Répondre à : AFFC 34 – Jaime V

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Retour à Jaime (youpi). Entre deux chapitres, il s’est déplacé pas loin de Vivesaigues et commence par recevoir Daven. Jaime note que son écuyer (à lui) a de bons réflexes mais assez peu de réflexion (les hors la loi ne s’annoncent pas à coup de trompettes). Daven a le cheveu broussailleux car il n’a pas encore vengé la mort de son père Stafford

“I vowed I would not let my hair be cut until my father was avenged.” For a man who looked so leonine, Daven Lannister sounded oddly sheepish. “The Young Wolf got to Karstark first, though. Robbed me of my vengeance.”

On en vient à l’amputation de Jaime et ce dernier est très étonné de voir que son cousin pense que c’est Catelyn la coupable…

“Was it Catelyn Stark who took it?”

“Vargo Hoat.” Where do these tales come from?

“The Qohorik?” Ser Daven spat. “That’s for him and all his Brave Companions. I told your father I would forage for him, but he refused me. Some tasks are fit for lions, he said, but foraging is best left for goats and dogs.”

Lord Tywin’s very words, Jaime knew; he could almost hear his father’s voice.

Dans la tente, Daven est un peu méprisant envers Lewis Piper et Josmyn Peckledon (il ne s’intéresse pas du tout à Pia). Le passage évoque ce qu’il se passe à Vivesaigues, et aussi à Darry : Emmon Frey, Walder Rivers, les gens de Darry. Daven est assez cash et je dois dire qu’en relecture, on apprend plein de choses très intéressantes

“If my choice is Freys or freckles, well . . . half of Lord Walder’s brood look like stoats.”

“Only half? Be thankful. I saw Lancel’s bride at Darry.”

“Gatehouse Ami, gods be good. I couldn’t believe that Lancel picked that one. What’s wrong with that boy?”

“He’s grown pious,” said Jaime, “but it wasn’t him who did the picking. Lady Amerei’s mother is a Darry. Our uncle thought she’d help Lancel win the Darry smallfolk.”

“How, by fucking them? You know why they call her Gatehouse Ami? She raises her portcullis for every knight who happens by. Lancel had best find an armorer to make him a horned helm.”

“That won’t be necessary. Our coz is off to King’s Landing to take vows as one of the High Septon’s swords.”

Ser Daven could not have looked more astonished if Jaime had told him that Lancel had decided to become a mummer’s monkey. “Not truly? You are japing with me. Gatehouse Ami must be more stoatish than I’d heard if she could drive the boy to that.

When Jaime had taken his leave of Lady Amerei, she had been weeping softly at the dissolution of her marriage whilst letting Lyle Crakehall console her. Her tears had not troubled him half so much as the hard looks on the faces of her kin as they stood about the yard.

Daven a croisé Kevan qui était peu coopératif (blessé dans son orgueil par Cersei en fait)

“You have seen Ser Kevan?”

“Aye. He passed here on his way west. I asked him to help us take the castle, but Kevan would have none of it. He brooded the whole time he was here. Courteous enough, but chilly. I swore to him that I never asked to be made Warden of the West, that the honor should have gone to him, and he declared that he held no grudge against me, but you would never have known it from his tone. He stayed three days and hardly said three words to me. Would that he’d remained, I could have used his counsel. Our friends of Frey would not have dared vex Ser Kevan the way that they’ve been vexing me.”

Et donc Daven supporte assez mal la technique de siège de Ryman Frey (mettre Edmure sur un gibet en vue…). Surtout que la situation est compliquée car Roslyn est enceinte et suivant si elle accouche d’un garçon ou d’une fille, ça change tout. Et un peu pareil pour Jeyne Ouestrelin qui est avec le Silure

“Ser Brynden won’t kill children,” he assured his cousin. “He’s not as black a fish as that.” He was beginning to grasp why Riverrun had not yet fallen.

