"Ned? I know you're busy preparing for your trip to King's Landing, but I have a question," I told him later that afternoon while he was working in his solar "But it might be a bit inappropriate."
"Hmm. Well, ask me anyway," Ned told me, most of his attention on the parchment in front of him.
"Would it be alright if I explored the crypts?"
Ned looked up from whatever he was reading, looking startled. "Why?" He asked, half confused and half wary.
"I believe the hot springs that warm the walls and buildings in Winterfell are somewhere in or under the crypts," I told him. "Maester Luwin and I found a reference to it on an old map of the castle."
Ned leaned back in his chair, frowning. "The springs are at the very bottom of the crypt, Cat," Ned replied with a shake of his head. "It's not exactly a secret."
"Oh." I felt more than a little embarrassed; I'd spent most of the morning combing through old books and scrolls, only to find out that Ned had known where they were all along.
"What do you want with them anyway?" he asked.
"I was thinking about building a bathhouse," I told him. "Warm water from the hot springs could be piped up into the baths so that a hot bath is available at any time of the day or night."
"I see," he nodded thoughtfully. "If all you want is the hot water, you don't need to go all the way to the bottom of the crypts," he replied, shaking his head. "The spring drains into the moat from the Bell Tower."
I blinked. "It… does?"
"Of course," he said, looking at me strangely. "It's a spring, Cat. If we didn't drain it off, it would have flooded the crypts ages ago. For that matter, the pond in the Godswood is fed by a cold spring. The excess from that also drains into the moat."
"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense," I nodded, feeling rather dumb. "But… before it drained into the moat, where did the hot springs use to drain?"
"As I was told, during the days of the Kings of Winter, the hot springs used to drain out of the mouth of a cave perhaps a mile to the southwest of Winterfell," he replied. "But in one of the many wars against the Red Kings, the Boltons used the cave to get into the castle during a siege, killing many of the guards and a portion of the Stark family. After that, the passage from the crypts to the cave was sealed up with a thick wall of stone and mortar, and a new pipe was built to ferry the water to the moat. It emerges in the underground levels of the Bell Tower and drains into the moat from there."
"I see," I murmured. The story was a fascinating one; my inner historian was dancing in delight over the telling of it. Still, I had some practical matters to attend to. "In that case, I would like to build a bathhouse. There should be enough room between the Bell Tower and the Library Tower to make one of a decent size, I think…"
"Hmm. That's over near the stables and the kennels," Ned mused. "Having a bathhouse near there would make washing up from a hunt or a ride quite convenient. And visitors might enjoy it as well."
I grinned at him. "In that case, do I have your permission to start building it?"
"Of course," he nodded. "Go ahead."
"Also…" I added but hesitated.
"Go on, Cat," Ned sighed, a long-suffering but indulgent smile on his face.
"Assuming there's enough excess water flow, I was thinking I could pipe some of it down to a second bathhouse in Winter Town. A public one, for the smallfolk and the merchants," I told him. "We could charge a penny or two, and perhaps sell some of my soaps. The revenue could pay the wages for the bath attendants…"
Ned chuckled and shook his head with an amused and exasperated smile. "Go ahead," he said with a mild chuckle.
"Thank you, Ned," I beamed at him. "I'll get started right away!"
"I'll look forward to seeing it when I get back!" he called out as I scurried from his solar.
When Ned had approached the Red Keep, the guards were at least courteous enough to see him and his guards to a waiting room just inside the gates. It wasn't the sort of reception Ned had expected, though; he'd sent a raven a moon's turn ago to let Robert know he was coming and had sent a message by courier the moment his ship had docked. Instead of being greeted by the King and his family, instead, he was shown to a room like a common supplicant! The disregard further stoked Ned's cool anger.
Eventually, someone finally came for him, only it wasn't who Ned had been expecting.
"Lord Stark" Jon Arryn greeted his old ward as he stepped into the room. The older man was as stern-faced and serious as ever, though with more gray hairs and wrinkles than the last time Ned had seen him. "Welcome to the Red Keep."
"Thank you, Lord Hand," Ned replied, keeping to the formalities. "I've come to seek an audience with the King."
"I'm afraid the King is… indisposed at the moment," Jon replied. "I will have a servant show you and your men to guest quarters."
"Robert is too busy to come to greet his old friend?" Ned asked, one eyebrow raised.
"The King has… lost track of time," Jon carefully replied.
"And the Queen?"
"The Queen has informed me that she has other duties to attend to, and regrets that she couldn't be here to greet you."
'Neither the King nor the Queen bothers to meet with the Warden of the North?' Ned thought with growing anger. 'Worse, neither my friend nor his wife so much as shown their faces?'
"I see," Ned cooly replied. "Very well, show me to my quarters."
The next day, some time after midday, Ned was finally informed that the King would receive him. He was led to a sitting room that overlooked one of the training yards in the Red Keep. There, Ned found a man who had gone to seed, had more fat than muscle, an unkempt beard, and a few dark wine stains on his black and yellow tunic.
"Ned!" Robert called, a boyish grin only partially hidden behind his beard. "Decided to come south for a time, eh? Got tired of freezing your balls off up North?"
"Under different circumstances, I'd still be in Winterfell with my wife and children," Ned replied. "But recent events have pushed me to come to King's Landing."
"Oh, forget about all of that, Ned," Robert waved his concerns away. "You've come a long way; sit down and have a drink with me!"
"I'm afraid I have to talk business with you first, your Grace."
Robert scowled and set his goblet down. "Fine, fine, we'll get the boring stuff out of the way. Out with it, then."
"I wanted to talk to you about the tariffs you've levied on the North."
"Oh, that?" Robert waved his hand as if dismissing the whole thing. "A bit of copper counting the Small Council insisted on. With how much money your wife has been making for you, I'm sure you can afford it."
"Your Grace…" Ned began, his anger bubbling up, but he paused, collected himself, and tried again. "Your Grace, do you even know how much the tariff was for?"
"Enough to keep me in wine and women," Robert flippantly replied. "The Master of Coin set it all up. Didn't work well enough, though! The copper counters are still clucking over taxes, spending, tariffs, and the Gods know what else. It's enough to drive a man mad!"
"Robert… Your Grace," Ned began again. "The tariff demands seven parts in twenty on the price of cloth."
Robert looked at him blankly. "So?"
Ned scowled. "We would have to nearly double the price we sell the cloth for in order to make a profit, Your Grace. At such exorbitant prices, no one would buy our cloth over whatever the local smallfolk could make! This tariff could ruin the North!"
"Aren't you selling iron now?" Robert asked, looking both confused and dismissive. "Who needs to sell cloth when you're selling iron!? Besides, your wife's skin cream sells faster than the merchants can ship it in. So what if your cloth isn't selling? You're still making coin!"
"My vassals aren't making iron or skin cream, though," Ned replied. "Their income would disappear! They would be up in arms if I just took this lying down!"
"They're your vassals, Ned!" Robert replied, growing irritated. "They'll do as you command or face the King's justice!"