Lord Eddard's gray eyes moved slightly, and he looked sharply at Pycelle.
"I heard that you drove away Bachelor Maester Colemon?"
Pycelle nodded solemnly and said, "I treat Maester Colemon as my own son, and I have absolute confidence in his abilities, but he is still too young. Young people often cannot understand how weak the elderly are. Hand Jon Arryn's body cannot withstand bold treatment.
I couldn't watch Maester Colemon make mistakes, so I had to send him away and let me take over personally. At the time, I thought this was the best choice, but judging from the result, we still lost our respected Hand Jon Arryn... Maybe I did something wrong, and Lady Lysa will never forgive me."
After finishing speaking, Pycelle had a look of self-blame on his face.
Lord Eddard is not good at comforting people, so he directly changed the topic.
"Did Jon say anything when he was critically ill?"
Pycelle suppressed the sadness on his face, he frowned and thought for a while, and said, "Hand Jon Arryn shouted Robert many times when he was dying of high fever. I'm not sure whether he was calling his youngest son or His Majesty the King."
Lord Eddard sighed secretly and asked, "Grand Maester Pycelle, Hand Jon Arryn don't have any last words?"
"Seeing that Hand Jon Arryn had no hope of recovery, I gave him Milk of the Poppy to drink so that he would no longer suffer."
Pycelle continued slowly, "Hand Jon Arryn said some words of prayer for his young son to Lady Lysa and His Majesty the King. Finally, he said something about his strong character, and then his words were unclear..."
Lord Eddard frowned. "Stronger by nature?"
Pycelle nodded. "Yes, Lord Eddard. Everyone present heard it, but we were not too surprised. Hand Jon Arryn was already unconscious at the time."
After a moment of silence, Lord Eddard asked, "Grand Maester Pycelle, do you think there is anything suspicious about Hand Jon Arryn's death?"
Pycelle's body froze for a moment, he shook his head and said, "No, I don't think there is anything suspicious. Lord Eddard, death is certainly sad, but on the other hand, it is also the most natural thing."
Lord Eddard stared at Pycelle's face and said in a deep voice, "Northerners are not very good at being tactful. Let me tell you directly. What I mean is, has Hand Jon Arryn been poisoned?"
Pycelle's sleepy eyes suddenly opened wide, and he said, "Lord Eddard, poisoning is so disgusting, your speculation makes people shudder. We are in Westeros, not Free Cities. Only there, poisoning is as commonplace as daily life."
After a pause, he continued, "With all due respect, I have to say that your guess is baseless, because any country scholar can see the common symptoms of poisoning, but Hand Jon Arryn does not have any similar signs. Moreover, everyone loves Hand Jon Arryn, how could any beast dare to poison such a noble person?"
Free Cities...Lord Eddard's pupils shrank, and he felt that Pycelle seemed to be hinting at something.
Lord Eddard felt that talking to these people was really tiring. He wanted to directly mention the person in front of him and ask directly what he meant, but this was not the North. He warned himself to endure it and not to offend others just for the sake of pleasure.
And would a cunning person tell him the truth happily? Lord Eddard felt that it was more likely to be another vague hint or a lie with a purpose.
Thinking of the secret letter sent by Lysa, Lord Eddard seemed to say casually, "Grand Maester Pycelle, thank you for your answer, but I heard that poison is a woman's weapon."
Pycelle pinched the white beard flowing down to his chest and said in deep thought, "There is such a saying, including women, cowards... and eunuchs..."
He seemed to have remembered something important, lowered his voice and continued, "Did you know that Master of Whisperers Varys was originally the slave of Free Cities? Lord Eddard, you must not trust him."
At this time, the strange cry of the messenger crow came from above their heads.
So, is Pycelle's previous hint to tell him not to trust Varys? In fact, Pycelle doesn't need to remind him of this at all, because Varys has the ability to make his skin crawl all over, and Lord Eddard will instinctively be wary of him.
Pycelle's eyes moved to the roof, and he sighed, "It was me who informed Winterfell of the death of Hand Jon Arryn. I have never sent out a messenger crow with such a heavy heart in my life."
Lord Eddard murmured, "Black wings bring black news."
Pycelle retracted his gaze and said, "There is such a saying, but it is not entirely true. We know that black birds can also bring good news of joy."
"Grand Maester Pycelle, you are right."
Lord Eddard stood up from the chair, a polite smile appeared on his serious face, "I have taken up too much of your time, thank you for your help."
Pycelle stood up tremblingly, caressed his chest and said, "I hope I can help you...Lord Eddard, it is my great honor to serve you."
When Pycelle arrived at the door, Lord Eddard said as if he suddenly remembered something, "Grand Maester Pycelle, please forgive me, I have one last question."
