Triple Bottom Line

TRIPLE BOTTOM LINE The triple bottom line refers to an extension of the criteria used to measure organisational success. Traditionally, business success (or failure) is measured in terms of its economic performance. A business is considered to be successful if it has generated a sufficient financial return from its investments, financing activities and operating activities. The triple bottom line takes into account three criteria for assessing organisational performance; 1. economic, 2. social 3. and Environmental.The financial or economic performance of an organisation is the easiest of the three criteria to measure accurately. Traditional accounting methods take into account the inflow and outflow of resources from the business, generally including cash and finances, assets, liabilities and other easily definable business resources. The economic criteria can then be used to determine how much an organisation generates in monetary value. It can also be used to determine the net wort h of the business at a given point in time.The social performance of an organisation is somewhat more difficult to define and measure. The social criterion of the triple bottom line takes into account the impact that a business has on people within the business (employees) and people outside of the business (the community). A business applying the triple bottom line principles will act in a way that benefits the community and will ensure that people are not being exploited or endangered by the operation of the business.Social factors that should be considered include labour utilisation and wages, working conditions and contribution to community living standards. Environmental performance is concerned with a business' total impact on the natural environment. Triple bottom line organisations aim to improve the environment where feasible, or at the very least, reduce and limit their negative impact on the environment. Organisations need to look at more than just obvious environmental i ssues (like pollution) and should consider the total lifecycle impact of their products and services.Triple bottom line reporting is becoming more widespread amongst both large and small organisations. Triple bottom line reporting makes business decisions and actions more transparent and allows people to gain a thorough understanding of a business' level of corporate social responsibility. The triple bottom line report also helps manager to assess and compare their performance across all three criteria against the business objectives and long term goals. Triple Bottom Line In the 1990's, mainly due to global warming and its effects like the â€Å"ozone layer†, the world has spread the idea of the Green Movement and people started to question organisations' practices and their environmental, social and economic impacts. With this in mind, companies started to pay more attention to business sustainability in order to improve the company's reputation. The Triple Bottom Line (TBL) concept is a methodology that focuses on the 3 P's: People, Planet and Profit. It was first introduced by John Elkington in 1994 and has increasingly become a basis for business sustainability.Not only has the world's Green mentality influenced how companies operate but also government policies have made companies implement a different approach. Although many companies are using the TBL reporting and have reported to reduce costs due to this approach some companies avoid incorporating sustainability into their practices. As Bristol was considered the European Green Capital large and is seen as a true role model for the Green economy in Europe. This award encourages cities to improve the quality of life by taking the environment and social aspects into account in urban planning and management.It is believed that companies in Bristol have been influenced by this award to take a more sustainable approach towards the operations. This paper will review the TBL concept and Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR). It will also include thoughts of TBL in relation to the organisation researched and its effects on its operations by linking theory to research findings. Research methods The research methods used in this report consist of field interviews to customers and employees of the chosen organisation.The interviews were conducted between the 29th of November and the 1st of December. The only sources of evidence used in this report are data collected from the conducted interview, relevant information from literature and personal experiences that were related to the topic. Literature review The Triple Bottom Line concept was first introduced by John Elkington in 1994 to expand the environmentalist agenda of those working towards sustainability so that it more explicitly incorporates a social dimension (Elkington, 2004).The triple bottom line is described as an inevitable  expansion of the environmental agenda [that] focuses corporations not just on the economic value that they add, but also on the environmental and social value that they add – or destroy (Elkington, 2004). This framework went beyond the traditional measures of profits, return on investment and shareholder value to include environmental and social dimensions (Slaper and Hall, 2011). . In addition, Savitz argues that TBL captures the essence of sustainability by measuring the impact of an organization's activities on the world including both its profitability and shareholder values and its social, human and environmental capital (Savitz, 2006).The three performan ce elements that compose TBL are social, environmental and financial variables. These are commonly to as the 3 Ps: people, planet and profits. Nevertheless, the 3Ps do not have a common unit of measure (Slaper and Hall, 2011). It is a very difficult task to put a value on social and environmental dimensions of the Triple Bottom Line. Some argue that monetizing these dimensions would be a good option as it would have a single unit of measurement but on the other hand, how could you find the correct price for extinct species?Different views on how to measure TBL has been a subject of argument since it began to be studied. The number of companies that use some kind of 3P accounting grows at an impressive rate (Tullberg, 2012). According to KPMG 70% of the top 250 companies of the world did so by 2005 (Tullberg 2012). This supports that companies are trying to achieve their goals of profit maximization and economic growth while increasing environmental and social awareness and responsib ility and also by focusing on having sustainable operations.Sustainability is defined as the development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their needs (WCED, 1987). Companies with different sizes and structures understand that having sustainable operations is extremely important and they do so by balancing the 3 dimensions of the TBL concept. Environmental sustainability is related to the reduction of the footprint left by the company on the environment. Social sustainability shifts the focus to both internal communities (i. e. , employees) and external ones (Pullman et al., 2009).In order to enhance their social reputation companies engage in Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) (Fombrun, 2005). Corporate Social Responsibility requires companies to acknowledge that they should be publicly accountable not only for their financial performance but also for their social and environmental record (CBI, 2001) and, by relati ng the TBL concept to CSR, it can be suggested that companies not only need to engage in socially and environmentally responsible behaviour, but, also, that positive financial gains can be made in the process (Gimenez et al, 2012).In recent years, governments have implemented legislations that oblige companies to provide information on how they are being socially responsible. According to the UK Corporate Governance Code the board should set the company’s values and standards and ensure that its obligations to its shareholders and others are understood and met (Financial Reporting Council, 2012) and Henderson (2004) states that in the UK there is a minister that is charged of promoting CSR.These are some of many examples to show the importance given to CSR. It is not only in the UK that legislation plays a large role in investments by companies in CSR but, also, in other countries in the EU like Germany where companies where required to implement CSR updates on their reports. However, by implementing regulation that obligates companies to report on their CSR means that those that were already being sustainable will lose their competitive advantage.An UK Government report on CSR states that CSR is about companies acting voluntarily to raise performance beyond minimum legal standards (UK Government, 2004), but with the implementation of this type of legislation, companies which have been using sustainable practices for years, will have their positive brand image removed. Many may argue whether companies are actually using â€Å"real CSR practices† (Gallego-Alvarez, 2010) in a voluntary and caring way or simple not concerned at all about their social and environmental impact and only concerned about the positive brand recognition that come with CSR practices.Although, it is agreed by many sources that the concern of companies for CSR has significantly contributed to the social welfare, some, like Henderson, oppose the fact of companies accepting CSR as he believes that it is both harmful at the level of individual enterprises and in relation to the economy as a whole (Henderson, 2009). Furthermore, Eden (1994) stated that the use of sustainable development in a business orientation becomes problematic where that orientation obscures other issues and demotes environmental action to only shallow and reformist dimensions (Eden, 1994).In conclusion, the vision of sustainability has come a long way since first introduced and CSR has become an extremely important aspect of business processes and will continue to grow despite the opposition of some. Achieving Triple Bottom Line growth will be a continuing quest for many organisations but to achieve sustainable development other issues at a macroeconomic level must be addressed. The operation researched The chosen operation to research is a local community gym based at Gloucestershire Cricket Club located in one of Bristol's main roads.BS7 Gym provides a high quality exercise facility for members of the community alongside Gloucestershire cricket professionals. It is easily observable, staff and members could be easily approached and it had sufficient data for statistics to be developed. Data collected Data collection was essential for this report. By conducting interviews to both gym staff and members and observing its facilities it enables the development of statements. In order to gather relevant data the interviewing of staff was centred on TBL, CSR and the European Green Capital Award (EGCA).From the staff interview, it was possible to understand that staff had little or no knowledge about the concepts of CSR and TBL. After being briefly introduced to these concepts the interviewees were questioned