Lord Manderly, he even had a few hours
of daylight left to visit with Summer. He liked to spend time with his wolf
every day, when Ser Rodrik and the maester allowed it.
    No sooner had Hodor entered the godswood than Summer emerged from under
an oak, almost as if he had known they were coming. Bran glimpsed a lean black
shape watching from the undergrowth as well. “Shaggy,” he called. “Here,
Shaggydog. To me.” But Rickon’s wolf vanished as swiftly as he’d
appeared.
    Hodor knew Bran’s favorite place, so he took him to