Today was quite eventful. I have been lax in my diary for a few days, the trip took too much out of us all I think and I have found much chaos here. We have been put under lock down, due to the Tully Murder. The Iron Born have a curfew and at last I learned for certain why, though the manner of gaining this knowledge is a mixture of horror and amusement. One of their boats is missing.
I went to the Sept with Abigail, to pray. There was another lady there. We shared a bit of a whisper, another whose faith has been shaken. I dare not reveal my own doubts, lest people see weakness. I envy that freedom but I know too it is dangerous. We were beset by an iron born, named Siggy Saltcliffe. At this time Margot Templeton fled as the Iron Born Saltcliffe groped the Mother's breasts and Septa Abigail lost her senses. I have seen her irate before but never to senseless violence. She is sedated by a maester now and resting, though I did swear a punishment for what she did. It was the only way to not unleash further dramatics and after my talk with Saoirse this morning I do not think Manderly can deal with more. I told her what I found out about Yoren and the same Iron Born woman who assailed the Sept.
Septa Abigail launched her prayer book, an old thing with gemstones and metal from her days as a Lady, at the head of the iron Born. She is I am told a warrior and yet my Septa who is nearing her fiftieth name day bested her. Lady Saltcliffe fled bleeding. Padraig had to carry Septa Abigail away, and she screamed the entire time. She even tried to escape her rooms to continue the madness. I do not deny a bit of amusement that my Septa bested an Iron Born but this does bring further worry about her growing disease in service.
Then due to the cries of course this did not go without notice. The Sept a mess, blood on the floor and my Septa shouting about defilers and heretic scum. Quite embarrassing for all sides. Rodrik Snow presented himself for a mere moment, and upon seeing myself with merely Randalf, who is a revered knight but one man, facing the tallest Iron Born I have ever seen and his two guardsmen.
This man turned out to be Greydon Goodbrother himself. I was tempted to flee, I haven't been that frightened in some time. My time in the war served me here as I stood my ground and we spoke on amends. I agreed to send some dessert to their rooms so they could alleviate some of the tiresome curfew's effects, and that I would see Septa Abigail punished. I will be writing the Septon in the Capital as soon as such things are possible. She flagellated herself once she was calm and that should satisfy his demand for a beating. I did not swear to that but to a punishment.
From there things became more complicated as in dicscussion of the recent events as well as the drowned god, I gained undersanding of what Saltcliffe might have meant when she said the drowned god would have saved the Tully. It sounded so incriminatory and there were many witnesses but one cannot be a woman who goes to war without at least a modicum of sensibility. I think she did not realize that we do not all know the complexities of the Iron Born religion. Lord Goodbrother humored my request. I had feared he would misunderstand and think I sought to mock him but he answered and I made clear the potential misunderstanding.
He told me that an Iron Born ship is missing since the murder, and as Suspicions grow against Lady SaltCliffe it might implicate Yoren further too. I cannot understand the mind of a murderer. Even in my rage against the Stark I do not know if I could truly move my hand to such violence, despite the desire for their downfall. I am still bemused by the weakness of the men of the North who are not Andal, to flee a Septa or to leave a Lady in such a predicament. Most would assume this to be a trait of any Bastard but Rodrik Snow is a legendary warrior and surely is above such weakness via his own deeds. Isn't he?
I sit in my bedroom a bit bemused. Still at least I averted some disaster with pies and giving my attention to those around me. It is a difficult thing and must be harder for the islanders who are so isolated from the rest of us by their own culture and tradition. I do wonder at all that has transpired on Dragonstone alone. When I next can speak to my mother and father I will update on this if my summons by the Princess does not arrive first. I dislike leaving too many letters with my efforts to gain knowledge around. If they fall into the wrong hands it could be damaging. I do not yet know if they could act upon my receipt of knowledge about Yoren's attempts to seduce the Iron Born into possible attack on us. It is a harsh accusation.
When I told Saoirse it took some of the strength she had regained from the trip. I have made more broth for her to sup upon when she is able, with hardier options. I am grateful to have been allowed to cook here, the household staff have been absolutely accommodating to my forays into the kitchen, though I have done my best to not be an imposition in doing so.
If an accord with the Iron Born is achieved however temporarily and if Saoirse is allowed to heal from the strain on her heart from the war and her betrothal it might have come about because of pie. What a strange thing... I suppose the Seven has their own sense of humor. I will try to be more comprehensive in my writing things down. I suspect I should carry this with me for a time. It will give me some comfort as to corralling my racing and wild thoughts.
Would it be wrong dear diary to paint my Septa's strange victory or to sketch it here? I would not wish to risk someone finding it so I suppose I shall abstain but ... it tempts me regardless. I am grateful Analice could help me clean up the Sept so that there was no damage left. I would not wish to have any ire from our hosts. Is this what it has been like for my mother to be Lady Manderly? Has she sheltered us from this much chaos? I hope not, but it would not surprise me.