On parle ensuite tactique : le siège va probablement durer si rien n’est fait. On peut se nourrir mais il y a des gens qui rôdent dans les bois et qui prennent les uniformes Lannister (tiens, tiens). Et les Riverains pourraient être impliqués

Addam Marbrand’s scouts had found them, hanging black-faced beneath a crabapple tree. The corpses had been stripped naked, and each man had a crabapple shoved between his teeth. None bore any wounds; plainly, they had yielded. Strongboar had grown furious at that, vowing bloody vengeance on the heads of any men who would truss up warriors to die like suckling pigs.

“It might have been outlaws,” Ser Daven said, when Jaime told the tale, “or not. There are still bands of northmen about. And these Lords of the Trident may have bent their knees, but methinks their hearts are still . . . wolfish.”

Jaime glanced at his two younger squires, who were hovering near the braziers pretending not to listen. Lewys Piper and Garrett Paege were both the sons of river lords. He had grown fond of both of them and would hate to have to give them to Ser Ilyn. “The ropes suggest Dondarrion to me.”

Daven ne croit pas vraiment en Béric, trop d’infos contradictoires à son sujet. J’avais oublié ces feux dans les villages

“My scouts report fires in the high places at night. Signal fires, they think . . . as if there were a ring of watchers all around us. And there are fires in the villages as well. Some new god . . .”

No, an old one. “Thoros is with Dondarrion, the fat Myrish priest who used to drink with Robert.”

On retourne au Silure. Jaime espère lui parler mais le passé n’est pas en sa faveur

“I mean to offer him generous terms.” If he could end this siege without bloodshed, then it could not be said that he had taken up arms against House Tully.

“You are welcome to try, my lord, but I doubt that words will win the day. We need to storm the castle.”

There had been a time, not so long ago, when Jaime would doubtless have urged the same course. He knew he could not sit here for two years to starve the Blackfish out. “Whatever we do needs to be done quickly,” he told Ser Daven. “My place is back at King’s Landing, with the king.”

Daven se pose des questions sur Kevan

“I don’t doubt your sister needs you. Why did she send off Kevan? I thought she’d make him Hand.”

“He would not take it.” He was not as blind as I was.

“Kevan should be the Warden of the West. Or you. It’s not that I’m not grateful for the honor, mind you, but our uncle’s twice my age and has more experience of command. I hope he knows I never asked for this.”

“He knows.”

“How is Cersei? As beautiful as ever?”

“Radiant.” Fickle. “Golden.” False as fool’s gold. Last night he dreamed he’d found her fucking Moon Boy. He’d killed the fool and smashed his sister’s teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia. In his dreams Jaime always had two hands; one was made of gold, but it worked just like the other. “The sooner we are done with Riverrun, the sooner I’ll be back at Cersei’s side.” What Jaime would do then he did not know.

Daven s’en va. Jaime se rend compte qu’il aime cette vie là, il rend service aux gens, donne des conseils

If truth be told, he liked this life. He felt more comfortable amongst soldiers in the field than he ever had at court. And his men seemed comfortable with him as well. At one cookfire three crossbowmen offered him a share of a hare they’d caught. At another a young knight asked his counsel on the best way to defend against a warhammer. Down beside the river, he watched two washerwomen jousting in the shallows, mounted on the shoulders of a pair of men-at-arms.

Ah mais dans les joyeux drilles, y a Raff-tout-miel ? Glups. Je pense que c’est sans conséquence mais il y a pas mal de « reeds » dans le coin, ou pour les gens qui batifolent ou pour Jaime qui se fait humilier par Ilyn.

Jaime bet a copper star on the blond girl riding Raff the Sweetling, and lost it when the two of them went down splashing amongst the reeds. / He ended on his knees, with the silent knight’s sword at his throat and his own lost in the reeds.

Ici, des reeds et du « fer »

The wind rattled amongst the branches in the bare brown woods and made the river reeds bow low along the Red Fork. Even mantled in the winter wool of the Kingsguard, Jaime could feel the iron teeth of that wind as he rode beside his cousin Daven.