about their thoughts on Bristol being awarded the EGCA. Many said that is was very positive and related this to businesses thinking about green issues and some gave examples of environmental friendly practices conducted by businesses and families. One interviewee in particular, referred to transport systems and their improvements and also the Bristol cycling campaign.The remainder of the questions concerned more about the 3 Ps. The interviewees were questioned on what the BS7 Gym was doing towards the environment and the community and what were their thoughts on this and if they could improve. The main answer was based on the individual and not on the Gym itself as they believed that they, as an individual, were doing their best to have positive impact on the People and Planet. They thought that the Gym, as a whole, was not considering their environmental sustainability as much as they consider social sustainability.After conducting observation of the Gym facilities it was very evident that the environmental sustainability measurements were not positive. Simple things like keeping the changing room light on even when they are not being used and the toilet discharge tank dripping constantly show that the gym's performance can be significantl y improved. Some interviewees mentioned that they are individually committed to being sustainable and improve on their environmental footprint. Interviews were also made to members of the Gym. These interviews were based on the members' thoughts about TBL and the gym's concerns towards the environment.Mostly every member identified social variables that can be used to measure their TBL such as, charity contributions (food bank, working with Multiple Sclerosis patients and autistic students) and providing the facilities to the local school. Moreover, gym members mentioned that the gym is constantly improving their facilities, projects and invest on innovation. Their thoughts towards this, related mainly to the gym trying to satisfy every member by providing different class types and improving their gym material. Operational benefitsAs Tullerg (2012) stated, the increase in companies that use some kind of 3 Ps, is perfectly seen in BS7 Gym. As a medium corporation they are paying more attention in being sustainable. With the charitable contribution they are improving their brand image and ,by showing their members that they are a sustainable corporation, they can increase their membership sales. Concentrating on both internal and external aspects of social sustainability (Pullman et al, 2009), will influence both the employees and the local community to be more socially sustainable.One interviewee said that he was influenced by other employees' commitment to being sustainable. Although BS7 Gym is very attentive to the social aspect of TBL they lack attention on the environmental aspect. The high level of light and water consumption shows that the higher levels of the organisational pyramid are not taking into consideration their environmental side of TBL and if they could implement timer on lights and water taps in order to reduce costs and improve the financial performance. ConclusionAs sustainability becomes a bigger issue nowadays, BS7 Gym although being a sm all to medium company with very simple business processes, it is possible to say that they have a sustainable approach towards their activities and that they embrace Triple Bottom Line in depth. Their sustainable approach has shown to improve their performance and how they are seen by the local community and their members. Their social and environmental accountability and responsibility lead them to economic growth although some adjustments and improvements can be done. Triple Bottom Line TRIPLE BOTTOM LINE The triple bottom line refers to an extension of the criteria used to measure organisational success. Traditionally, business success (or failure) is measured in terms of its economic performance. A business is considered to be successful if it has generated a sufficient financial return from its investments, financing activities and operating activities. The triple bottom line takes into account three criteria for assessing organisational performance; 1. economic, 2. social 3. and Environmental.The financial or economic performance of an organisation is the easiest of the three criteria to measure accurately. Traditional accounting methods take into account the inflow and outflow of resources from the business, generally including cash and finances, assets, liabilities and other easily definable business resources. The economic criteria can then be used to determine how much an organisation generates in monetary value. It can also be used to determine the net wort h of the business at a given point in time.The social performance of an organisation is somewhat more difficult to define and measure. The social criterion of the triple bottom line takes into account the impact that a business has on people within the business (employees) and people outside of the business (the community). A business applying the triple bottom line principles will act in a way that benefits the community and will ensure that people are not being exploited or endangered by the operation of the business.Social factors that should be considered include labour utilisation and wages, working conditions and contribution to community living standards. Environmental performance is concerned with a business' total impact on the natural environment. Triple bottom line organisations aim to improve the environment where feasible, or at the very least, reduce and limit their negative impact on the environment. Organisations need to look at more than just obvious environmental i ssues (like pollution) and should consider the total lifecycle impact of their products and services.Triple bottom line reporting is becoming more widespread amongst both large and small organisations. Triple bottom line reporting makes business decisions and actions more transparent and allows people to gain a thorough understanding of a business' level of corporate social responsibility. The triple bottom line report also helps manager to assess and compare their performance across all three criteria against the business objectives and long term goals.

Janmar Coating INC Essay

Janmar Coating INC is currently facing a problem of where and how to enact corporate marketing efforts among various paint coatings market. Several top executives cannot come to an agreement on if they should expand to non-Dallas Fort Worth (DFW) areas or construct additives to the current budget for advertising, hiring a salaried employee, or cutting prices so that the customers and retailers who are price sensitive will not be discouraged to use the product. According to the case study the U.S. paint coating industry has three segments. The smallest of the three with only 22% of the market is the special coatings segment. This group is particularly used on items that may have extreme temperature fluctuation or environmental factors. The middle segment with 35% market share is the Original Equipment manufacturing (OEM). OEM is used on objects such as cars, trucks, building products and more. The largest segment with 43% market share is the architectural coatings used on homes, buildings, industrial structures and more. Industry sales for paint coatings in 2004 were around 16 million with expected sales to increase in the next year. Analyzing the data reflects that the segment of Architectural Paint coatings and sundries have a strong position in the industry. This 12 billion plus group is expected to grow more with the extreme demand of maintenance and repairs on new and old homes increase. Although its competition such as aluminum and vinyl siding appears to have a grip on the market but APC is still holding steady. In addition, the do it yourself painters are increasing in popularity making the trend successful and providing stability in the market. Knowing the competition is not hurting but this segments growing concerns are the mandatory regulations regarding a reduction  in emissions caused by the production of paint. This has stigmatized the industry causing sales to decrease which resulted in many business closing or merging with bigger firms. Janmar’s mission is to gain more market share across the industry. With sales being steady in the DFW area there should be an emphasis on the non DFW area which may provide an increase in sales which will result in increased revenue. A strength of the company is great customer relationships. Many believe to sell a particular product you must know the product very well and Janmar’s representatives has demonstrated  this according to several internal customer surveys. Team perseverance believes a weakness in this company may be its inability to begin penetrating the market outside the DFW area. Also the indecisiveness of the leadership of the company may prevent them from taking advantage of the upcoming peak season. In the past before the specialty stores or the big retailers like Walmart and home depot were around Janmars competition was minimal. Although they have many professional painters that purchase their product it may be considered a weakness because it limits gaining more share. The alternative course of action in the Janmar case are being able to excel their presence in the DFW do-it-yourself market. A con to this alternative is that many consumers select a store before selecting the brand. With many stores having more than one brand this may leave the consumer a chance to purchase a less priced product. It is very common for consumers to purchase from advertising they have also seen although a very small percentage. A pro would be the increasing of brand awareness. The cost to enact this alternative is around $350,000 in brand advertising over the current budget. Another alternative which counter acts the previous mentioned alternative is to issue a special coupon in the newspaper. A con may be that in the time of the internet print marketing is out of date and seen as less effective. The alternative is to  hire a new sales representative that may be aggressive in the non DFW area may be a better suggested alternative. A pro to this alternative is the direct cost in salary vs $350,000 in addition to the budget which the salary is dramatically lower in price. The final alternative is to continue with the current approach. Team recommends that Janmar Coating Inc. should chose the last alternative with a twist. Keep everything the same with small increments of change. The first change would be adding a new sales rep. We believe this individuals role to recruit new accounts may show a faster result in revenues via new accounts than advertising on the television which carries a higher cost and more time to see sales increase. This representative may have the ability to get more accounts in one year than they have in five years. One of the strengths of Janmar is its ability to satisfy its retailers. It is crucial that Janmar begins to aggressively  attack the non DFW area in order to get there presence and product known. With globalization it is very easy for a company to be left behind.

