We’re starting to head into the long, long chapters. *Gulp.* Here we go!

I will say that, although this chapter had some really interesting stuff in it, it is not well organized by topic, bouncing back and forth a lot. It gives a sense of a life crammed full of incident, but it doesn’t make it easier on recappers and analysts like myself.

We start with an in-depth discussion of Jaehaerys’ policies regarding royal progresses. On the one hand, Jaehaerys and Alysanne are determined to accelerate the frequency of the activity, spending “more days and nights guesting with one lord or another…than at Dragonstone and the Red Keep combined.” On the other, Jaehaerys doesn’t want to follow-up his crenellation tax with using the progresses to gently bankrupt his subjects as his grandfather did…thus limiting himself to a hundred attendants.

Instead, he seems to have shifted the purpose of progresses to building personal relationships between the monarch and all of his subjects – hence “his intent was to see and be seen at more places” – but at the same time using the presence of his dragons to emphasize what happens to those who aren’t friends of the Targaryens. Score one point in favor of my dracocracy theory!

As I discussed before, Alysanne’s “women’s courts” are really, really reminiscent of Eleanor Roosevelt’s “listening tours.”

Let’s talk about the Maidenpool Incident: First, I really like the idea of the springs being turned into a religious bathhouse; it really evokes a spirit of religious syncretism where the pre-Andal legends of Florian and Jonquil are absorbed into the worship of the Maiden. Second, I have to say that I prefer this level of threat from Faithful extremists compared to the discussion of revolt. After all the years of civil war, the killing of all but a few of the rebel leadership, and the Reconciliation (still prefer the WOIAF version, GRRM!), uprisings are less plausible a threat. But assassination attempts from fanatics who don’t care if they die in the process? Well, any monarch should fear that. Third, quite impressed by the Wise Women’s bravery. Fighting while naked isn’t easy to begin with, but putting your body in between the knife and its target is a level of courage that few possess. Fourth, and now we get the explanation for why Jonquil Darke is the queen’s sword shield. I know that from a Doylist perspective this custom had to be abandoned in order for the Sack of King’s Landing to happen as it did, but I do wonder why we don’t see more examples of it.

The death of the newborn prince feels very Henrician to me, especially the idea that a sudden emotional shock brought either miscarriage or, in this case, premature birth.

Next, we get the Vale progress, which cuts a good swath through the southern Vale (although the Fingers get left out somewhat). It’s also a very good example of Alysanne’s political style in action, combining strategic betrothals (this time between the Vale and the Crownlands), women’s courts (two this time), and elite lobbying.

Here, the lobbying results in the Widow’s Law (52 AC), which “reaffirm[ed] the right of the eldest son (or eldest daughter, where there was no son) to inherit, but requir[ed] said heirs to maintain surviving widows in the same condition they had enjoyed before their husband’s death. A lord’s widow, be she a second, third, or later wife, could no longer be driven from his castle, nor deprived of her servants, clothing, and income. The same law, however, also forbade men from disinheriting their children by a first wife in order to bestow their lands, seat, or property upon a later wife or her own children.”

On the face of it, this is a fairly reasonable law, establishing (technically, reinforcing) the principle of a widow’s use-rights which was a fairly common pre-modern safety net.

What’s strange about the Widow’s Law is the part about forbidding “men from disinheriting their children by a first wife in order to bestow their lands, seat, or property upon a later wife or her own children,” because you’d think this would have come up during the Dance of the Dragons, since Aegon II could have had no legal claim under this law. My only explanation is that A. the law may have maintained the pre-existing Andal principle that a son comes before a daughter, and this is just an inartful phrasing, or B. that the precedent of the Great Council of 101 is considered to have overruled or created an exception to this law.

After this, we get the Riverlands progress, which is mostly interesting for informing us that Walton Towers’ son and heir was named Maegor in gratitude for giving his father Harrenhal, which is rough on the kid.

As I’ve said before, I find myself completely uninterested in this whole Rogar/Alyssa storyline. We know that Alyssa is a brave and intelligent woman, and I simply do not buy the argument that she wouldn’t have taken tansy tea to protect her health later on. You can’t have birth control in your world-building only when it’s convenient for you, GRRM!

Speaking of with, the death of Alyssa is especially torturous, given its length, the particularly gendered way that Alyssa goes down to dust. It does work to make Rhaena sympathetic for a change, and the bit about the dragons sensing the death was good, but it wasn’t worth it.

Going back to Rhaena, we see more signs that she would have made a terrible queen. She’s not good at cultivating the lords of Blackwater Bay, or people in general. Including her own family members.

Despite her tragic end, I really love Aerea, whose personality really comes across in this chapter as this spoiled wild child who any minimally-observant person would have known would absolutely hate going from the “excitement of tthe Red Keep” to to the total social isolation of Dragonstone.

So of course she’s going to want the freedom and independence that dragons represent.

It’s really hard to avoid presentism about the split between Elissa and Rhaena, but it’s surprising that no one saw the theft coming when the split was over money for a ship…or that no one predicted Aerea might run away given her emotional reaction when Elissa left.

Speaking of signs that Rhaena would not have been a good monarch: ordering Ser Merrell Bullock to torture servants, then firing him, his son and a dozen men, when none of them had left the island and Elissa had speaks to a tendency to see what she wanted to see. Almost made it worthwhile for Jaehaerys to throw the blame in her lap.

When she gets home to Storm’s End it all goes bad really quickly. Aerea’s unhappiness curdles into antisocial behavior, Rhaena’s relationship with Androw goes from bad to worse, and it’s all so poorly managed by Rhaena.