Vivesaigues est en effet très dure à prendre. Et Jaime éprouve un peu de pitié pour Edmure tout de même. Le reste est un peu pathétique

“Ser Ryman don’t want his boys getting bored, so he gives them whores and cockfights and boar baiting,” Ser Daven said. “He’s even got himself a bloody singer. Our aunt brought Whitesmile Wat from Lannisport, if you can believe it, so Ryman had to have a singer too. Couldn’t we just dam the river and drown the whole lot of them, coz?”

Ah, Jaime était allé à Vivesaigues jeune et Lysa s’était rapproché de lui

“The first time I saw Riverrun, I was a squire green as summer grass,” Jaime told his cousin. “Old Sumner Crakehall sent me to deliver a message, one he swore could not be entrusted to a raven. Lord Hoster kept me for a fortnight whilst mulling his reply, and sat me beside his daughter Lysa at every meal.”

“Small wonder you took the white. I’d have done the same.”

“Oh, Lysa was not so fearsome as all that.” She had been a pretty girl, in truth; dimpled and delicate, with long auburn hair. Timid, though. Prone to tongue-tied silences and fits of giggles, with none of Cersei’s fire. Her older sister had seemed more interesting, though Catelyn was promised to some northern boy, the heir of Winterfell . . . but at that age, no girl interested Jaime half so much as Hoster’s famous brother, who had won renown fighting the Ninepenny Kings upon the Stepstones. At table he had ignored poor Lysa, whilst pressing Brynden Tully for tales of Maelys the Monstrous and the Ebon Prince. Ser Brynden was younger then than I am now, Jaime reflected, and I was younger than Peck.

Jaime note les blasons, et surtout ceux qui manquent

Jaime noted the banners of Lychester and Vance, of Roote and Goodbrook, the acorns of House Smallford and Lord Piper’s dancing maiden, but the banners he did not see gave him pause. The silver eagle of Mallister was nowhere in evidence; nor the red horse of Bracken, the willow of the Rygers, the twining snakes of Paege. Though all had renewed their fealty to the Iron Throne, none had come to join the siege. The Brackens were fighting the Blackwoods, Jaime knew, which accounted for their absence, but as for the rest . . .

Our new friends are no friends at all. Their loyalty goes no deeper than their skins. Riverrun had to be taken, and soon. The longer the siege dragged on, the more it would hearten other recalcitrants, like Tytos Blackwood.

Après avoir vu que Daven a pris de bonnes initiatives pour le siège, Jaime prend des risques en voulant s’exposer aux tirs de Vivesaigues : il fait installer sa tente à proximité, avec une bannière de paix

Ah, les conseils de tonton Jaime ont porté leurs fruits

“Raise my tent and plant my standards.” And we’ll see who comes running, and how quickly.

It did not require long. Pia was fussing at a brazier, trying to light the coals. Peck went to help her. Of late, Jaime oft went to sleep to the sound of them fucking in a corner of the tent.

Et là entre Genna. Je pense que tout le monde aime Genna : peu de présence mais quel caractère ! Apparence de Tatie gâteau mais ça va bien au-delà : elle a des opinions pas idiotes et la langue bien pendue.

Jaime hugged her dutifully and waited for her to pinch his ear. She had been pinching his ear for as long as he could remember, but today she forbore. Instead, she planted soft and sloppy kisses on his cheeks. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“I had a new hand made, of gold.” He showed her.

“Very nice. Will they make you a gold father too?” Lady Genna’s voice was sharp. “Tywin was the loss I meant.”

Le souci c’est que son mari est là aussi et qu’il est moins intéressant (et hop un stone en cadeau)

Emmon Frey was a fretful man with nervous hands. He might have weighed ten stone . . . but only wet, and clad in mail.

Les domestiques sont congédiés et Genna demande si Tyrion a tué Tywin. Jaime répond prudemment

“A woman hardly knows what to believe. Can it be true that Tyrion slew Tywin? Or is that some calumny your sister put about?”

