"That's a noble thing, but when you're older you may find you'd sooner have a girl than a white cloak". Dunk was thinking of Tanselle Too-Tall, and the way she'd smiled at him at Ashford. "Ser Eustace said I was the sort of man he'd hoped to have his daughter wed. Her name was Alysanne".

"She's dead, ser".

"I know she's dead", said Dunk, annoyed. "If she was alive, he said. If she was, he'd like her to marry me. Or someone like me. I never had a lord offer me his daughter before".

"His dead daughter. And the Osgreys might have been lords in the old days, but Ser Eustace is only a landed knight".

"I know what he is. Do you want a clout in the ear?"

"Well", said Egg, "I'd sooner have a clout than a wife . Especially a dead wife, ser. The kettle's steaming".

They carried the water to the tub, and Dunk pulled his tunic over his head. "I will wear my Dornish tunic to Coldmoat". It was sandsilk, the finest garment that he owned, painted with his elm and falling star.

"If you wear it for the ride it will get all sweaty, ser", Egg said. "Wear the one you wore today. I'll bring the other, and you can change when you reach the castle".

" Before I reach the castle. I'd look a fool, changing clothes on the drawbridge. And who said you were coming with me?"

"A knight is more impressive with a squire in attendance".

That was true. The boy had a good sense of such things. He should. He served two years as a page at King's Landing. Even so, Dunk was reluctant to take him into danger. He had no notion what sort of welcome awaited him at Coldmoat. If this Red Widow was as dangerous as they said, he could end up in a crow cage, like those two men they had seen upon the road. "You will stay and help Bennis with the smallfolk", he told Egg. "And don't give me that sullen look". He kicked his breeches off, and climbed into the tub of steaming water. "Go on and get to sleep now, and let me have my bath. You're not going, and that's the end of it".

Egg was up and gone when Dunk awoke, with the light of the morning sun in his face. Gods be good, how can it be so hot so soon? He sat up and stretched, yawning, then climbed to his feet and stumbled sleepily down to the well, where he lit a fat tallow candle, splashed some cold water on his face, and dressed.

When he stepped out into the sunlight, Thunder was waiting by the stable, saddled and bridled. Egg was waiting, too, with Maester his mule.

The boy had put his boots on. For once he looked a proper squire, in a handsome doublet of green and gold checks and a pair of tight white woolen breeches. "The breeches were torn in the seat, but Sam Stoops' wife sewed them up for me", he announced.

"The clothes were Addam's", said Ser Eustace, as he led his own gray gelding from his stall. A chequy lion adorned the frayed silk cloak that flowed from the old man's shoulders. "The doublet is a trifle musty from the trunk, but it should serve. A knight is more impressive with a squire in attendance, so I have decided that Egg should accompany you to Coldmoat".

Outwitted by a boy of ten. Dunk looked at Egg and silently mouthed the words clout in the ear . The boy grinned.

"I have something for you as well, Ser Duncan. Come". Ser Eustace produced a cloak, and shook it out with a flourish.

It was white wool, bordered with squares of green satin and cloth of gold. A woolen cloak was the last thing he needed in such heat, but when Ser Eustace draped it about his shoulders, Dunk saw the pride on his face, and found himself unable to refuse. "Thank you, m'lord".

"It suits you well. Would that I could give you more". The old man's mustache twitched. "I sent Sam Stoops down into the cellar to search through my sons' things, but Edwyn and Harrold were smaller men, thinner in the chest and much shorter in the leg. None of what they left would fit you, sad to say".

"The cloak is enough, m'lord. I won't shame it".

"I do not doubt that". He gave his horse a pat. "I thought I'd ride with you part of the way, if you have no objection".

"None, m'lord".

Egg led them down the hill, sitting tall on Maester. "Must he wear that floppy straw hat?" Ser Eustace asked Dunk. "He looks a bit foolish, don't you think?"

"Not so foolish as when his head is peeling, m'lord". Even at this hour, with the sun barely above the horizon, it was hot. By afternoon the saddles will be hot enough to raise blisters. Egg might look elegant in the dead boy's finery, but he would be a boiled Egg by nightfall. Dunk at least could change; he had his good tunic in his saddlebag, and his old green one on his back.

"We'll take the west way", Ser Eustace announced. "It is little used these past years, but still the shortest way from Standfast to Coldmoat Castle". The path took them around back of the hill, past the graves where the old knight had laid his wife and sons to rest in a thicket of blackberry bushes. "They loved to pick the berries here, my boys. When they were little they would come to me with sticky faces and scratches on their arms, and I'd know just where they'd been". He smiled fondly. "Your Egg reminds me of my Addam. A brave boy, for one so young. Addam was trying to protect his wounded brother Harrold when the battle washed over them. A riverman with six acorns on his shield took his arm off with an ax". His sad gray eyes found Dunk's. "This old master of yours, the knight of Pennytree… did he fight in the Blackfyre Rebellion?"

"He did, m'lord. Before he took me on". Dunk had been no more than three or four at the time, running half naked through the alleys of Flea Bottom, more animal than boy.

"Was he for the red dragon or the black?"

Red or black? was a dangerous question, even now. Since the days of Aegon the Conquerer, the arms of House Targaryen had borne a three-headed dragon, red on black. Daemon the Pretender had reversed those colors on his own banners, as many bastards did. Ser Eustace is my liege lord, Dunk reminded himself. He has a right to ask. "He fought beneath Lord Hayford's banner, m'lord".

"Green fretty over gold, a green pale wavy?"

"It might be, m'lord. Egg would know". The lad could recite the arms of half the knights in Westeros.

"Lord Hayford was a noted loyalist . King Daeron made him his Hand just before the battle. Butterwell had done such a dismal job that many questioned his loyalty, but Lord Hayford had been stalwart from the first".

"Ser Arlan was beside him when he fell. A lord with three castles on his shield cut him down".

"Many good men fell that day, on both sides. The grass was not red before the battle. Did your Ser Arlan tell you that?"

"Ser Arlan never liked to speak about the battle. His squire died there, too. Roger of Pennytree was his name, Ser Arlan's sister's son". Even saying the name made Dunk feel vaguely guilty. I stole his place. Only princes and great lords had the means to keep two squires. If Aegon the Unworthy had given his sword to his heir Daeron instead of his bastard Daemon, there might never have been a Blackfyre Rebellion, and Roger of Pennytree might be alive today. He would be a knight someplace, a truer knight than me. I would have ended on the gallows, or been sent off to the Night's Watch to walk the Wall until I died.

"A great battle is a terrible thing", the old knight said "but in the midst of blood and carnage, there is sometimes also beauty, beauty that could break your heart. I will never forget the way the sun looked when it set upon the Redgrass Field… ten thousand men had died, and the air was thick with moans and lamentations, but above us the sky turned gold and red and orange, so beautiful it made me weep to know that my sons would never see it". He sighed. "It was a closer thing than they would have you believe, these days. If not for Bloodraven.. ".