And then we get “the sickness.” This section is chillingly written – I have to admit I got wrong-footed by the business about Valyrian blood and disease and didn’t think about the tears of Lys even though the symptoms are hardly hidden – showing GRRM’s gift for horror. And no, let me say off the bat, I don’t think Androw should be pitied; this is not a victim of abuse lashing out, this is a serial killer turning his ordinary resentments into justifications for mass murderer. In this light, Androw’s blancmange qualities begin to suggest something of John Hinckley Jr. or Mark David Chapman, or another in those long line of “nice, quiet boys” who no-one knew could work horrors behind closed doors or under masks.

But my absolute favorite part of this chapter is the bit where Aerea takes off on Balerion. It’s a perfect escalation of the dysfunctional relationship, Aerea’s desire for freedom, and her wildly out-of-proportion sense of self-belief. But that’s as much about how much I love what happens next.

I absolutely love the section in Braavos that follows Elissa Farman’s disappearance where the Targaryens try very very hard to maintain their monopoly on dragons, while the Braavosi use their unique mixture of hard and soft power to a knife’s edge.

Something that I find interesting is that Benifer says that heat causes dragon eggs to turn into stone, whereas in Dany II of AGOT, Illyrio says it’s time: “eons have turned them to stone.”

So let’s talk about the thing. GRRM has been very coy about all of this, but I know that he’s way too particular a wordsmith to use the phrase “some spicemonger in Pentos” without intent. Perhaps that intent was to manufacture a red herring, but I don’t believe it was accidental.

While Jaehaerys’ motivations here are entirely understandable from a geostrategic standpoint, I was particularly interested by his phrasing that “I will not allow Valyria to rise again” in light of his grandfather’s decisions to decisively turn against Volantis.

As the author of the True Life of the High Spider, I did like the death of the Lickspittle Septon and Jaehaerys and Barth’s machinations to secure the nomination of his successor. (Although I think my account of the balloting is somewhat more dramatic…) Incidentally, this would be the perfect place to insert the part from WOIAF where Barth negotiates with the High Septon over the Reconciliation. What better opportunity to come to terms after (or even before) you’ve bribed someone’s way to the top job?

For all that they’re placed in the narrative as “good guys,” Daemon Velaryon and Qarl Corbray are idiots, especially since they lived through the Revolt of the Faith Militant. Albin Massey’s sang-froid is impressive though.

It does give us a great progress, with Jaehaerys and Alyssa going to Oldtown on dragonback to treat with Donnel Hightower. The bargaining between Donnel and Jaehaerys over personnel vs. policy is particularly well done.

At the same time, there’s a bittersweet tinge to Alysanne’s joy at getting to indulge herself at the Citadel, only to be met with polite patronization from the maesters. (Although we do learn that novices who don’t cut it get sent home, which is probably what would have happened to Pate.)

Speaking of something that’s as about a perfect ven diagram of my interests as possible, let’s talk Targaryen public works. Kudos to both GRRM and Jaehaerys for coming up with a plausible cause for the city’s public health and cleanliness problems stemming from the fact that “King’s Landing had grown too fast” and largely in a laissez-faire fashion save for major buildings like the Red Keep and the Dragonpit and the city’s walls.

Taking a leaf from Haussman, J-man’s first move is to (as far as possible) build “long wide streets” with a “central square…planted with tress, with markets and arcades beneath” (getting some very Unter der Linden vibes off this).

However, I find myself a bit puzzled about some of the streets – “the King’s Way, the Gods’ Way, the Street of the Sisters, Blackwater Way” – and where they are:

As long-time readers know, I have my issues with King’s Landing urban planning. I’ll give Jaehaerys’ credit that he may not have been able to get the Muddy Way to link up to his (unnamed? I’m just going to call it Jaehaerys’) Square, but there’s some puzzling stuff here: For one thing, why was the “Street of the Sisters” (linking Rhaenys and Visenya’s hills) so important if the Sept of Remembrance was gone, the Great Sept hadn’t been built, and the Dragonpit was incomplete? Is the “Gods’ Way” the northwest to southeast street going through the Gods’ Gate and Jaehaerys’ Square, or is that the “King’s Way” (since it terminates at the Red Keep)? Or does the King’s Way just go from the Keep to the Jaehaerys’ Square and then become the Gods’ Way? Why don’t we have a name for the straight east-west street that goes from the central square to the Iron Gate? (Which had to have been built at or after Jaehaerys, given how it was clearly built with the central square in mind.) And why isn’t there one going from Jaehaerys’ Square to the Lion Gate, given that the Gold Road doesn’t have a good connection to the rest of the city? Likewise, why isn’t there a road going from the King’s Gate to Jaehaerys’ Square, especially since there wasn’t the Great Sept in the way, and otherwise the King’s Gate only connects via the River Row, which must cause some awful congestion?

Rego Draz’s gradual fall from grace reminds me quite a bit of the downfall of John the Cappadocian, who was also widely resented for his low birth, his flaunting of his wealth, and his libertine ways, but also for the taxes he raised to pay for Justinian’s building campaigns.

Manfred Redywne replacing Daemon Velaryon is an odd event, because he’s not Jaehaerys’ most famous Hand nor even his most famous Redwyne Hand.

I do find the criteria interesting, however. Clearly there’s a bias not merely to noblemen, but to the upper echelons of noble society, and from the southern core of the Seven Kingdoms at that.

I will say that the emphasis on finding “an older man, whose experience would balance the king’s youth” and a warrior to complete the academic trend of the council reminds me a bit more of the ticket-balancing of American presidential and vice-presidential slates than medieval politics.