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The pigsties in Winter Town had been completed, ten times larger than Winterfell’s own.
Gaven, the keeper of the pigsties, crouched on the ground to help a sow give birth.
Catelyn stood watching with Rickon in her arms.
“A pigsty this large is pure waste. There are more wild boars in the wolfswood than anyone can eat, and now you build pens to raise pigs? Ned, I do not know what you are thinking.”
Ned smiled.
“My lady, so many people in Winter Town need food. Would you have me open the wolfswood and let everyone hunt? If so, very well. The wild boars will soon be slaughtered clean. Pigsties can provide food for the people.”
Of course, Ned had other uses for raising pigs, but for the moment he did not intend to share that plan with Catelyn.
Gaven had been recommended to Winterfell by the Greatjon.
He was in his fifties, bald on top, with a short beard, a round beer belly, and a kind face.
He was skilled not only in treating pigs, but also in caring for small animals such as rabbits, chickens, ducks, and geese.
The sow squealed the piglets into the world.
When Gaven carried one over, Bran and Arya’s eyes went wide.
Bran reached out to stroke it.
“How long before a piglet grows up?”
Gaven set the piglet on the ground, where it tottered away.
“Ten months or so.”
Bran was astonished.
“That fast? Piglets grow quickly.”
Gaven shrugged.
“Ten months later, they climb onto people’s tables and finish their lives.”
Arya looked upset.
“Do they have to be killed? They are so cute.”
Gaven said, “Some piglets can be kept as breeding stock when they grow, to make new piglets. But only a few.”
In the distance, men from the Rills brought in three wagons of salt.
Ned’s saltworks plan had begun to show results.
Saltworks by the sea had started sending sea salt one after another, and much of it had already been stored in Winterfell’s warehouses.
Back when the bannermen agreed to invest in Ned’s saltworks, spending coin to build seaside watchtowers and garrisons to produce salt, they had done so because Ned promised that Winterfell would buy back the salt at market price.
Vayon Poole, steward of Winterfell, counted the sacks and paid the carters in silver stags.
The carters thanked him again and again, then ran to Ned and Catelyn to offer thanks as well.
“Lord Eddard, my two sons serve as soldiers in the saltworks of the Rills. They earn wages every day. The saltworks’ profits have made our lives better and help defend against the ironborn. This is Winterfell’s grace.”
Catelyn smiled as she watched the carter leave.
Then the smile vanished. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“This salt will soon fill the warehouses. Do you plan for us to eat only salt through winter? Or do you mean to starve us to death and then pickle us?”
Ned said, “I remember that last winter, you complained salt was too expensive.”
“Yes, salt was too expensive then, and Winterfell had chests of gold dragons and silver stags. Now you spend real gold and silver buying piles of salt. It is foolish.”
Rickon began to cry, and Catelyn hurried to soothe him.
“You and that Braavosi, Kral, will bankrupt us. Winter is coming, but I fear we may starve before winter ever arrives.”
Ned said mildly, “You do not need to worry. If we haul this salt to White Harbor and sell it, we will not lose money. Everyone needs salt.”
Gaven came closer.
“My lady, Lord Eddard is right. In truth, it is not only people who need salt. Animals need salt too. Without it, the pigs in the sty will fall sick, and so will warhorses. Animal husbandry cannot do without salt.”
Catelyn looked miserable.
“If that is true, then sell it quickly. Looking at all this salt turns my stomach.” Carrying Rickon, she left.
Bran and Arya followed.
Ned turned to Gaven.
“Aside from pigs, what animals with short cycles can be raised?”
Gaven thought it over.
“Chickens are the fastest. Rabbits are good as well. A doe can produce many kits in one litter. But rabbits dig. If my lord wants to raise them, the ground must be hardened, or they will tunnel out and escape.”
“Whatever animals you raise, I advise my lord to prepare green fodder. Once winter comes and the earth freezes, there will be no leaves or grass to feed livestock and poultry. We will only watch them starve. Back when I raised pigs for House Umber, most of mine starved in winter. Starved pigs still have meat, true enough, but it is a waste.”
Ned suddenly understood.
Leaves and grass were everywhere now.
It was exactly the time to store fodder.
After returning to Winterfell, Ned called Kral to the solar.
“Kral, I plan to build pigsties, cattle pens, and most importantly stables in Winter Town. None of that can do without green fodder. I want you to arrange funding and send people to buy leaves and grass. Once collected, they should be chopped and stored in warehouses.”
Kral smiled.
“A good plan. Farmers should be pleased. When they clear land, the first thing they do is pull up grass anyway. The problem is that Winterfell’s warehouse space is growing tight. Many warehouses are full of salt.”