A Game of Thrones Chapter Seventy

He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. â€Å"Ghost,† he called softly, â€Å"to me.† And the wolf was there, eyes like embers. â€Å"Jon, please. You must not do this.† He mounted, the reins in his hand, and wheeled the horse around to face the night. Samwell Tarly stood in the stable door, a full moon peering over his shoulder. He threw a giant’s shadow, immense and black. â€Å"Get out of my way, Sam.† â€Å"Jon, you can’t,† Sam said. â€Å"I won’t let you.† â€Å"I would sooner not hurt you,† Jon told him. â€Å"Move aside, Sam, or I’ll ride you down.† â€Å"You won’t. You have to listen to me. Please . . . â€Å" Jon put his spurs to horseflesh, and the mare bolted for the door. For an instant Sam stood his ground, his face as round and pale as the moon behind him, his mouth a widening O of surprise. At the last moment, when they were almost on him, he jumped aside as Jon had known he would, stumbled, and fell. The mare leapt over him, out into the night. Jon raised the hood of his heavy cloak and gave the horse her head. Castle Black was silent and still as he rode out, with Ghost racing at his side. Men watched from the Wall behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned north, not south. No one would see him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling back to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadn’t hurt himself, falling like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be just like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle getting out of the way. â€Å"I warned him,† Jon said aloud. â€Å"It was nothing to do with him, anyway.† He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to have the wrappings off. Moonlight silvered the hills as he followed the twisting ribbon of the kingsroad. He needed to get as far from the Wall as he could before they realized he was gone. On the morrow he would leave the road and strike out overland through field and bush and stream to throw off pursuit, but for the moment speed was more important than deception. It was not as though they would not guess where he was going. The Old Bear was accustomed to rise at first light, so Jon had until dawn to put as many leagues as he could between him and the Wall . . . if Sam Tarly did not betray him. The fat boy was dutiful and easily frightened, but he loved Jon like a brother. If questioned, Sam would doubtless tell them the truth, but Jon could not imagine him braving the guards in front of the King’s Tower to wake Mormont from sleep. When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear’s breakfast from the kitchen, they’d look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son’s disgrace. That seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn’t be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone. Even now, he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods’ will and help sort out right from wrong. But the Starks worshiped the old gods, the nameless gods, and if the heart trees heard, they did not speak. When the last lights of Castle Black vanished behind him, Jon slowed his mare to a walk. He had a long journey ahead and only the one horse to see him through. There were holdfasts and farming villages along the road south where he might be able to trade the mare for a fresh mount when he needed one, but not if she were injured or blown. He would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he’d need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could mean his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in every village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would soon be watching for him. Once Maester Aemon’s ravens took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not even at Winterfell. Bran might want to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and send Jon away, as he should. Better not to call there at all. Yet he saw the castle clear in his mind’s eye, as if he had left it only yesterday; the towering granite walls, the Great Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father’s solar, the turret room where he had slept. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to hear Bran laugh again, to sup on one of Gage’s beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool. But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father’s son, and Robb’s brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well. Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life—however long that might be—he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man’s hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his place by his brother’s side and help avenge his father. He remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing in the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to imagine the look on Robb’s face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and he’d say . . . he’d say . . . He could not see the smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thinking of the deserter his father had beheaded the day they’d found the direwolves. â€Å"You said the words,† Lord Eddard had told him. â€Å"You took a vow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new.† Desmond and Fat Tom had dragged the man to the stump. Bran’s eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Father’s face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of blood on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet. He wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely . . . and Robb would welcome him, for a certainty. He had to, or else . . . It did not bear thinking about. Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father’s killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one . . . but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. Ghost kept pace with them for almost half a mile, red tongue lolling from his mouth. Man and horse alike lowered their heads as he asked the mare for more speed. The wolf slowed, stopped, watching, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. He vanished behind, but Jon knew he would follow, at his own pace. Scattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both sides of the road: Mole’s Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mule’s raucous haw from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. Here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between wooden slats, but only a few. Mole’s Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by a maze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he’d heard men call the whores â€Å"buried treasures.† He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care. Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad? The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die? Off in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened animal made him look up. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some prey? He cupped his hands around his mouth. â€Å"Ghost!† he shouted. â€Å"Ghost, to me.† The only answer was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight. Frowning, Jon continued on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was concerned about his missing wolf. â€Å"Ghost,† he called again. â€Å"Where are you? To me! Ghost!† Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless . . . no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf pack anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling. He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to catch up. There was no danger yet; Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. He’d brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon he’d filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone he’d need to hunt, and that would slow him. Jon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, they’d hear him for a certainty, and if they were from Castle Black . . . He led the mare off the road, behind a thick stand of grey-green sentinels. â€Å"Ouiet now,† he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. Likely as not, they were only smallfolk from Mole’s Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night . . . He listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were five or six of them at the least. Their voices drifted through the trees. † . . . certain he came this way?† â€Å"We can’t be certain.† â€Å"He could have ridden east, for all you know. Or left the road to cut through the woods. That’s what I’d do.† â€Å"In the dark? Stupid. If you didn’t fall off your horse and break your neck, you’d get lost and wind up back at the Wall when the sun came up.† â€Å"I would not.† Grenn sounded peeved. â€Å"I’d just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.† â€Å"What if the sky was cloudy?† Pyp asked. â€Å"Then I wouldn’t go.† Another voice broke in. â€Å"You know where I’d be if it was me? I’d be in Mole’s Town, digging for buried treasure.† Toad’s shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon’s mare snorted. â€Å"Keep quiet, all of you,† Haider said. â€Å"I thought I heard something.† â€Å"Where? I didn’t hear anything.† The horses stopped. â€Å"You can’t hear yourself fart.† â€Å"I can too,† Grenn insisted. â€Å"Quiet!† They all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadn’t gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn’t gone to bed either, he’d woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they’d be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing? The hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could see the legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. â€Å"What did you hear?