“It’s true enough.”

Autre moment délicat : ser Cleos. Jaime ment pour faire passer la pilule et promet de rapporter les os du malheureux

“We were set upon by outlaws. Ser Cleos scattered them, but it cost his life.” The lie came easy; he could see that it pleased them.

“The boy had courage, I always said so. It was in his blood.” (…)

“His bones should be interred beneath the Rock, in the Hall of Heroes,” Lady Genna declared. “Where was he laid to rest?”

Nowhere. The Bloody Mummers stripped his corpse and left his flesh to feast the carrion crows. “Beside a stream,” he lied. “When this war is done, I will find the place and send him home.” Bones were bones; these days, nothing was easier to come by.

Emmon se fait moins sympathique quand il se prétend au-dessus de son père, vu qu’il a un papier disant qu’il est lord de Vivesaigues

“You are not his overlord, ser. Read your parchment. You were granted Riverrun with its lands and incomes, no more. Petyr Baelish is the Lord Paramount of the Trident. Riverrun will be subject to the rule of Harrenhal.”

That did not please Lord Emmon. “Harrenhal is a ruin, haunted and accursed,” he objected, “and Baelish . . . the man is a coin counter, no proper lord, his birth . . .”

“If you are unhappy with the arrangements, go to King’s Landing and take it up with my sweet sister.” Cersei would devour Emmon Frey and pick her teeth with his bones, he did not doubt. That is, if she’s not too busy fucking Osmund Kettleblack.

Genna congédie son mari (ouf).

Lady Genna gave a snort. “There is no need to trouble Her Grace with such nonsense. Emm, why don’t you step outside and have a breath of air?”

“A breath of air?”

“Or a good long piss, if you prefer. My nephew and I have family matters to discuss.”

Lord Emmon flushed. “Yes, it is warm in here. I will wait outside, my lady. Ser.” His lordship rolled up his parchment, sketched a bow toward Jaime, and tottered from the tent.

Jaime nous donne en pensée un peu du passé haut en couleurs de Genna

She gave Frey four sons, to be sure. At least she says they are his. No one in Casterly Rock had the courage to suggest otherwise, least of all Ser Emmon.

Genna n’est pas ravie du titre de son mari

No sooner was he gone than his lady wife rolled her eyes. “My lord and master. What was your father thinking, to name him Lord of Riverrun?”

“I imagine he was thinking of your sons.”

Et là on reparle de Darry, et des femmes enceintes

“Your father should have granted us Darry. Cleos married one of the plowman’s daughters, you will recall. His grieving widow is furious that her sons were not granted her lord father’s lands. Gatehouse Ami is Darry only on her mother’s side. My good-daughter Jeyne is her aunt, a full sister to Lady Mariya.”

“A younger sister,” Jaime reminded her, “and Ty will have Riverrun, a greater prize than Darry.”

“A poisoned prize. House Darry is extinguished in the male line, House Tully is not. That muttonhead Ser Ryman puts a noose round Edmure’s neck, but will not hang him. And Roslin Frey has a trout growing in her belly. My grandsons will never be secure in Riverrun so long as any Tully heir remains alive.”

She was not wrong, Jaime knew. “If Roslin has a girl—”

“—she can wed Ty, provided old Lord Walder will consent. Yes, I’ve thought of that. A boy is just as likely, though, and his little cock would cloud the issue. And if Ser Brynden should survive this siege, he might be inclined to claim Riverrun in his own name . . . or in the name of young Robert Arryn.”

La suite est aussi pertinente

Tywin should have granted Riverrun to Kevan and Darry to Emm. I would have told him so if he had troubled to ask me, but when did your father ever consult with anyone but Kevan?” She sighed deeply. “I do not blame Kevan for wanting the safer seat for his own boy, mind you. I know him too well.”

“What Kevan wants and what Lancel wants appear to be two different things.” He told her of Lancel’s decision to renounce wife and lands and lordship to fight for the Holy Faith. “If you still want Darry, write to Cersei and make your case.”

