Although Ser Gregor Clegane was not of noble birth, this was his first marriage.
There were no bright lanterns or festive red banners decorating the place, no joyous symbols hung anywhere.
No church, no priest chanting hymns.
The whole town was far from celebrating.
Just like at their engagement, Jeyne's mother wasn't invited. When Jeyne and Gregor returned to Casterly Rock, there would be a private family ceremony.
This was an age of merchants with little standing. Farmers, artisans, and traders were lowborn, while soldiers and nobles commanded respect and status.
Common folk? They were the lowest of the low.
This was a time when a nobleman walking down the street could see a common woman with some beauty and treat her like livestock, his guards standing by, swords drawn, ensuring their lord's "pleasures" went uninterrupted.
Gregor was one of the worst of their kind. His infamous cruelty on the border was enough to calm a crying infant. Women living near the borders of the Westerlands, the Riverlands, and the Bay would smear themselves in soot and dirt whenever the Mountain and his men patrolled, to make themselves look hideous and avoid his attention.
The wedding feast was hosted by Lord Tywin, running from noon well into the night.
Dozens of cooks took turns tending the endless array of pots and pans.
Hundreds of servants weaved through the tables, carrying barrels of wine, plates of bread, and bowls of bacon soup. Empty dishes were cleared away and replaced by fresh platters loaded with food.
Knives, forks, and chopsticks were all in use.
Thanks to Lord Tywin's promotion of chopsticks, most nobles and knights politely stuck to them. After all, every lord had servants to cut their food, there was no need for them to do it themselves.
If the servants in Casterly Rock were unskilled, the knights simply used their own personal attendants.
Every knight had a close retainer.
Everything was handled by others, so chopsticks posed no problem.
While Tywin's eldest son Jaime, eldest daughter Cersei, and youngest son Tyrion were attending a lively banquet at Winterfell in the North, this wedding feast in Casterly Rock was equally bustling and boisterous.
Many knights and lords had already drunk themselves into stupors and had to be carried off.
There were several brawls sparked by drunken toasts, but none of these troublemakers escaped Tywin's chief trainer, Bronn, who, along with his guards, promptly subdued every last one. Those who resisted were beaten severely and tossed into the stinking gutters.
Amidst the laughter, the disgruntled knights would sober up in the foul water, helped to their feet by servants, and slink off to the inns to change and wash themselves.
Gregor and Lady Jeyne sat together.
As night fell, the noisy gong signaling the start of the wedding ruckus sounded. A band of musicians, hired for the occasion, played lively bawdy tunes from the second-floor gallery. Scores of lords and ladies split into two groups, storming the grand hall from the open-air feast outside.
Lord Tywin sat silently at the head of the long table, his face as cold as ice, flanked by his attendants.
He was always like this. Even on a day meant for celebration, his stern countenance was never softened. People drank deeply and ignored the Lord's grim expression.
Gregor had been through this kind of wedding ruckus many times before.
The groom would be stripped bare and groped by the noblewomen, who, amid their laughter, would push, drag, slap, touch, and grope him all the way into the bridal chamber.
The bride suffered the same fate.
These knights and lords were all graduates of the "beastly academy." Lady Jeyne's fair, delicate skin would not remain unmarked after her first transformation into a married woman.
Countless hands would roam over her entire body.
This was the local wedding custom.
The wilder the ruckus, the happier the marriage was supposed to be.
Without a doubt, this was a primitive and barbaric tradition. But it was beloved by men and women alike, and it was the liveliest part of the ceremony: the "wedding ruckus!"
In reality, it often left the bride and groom bruised and battered, especially the delicate flower that was the bride. No matter if you were a great lord or a lowly knight, men were nothing but animals with ill intentions.
Once inside the bridal chamber, the guests would not leave. They would continue the ruckus, pressing the bride and groom together, marking the true peak of the wedding riot.
Jeyne looked pale with fright as the crowd surged toward her like a tide. In just a heartbeat, her silk robes would be torn to shreds, and except for her frantic hands protecting her chest, she had no other way to defend herself.
This was a festival where men and women released their raw, primal urges, a nightmare for every bride and groom.
The stout matrons led the charge among the women; among the men, it was the Serrett brothers, with Ser Ado Serrett, no stranger to punishment from the Mountain, leading the pack.
This was a day when even the Seven Gods allowed men to go wild with the bride, and when scheming young lords took their chance for revenge by taking liberties. For example, Ado Serrett, who was intent on making Jeyne his mistress, would use the chaos to do whatever he pleased with her.
Gregor Clegane whispered reassuringly to the pale-faced Jeyne, "Don't be afraid. I'm here."
He stood, grasped the table in front of him with both hands, and pushed it gently toward the laughing, mad mob of women. The tidal wave crashed into this immovable rock and was stopped cold.
Dozens of women tumbled down; those behind them pressed forward, jostling and shouting, some yelling in pain, others telling people to watch their steps, and some cursing each other. Gregor laughed heartily at the chaos.
On the other side, the Serrett brothers and their family knights, along with more than twenty men from the Silverhill, surged forward like a pack of wolves ready to tear apart a helpless lamb.
Gregor gently lifted Jeyne in one arm, like a father holding a child. He stepped back, then forward again, and with a single precise kick struck Ado Serrett's chest.
Ado was slammed backward by an irresistible force. His ribs cracked as he hit the ground hard, taking down a large group of knights behind him. The incoming wave of lords and family knights collided with Ado's men, halting their advance.
"Don't be afraid. Stay right here." Gregor said softly to Jeyne.
He put her down, strode forward, and with a single punch knockout Ser Lyle Crakehall, nicknamed "Strongboar" Then he grabbed a fierce knight and hurled him toward the doorway. With a loud crash, the knight flew through the air and landed in the crowd, knocking down the advancing lords.
(End of chapter)
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