† â€Å"I don’t know,† Haider admitted. â€Å"A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but . . . â€Å" â€Å"There’s nothing here.† Out of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon’s mare started and gave a whinny. â€Å"There!† Halder shouted. â€Å"I heard it too!† â€Å"Traitor,† Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mare’s head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet. â€Å"Jon!† Pyp shouted after him. â€Å"Pull up,† Grenn said. â€Å"You can’t outrun us all.† Jon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. â€Å"Get back. I don’t wish to hurt you, but I will if I have to.† â€Å"One against seven?† Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him. â€Å"What do you want with me?† Jon demanded. â€Å"We want to take you back where you belong,† Pyp said. â€Å"I belong with my brother.† â€Å"We’re your brothers now,† Grenn said. â€Å"They’ll cut off your head if they catch you, you know,† Toad put in with a nervous laugh. â€Å"This is so stupid, it’s like something the Aurochs would do.† â€Å"I would not,† Grenn said. â€Å"I’m no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them.† â€Å"So did I,† Jon told them. â€Å"Don’t you understand? They murdered my father. It’s war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlands—† â€Å"We know,† said Pyp solemnly. â€Å"Sam told us everything.† â€Å"We’re sorry about your father,† Grenn said, â€Å"but it doesn’t matter. Once you say the words, you can’t leave, no matter what.† â€Å"I have to,† Jon said fervently. â€Å"You said the words,† Pyp reminded him. â€Å"Now my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death.† â€Å"I shall live and die at my post,† Grenn added, nodding. â€Å"You don’t have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do.† He was angry now. Why couldn’t they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder. â€Å"I am the sword in the darkness,† Halder intoned. â€Å"The watcher on the walls,† piped Toad. Jon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, â€Å"I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.† â€Å"Stay back,† Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. â€Å"I mean it, Pyp.† They weren’t even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to. Matthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. â€Å"I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch.† Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side. â€Å"For this night . . . † Halder trotted in from the left. † . . . and all the nights to come,† finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon’s reins. â€Å"So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me.† Jon lifted his sword . . . and lowered it, helpless. â€Å"Damn you,† he said. â€Å"Damn you all.† â€Å"Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word you’ll ride back peaceful?† asked Halder. â€Å"I won’t run, if that’s what you mean.† Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. â€Å"Small help you were,† he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly. â€Å"We had best hurry,† Pyp said. â€Å"If we’re not back before first light, the Old Bear will have all our heads.† Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole’s Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time. They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here . . . and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling’s way, hard and perilous, but at least no one wouid follow him. He wouldn’t stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad. Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. â€Å"I . . . I’m glad they found you, Jon.† â€Å"I’m not,† Jon said, dismounting. Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. â€Å"Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam,† the small boy said. â€Å"We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow.† When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear’s breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King’s Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, â€Å"Corn, corn, corn.† The bird shrieked when Jon entered. â€Å"Put the food on the table,† the Old Bear said, glancing up. â€Å"I’ll have some beer.† Jon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth. â€Å"Doubtless you loved your father,† Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. â€Å"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?† â€Å"I remember,† Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father’s death, not even to Mormont. â€Å"See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?† Jon’s throat was dry. â€Å"You know?† â€Å"Know,† the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. â€Å"Know.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men . . . and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad . . . and honor brought you back.† â€Å"My friends brought me back,† Jon said. â€Å"Did I say it was your honor?† Mormont inspected his plate. â€Å"They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?† â€Å"If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did.† Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. â€Å"I ordered a watch kept over you., You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?† â€Å"No.† Jon felt like a fool. â€Å"Pity, we could use a horse like that.† Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. â€Å"I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.† â€Å"Die!† the raven cried. â€Å"Nor live, I hope,† Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. â€Å"You have not deserted—yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole’s Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?† Jon kept silent. â€Å"I thought so.† Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. â€Å"Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?† â€Å"No,† he answered, sullen. â€Å"Good,† Mormont said. â€Å"We’ve seen the dead come back, you and me, and it’s not something I care to see again.† He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. â€Å"Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Any one of his lords bannermen commands more swords than you’ll find in all the Night’s Watch. Why do you imagine that they need your help? Are you such a mighty warrior, or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?† Jon had no answer for him. The raven was pecking at an egg, breaking the shell. Pushing his beak through the hole, he pulled out morsels of white and yoke. The Old Bear sighed. â€Å"You are not the only one touched by this war. Like as not, my sister is marching in your brother’s host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in men’s mail. Maege is a hoary old snark, stubborn, short-tempered, and willful. Truth be told, I can hardly stand to be around the wretched woman, but that does not mean my love for her is any less than the love you bear your half sisters.† Frowning, Mormont took his last egg and squeezed it in his fist until the shell crunched. â€Å"Or perhaps it does. Be that as it may, I’d still grieve if she were slain, yet you don’t see me running off. I said the words, just as you did. My place is here . . . where is yours, boy?† I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I’m a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. â€Å"I don’t know.† â€Å"I do,† said Lord Commander Mormont. â€Å"The cold winds are rising, Snow. Beyond the Wall, the shadows lengthen. Cotter Pyke writes of vast herds of elk, streaming south and east toward the sea, and mammoths as well. He says one of his men discovered huge, misshapen footprints not three leagues from Eastwatch. Rangers from the Shadow Tower have found whole villages abandoned, and at night Ser Denys says they see fires in the mountains, huge blazes that burn from dusk till dawn. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man swears that Mance Rayder is massing all his people in some new, secret stronghold he’s found, to what end the gods only know. Do you think your uncle Benjen was the only ranger we’ve lost this past year?† â€Å"Ben Jen,† the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak. â€Å"Ben Jen. Ben Jen.† â€Å"No,† Jon said. There had been others. Too many. â€Å"Do you think your brother’s war is more important than ours?† the old man barked. Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. â€Å"War, war, war, war,† it sang. â€Å"It’s not,† Mormont told him. â€Å"Gods save us, boy, you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?† â€Å"No.† Jon had not thought of it that way. â€Å"Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?† â€Å"Why? Why? Why?† the raven called. â€Å"All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it’s said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours . . . he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jaremy is dead and I’m not.† Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. â€Å"I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall.† His words sent a chill of excitement down Jon’s back. â€Å"Beyond the Wall?† â€Å"You heard me. I mean to find Ben Stark, alive or dead.† He chewed and swallowed. â€Å"I will not sit here meekly and wait for the snows and the ice winds. We must know what is happening. This time the Night’s Watch will ride in force, against the King-beyond-the-Wall, the Others, and anything else that may be out there. I mean to command them myself.