About two leagues south of Winterfell, on a hill overlooking the Kingsroad, Robb and his party spotted the column from Barrowton.
There were about forty men in total, accompanied by several supply wagons. They flew the crossed axes and crown of House Dustin, but the sigil on the lead rider's armor was different.
Unlike the Northerners who favored leather or chainmail, the leader wore a suit of polished plate over a black and red wool tunic. Emblazoned on his breastplate was a small, flayed man.
"That man in the front… he wears the sigil of the Dreadfort," Jon noted with surprise.
"That should be Domeric Bolton, Lord Roose Bolton's trueborn son and heir," Robb replied, studying the approaching group. "Mother told me Lord Bolton's son is currently serving as a page to Lady Dustin."
"The Leech Lord's son?" Jon Snow shivered at the mention of Roose Bolton. He had seen the Lord of the Dreadfort when his father called the banners.
Roose Bolton had pale eyes, a pallid face, and bloodless lips. He always spoke in a whisper, yet whenever he did, everyone strained to listen. It was rumored he leeched himself regularly to purge "bad blood," earning him his unsettling nickname.
"I wonder if Domeric likes leeches too," Jon mused.
" haven't heard any rumors like that," Harwin said, holding the direwolf banner steady. "But look at the way he rides. His horsemanship is excellent."
While Robb and the others discussed Domeric, Arthur's attention was elsewhere. He was focused on the woman riding in the center of the column.
Lady Barbrey Dustin of Barrowton. In Arthur's estimation, she was one of the few lords in the North who possessed both political acumen and genuine power. Her peers in this regard were few—perhaps only Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort and Wyman Manderly of White Harbor.
Barrowton sat atop the Great Barrow of the First Men, surrounded by rolling plains and hills suitable for farming. It was one of the largest settlements in the North, second only to the winter town outside Winterfell—and unlike the winter town, which emptied out in summer, Barrowton was populated year-round.
The two parties met at the base of the hill. After the standard bearers exchanged names, the groups merged.
"Lady Dustin, I am pleased to welcome you to Winterfell. On behalf of my father, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I bid you welcome," young Robb said, reciting his prepared speech with practiced grace. "My mother has prepared bread and salt, and a welcoming feast awaits you."
Arthur followed Robb closer to Lady Dustin. She was no longer young; lines had formed around her eyes and mouth, but she sat tall and straight in her saddle.
She wore black, dignified and severe. Her hair, an equal mix of brown and grey, was pulled back into a widow's knot.
"Did Catelyn send you? Southerners always love their pageantry. You take after her in that, just like Domeric," Lady Dustin said bluntly, eyeing Robb. "Red-brown hair, blue eyes. You have the Tully look."
"Aunt Barbrey, manners are the same in the North and South," Domeric Bolton interjected, riding up beside her. He offered an apologetic look to a flustered Robb. "We've been riding for seven days from Barrowton. She's tired."
Lady Dustin huffed softly but didn't contradict Domeric. Instead, her gaze shifted to Arthur.
Domeric took the opportunity to pull Robb aside, riding shoulder-to-shoulder with him and challenging him to a race.
Arthur intended to follow Robb, but Lady Dustin called out to him.
"You are Arthur Snow? Brandon's son?" She rode her horse up to him.
"Yes, my lady," Arthur bowed slightly in the saddle. "Do you know me?"
"When Eddard Stark returned North to tell me my husband was dead and return his warhorse, I saw you. You were just a babe in swaddling clothes then, but those violet eyes are hard to forget."
A look of reminiscence crossed Lady Dustin's eyes. "Eddard Stark claimed you were Brandon's son. I doubted it at first, but since he had already publicly acknowledged one bastard, there was no need to stain his dead brother's honor with a lie."
Hearing this, Jon spurred his pony, speeding up to chase after Robb and Domeric, who were already distant specks.
"Is that his bastard?" Lady Dustin asked, her tone dripping with disdain as she watched Jon ride away. "I remember he was right next to you back then, being nursed by a farm wife."
"His name is Jon Snow. He is my cousin," Arthur corrected gently.
"He certainly looks like him. He has the Stark look," Lady Dustin said, a rare, cynical smile touching her lips. "Everyone says Eddard Stark values honor above his own life, yet he still fathered a bastard. Men… they are all the same."
"If you'll excuse me, my lady," Arthur said, urging Shadow forward. He respected his uncle Eddard deeply and had no wish to hear him maligned.
"Arthur! Do you want to be my foster son? Come to Barrow Hall!"
Arthur heard her, but he didn't look back. Shadow broke into a gallop.
---
By the time Arthur reached Winterfell, he learned that Domeric had won the race.
Surprisingly, Domeric had already become fast friends with Robb—and even Jon.
"I really envy you having so many brothers and sisters, Robb," Domeric said, his pale eyes full of longing. "I've always wanted a brother. Even a bastard brother. I would cherish him."
"You can come to Winterfell often, Domeric. We can be like brothers," Robb said happily, handing his reins to a stable boy. "How about sword practice tomorrow morning? Jon and I train every day."
"I can't come often later on. Next year, I go south to squire. My father has arranged for me to serve Lord Horton Redfort in the Vale," Domeric said with a hint of regret. "But until Lord Stark returns, I can stay here at Winterfell. I'd love to train with you."
"A squire? You're going to be a knight?" Jon asked enviously. "Like Prince Aemon the Dragonknight?"
"Becoming a knight requires anointing with holy oils and standing vigil in a sept of the Seven. We keep the Old Gods; few of us become knights," Domeric explained earnestly to Jon. "But lack of knighthood doesn't stop us from keeping our vows, being loyal to our lords, and protecting the weak."
While the boys bonded, the atmosphere between Lady Catelyn and Lady Dustin was far more strained.
After Lady Dustin's party partook of the bread and salt, she presented her guest gifts as a vassal.
The gifts included two cartloads of turnips, one of onions, one of yellow carrots, and one mixed load of beets, beans, and pumpkins.
It looked like a lot—wagon after wagon—but the total value was less than the seven casks of peach wine Arthur had brought back from the grove.
It bordered on an insult to House Stark. Yet Lady Catelyn, though privately displeased, remained the perfect hostess. She arranged comfortable quarters and food for Lady Dustin's retinue and held the welcoming feast as planned.