Chapter 156

He reached the Wall he had sworn to defend five days ago, bringing Gilly and her child, and it took them three days to travel from the ancient Nightfort all the way to the Black Castle.

At this moment, he was following the order of the Black Castle's acting lord, Bowen Marsh, to carry bucket after bucket of tar and rolling logs up onto the battlements.

He thought this was the result of Ser Alliser Thorne egging him on from behind.

Jon and he had already angered this harsh and stern lord; when he returned to the Black Castle hoping to rest, he was immediately driven up onto the battlements.

Constantly going up and down the hoist ladder has made his toes sore; he worries that one or two may have fallen off his feet, and he thinks that if he took off his shoe to look, he would surely faint from fright.

That day he only brought two buckets of pitch and three logs to the top of the Wall; when the last log struck his shin, he couldn't help but sit down on the ice and snow atop the Wall and burst into tears, which enraged Ser Jemmer, who kicked and shoved him, eliciting a terrified cry that sounded utterly miserable.

Ser Jemmer is a knight from the Crownlands House Leek, like Ser Alliser Thorne; after the fall of King's Landing, Lord Tywin assigned him to the Wall. Though he isn't as spiteful as Ser Alliser, he is far from tolerant or merciful.

"Piggy girl" is the nickname Alliser gave him; Ser Jemmer calls him "maggot warrior."

Sam doesn't know which nickname is better, but undoubtedly his tone contains less mockery; Sam thinks this might be because Jon once saved his life during a wight attack.

They found the corpse of ranger Jafer Flowers under the weirwood in the haunted forest and brought it back to the Black Castle, never expecting the body to turn into a wight, which then began killing while the brothers slept.

This reminded him of the tale of the mad axe of the Nightfort; perhaps in a few years Jafer Flowers will become a ghost story of the Black Castle. He has prepared to record his deeds to warn future brothers of the Night's Watch—if the war ends and he can return to serve as steward under Maester Aemon.

When the wight roused the entire Black Castle, Ser Jemmer had already hacked off its head with his sword, but the wight did not stop; according to Grenn, at that point Ser Jemmer had gone completely stiff, his sword frozen in his hand like a stake, until Jon plunged his Valyrian steel sword Longclaw into the wight's chest, after which it finally ceased moving and fell to the ground.

That was Sam's first sight of a wight; it looked no different from a normal corpse. Later, however, cook Hobbs told him that burning a wight as firewood is quite convenient, but he regretted that using a wight for fuel makes the food utterly inedible, leaving a lingering burnt stench; even he himself smelled of it, and for over a week the dogs of the Black Castle refused to come near the kitchen.

Since then Ser Jemmer's attitude toward Jon has changed, but Sam sometimes feels that Ser Jemmer deliberately avoids meeting Jon, for a proud knight like him finds it hard to acknowledge a life‑saving debt.

And after Jon's uncle's uncle Benjen Stark went missing, Ser Jemmer became the new First Ranger of the Night's Watch, and he seems to have adopted Benjen's demeanor, deliberately keeping his distance from Jon.

He now oversees the defense of the top of the Wall—once Ser Alliser Thorne sealed the gate with timber, stone, and ice, the top of the Wall became the main battlefield.

"Logs are more deadly than pitch, maggot warrior—I still need at least two hundred of these logs." He said to him. Sam thought that if he sent up just one more, his life would surely be lost on the battlements; but if he really sent two hundred logs up onto the Wall and the knight then sent the logs back down, the King‑beyond‑the‑Wall could use them to build a siege tower as high as the Wall.

Two hundred logs.

This is terribly unfair. He and Gilly have suffered greatly to escape from beyond the Wall; had he known, he would have stayed at the Nightfort, where the rats are fat but unlikely to bite or kick like Ser Jemmer.

"Southern lad, do you want to kill this fat one?" said an old man in faded fur beside him. Though Sam was still sniffling, he heard the old man clearly: "The wind up here is decent; if you throw him over the edge, maybe he'll blow into Mance Rayder's big camp and crush some wildlings, and if luck is on your side, maybe even a few giants." Sam stopped his terrified sobbing, perhaps thinking Ser Jemmer would like that idea.

Although the wind is strong, blowing him to the wildlings' camp is impossible, he thought, unless the Wall were twice as high.

The speaking old man is a warrior of the mountain clan Norrey from the North, come to reinforce the Wall; without them, the Black Castle might already have been overrun by southern wildlings, and they wouldn't be standing on the Wall defending against them now. He doesn't know whether to thank them or hate them.