† He pointed his dagger at Jon’s chest. â€Å"By custom, the Lord Commander’s steward is his squire as well . . . but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if you’ve run off again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night’s Watch . . . or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?† Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran . . . forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. â€Å"I am . . . yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Good. Now go put on your sword.† A Game of Thrones Chapter Seventy He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. â€Å"Ghost,† he called softly, â€Å"to me.† And the wolf was there, eyes like embers. â€Å"Jon, please. You must not do this.† He mounted, the reins in his hand, and wheeled the horse around to face the night. Samwell Tarly stood in the stable door, a full moon peering over his shoulder. He threw a giant’s shadow, immense and black. â€Å"Get out of my way, Sam.† â€Å"Jon, you can’t,† Sam said. â€Å"I won’t let you.† â€Å"I would sooner not hurt you,† Jon told him. â€Å"Move aside, Sam, or I’ll ride you down.† â€Å"You won’t. You have to listen to me. Please . . . â€Å" Jon put his spurs to horseflesh, and the mare bolted for the door. For an instant Sam stood his ground, his face as round and pale as the moon behind him, his mouth a widening O of surprise. At the last moment, when they were almost on him, he jumped aside as Jon had known he would, stumbled, and fell. The mare leapt over him, out into the night. Jon raised the hood of his heavy cloak and gave the horse her head. Castle Black was silent and still as he rode out, with Ghost racing at his side. Men watched from the Wall behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned north, not south. No one would see him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling back to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadn’t hurt himself, falling like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be just like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle getting out of the way. â€Å"I warned him,† Jon said aloud. â€Å"It was nothing to do with him, anyway.† He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to have the wrappings off. Moonlight silvered the hills as he followed the twisting ribbon of the kingsroad. He needed to get as far from the Wall as he could before they realized he was gone. On the morrow he would leave the road and strike out overland through field and bush and stream to throw off pursuit, but for the moment speed was more important than deception. It was not as though they would not guess where he was going. The Old Bear was accustomed to rise at first light, so Jon had until dawn to put as many leagues as he could between him and the Wall . . . if Sam Tarly did not betray him. The fat boy was dutiful and easily frightened, but he loved Jon like a brother. If questioned, Sam would doubtless tell them the truth, but Jon could not imagine him braving the guards in front of the King’s Tower to wake Mormont from sleep. When Jon did not appear to fetch the Old Bear’s breakfast from the kitchen, they’d look in his cell and find Longclaw on the bed. It had been hard to abandon it, but Jon was not so lost to honor as to take it with him. Even Jorah Mormont had not done that, when he fled in disgrace. Doubtless Lord Mormont would find someone more worthy of the blade. Jon felt bad when he thought of the old man. He knew his desertion would be salt in the still-raw wound of his son’s disgrace. That seemed a poor way to repay him for his trust, but it couldn’t be helped. No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone. Even now, he did not know if he was doing the honorable thing. The southron had it easier. They had their septons to talk to, someone to tell them the gods’ will and help sort out right from wrong. But the Starks worshiped the old gods, the nameless gods, and if the heart trees heard, they did not speak. When the last lights of Castle Black vanished behind him, Jon slowed his mare to a walk. He had a long journey ahead and only the one horse to see him through. There were holdfasts and farming villages along the road south where he might be able to trade the mare for a fresh mount when he needed one, but not if she were injured or blown. He would need to find new clothes soon; most like, he’d need to steal them. He was clad in black from head to heel; high leather riding boots, roughspun breeches and tunic, sleeveless leather jerkin, and heavy wool cloak. His longsword and dagger were sheathed in black moleskin, and the hauberk and coif in his saddlebag were black ringmail. Any bit of it could mean his death if he were taken. A stranger wearing black was viewed with cold suspicion in every village and holdfast north of the Neck, and men would soon be watching for him. Once Maester Aemon’s ravens took flight, Jon knew he would find no safe haven. Not even at Winterfell. Bran might want to let him in, but Maester Luwin had better sense. He would bar the gates and send Jon away, as he should. Better not to call there at all. Yet he saw the castle clear in his mind’s eye, as if he had left it only yesterday; the towering granite walls, the Great Hall with its smells of smoke and dog and roasting meat, his father’s solar, the turret room where he had slept. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to hear Bran laugh again, to sup on one of Gage’s beef-and-bacon pies, to listen to Old Nan tell her tales of the children of the forest and Florian the Fool. But he had not left the Wall for that; he had left because he was after all his father’s son, and Robb’s brother. The gift of a sword, even a sword as fine as Longclaw, did not make him a Mormont. Nor was he Aemon Targaryen. Three times the old man had chosen, and three times he had chosen honor, but that was him. Even now, Jon could not decide whether the maester had stayed because he was weak and craven, or because he was strong and true. Yet he understood what the old man had meant, about the pain of choosing; he understood that all too well. Tyrion Lannister had claimed that most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, but Jon was done with denials. He was who he was; Jon Snow, bastard and oathbreaker, motherless, friendless, and damned. For the rest of his life—however long that might be—he would be condemned to be an outsider, the silent man standing in the shadows who dares not speak his true name. Wherever he might go throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he would need to live a lie, lest every man’s hand be raised against him. But it made no matter, so long as he lived long enough to take his place by his brother’s side and help avenge his father. He remembered Robb as he had last seen him, standing in the yard with snow melting in his auburn hair. Jon would have to come to him in secret, disguised. He tried to imagine the look on Robb’s face when he revealed himself. His brother would shake his head and smile, and he’d say . . . he’d say . . . He could not see the smile. Hard as he tried, he could not see it. He found himself thinking of the deserter his father had beheaded the day they’d found the direwolves. â€Å"You said the words,† Lord Eddard had told him. â€Å"You took a vow, before your brothers, before the old gods and the new.† Desmond and Fat Tom had dragged the man to the stump. Bran’s eyes had been wide as saucers, and Jon had to remind him to keep his pony in hand. He remembered the look on Father’s face when Theon Greyjoy brought forth Ice, the spray of blood on the snow, the way Theon had kicked the head when it came rolling at his feet. He wondered what Lord Eddard might have done if the deserter had been his brother Benjen instead of that ragged stranger. Would it have been any different? It must, surely, surely . . . and Robb would welcome him, for a certainty. He had to, or else . . . It did not bear thinking about. Pain throbbed, deep in his fingers, as he clutched the reins. Jon put his heels into his horse and broke into a gallop, racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts. Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father’s killers. He was no true Stark, had never been one . . . but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. Ghost kept pace with them for almost half a mile, red tongue lolling from his mouth. Man and horse alike lowered their heads as he asked the mare for more speed. The wolf slowed, stopped, watching, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. He vanished behind, but Jon knew he would follow, at his own pace. Scattered lights flickered through the trees ahead of him, on both sides of the road: Mole’s Town. A dog barked as he rode through, and he heard a mule’s raucous haw from the stable, but otherwise the village was still. Here and there the glow of hearth fires shone through shuttered windows, leaking between wooden slats, but only a few. Mole’s Town was bigger than it seemed, but three quarters of it was under the ground, in deep warm cellars connected by a maze of tunnels. Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he’d heard men call the whores â€Å"buried treasures.† He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care. Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad? The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die? Off in the trees, the distant scream of some frightened animal made him look up. His mare whinnied nervously. Had his wolf found some prey? He cupped his hands around his mouth. â€Å"Ghost!† he shouted. â€Å"Ghost, to me.