The third part of my ongoing series in which I examine how the themes and symbols present in the "Rat Cook" story, as relayed in ASOS Bran IV, and how those elements reappear throughout ASOAIF.

The first part is here

And the second part is here

This is planned to be a nine part series, but hopefully each of them are also able to stand alone.

To anyone who is reading this part first, "Revisiting the Rat Cook" is a series that is built on the understanding that GRRM's use of metadiegetic legends provide a "road map" of symbols and meaning, used in their abstract form, which we, as readers, can use to better understand the relationships between symbols, motifs, and themes as they reoccur throughout ASOAIF as a whole. The Rat Cook story is about a rat which eats rats, or a cook who serves kings; The Rat Cook story is about fathers and sons, about cannibalism, about trust, about vengeance, and about damning one's legacy.

"Just Eat"

Last post, I talked about various moments where the flesh of men and the flesh of pigs were compared: times where dead pigs evoked dead sons, where dead sons evoked dead pigs, and where human victims would "become" pork in death. Finally, at the end, I talked about what some part of that transformation said about guest right in particular, a key part of the "Rat Cook" story. I pointed out how guest right is a social construct, necessary to maintain peace in a community, where those feeding and those being fed can both trust that they will come to no harm.

In this part of the series, I'm going to reach a similar conclusion about guest right, approached from a different angle. This part is about the relationship between "hosts" and "guests", and what it means when a character is being forced into the role of the "Andal King" from the Rat Cook story, who was unwittingly fed his own son. What does it mean, in ASOIAF, when a character cannot trust the provenance of their food, especially in the most extreme case: being fed human flesh.

Recognizing the dynamics between the Rat Cook and the Andal King, the inherent trust between those who feed and those who are fed, the host and the guest, and the power dynamics between a liege and a lowly cook, we see that the fear of the unwilling cannibal in the Rat Cook story is also a fear of the betrayal of those dynamics.

The fear of being turned cannibal unwillingly is referenced in AFFC Arya II, when Arya is being hosted—and fed—-by the House of Black and White, and when, after preparing dead bodies, she suddenly considers the similarity between eating human flesh and eating pork:

Once, as she was eating her supper, a terrible suspicion seized hold of her, and she put down her knife and stared suspiciously at a slice of pale white meat. The kindly man saw the horror on her face. "It is pork, child," he told her, "only pork”

This interaction is mirrored with another reassurance that meat is only pork, when Coldhands offers Bran and his party a “sow” in ADWD Bran I. Bran does not make the connection with cannibalism explicit, nor does anyone else present, but the reality of the meat’s provenance is far more clearly suspect:

Meera Reed was turning a chunk of raw red flesh above the flames, letting it char and spit. "Just in time," she said. Bran rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and wriggled backwards against the wall to sit. "You almost slept through supper. The ranger found a sow."

This scene is particularly haunting, perhaps because this is a rare instance of actual cannibalism, rather than imagined cannibalism. Martin creates this moment's unsettling atmosphere by highlighting each of party in turn, using gruesome language to describe them eating:

Behind her, Hodor was tearing eagerly at a chunk of hot charred flesh as blood and grease ran down into his beard. Wisps of smoke rose from between his fingers. "Hodor," he muttered between bites, "hodor, hodor." His sword lay on the earthen floor beside him. Jojen Reed nipped at his own joint with small bites, chewing each chunk of meat a dozen times before swallowing.

The ranger killed a pig.

In this instance, the meat is notably never directly called pork—it is “chunks of meat”, it is “hot charred flesh” still running with “blood”, which evokes Victarion’s hot pork-crackling arm as well.

Bran’s internal affirmation that “the ranger killed a pig” is given its own sentence and its own paragraph—it’s a connected idea, but it’s not what’s happening. Still, a man—once butchered—may become a “sow” in the same way that the Rat Cook, too, became as “big as a sow”, just as we saw with the butchered butcher’s boy, Micah.

Bran, for his part, nearly puts the ideas together. Without eating, he drills Coldhands as to what happened to the men chasing them, whose disappearance comes simultaneous to the appearance of the “sow”.

"What happened to the men? The foes behind us?"

