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Ned stood on the walls of Winterfell with Jon, Theon, and Robb, watching the crowds moving along the kingsroad.
Wagons and oxcarts stretched on and on, vanishing toward the horizon.
Once Winterfell’s horsemen and ravens carried the news, it set off a stir among the people of the North.
They came from every direction, gathering toward Winterfell.
They came from Deepwood Motte in the west, from the northern mountain clans, Last Hearth, and Karhold.
They came from the Rills and Barrowton in the south, from villages beyond White Harbor, from Oldcastle, Flint’s Finger, Widow’s Watch, and the Dreadfort.
They drove cattle and sheep, hauled carts packed with grain and household goods, and brought their families toward Winter Town below Winterfell, just as countless northerners had done in countless winters over thousands of years.
The difference was that it was still summer.
Robb frowned.
“Father, I don’t understand. At first, when you invited the people of the North to settle in Winter Town, no one came. Why are there so many now?”
Before Ned could answer, Theon cut in.
“Lord Eddard put each house and acre of land at one hundred copper pennies. You can barely buy a piglet for that. These farmers saw a bargain. Add the chance to hunt legally near Winterfell, and of course they came.”
Ned smiled.
“You have part of it, Theon. Do you know the deeper reason?”
Theon shook his head.
Jon said, “I know, my lord.”
Ned looked to him.
“People say bastards learn to read faces and see what others miss. Tell me, Jon. Why have these people gathered at Winterfell?”
Jon’s voice was cold and certain.
“Fear of winter.”
That was the root of it.
Lord Eddard had put out word that once the houses in Winter Town were sold, no more northerners would be accepted there when winter came.
That frightened them.
Summer had already lasted six years, but even the longest summer burned down eventually.
The old men and women of the North knew what winter could do.
Some winters lasted ten years.
Hunger and cold could drag northerners into a frozen hell, and when that happened, Winter Town was their one hope.
When Ned invited them to settle there, some had waited and others had no intention of coming at all.
But once they heard Winterfell was selling the houses cheaply, and that no shelter would remain after the houses were gone, fear of winter set the tide moving toward Winter Town.
Outside Winterfell, a tent had been raised.
Vayon Poole, the steward, handled the sale of the houses there.
For one hundred copper pennies, a family received a house and an acre of land.
The line stretched long.
Jory Cassel, captain of Winterfell’s guard, led a detachment of horsemen and spearmen through the crowd to keep order.
Farlen, the master of hounds, watched from a distance with his dogs.
The settlers’ wagons and oxcarts were loaded with goods.
Ned saw a white-bearded old man whose cart was stacked with wine.
A woman’s wagon was crowded with goats.
A boy’s oxcart carried cages of chickens, ducks, geese, and rabbits.
On a butcher’s wagon lay sides of pork.
Arya was talking with the butcher’s younger brother, Bran trailing at her heels.
Sansa, Jeyne Poole, and little Beth Cassel moved through the crowd with bright smiles on their faces.
When Lord Eddard appeared among the people, a ripple passed through them at once.
Men and women dropped to one knee before him.
A broad old man with silver hair came to stand before Ned.
“Lord Eddard, my name is Carlon. I am a blacksmith. I worked in a smithy at White Harbor for decades, and I once had the honor of serving Lord Karstark at Karhold.”
“But every winter, I bring my family to Winter Town. I was born here. My three sons and my six grandsons were born here. This place is home. I will never forget the kindness House Stark showed us by taking us in through the cold. Living here in summer, though, that is a first for me.”
Ned smiled.
“Then settle here for good, Carlon. We will face winter together. If you are willing, you may also work at Winterfell. I have one blacksmith, Mikken, but I need more.”
Carlon nodded.
“It would be my honor to serve Lord Eddard. My sons and grandsons are smiths or smith’s apprentices.”
Winter Town’s population was growing by the day.
Its old mills, smithies, and inns could no longer meet the needs of so many people.
Ned was already planning to establish new forges in the town, and for that he needed blacksmiths like Carlon.
Ten days later, every house in Winter Town had been sold.
Nearly twenty thousand people had poured into it.
That night, Ned stood in the castle study and looked out through the window.
Every house in Winter Town glittered with candlelight and torchflame.
Vayon Poole set a thick ledger on the desk.
“My lord, this is the registry of every resident. Every house in Winter Town has been sold. With the house payments and taxes together, we have taken in 286,600 copper pennies. Winter Town is full, but many people still received no house. Some are asking to live in the castle.”
Jory Cassel said, “My lord, Winter Town is packed beyond reason. Keeping order is already difficult. If the castle takes in so many outsiders too, my guards will not be enough. I think we should send these people back the way they came.”
“No,” Ned said at once.
“They brought their families here across hundreds of miles. How can I send them away? If the guards are too few, recruit more from the townsfolk.”
He turned to Vayon Poole.
“Vayon, arrange for them to stay in the castle. The abandoned First Keep can be used. Clear out the rats and cobwebs, and it will do.”
Maester Luwin looked startled.
“Lord Eddard, did you not say that once Winter Town was full, you would accept no more people?”
Ned had indeed let that rumor spread.
It had only been a strategy to force the people of the North to settle in Winter Town, but honest Luwin had believed it.
Ned sighed.
“That is true. But I am a softhearted man. I cannot turn away my own people.”
Vayon Poole’s expression tightened.
“My lord, Winterfell has many empty places, yes, but more people are still coming down the kingsroad. If we try to accept every northerner, the castle’s stores will be gone before winter even arrives.”
Ned smiled.
“Do not be too grim. These people brought food with them, and it is not winter yet. They will not sit idle and eat us bare. The land outside Winterfell will soon be cleared and planted. Manors will rise one after another. With labor in hand, our granaries will only grow fuller.”
“Perhaps.” Vayon plainly did not believe it.
“I can manage what is before me, but if too many more arrive, I will have nowhere to put them.”
Ned looked out at the lights of Winter Town, a flicker of triumph in his eyes.
“Then take the tents from the storehouses and raise them outside the walls. Build temporary camps. We will be expanding the town soon enough, and when we do, there will be more houses for those who arrive after.”
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