They had died on the Redgrass Field fifteen years ago, at the end of the Blackfyre Rebellion. ""They died good deaths, fighting bravely for the king"", Ser Eustace told Dunk, ""and I brought them home and buried them among the blackberries"". His wife was buried there as well. Whenever the old man breached a new cask of wine, he went down the hill to pour each of his boys a libation. ""To the king!"" he would call out loudly, just before he drank.
Ser Eustace's bedchamber occupied the fourth floor of the tower, with his solar just below.
Ser Eustace was scrubbing the dirt off a ruined shield with a rag when Dunk came up the steps.
It was a shield, or what remained of one. That was little enough. Almost half of it had been hacked away, and the rest was gray and splintered. The iron rim was solid rust, and the wood was full of wormholes.
""M'lord"", said Dunk. The Osgreys had not been lords for centuries, yet it pleased Ser Eustace to be styled so, echoing as it did the past glories of his House. ""What is it?""
""The Little Lion's shield"". The old man rubbed at the rim, and some flakes of rust came off. ""Ser Wilbert Osgrey bore this at the battle where he died. I am sure you know the tale"".
""No, m'lord"", said Bennis.
""Certainly not"". The old knight's mustache quivered. ""Ser Wilbert was a tall and powerful man, and a great knight. The name was given him in childhood, as the youngest of five brothers. In his day there were still seven kings in the Seven Kingdoms, and Highgarden and the Rock were oft at war. The green kings ruled us then, the Gardeners.