The grass at the foot of the mountain had already withered to yellow, and the warhorses stamped uneasily. In high summer, the grass was green and the dung was yellow. In late autumn, the grass turned yellow and the dung green.
Tyrion looked around. The Lords Declarant were all here: Bronze Yohn Royce riding just behind him, Ser Brynden Tully, Lord Janos Bracken, a sly-faced knight who looked familiar, a young one-eyed brute with wild hair, a strange old man atop a mule, and a page with hair of pale gold and eyes so deep blue they were nearly purple...
Harrold Hardyng sat astride a pure-white warhorse, sand-gold hair spilling from beneath his helm, looking every bit the gallant young lord. Perhaps he could be a fine ruler—if Littlefinger weren't lurking behind him.
And the schemer himself rode close at his side.
Lady Anya Waynwood sat in her litter, pressed close to her foster son. Benedar Belmore and Symond Templeton followed behind her—two small, cautious men who didn't dare come too near. Even with their liege lord present, they would never openly cross Tyrion.
Horton Redfort and Gilwood Hunter held their position on a third flank.
Harrold Hardyng urged his horse forward.
"So, my lord, why have you called us here today? To celebrate my inheritance of The Eyrie? I hope you'll soon take your men and leave the Vale."
"My lords, thank you for coming," Tyrion said. "It's good to have everyone gathered—saves me writing letters. Let me begin with a story."
"This tale begins with Great Lord Jasper Arryn, father of Lord Jon Arryn. He left behind three children: two sons and a daughter. The eldest, Jon, inherited The Eyrie and the title. The daughter, Alyssa, married Ser Elys Waynwood, uncle to our present Lady Waynwood."
He glanced at Lady Waynwood, and the elderly lady nodded.
"Great Lord Jasper's third child, Ser Ronnel Arryn, married a lady of House Belmore. But not long after the wedding, he fell gravely ill. As poor Ronnel lay dying, his son Elbert was born on the far side of the hall."
Harrold Hardyng interrupted, impatient.
"Jon, Alyssa, Ronnel—yes, yes. Every soul in the Vale knows this."
"If you listen to the end," Tyrion said mildly, "I may persuade my dear sister to return the title of Warden of the East to the Vale."
Harrold shut his mouth, though not happily.
"Good. Now then: Jon Arryn wed three times, yet his first two wives gave him no children, so his nephew Elbert remained his heir. Meanwhile, Ser Elys worked tirelessly to fill Alyssa's belly—she bore nearly a child a year, eight daughters and one precious little boy, also named Jasper, before dying in childbirth."
"The boy Jasper survived against all odds, only to be kicked in the head by a horse at age three. The gods show little mercy. Then smallpox claimed two of his sisters, leaving six daughters. The eldest married Ser Denys Arryn, a kinsman of the main line at The Eyrie. Ser Denys won fame in the lists—handsome, gallant, courteous, devout—hailed as the 'Darling of the Vale.' And with the illustrious Arryn name, he wed the eldest Waynwood daughter. Their children would also bear the Arryn name, becoming heirs to the Vale after Elbert.
Fate had a sense of irony—the Mad King took Elbert's life. My wife surely knows the tale, as do all of you."
Brynden Tully continued.
"After Lyanna Stark was carried off by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, Brandon Stark rode to King's Landing with several men, Elbert among them. They stormed the Red Keep demanding Rhaegar come out and face death. Aerys II had them seized, then summoned their fathers to answer for their sons' crimes—and in the end, he killed them all."
"Quite right, seems I needn't recount the past. In short, my elder brother avenged them. Ser Danyse soon left his pregnant wife to join the war and fell at the Battle of the Bells, killed by an axe in an excess of valor. When word reached his wife, she grieved herself to death, and her infant died too."
"But none of that mattered then, for Lord Jon Arryn married Lysa Tully. And thus came poor little Robin." Tyrion continued unabated, "May the gods comfort the poor child. I shall destroy the murderer's body and soul myself."
"Let us now turn to the remaining five daughters of Alya and Illa. The second daughter also suffered smallpox, leaving severe scarring, and thus became a Septa; the third was seduced by a Sellsword, and after Ser Illa cast her from his house, she joined the Silent Sisters when her bastard son died in swaddling clothes; the fourth married the Lord of The Paps but remained barren all her days; the fifth was betrothed to House Bracken of the Riverlands but was abducted by the Burned Men en route; the sixth, the youngest, wed a local knight loyal to House Waynwood and bore him a son."
"Is that correct, ser?"
"It is true," said Harrold Hardyng. "This is my bloodline, and I am proud of it. I am the rightful Great Lord of The Eyrie."
"Indeed," Tyrion nodded. "You are of the Arryn bloodline. But let us consider this: your mother's sister—the fifth daughter abducted by the Burned Men."
"What of her?"
"If she bore a child, a boy, and he survived..."
"No wedding was held, so the child would be a bastard," Littlefinger hurried forward on horseback. "That's an invalid union."
"Calm down, Lord Petyr. You should note I used the word 'abducted ' just now," Tyrion said. "I've had the honor of inviting the High Priest of the Burned Men as our guest. Perhaps he can clarify this for us."
The priest, riding a mule, approached the group unsteadily. "Though the Mountain clans may seem barbaric to you, we have our own culture and honor. For a woman taken in a raid, we have our warriors marry her."
"So?" Lord Horton pressed forward. "Where is the child?"
"The man who wedded the daughter of House Arryn became the Tormo of the Burning Men," the old priest replied. "And his son inherited that name—the Red Hand of the Burning Men, Timett son of Timett."
"No," Tyrion shook his head. "He should now be called the Chieftain Red Hand of the Burning Men, Great Lord of The Eyrie, Timett son of Timett."