Lady Genna waved her cup in dismissal. “No, that horse has left the yard. Emm has it in his pointed head that he will rule the riverlands

Genna demande ensuite pourquoi Cersei a réarmé la Foi. Jaime n’en sait rien (il n’enfonce pas sa soeur mais ne l’aide pas non plus). Genna fait un cours d’histoire puis demande si Tywin souriait lors de l’enterrement, ce qui permet de savoir quand il souriait (avant la mort de sa femme). Genna demande ensuite comment Jaime va s’y prendre pour le Silure et ne croit pas vraiment à la réussite de la diplomatie. Elle propose même de tuer Edmure, mais pour Jaime, ça ne changera rien (positivement) pour le Silure. On passe sur un sujet commun : dire du mal de Cersei

“Well, I would never presume to tell you how to fight a war. I know my place . . . unlike your sister. Is it true that Cersei burned the Red Keep?”

“Only the Tower of the Hand.”

His aunt rolled her eyes.

Et du mal de son conseil restreint

Harys Swyft? If ever a man deserved his arms, it is Ser Harys. And Gyles Rosby, Seven save us, I thought he died years ago. Merryweather . . . your father used to call his grandsire ‘the Chuckler,’ I’ll have you know. Tywin claimed the only thing Merryweather was good for was chuckling at the king’s witticisms. His lordship chuckled himself right into exile, as I recall. Cersei has put some bastard on the council too, and a kettle in the Kingsguard. She has the Faith arming and the Braavosi calling in loans all over Westeros.

Mais c’est surtout pour parler de Kevan car elle sent qu’il y a des trucs louches là dessous

None of which would be happening if she’d had the simple sense to make your uncle the King’s Hand.”

“Ser Kevan refused the office.”

“So he said. He did not say why. There was much he did not say. Would not say.” Lady Genna made a face. “Kevan always did what was asked of him. It is not like him to turn away from any duty. Something is awry here, I can smell it.”

“He said that he was tired.” He knows, Cersei had said, as they stood above their father’s corpse. He knows about us.

“Tired?” His aunt pursed her lips. “I suppose he has a right to be. It has been hard for Kevan, living all his life in Tywin’s shadow. It was hard for all my brothers. That shadow Tywin cast was long and black, and each of them had to struggle to find a little sun. Tygett tried to be his own man, but he could never match your father, and that just made him angrier as the years went by. Gerion made japes. Better to mock the game than to play and lose. But Kevan saw how things stood early on, so he made himself a place by your father’s side.”

Jaime dévie la situation sur la place de Genna

“I was my father’s precious princess . . . and Tywin’s too, until I disappointed him. My brother never learned to like the taste of disappointment.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I’ve said what I came to say, I shan’t take any more of your time. Do what Tywin would have done.”

Elle dit du bien de Tywin, du fait qu’il l’a défendue en public quand il avait 10 ans. Jaime pense qu’il a son moment, sauf que Genna est bien plus dure, directe, mais aussi dans le vrai

She gave a sigh. “Who will protect us now?”

Jaime kissed her cheek. “He left a son.”

“Aye, he did. That is what I fear the most, in truth.”

That was a queer remark. “Why should you fear?”

“Jaime,” she said, tugging on his ear, “sweetling, I have known you since you were a babe at Joanna’s breast. You smile like Gerion and fight like Tyg, and there’s some of Kevan in you, else you would not wear that cloak . . . but Tyrion is Tywin’s son, not you. I said so once to your father’s face, and he would not speak to me for half a year. Men are such thundering great fools. Even the sort who come along once in a thousand years.”

J’aime beaucoup ce chapitre : on a plein d’informations sur la situation tactique, sur ce qui se passe en arrière-plan, une leçon d’histoire, et un splendide personnage (Genna). Et Jaime en sort encore grandi : il écoute les gens mais prend ses propres décisions..

Je sers la Garde et c'est ma joie. For this night, and all the nights to come
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