† The only answer was a rush of wings behind him as an owl took flight. Frowning, Jon continued on his way. He led the mare for half an hour, until she was dry. Ghost did not appear. Jon wanted to mount up and ride again, but he was concerned about his missing wolf. â€Å"Ghost,† he called again. â€Å"Where are you? To me! Ghost!† Nothing in these woods could trouble a direwolf, even a half-grown direwolf, unless . . . no, Ghost was too smart to attack a bear, and if there was a wolf pack anywhere close Jon would have surely heard them howling. He should eat, he decided. Food would settle his stomach and give Ghost the chance to catch up. There was no danger yet; Castle Black still slept. In his saddlebag, he found a biscuit, a piece of cheese, and a small withered brown apple. He’d brought salt beef as well, and a rasher of bacon he’d filched from the kitchens, but he would save the meat for the morrow. After it was gone he’d need to hunt, and that would slow him. Jon sat under the trees and ate his biscuit and cheese while his mare grazed along the kingsroad. He kept the apple for last. It had gone a little soft, but the flesh was still tart and juicy. He was down to the core when he heard the sounds: horses, and from the north. Quickly Jon leapt up and strode to his mare. Could he outrun them? No, they were too close, they’d hear him for a certainty, and if they were from Castle Black . . . He led the mare off the road, behind a thick stand of grey-green sentinels. â€Å"Ouiet now,† he said in a hushed voice, crouching down to peer through the branches. If the gods were kind, the riders would pass by. Likely as not, they were only smallfolk from Mole’s Town, farmers on their way to their fields, although what they were doing out in the middle of the night . . . He listened to the sound of hooves growing steadily louder as they trotted briskly down the kingsroad. From the sound, there were five or six of them at the least. Their voices drifted through the trees. † . . . certain he came this way?† â€Å"We can’t be certain.† â€Å"He could have ridden east, for all you know. Or left the road to cut through the woods. That’s what I’d do.† â€Å"In the dark? Stupid. If you didn’t fall off your horse and break your neck, you’d get lost and wind up back at the Wall when the sun came up.† â€Å"I would not.† Grenn sounded peeved. â€Å"I’d just ride south, you can tell south by the stars.† â€Å"What if the sky was cloudy?† Pyp asked. â€Å"Then I wouldn’t go.† Another voice broke in. â€Å"You know where I’d be if it was me? I’d be in Mole’s Town, digging for buried treasure.† Toad’s shrill laughter boomed through the trees. Jon’s mare snorted. â€Å"Keep quiet, all of you,† Haider said. â€Å"I thought I heard something.† â€Å"Where? I didn’t hear anything.† The horses stopped. â€Å"You can’t hear yourself fart.† â€Å"I can too,† Grenn insisted. â€Å"Quiet!† They all fell silent, listening. Jon found himself holding his breath. Sam, he thought. He hadn’t gone to the Old Bear, but he hadn’t gone to bed either, he’d woken the other boys. Damn them all. Come dawn, if they were not in their beds, they’d be named deserters too. What did they think they were doing? The hushed silence seemed to stretch on and on. From where Jon crouched, he could see the legs of their horses through the branches. Finally Pyp spoke up. â€Å"What did you hear?† â€Å"I don’t know,† Haider admitted. â€Å"A sound, I thought it might have been a horse but . . . â€Å" â€Å"There’s nothing here.† Out of the corner of his eye, Jon glimpsed a pale shape moving through the trees. Leaves rustled, and Ghost came bounding out of the shadows, so suddenly that Jon’s mare started and gave a whinny. â€Å"There!† Halder shouted. â€Å"I heard it too!† â€Å"Traitor,† Jon told the direwolf as he swung up into the saddle. He turned the mare’s head to slide off through the trees, but they were on him before he had gone ten feet. â€Å"Jon!† Pyp shouted after him. â€Å"Pull up,† Grenn said. â€Å"You can’t outrun us all.† Jon wheeled around to face them, drawing his sword. â€Å"Get back. I don’t wish to hurt you, but I will if I have to.† â€Å"One against seven?† Halder gave a signal. The boys spread out, surrounding him. â€Å"What do you want with me?† Jon demanded. â€Å"We want to take you back where you belong,† Pyp said. â€Å"I belong with my brother.† â€Å"We’re your brothers now,† Grenn said. â€Å"They’ll cut off your head if they catch you, you know,† Toad put in with a nervous laugh. â€Å"This is so stupid, it’s like something the Aurochs would do.† â€Å"I would not,† Grenn said. â€Å"I’m no oathbreaker. I said the words and I meant them.† â€Å"So did I,† Jon told them. â€Å"Don’t you understand? They murdered my father. It’s war, my brother Robb is fighting in the riverlands—† â€Å"We know,† said Pyp solemnly. â€Å"Sam told us everything.† â€Å"We’re sorry about your father,† Grenn said, â€Å"but it doesn’t matter. Once you say the words, you can’t leave, no matter what.† â€Å"I have to,† Jon said fervently. â€Å"You said the words,† Pyp reminded him. â€Å"Now my watch begins, you said it. It shall not end until my death.† â€Å"I shall live and die at my post,† Grenn added, nodding. â€Å"You don’t have to tell me the words, I know them as well as you do.† He was angry now. Why couldn’t they let him go in peace? They were only making it harder. â€Å"I am the sword in the darkness,† Halder intoned. â€Å"The watcher on the walls,† piped Toad. Jon cursed them all to their faces. They took no notice. Pyp spurred his horse closer, reciting, â€Å"I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.† â€Å"Stay back,† Jon warned him, brandishing his sword. â€Å"I mean it, Pyp.† They weren’t even wearing armor, he could cut them to pieces if he had to. Matthar had circled behind him. He joined the chorus. â€Å"I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch.† Jon kicked his mare, spinning her in a circle. The boys were all around him now, closing from every side. â€Å"For this night . . . † Halder trotted in from the left. † . . . and all the nights to come,† finished Pyp. He reached over for Jon’s reins. â€Å"So here are your choices. Kill me, or come back with me.† Jon lifted his sword . . . and lowered it, helpless. â€Å"Damn you,† he said. â€Å"Damn you all.† â€Å"Do we have to bind your hands, or will you give us your word you’ll ride back peaceful?† asked Halder. â€Å"I won’t run, if that’s what you mean.† Ghost moved out from under the trees and Jon glared at him. â€Å"Small help you were,† he said. The deep red eyes looked at him knowingly. â€Å"We had best hurry,† Pyp said. â€Å"If we’re not back before first light, the Old Bear will have all our heads.† Of the ride back, Jon Snow remembered little. It seemed shorter than the journey south, perhaps because his mind was elsewhere. Pyp set the pace, galloping, walking, trotting, and then breaking into another gallop. Mole’s Town came and went, the red lantern over the brothel long extinguished. They made good time. Dawn was still an hour off when Jon glimpsed the towers of Castle Black ahead of them, dark against the pale immensity of the Wall. It did not seem like home this time. They could take him back, Jon told himself, but they could not make him stay. The war would not end on the morrow, or the day after, and his friends could not watch him day and night. He would bide his time, make them think he was content to remain here . . . and then, when they had grown lax, he would be off again. Next time he would avoid the kingsroad. He could follow the Wall east, perhaps all the way to the sea, a longer route but a safer one. Or even west, to the mountains, and then south over the high passes. That was the wildling’s way, hard and perilous, but at least no one wouid follow him. He wouldn’t stray within a hundred leagues of Winterfell or the kingsroad. Samwell Tarly awaited them in the old stables, slumped on the ground against a bale of hay, too anxious to sleep. He rose and brushed himself off. â€Å"I . . . I’m glad they found you, Jon.† â€Å"I’m not,† Jon said, dismounting. Pyp hopped off his horse and looked at the lightening sky with disgust. â€Å"Give us a hand bedding down the horses, Sam,† the small boy said. â€Å"We have a long day before us, and no sleep to face it on, thanks to Lord Snow.† When day broke, Jon walked to the kitchens as he did every dawn. Three-Finger Hobb said nothing as he gave him the Old Bear’s breakfast. Today it was three brown eggs boiled hard, with fried bread and ham steak and a bowl of wrinkled plums. Jon carried the food back to the King’s Tower. He found Mormont at the window seat, writing. His raven was walking back and forth across his shoulders, muttering, â€Å"Corn, corn, corn.† The bird shrieked when Jon entered. â€Å"Put the food on the table,† the Old Bear said, glancing up. â€Å"I’ll have some beer.† Jon opened a shuttered window, took the flagon of beer off the outside ledge, and filled a horn. Hobb had given him a lemon, still cold from the Wall. Jon crushed it in his fist. The juice trickled through his fingers. Mormont drank lemon in his beer every day, and claimed that was why he still had his own teeth. â€Å"Doubtless you loved your father,† Mormont said when Jon brought him his horn. â€Å"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember when I told you that?† â€Å"I remember,† Jon said sullenly. He did not care to talk of his father’s death, not even to Mormont. â€Å"See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight. Fetch me my plate. Is it ham again? So be it. You look weary. Was your moonlight ride so tiring?† Jon’s throat was dry. â€Å"You know?