Better to thank them.

Ser Jemmer narrowed his eyes and stared at the old Norrey warrior, saying nothing.

"Let me tell you, this is the proper use for a fat man," the old man said, pulling his cloak tight as the howling hunt‑wind atop the Wall tossed his hair into disarray; his deep wrinkles made him look grim and unsentimental. Sam felt that if this man were commander, he might already have been tossed over the edge. "Our men strain to work the hoist; hauling a big fat man up to the top of the Wall once is enough—unless you're trying to prove to us that the Night's Watch are nothing but crying toys."

One hundred clansmen came to defend the Black Castle, and nearly half have already died, yet since Sam arrived he hasn't seen them shed a single tear; perhaps these mountain clansmen have hearts of stone.

They are the reinforcements Jon requested.

"The Wall is mine," Ser Jemmer said. "I have the right to decide how to deploy the Night's Watch brothers; you'd better remember that."

That remark clearly angered the Norrey elder, who stepped two paces toward Ser Jemmer; the two Night's Watch brothers behind him hesitated, then also moved forward to guard his back.

"Ah, the Wall is yours, I recall—not only that, I remember how badly you've done," Sam knew he was referring to Ser Alliser Thorne's order to seal the gate. "You'd better remember: if you do poorly, we can also throw you over the edge, southern lad—don't think wearing black makes you untouchable. We come representing the mountain clans, the Norreys, and Winterfell." He brushed past Ser Jemmer's shoulder, shoving the Night's Watch brothers aside one by one, then stopped: "We've slain many derelict Watchmen; whether they are lords or knights, dereliction gets the same fate." The Norrey soldiers behind him, much like him, passed in turn, then stepped over Sam's thick legs, entered the hoist, and rang the bell.

"Fatty," the old Norrey soldier called out; after a moment Sam realized it was aimed at him, he wanted to reply but didn't know how. "Fatty" is at least better than "pig" or "maggot," he thought. He dried his nonexistent tears and looked at them.

The tears had already frozen on his face.

"When I was little, my mother told me, if you feel like crying, you should wipe the tears away quickly, otherwise they'll freeze on your face and the White Walkers will think you're one of them and take you home."

That ridiculous threat nearly stunned him; he hastily wiped the frozen tears from his cheeks.

"Are you coming down with us? I don't want to make the soldiers go through the trouble again."

He quickly rose to his feet, but a sharp pain shot through his foot, nearly making him topple. As he stepped one foot into the hoist, the cage lurched violently, he almost fell, a nearby soldier grabbed him and pulled him into the hoist; he lost his balance and slumped into the cage, utterly miserable.

He struggled to rise, feeling embarrassed, but the cold wind had already flushed his cheeks red, so no one could tell.

He had already embarrassed himself enough.

The descent of the hoist filled him with fear, but now, surrounded by the clansmen, he felt no longer tense.

The clansmen stood silent; he only heard the wind whistling through the hoist's gaps, producing mournful wails.

He felt a pang of regret, recalling that just moments ago, when he descended from the top of the Wall with the clansmen, he had responded to the Norrey soldiers' invitation without first seeking Ser Jemmer's permission.

Perhaps Ser Jemmer will take this as disrespect and, the next time they meet, call him an even uglier nickname.

According to his station he is still a steward, and theoretically he does not have to accept Ser Jemmer's command as First Ranger; realizing this, he breathed a sigh of relief—being not a ranger also has its advantages.

Nobody really cares about a coward, right? Especially not a true knight.

"There's talk that you killed a 'White Walker'; is that true or false?" the Norrey elder finally spoke, breaking the hoist's silence. "You can call me Hodding; I've lived longer than you, but I've never seen a White Walker or a wight." He wished he hadn't added the next sentence: "The mountain folk are wild, and sometimes their dreams are wild too, but I could never imagine that a coward like you would not only have seen White Walkers and wights, but have killed them as well. How did you manage that?"

Since he returned to the Black Castle two days ago, he has answered this question countless times.

"With a dragonglass dagger..." he repeated his claim; killing a White Walker felt like a dream to him—did he really do it? If Grenn hadn't also witnessed it, he himself wouldn't believe it.

"Dragonglass?" Hodding of the Norreys asked in a rough voice, unsure whether he was repeating Sam's words or questioning him, but Sam thought it best to explain: "Yes, it was Jon—no, it was Jon's direwolf White Heart that found the dragonglass at the Fist of the First Men; I think without dragonglass I wouldn't have made it back alive… little Paul was killed by a White Walker wielding an ice sword." It seemed like something from a thousand years ago.

