"A false knight!" Sir Marq said.
"Lord Tywin’s mad dog."
"My lord Hand," Pycelle declared in a stiff voice,
"I urge you to remind this good knight that Lord Tywin Lannister is the father of our own gracious queen."
"Thank you, Grand Maester Pycelle," Ned said.
"I fear we might have forgotten that if you had not pointed it out."
From his vantage point atop the throne, he could see men slipping out the door at the far end of the hall.
Hares going to ground, he supposed...or rats off to nibble the queen’s cheese.
He caught a glimpse of Septa Mordane in the gallery, with his daughter Sansa beside her.
Ned felt a flash of anger;
this was no place for a girl.
But the septa could not have known that today’s court would be anything but the usual tedious business of hearing petitions,
settling disputes between rival holdfasts, and adjudicating the placement of boundary stones.
At the council table below, Petyr Baelish lost interest in his quill and leaned forward.
"Sir Marq, Sir Karyl, Sir Raymun, perhaps I might ask you a question?
These holdfasts were under your protection.
Where were you when all this slaughtering and burning was going on?"
Sir Karyl Vance answered."I was attending my lord father in the pass below the Golden Tooth, as was Sir Marq.