† â€Å"Know,† the raven echoed from Mormont’s shoulder. â€Å"Know.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Do you think they chose me Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch because I’m dumb as a stump, Snow? Aemon told me you’d go. I told him you’d be back. I know my men . . . and my boys too. Honor set you on the kingsroad . . . and honor brought you back.† â€Å"My friends brought me back,† Jon said. â€Å"Did I say it was your honor?† Mormont inspected his plate. â€Å"They killed my father. Did you expect me to do nothing?† â€Å"If truth be told, we expected you to do just as you did.† Mormont tried a plum, spit out the pit. â€Å"I ordered a watch kept over you., You were seen leaving. If your brothers had not fetched you back, you would have been taken along the way, and not by friends. Unless you have a horse with wings like a raven. Do you?† â€Å"No.† Jon felt like a fool. â€Å"Pity, we could use a horse like that.† Jon stood tall. He told himself that he would die well; that much he could do, at the least. â€Å"I know the penalty for desertion, my lord. I’m not afraid to die.† â€Å"Die!† the raven cried. â€Å"Nor live, I hope,† Mormont said, cutting his ham with a dagger and feeding a bite to the bird. â€Å"You have not deserted—yet. Here you stand. If we beheaded every boy who rode to Mole’s Town in the night, only ghosts would guard the Wall. Yet maybe you mean to flee again on the morrow, or a fortnight from now. Is that it? Is that your hope, boy?† Jon kept silent. â€Å"I thought so.† Mormont peeled the shell off a boiled egg. â€Å"Your father is dead, lad. Do you think you can bring him back?† â€Å"No,† he answered, sullen. â€Å"Good,† Mormont said. â€Å"We’ve seen the dead come back, you and me, and it’s not something I care to see again.† He ate the egg in two bites and flicked a bit of shell out from between his teeth. â€Å"Your brother is in the field with all the power of the north behind him. Any one of his lords bannermen commands more swords than you’ll find in all the Night’s Watch. Why do you imagine that they need your help? Are you such a mighty warrior, or do you carry a grumkin in your pocket to magic up your sword?† Jon had no answer for him. The raven was pecking at an egg, breaking the shell. Pushing his beak through the hole, he pulled out morsels of white and yoke. The Old Bear sighed. â€Å"You are not the only one touched by this war. Like as not, my sister is marching in your brother’s host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in men’s mail. Maege is a hoary old snark, stubborn, short-tempered, and willful. Truth be told, I can hardly stand to be around the wretched woman, but that does not mean my love for her is any less than the love you bear your half sisters.† Frowning, Mormont took his last egg and squeezed it in his fist until the shell crunched. â€Å"Or perhaps it does. Be that as it may, I’d still grieve if she were slain, yet you don’t see me running off. I said the words, just as you did. My place is here . . . where is yours, boy?† I have no place, Jon wanted to say, I’m a bastard, I have no rights, no name, no mother, and now not even a father. The words would not come. â€Å"I don’t know.† â€Å"I do,† said Lord Commander Mormont. â€Å"The cold winds are rising, Snow. Beyond the Wall, the shadows lengthen. Cotter Pyke writes of vast herds of elk, streaming south and east toward the sea, and mammoths as well. He says one of his men discovered huge, misshapen footprints not three leagues from Eastwatch. Rangers from the Shadow Tower have found whole villages abandoned, and at night Ser Denys says they see fires in the mountains, huge blazes that burn from dusk till dawn. Quorin Halfhand took a captive in the depths of the Gorge, and the man swears that Mance Rayder is massing all his people in some new, secret stronghold he’s found, to what end the gods only know. Do you think your uncle Benjen was the only ranger we’ve lost this past year?† â€Å"Ben Jen,† the raven squawked, bobbing its head, bits of egg dribbling from its beak. â€Å"Ben Jen. Ben Jen.† â€Å"No,† Jon said. There had been others. Too many. â€Å"Do you think your brother’s war is more important than ours?† the old man barked. Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. â€Å"War, war, war, war,† it sang. â€Å"It’s not,† Mormont told him. â€Å"Gods save us, boy, you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?† â€Å"No.† Jon had not thought of it that way. â€Å"Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?† â€Å"Why? Why? Why?† the raven called. â€Å"All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it’s said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours . . . he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Ser Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Ser Jaremy is dead and I’m not.† Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. â€Å"I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall.† His words sent a chill of excitement down Jon’s back. â€Å"Beyond the Wall?† â€Å"You heard me. I mean to find Ben Stark, alive or dead.† He chewed and swallowed. â€Å"I will not sit here meekly and wait for the snows and the ice winds. We must know what is happening. This time the Night’s Watch will ride in force, against the King-beyond-the-Wall, the Others, and anything else that may be out there. I mean to command them myself.† He pointed his dagger at Jon’s chest. â€Å"By custom, the Lord Commander’s steward is his squire as well . . . but I do not care to wake every dawn wondering if you’ve run off again. So I will have an answer from you, Lord Snow, and I will have it now. Are you a brother of the Night’s Watch . . . or only a bastard boy who wants to play at war?† Jon Snow straightened himself and took a long deep breath. Forgive me, Father. Robb, Arya, Bran . . . forgive me, I cannot help you. He has the truth of it. This is my place. â€Å"I am . . . yours, my lord. Your man. I swear it. I will not run again.† The Old Bear snorted. â€Å"Good. Now go put on your sword.†

Book summary Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Book summary - Essay Example Mercator projections typically hanged on pentagon offices and classroom walls usually place the US in the middle where it is separated from Europe to its East by the big Atlantic Ocean and from Asia by to its West by the Pacific Ocean. Our preference for the perspective reflects a particular national egocentrism and has for a bigger part of the past two centuries made a recommendable deal of a strategic sense (Kaplan, 154). Through a big part of the 19th century, oceanic moats made possible the era of free security as a historian by the name C. Van Woodward called it. United States then projected much of its power primarily towards East Asia and Europe as it stepped on the World stage and grew stronger. In the 20th century, America would wage wars, cold and hot, aiming to protect vital regions against the dominion of hostile forces. Their earlier purposes, notwithstanding, the ancient maps are no longer meaningful having outlived their usefulness. After the cold war had come to an end, with much intensity and speed since 9/11, focus shifted towards South and Southeast Asia, the Middle East and towards the western Pacific waters. Robert D. Kaplan in monsoon argues that fresh ways of viewing the World are needed. This is needed mostly in seeing those parts that are integral elements despite being split by old projections (Kaplan, 165). Kaplan’s goal was providing his fellow countrymen with a similar map centered the Greater Indian Ocean, the region that stretched eastward right from the Horn of Africa going past the Arabian Peninsula, Iranian plateau as well as the Indian subcontinent going all the way to Indonesian archipelago and even beyond. He was glad that the monsoon winds shifted direction regularly at six month intervals, making connecting of the far-flung shores by waters to be readily navigable even when there were primitive sailing vessels. The greater Indian Ocean was initially linked by Muslim merchants, later Portugal

Summary Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words - 83

Summary - Essay Example They include; cloud computing, SAP Business Communication Management, Viral Marketing, and Multi-Protocol Label Switching (MPLS). On the other hand, other factors need to be considered so as business communication can be efficient. These factors are known as the seven gems. These aspects include structure, clarity, consistency, medium, relevancy, primacy, and the psychological rule of seven plus or minus two. Moreover, one may be highly qualified but unable to communicate. Therefore, training programs on a regular basis is essential in the essence in improving the communication skills of the employees. This should be limited to problem-solving approaches, building trust, and increasing productivity, quality and teamwork. The employees, on the other hand, must be willing to accommodate criticism. However, criticism should be constructive, as this will boost employee morale. This means that business goals and objectives are meant to revolve around the model of business communications. This is the case as highlighted in the Tata Quality Management Services (TQMS). This can only be achieved if all the participants of the organization are involved. Finally, success in business can be attributed in possessing of the latest information and

Entrepreneur interview and PersonalAnalysis Essay