I went to the Sept with Abigail, to pray. There was another lady there. We shared a bit of a whisper, another whose faith has been shaken. I dare not reveal my own doubts, lest people see weakness. I envy that freedom but I know too it is dangerous. We were beset by an iron born, named Siggy Saltcliffe. At this time Margot Templeton fled as the Iron Born Saltcliffe groped the Mother's breasts and Septa Abigail lost her senses. I have seen her irate before but never to senseless violence. She is sedated by a maester now and resting, though I did swear a punishment for what she did. It was the only way to not unleash further dramatics and after my talk with Saoirse this morning I do not think Manderly can deal with more. I told her what I found out about Yoren and the same Iron Born woman who assailed the Sept.
Septa Abigail launched her prayer book, an old thing with gemstones and metal from her days as a Lady, at the head of the iron Born. She is I am told a warrior and yet my Septa who is nearing her fiftieth name day bested her. Lady Saltcliffe fled bleeding. Padraig had to carry Septa Abigail away, and she screamed the entire time. She even tried to escape her rooms to continue the madness. I do not deny a bit of amusement that my Septa bested an Iron Born but this does bring further worry about her growing disease in service.
Then due to the cries of course this did not go without notice. The Sept a mess, blood on the floor and my Septa shouting about defilers and heretic scum. Quite embarrassing for all sides. Rodrik Snow presented himself for a mere moment, and upon seeing myself with merely Randalf, who is a revered knight but one man, facing the tallest Iron Born I have ever seen and his two guardsmen.
This man turned out to be Greydon Goodbrother himself. I was tempted to flee, I haven't been that frightened in some time. My time in the war served me here as I stood my ground and we spoke on amends. I agreed to send some dessert to their rooms so they could alleviate some of the tiresome curfew's effects, and that I would see Septa Abigail punished. I will be writing the Septon in the Capital as soon as such things are possible. She flagellated herself once she was calm and that should satisfy his demand for a beating. I did not swear to that but to a punishment.
From there things became more complicated as in dicscussion of the recent events as well as the drowned god, I gained undersanding of what Saltcliffe might have meant when she said the drowned god would have saved the Tully. It sounded so incriminatory and there were many witnesses but one cannot be a woman who goes to war without at least a modicum of sensibility. I think she did not realize that we do not all know the complexities of the Iron Born religion. Lord Goodbrother humored my request. I had feared he would misunderstand and think I sought to mock him but he answered and I made clear the potential misunderstanding.
He told me that an Iron Born ship is missing since the murder, and as Suspicions grow against Lady SaltCliffe it might implicate Yoren further too. I cannot understand the mind of a murderer. Even in my rage against the Stark I do not know if I could truly move my hand to such violence, despite the desire for their downfall. I am still bemused by the weakness of the men of the North who are not Andal, to flee a Septa or to leave a Lady in such a predicament. Most would assume this to be a trait of any Bastard but Rodrik Snow is a legendary warrior and surely is above such weakness via his own deeds. Isn't he?
I sit in my bedroom a bit bemused. Still at least I averted some disaster with pies and giving my attention to those around me. It is a difficult thing and must be harder for the islanders who are so isolated from the rest of us by their own culture and tradition. I do wonder at all that has transpired on Dragonstone alone. When I next can speak to my mother and father I will update on this if my summons by the Princess does not arrive first. I dislike leaving too many letters with my efforts to gain knowledge around. If they fall into the wrong hands it could be damaging. I do not yet know if they could act upon my receipt of knowledge about Yoren's attempts to seduce the Iron Born into possible attack on us. It is a harsh accusation.
When I told Saoirse it took some of the strength she had regained from the trip. I have made more broth for her to sup upon when she is able, with hardier options. I am grateful to have been allowed to cook here, the household staff have been absolutely accommodating to my forays into the kitchen, though I have done my best to not be an imposition in doing so.
If an accord with the Iron Born is achieved however temporarily and if Saoirse is allowed to heal from the strain on her heart from the war and her betrothal it might have come about because of pie. What a strange thing... I suppose the Seven has their own sense of humor. I will try to be more comprehensive in my writing things down. I suspect I should carry this with me for a time. It will give me some comfort as to corralling my racing and wild thoughts.
Would it be wrong dear diary to paint my Septa's strange victory or to sketch it here? I would not wish to risk someone finding it so I suppose I shall abstain but ... it tempts me regardless. I am grateful Analice could help me clean up the Sept so that there was no damage left. I would not wish to have any ire from our hosts. Is this what it has been like for my mother to be Lady Manderly? Has she sheltered us from this much chaos? I hope not, but it would not surprise me.
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