"They will not trouble you."

"Who were they? Wildlings?"

Meera turned the meat to cook the other side. Hodor was chewing and swallowing, muttering happily under his breath. Only Jojen seemed aware of what was happening as Coldhands turned his head to stare at Bran. "They were foes."

Men of the Night's Watch. "You killed them. You and the ravens. Their faces were all torn, and their eyes were gone." Coldhands did not deny it. "They were your brothers. I saw. The wolves had ripped their clothes up, but I could still tell. Their cloaks were black. Like your hands."

In the midst of the questions about the men, our attention is again drawn each of the party eating in turn, further strengthening the connection between a slain man and a slain sow. These were men of the Night’s Watch, as was Coldhands, we presume, so they are Coldhands’ “brothers”, and so again this is the slaying and serving of family. And again, for the rest of the party, already eating when Bran wakes, it is unwilling, unknowing cannibalism. Coldhands, like the Rat Cook, has offered a meal and called it pork; mimicking the Andal king, the recipients don’t question its origin—for, at this point, they trust the "host" they are with—and instead, they find it delicious, just as Sam feared he would while Bannen burned. After all, turning cannibal is one thing, but as shown in the passage from the last post with Sam and Bannen, it is a sickening thought to come up with on one’s own. To be an unknowing cannibal, though, is always possible, but only so long as there is a stark betrayal of trust.

This scene with Coldhands, especially if we suspect that Coldhands is feeding Bran's friends the flesh of men, is a harsh reminder of that same essential idea from the Rat Cook story: that the sharing of food is always an exchange of trust in its very nature. As I've said before, the notion of “guest right” reflects that—you must trust the person feeding you to eat the food they serve you, and you’ll only feed those whom you trust and want to welcome. The Rat Cook story, of course, is the pinnacle of betraying that trust, and the cook himself is punished for exactly that; the Andal King, for his part, believed he could accept what he was served, which is how the Rat Cook was able to enact his vengeance.

We are also reminded of this relationship between shared food and trust when Quentyn is in Meereen, talking to the Tattered Prince. This exchange notably uses pie as a metaphor, too, doubly prompting the reader to recall the Rat Cook story here.

In ADWD The Dragontamer, Quentyn is faced with a life-or-death moment of trust over the Brazen Beasts’ code word. Quentyn doubts the veratity of this information, wondering whether the Tattered Prince really knows the code words... and he receives this in response:

“But a prince should know better than to pose such questions, Dornish. In Pentos, we have a saying. Never ask the baker what went into the pie. Just eat.”

As Quentyn points out himself:

“There was wisdom in that.”

In this moment, we may be given an insight into the mind of the “Andal king” (even if Quentyn is only a Rhoynar Prince). If this is the Pentoshi version of “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth”, then its phrasing is curiously resonant with the Rat Cook story, with pies of unknown provenance. Quentyn is reminded here of the importance of the unspoken rules of trust between allies; the trust is mutual, and he must trust the Tattered Prince if he is to be trusted himself. Similarly, just as the Rat Cook should have been bound by the laws of hospitality, the Andal King was bound by those same laws of trust, and didn’t question what was happening. Did the Andal King ever learn the fate of his son? We don’t hear that side in the version that Old Nan tells Bran.

As for Quentyn, it’s worth noting that this trust turned out to be ill-fated.

Seemingly, the code word did not help, and perhaps Quentyn’s skepticism was worthwhile. Of course, even that isn't the full story—it’s possible that the Tattered Prince was being true, and the plan was only ruined by the machinations of the Shavepate and some rat-masked Brazen Beasts. (I may return to this idea in a later part, but only if I feel confident enough to tackle Dany and Meereen, which really is quite a knot.)

If this scene with the Tattered Prince provides an in-world reminder of how the exchange of food provides a metaphor for the dynamics of a given scene, then when the stakes are possible cannibalism, then the stakes of that metaphorical comparison are heightened as well. Unwilling cannibalism is, in a way, the pinnacle example of betraying that host-guest trust.

