Idrin refused the Crown’s terms for the last time on the bridge, and he did it in full, the way Tallow would have minuted it, so that there would be nothing left for anyone to round.
He said it standing. He had got up from the parapet when his brother turned back from the river, and he stood now on the last whole stone with the rain on his face and the broken arches on either side of him, and he spoke in a level voice that did not climb or fall. He had decided on the walk out that he would not raise it, not even when the King’s men on the far bank shifted their horses and the sound of the water got louder. A refusal said loudly was a refusal that could be taken for a temper. He did not intend to be taken for anything but what he was.
“I will not sign any surrender of the Hold’s body or its book,” said Idrin. “Not to the Crown, not to the Assembly, not to a Writ of any kind. The Hold has voted that it will not be surrendered, by voices, and the Full Assent cannot be had, and I shall not be the one who fetches it.”