Pycelle paused and looked at Lord Eddard with turbid eyes.
"When Hand Jon Arryn was critically ill, I wonder if Cersei Queen was there?"
Pycelle shook his head slightly and replied helplessly, "Our Queen has never shown her face. Everyone knows that she doesn't like Hand Jon Arryn. Even King Robert cannot force Lannister Queen to do something she doesn't want to do."
In addition to Tower of the Hand, Gryn's sword easily blocked the sword struck by Jon·Snow. He tilted his head and said, "Mr. Jon, haven't you had enough to eat? Or..."
Gryn pushed his sword, and Jon took several steps back before regaining his balance.
Gryn grabbed the hilt of the sword, the sword standing at his side, and asked doubtfully, "Actually, you are a lady?"
Arya·Stark, who was watching the excitement, shouted loudly, "Lord Gryn, don't underestimate girls!"
Gryn smiled, and he raised his voice to Arya: "Sorry, Ms. Arya!"
Arya raised his chin and shouted at Jon, "Brother, beat Lord Gryn down!"
Didn't this little girl say a few days ago that we were good friends... Well, fickleness is the power of children.
Gryn was not angry at all, he continued to mock Jon who was a little unsteady on his feet.
"Jon, do you want to eat something first?"
Jon was wearing a gray robe, a leather vest and chainmail. He was sweating profusely inside. He was panting and holding the sword tightly with both hands.
Why is he so strong? Jon has always been proud of his sword skills, but now he is a little doubtful whether those people at Winterfell wanted to do it on purpose.
He fell down three times in a row with almost no ability to resist, and Jon had to doubt his life.
Jon looked embarrassed and forced a smile towards Arya who was jumping up and down and shouting hard.
He exhaled slowly, and his eyes became sharp again, staring closely at the opponent not far away.
Gryn lifted the sword and held it with one hand, assuming a fighting posture.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Jon After raising his sword to block three swords, he staggered first, then his center of gravity became unstable and he fell hard to the ground.
Gryn put away his sword, walked closer, and stretched out his hand towards Jon who was stunned.
The hand that appeared in front of him brought Jon back to his senses. He looked up at the gentle-faced Gryn, hesitated for a moment, then reached out to grab it and used his strength to get up.
Jon calmed down his breath, nodded slightly and said, "Sir, thank you."
Gryn patted Jon's arm, raised his feet and walked to another place, where he spotted Lord Eddard's figure.
Jon took the water glass from Mutton and said angrily, "Mutton, please calm down the expression on your face. I know my performance is terrible."
Mutton said naively, "Jon, don't be discouraged. Lord Gryn defeated 100 swordsmen in Highgarden before. He is too strong."
Jon sighed helplessly, he was not comforted at all.
Southerners are inherently weak. People in Winterfell say that one northerner can defeat ten southerners.
But being able to defeat 100 people is very strong. Thinking about it carefully, Jon feels a little comforted by Mutton.
Tower of the Hand study room.
Lord Eddard leaned on the back of the chair and put his feet directly on the table.
Gryn also leaned on the back of the chair. He smiled and said, "Lord Eddard, it seems that the harvest there Pycelle did not satisfy you."
"Gryn, call me Ned."
Lord Eddard's tone was filled with anger. "It's exhausting to talk to them. I can't even tell if it's a lie or not. Damn it!"
Gryn smiled, stood up, picked up the jug, poured a glass of wine and handed it over.
"Duke Ned, with all due respect, King's Landing is not the place of First Men. You can only try your best to adapt."
Two days ago, Gryn was called to Hand's Study by Lord Eddard. Before Gryn could finish lamenting the days when he was "oppressed" by Hand Jon Arryn here, Lord Eddard suddenly said something.
"Gryn, I trust you and I need your help."
Gryn·Crabb·Lannister·Tyrell·Baratheon·Stark nodded heavily without hesitation.
Lord Eddard has confirmed Gryn's heart of honor through some inquiries, and from his perspective, he could not imagine the reason why Gryn would betray himself.
Lord Eddard frankly told Gryn that he suspected that Hand Jon Arryn died of murder and hoped that Gryn could assist him in secretly investigating the truth.
Lord Eddard stared into Gryn's eyes and said in a serious tone, "Until evidence is found, anyone may be the murderer. We must have a fair heart."
After Gryn said goodbye to Lord Eddard, he immediately went to Maegor's Holdfast and had to accept the task of "monitoring" Stark from Cersei Queen.
In short, the far-sighted lord Gryn was successfully attacked by Lord Eddard. So, when he got the chance today, he vented his anger on Jon·Snow in the name of a sword show.
"Damn it..."
Lord Eddard drank half the glass of wine in one gulp. Thinking of the terrible things these past few days, he couldn't help but curse.