It makes us reconsider our scene with Arya:

Once, as she was eating her supper, a terrible suspicion seized hold of her, and she put down her knife and stared suspiciously at a slice of pale white meat. The kindly man saw the horror on her face. "It is pork, child," he told her, "only pork”

Arya questioning the origin of the meat in the House of Black and White is just as equally a valid question to ask about her entire wellbeing in that setting—she has no true reason to trust that the House of Black and White wants the best for her, nor that she is safe in their care. This concern is a concept allegorically played out in the serving of the food. Metaphorically, she has doubts as to whether she can trust what the Faceless Men are “feeding” her—are they feeding her lies, or the truth? Are they feeding her pork, or dead men?

The Kindly Man is reassuring, as he always is, but all he can offer is reassurance—like Arya questioning the food she is being served, this moment suggests that she ought to be questioning the hospitality she is receiving in the House of Black and White in its entirety.

Returning to the scene with Bran and Coldhands, we can apply the same thinking, and that context illuminates the direction the conversation takes. First, it is about the meat that Coldhands has served them. Then, it is about the men who Coldhands has killed, whether they were allies or foes, and whether they were brothers. This pairing of ideas links serving the suspicious meat of the alleged “sow” with the question of whether to trust Coldhands; Bran considers the Night’s Watch his allies, and is rightfully suspicious of those who would kill Night’s Watchmen, not knowing that these particular Night’s Watchmen were foes. Finally, though, the conversation turns to Coldhands himself, continuing where we left off in ADWD Bran I:

“Coldhands said nothing.

‘Who are you? Why are your hands black?’”

This, immediately after the prior discussions, continues to link these major ideas of the Rat Cook story—the slaying of family, the unwilling cannibalism, and the trust that is necessary to end up in such a terrible fate. Bran’s party is blindly trusting Coldhands to take them somewhere, as they trust him to feed them pork, not human flesh; as they continue to follow him north, Bran’s party metaphorically does not know what they are being “fed”, in a sense—is it the destination they believe, or is it something else? Further confirming this thought process, linking the unknown meat with the unknown journey, the questions continue to the logical conclusion:

"Show us your face."

The ranger made no move to obey.

"He's dead." Bran could taste the bile in his throat. “Meera, he's some dead thing. The monsters cannot pass so long as the Wall stands and the men of the Night's Watch stay true, that's what Old Nan used to say. He came to meet us at the Wall, but he could not pass. He sent Sam instead, with that wildling girl."

Meera's gloved hand tightened around the shaft of her frog spear. "Who sent you? Who is this three-eyed crow?"

Bran is faced with the same fears that strike Arya in the House of Black and White:

If they cannot trust what they are being fed, can they trust where they are being led?

The notion of finding a sow in the tundra may be as likely as finding a benevolent wizard in the wastes of the far north, but that is what Bran still believes even at this moment.

Coldhands feeding them human meat under false pretenses, and his refusal to be honest or direct about the source of the meat, therefore marks a betrayal of that trust—and possibly portends a betrayal of the other trust as well. The question of their journey’s end, and whether they are being told the full story about their destination, naturally follows the question of whether they are being fed false “pork”.

Did the Andal King have similar misgivings that he similarly ignored, believing instead in the social covenant of guest right that he had entered into? If the Andal king had denied the pork pie, would he have been in the right for his skepticism, or in the wrong, as the Tattered Prince says, for “asking the baker what went into the pie”? Is it, as Quentyn says, wiser to trust? The Rat Cook story that Bran recalls moves on from this question without answering it. We never learn if the Andal King ever learned the truth. "The Rat Cook" instead goes on to focus on the aftermath of the incident, and the fate of the cook, whose punishment, again, was not for forcing cannibalism but for betraying the trust of guest right.

In the next few parts, I'm going to stray away from eating men for a while and focus on eating rats—what I think rats symbolize in ASOIAF, espcially when paired with the action of eating. After all, it's in the story's title: the "Rat Cook", and "rats" are as key a symbol as cannibalism, pork, and pies. Later, though, I'll be returning to this issue of trusting in a social contract, like guest right, so it's good to keep this idea in mind, as well as the power dynamics inherent in eating and being fed, when considering what it means to eat rats, too.