Ned said, “Send this salt to White Harbor and sell it first. More salt will continue coming along the kingsroad in any case. Also, tell Maester Luwin to send letters to the lords of the east coast. Their salt should go directly to White Harbor, where Lord Wyman can settle accounts. Put it on Winterfell’s books and deduct it from White Harbor’s taxes next month.”
The salt from the west coast was now enough for Ned to carry out his plan.
If salt from White Harbor, Oldcastle, Widow’s Watch, and the Dreadfort also came to Winterfell before being sent on to White Harbor, money would be wasted on transport for nothing.
Kral said, “Lord Eddard, your saltworks plan is sound, but it has a loophole. Suppose a bannerman colludes with merchants, buys cheap salt from the common market, mixes it into saltworks salt, and pockets the difference. The saltworks plan would become a bottomless pit.”
Ned considered that.
“The saltworks were built to resist the ironborn. I trust my bannermen would not maliciously mix in common salt.”
Kral gave him a sly smile.
“Lord Eddard, the saltworks lack supervision. Who knows how much salt each site truly produces? If it were me, I would use that opening. Why not earn coin where coin can be earned? Sooner or later, one of your bannermen will skim from the saltworks.”
Ned was distracted.
“I will keep watch for it.”
Kral said, “Even after we move the salt, if we store green fodder on a large scale, the warehouses will still be insufficient.”
Ned said, “Do not worry. The craftsmen have already begun building.”
The masons from the Vale sent by Jon Arryn had reached Winter Town and joined the North’s construction army. This chapter is updated first at novelping.com.
The smiths and craftsmen from King’s Landing were still on the road.
Jon Arryn had also generously sent three ships of fine stone from the Three Sisters to White Harbor, and those loads were now on their way to Winter Town.
To Ned’s delight, after a long silence, Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands had finally replied to Theon and sent ten smiths’ apprentices.
“Smiths’ apprentices are useless as teats on a boar,” Mikken had complained at the time.
Ned comforted him.
“Balon did not send old men with one foot in the grave. For that, we should be grateful. Apprentices at least may become smiths. Old men only become corpses.” Mikken angrily ordered the apprentices to make horseshoes and sickles.
A few days later, Donnel Arryn, the architect recommended by Jon Arryn, arrived with the craftsmen from King’s Landing.
Donnel was handsome, twenty-eight, with black hair and eyes like a blue lake.
He wore a brown-yellow linen shirt and a sky-blue cloak over his shoulders, embroidered with stars.
On his breast was the moon-and-falcon badge of House Arryn.
“Lord Eddard, it is an honor to serve you. I am Donnel Arryn. I worked for years as an architect across the narrow sea and had the honor of serving Valyrian-descended nobles, Tyroshi lords, and Lysene magnates, building many luxurious courtyards. The most famous brothel in Lys was designed by me.”
Ned studied him.
“You are an Arryn? What relation are you to Jon Arryn?”
Jon Arryn’s letter had not mentioned that Donnel was of House Arryn.
Had Jon recommended one of his own men to Ned?
In the letter, Jon had only said that Donnel often presented impractical plans at Robert’s court, such as widening the kingsroad, rebuilding Summerhall, and building a new city near King’s Landing.
Jon feared Robert would be tempted into exhausting the realm’s labor and wealth, which was why he had sent Donnel north.
If Ned had known Donnel was Jon Arryn’s kinsman, he would have written back to refuse him.
Donnel paused.
“The Hand and I share the name Arryn, and that is the whole connection. Lord Eddard, I am not from the Arryns of the Eyrie, but from the Arryns of Gulltown. I would be happy to claim kinship with the Lord Hand, but in truth, we are so distant we may as well be strangers.”
Only then did Ned relax.
The Arryns of Gulltown were a distant branch of the Arryns of the Eyrie.
When Ned had been fostered in the Vale under Jon Arryn, he had often heard Jon mention that one branch of their kin had settled in Gulltown.
The Gulltown Arryns had made their fortune by marrying into merchant families, but other Arryn branches in the Vale looked down on them, believing falcons lowered themselves by marrying commoners for coin.
Donnel rubbed his hands together.
“Lord Eddard, I saw Winter Town on the road. The place is bustling, and houses are rising everywhere. Do you have some grand work to give me?”
Kral leaned closer and examined Donnel.
Donnel drew a plan from his sleeve.
“Lord Eddard, I formed an initial idea on the road. If you mean to expand the town, you must build more castles. We can rely on Winterfell and raise several around it.”
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