"Are you Jon's friend?" Hodding asked.

"Of course." He smiled and began to tell his story.

When the story ended, they had already stepped out of the hoist. Below the Wall it was still icy, but the wind had died down considerably.

"Jon Snow is seeking allies in the mountains and will march out of the Wall to fight the wildlings." His gaze was like a knife, cutting into Sam's pain, colder even than Lord Commander Mormont's, and it left Sam never knowing what he might say next; Sam felt miserable, as he had never been accustomed to dealing with such men. "But the Black Castle's gate has been sealed by that coward, Ser Alliser Thorne; if Jon chooses to lead a great host out from the Black Castle… he will lose his chance, whereas if he takes the Shadow Tower, when Jon leads the relief army to attack the wildlings, we can only stand on the wall and watch." He fixed his icy stare on Sam, "Either we watch him be slain by the wildlings, or we watch him let hordes of them pass, then wait for the wounded soldiers to freeze to death in the wilderness beyond the Wall." He looked at Sam again, "If what you say is true, they might yet rise again and attack the living soldiers."

Sam stared, dumbfounded.

This is indeed a problem, but he felt the acting castellan of the Black Castle was not out of line…

Their primary duty is to defend, and he wasn't sure reinforcements would arrive then; now it's too late to regret.

"I think…" he didn't know how to finish; he was merely a cowardly steward, and nobody wanted to hear a coward's opinion.

"Samwell Tarly, when our mountain clans hunt, we always station someone to block the routes we don't want the game to escape; the trail is wide enough that just a few men can 'shut down' their escape—do you know why?" His whitish beard and tangled, thick hair hung over his rough fur cloak, making him look no tidier than the wildlings beyond the Wall.

Sam knew the question didn't require an answer, and sure enough, "It's a bluff. It works on dumb beasts; we shout along the way, and the animals won't go that direction." He fixed his gaze on Sam, "Ser Alliser has sealed the gate, although Mance Rayder is still digging a tunnel, but he'd need months to break through."

You mean…?

He nodded.

"Mansleide is putting on a show of strength; his target is not the Black Castle." He looked at Shanmu, then suddenly brought up another matter, which made Shanmu feel extremely uncomfortable: "My brother is blind, but he's not much older than me, yet he's also a skilled hunter. He relies solely on sound to traverse mountains and ridges, and we always bring him along when we set out." He seemed to be waiting for Shanmu's expression, so Shanmu put on a curious look. He nodded and said, "Because his ears can hear sounds we cannot—my mother always tells us that everyone has strengths and weaknesses. I know this is mostly to comfort my brother, and also to urge me to respect him more—her words are always right."

"What does that mean? Shanmu was a bit confused; he thought that the mountain clanspeople, being savage, were all straightforward in character, but he was obviously completely wrong—at least Huoding's curvature was enough to be tortuous."

"Qiongen is a bastard, which is a shortcoming, but perhaps also because of this—I can tell—he has become very cautious and sensitive, appearing able to judge people..."

"He is my friend; if you have anything to say, you can tell me directly."

"You are so cowardly, timid, and prone to tears, but since you are his friend, I believe you must have some other outstanding quality—your body is sufficiently plump, and even a slight movement causes hand and foot pain; you are completely unsuitable for rolling logs or pouring pitch, which is a shortcoming. If my mother's words are correct, I would rather believe that your mind is sharp." He finally stated his purpose: "So, I have some questions for you to answer: If Mansleide does not choose to attack the Black Castle, where will he choose to attack instead? And how can we let Qiongen know this news? Moreover, Qiongen promised the Nuoruì Earl that Winter City would definitely send troops to aid the Great Wall, but the passage to the Black Castle has been sealed off by Maersi; where should they stay, or where should they help Qiongen?"

He didn't realize that being able to ask these questions already showed considerable wisdom; he fell far short, let alone answering such questions.

"I... I don't know." He said honestly, lowering his head in shame, "I can recommend you to Master Yimeng; he is the most learned and wise person in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Learning is useless." He stared at Shanmu, which made him feel strange, "The one who killed the Others was not Master Yimeng." Shanmu heard him say, "If the Old Gods haven't heard your prayers, how could they help you escape the siege of the corpse ghosts? How could they let you hold... hold the dragon glass to kill the Others? You even believe in the Seven Gods!"

His last remark made Shanmu feel that he wasn't so wise after all.