The Sworn Sword

""What are you doing?"" she said. ""Have you lost your wits ? There are a dozen crossbows trained on you"".

""You wanted blood for blood"". He laid the dagger against his cheek. ""They told you wrong. It wasn't Bennis cut that digger, it was me"". He pressed the edge of the steel into his face, slashed downward. When he shook the blood off the blade, some spattered on her face. More freckles, he thought. ""There, the Red Widow has her due. A cheek for a cheek"".

""You are quite mad"". The smoke had filled her eyes with tears. ""If you were better born, I'd marry you"".

""Aye, m'lady. And if pigs had wings and scales and breathed flame, they'd be as good as dragons"". Dunk slid the knife back in its sheath. His face had begun to throb. The blood ran down his cheek and dripped onto his gorget. The smell made Thunder snort, and paw the water. ""Give me the men who burned the wood"".

""No one burned the wood"", she said, ""but if some man of mine had done so, it must have been to please me. How could I give such a man to you?"" She glanced back at her escort. ""It would be best if Ser Eustace were just to withdraw his accusation"".

""Those pigs will be breathing fire first, m'lady"".

""In that case, I must assert my innocence before the eyes of gods and men. Tell Ser Eustace that I demand an apology… or a trial. The choice is his"". She wheeled her horse about to ride back to her men.

The stream would be their battleground.

Septon Sefton waddled out and said a prayer, beseeching the Father Above to look down on these two men and judge them justly, asking the Warrior to lend his strength to the man whose cause was just and true, begging the Mother's mercy for the liar, that he might be forgiven for his sins. When the praying was over and done with, he turned to Ser Eustace Osgrey one last time. ""Ser"", he said, ""I beg you once again, withdraw your accusation"".

""I will not"", the old man said, his mustache trembling.

The fat septon turned to Lady Rohanne. ""Good-sister, if you did this thing, confess your guilt, and offer good Ser Eustace some restitution for his wood. Elsewise blood must flow"".

""My champion will prove my innocence before the eyes of gods and men"".

""Trial by battle is not the only way"", said the septon, waist-deep in the water. ""Let us go to Goldengrove, I implore you both, and place the matter before Lord Rowan for his judgment"".

""Never"", said Ser Eustace. The Red Widow shook her head.

Ser Lucas Inchfield looked at Lady Rohanne, his face dark with fury. ""You will marry me when this mummer's farce is done. As your lord father wished"".

""My lord father never knew you as I do"", she gave back."

"Dunk went to one knee beside Egg, and put the signet back in the boy's hand; four three-headed dragons, two and two, the arms of Maekar, Prince of Summerhall. ""Back in the boot"", he said, ""but if it happens that I die, go to the nearest of your father's friends and have him take you back to Summerhall. Don't try to cross the whole Reach on your own. See you don't forget, or my ghost will come and clout you in the ear"".

""Yes, ser"", said Egg, ""but I'd sooner you didn't die"".

""It's too hot to die"". Dunk donned his helm, and Egg helped him fasten it tightly to his gorget. The blood was sticky on his face, though Ser Eustace had torn a piece off his cloak to help stop the gash from bleeding. He rose and went to Thunder. Most of the smoke had blown away, he saw as he swung up onto the saddle, but the sky was still dark. Clouds, he thought, dark clouds. It had been so long. Maybe it's an omen. But is it his omen, or mine? Dunk was no good with omens.

Across the stream, Ser Lucas had mounted up as well. His horse was a chestnut courser; a splendid animal, swift and strong, but not as large as Thunder. What the horse lacked in size he made up for in armor, though; he was clad in crinet, chanfron, and a coat of light chain. The Longinch himself wore black enameled plate and silvery ringmail. An onyx spider squatted malignantly atop his helmet, but his shield displayed his own arms: a bend sinister, chequy black and white, on a pale gray field. Dunk watched Ser Lucas hand it to a squire. He does not mean to use it. When another squire delivered him a poleax, he knew why. The ax was long and lethal, with a banded haft, a heavy head, and a wicked spike on its back, but it was a two-handed weapon. The Longinch would need to trust in his armor to protect him. I need to make him rue that choice.

His own shield was on his left arm, the shield Tanselle had painted with his elm and falling star. A child's rhyme echoed in his head. Oak and iron, guard me well, or else I'm dead, and doomed to hell. He slid his longsword from its scabbard. The weight of it felt good in his hands.

He put his heels into Thunder's flanks and walked the big destrier down into the water. Across the stream, Ser Lucas did the same.