Entrepreneur interview and PersonalAnalysis - Essay Example These questions also reflect on the different factors that led the person to for a business venture. It would also reflect that whether the person in question has taken any creative or innovative pursuits in helping to gain business productivity. Further the questions also endeavour to understand the vision with which the person had sought to open up the business venture and the process through which he has achieved success in motivating his staff to adapt to the changing needs. The questions would thus help one to understand that whether the entrepreneur performs his actions with an outside eye and the manner in which changes are incorporated in the enterprise context. The questions also tend to evaluate whether the entrepreneur in question conducts activities in regards to the protection of the social and natural environment in and around the business firm. Further through the use of the questions an understanding can be made of the several entrepreneurial traits in regards to the individual in questions. It seeks to understand whether the person is quite self confident in managing changes in the external business environment and also share the same confidence while decentralising the whole gamut of business tasks among separate units. The pattern of questions designed would also reflect on the several influences social, economical and technological which made the entrepreneurs form such an enterprise in carrying out new sets of business activities. In total the questions prepared would help the interviewer in getting a personal insight in the understanding of how Mr. Thomas Mathews aged somewhere in thirties has been able to design a productive entrepreneurial venture though somewhat small in nature. The interview questions are prepared keeping in mind theoretical guidelines which would help in effectively evaluating the entrepreneurial capacity of the interviewee. Open ended questions are rendered so as to get an elucidated understanding of the entrepreneur ial mind of Mr. Thomas Mathews. The specific attributes of Mr. Thomas Mathews which had helped him in becoming a successful businessman is thereby successfully explored through the questions outlined. Evaluation of the Entrepreneur The evaluation of Mr. Thomas Mathews would be conducted from point to point based along the separate questions which can be rendered as follows. A.1 The entrepreneur in order to bring about enhanced productivity in his venture is required to incorporate large amount of changes both in the business process. This change in the business process is made to help the concern address the needs of the external environment. Such change in the business process is made through modification of the business resources both technical and human resources (Ricketts, 2003, p.72). Mr. Thomas Mathews is also found to incorporate changes in its business process through dividing a single project in the hands of double or multiple individuals and assigning a person as responsib le for the monitoring of such. This process would help the company in getting a large number of projects within the same time period. A.2 The entrepreneurs are required to motivate their staffs in a large manner to rightly adapt to the changes incorporated in the process and philosophy of the business organisation. The staffs of the firm need to be adequately trained which in turn would enhance their competence and skills to enhance the business

The american story Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1250 words

The american story - Essay Example What features characterize the American past and how they are reflected within the current day’s American society? In the simplest form, the American story would be seen in whole range of aspects surrounding political, social cultural as well as the economic evolution as has been cited in the past (Salzano 1-3; Anon, 2-3). In the analysis of the American story, this paper intends to evaluate the great steps that characterize the past of the great nation. In particular, the evaluation of the movies as watched in the class depict the systematic change in the different aspects of a nation; economic, social cultural as well as political that are characteristic features of the past to America. As seen from the great book by Garrett, ‘the American story’, much of mankind past can never be ascertained by simply believing what is seen. He clearly reveals that much is what lies behind the scenes and only take the hand of divinity to reveal what actually is presumed. Just a s the case with the rest of world’s countries, the journey of a sovereign America as it is today started with the weight of colonialism. However, events unfolded systematically to pave way to what is currently known as the world’s great, ‘the America’. ... Indeed, the great Henry is quoted to say "As for me, give me liberty or give me death" (Garrett 14), all in the spirit of nationhood as characterized the early formation of a state. It is the committed strive of a great people to birth an unknown country and which would command great global power within a mere span of six generations down the line. Despite the oneness revealed through the struggle for independence within the American country and which is evidently portrayed by the independence declaration, â€Å"We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable right, that among these are life, liberty and pursuit of happiness† (Garrett, 13-16) turned out to mock this own spirit with the practice of mastery and the slave as was the case with the negroes. The actual sense of liberty was only inherent within spirituality as many generations down the line find liberty as mere fiction in their p ursuit. Different continents in history hold different stories of evolution as the book by Diamond in review of the movie, ‘guns, germs and steel’ portrays. He sought to unravel the reasons behind the inequality as seen in our societies, the reason why some societies develop quickly than others. It also intends to reveal the mystery behind the colonization of America by Europe and not otherwise as common sense would have it. Food production as revealed through the evolution track of human beings brought about disparity and class distinction between the haves and the have-nots. Much of the endowment in productivity arose from geographical disparities and the climatic conditions (Diamond 195-197).

Crime and Punishment Assignment Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 2000 words

Crime and Punishment - Assignment Example As a result, countries like America reflect increasing number of prisoners as recorded over the years. However psychologists are still continuing their researches on the causes of crimes and trying to decipher why individuals are entering the criminal justice system (Benson 2003). The basic roles of a prison system include: social isolation and confinement, repentance, punishment and deterrence, protection and reformation. A prison system leads to an isolation of the prisoner from the society such that the man’s violations of the legal system do not affect the lives of the common people. It is expected that he would repent on his wrong deeds if kept isolated. Also, with some pain and suffering, it would create some fears among the criminals. It is also the role of the prison system to protect the society from criminals which can be achieved through captivating the criminals. Reformation is the role that is focused on changing the attitude and mental condition of the individual s such that they do not repeat crimes (Bura 2012). Rehabilitation proves to be an essential role of the prison system since it is the prime motive of the justice system to rehabilitate the individuals who have committed crime. If rehabilitation is not focused, then bad people would only turn into worse. Instead, rehabilitation functions to restore the lives of the criminals by changing their mental condition, health conditions and their attitudes trying to prevent them from committing crimes again. Only then these individuals would be able to live normal lives once they are back into the society (Tanner 2012). Effectiveness of Prisons for Rehabilitation: The Present Day Situation: With the rates of punishment being increased and less focus being given on the resettlement needs of the criminals, the rehabilitation of the offenders in the prison system has become less likely to achieve in the present times. It is observed that most of the prisoners who are released are re-offending an d are taken back to prisons. This reflects the fact that the present day prison system is not proving to be effective in rehabilitating the prisoners and instead turning the mental state into worse through punishment measures (Cavadino 2006). Conclusion: Thus from the above study, it can be realized that although it is the role of the prison to make the criminals realize of their wrongdoings and rehabilitate them such that they can lead normal lives without affecting the society, yet in the present times the prison systems have proved not to be effective enough for rehabilitation of individuals, with their focus being more eon punishing the criminals and not correcting them as is needed. Task 2: Prison Does Not Work: Introduction: Prison punishments have been expected to prevent crimes and correct the mental attitudes of the criminals. Yet in the present times it is observed that prison overcrowding has become one of the major causes of concerns, particularly in countries like the A merica. Similar situation is observed in other countries as well presenting a doubt on whether the modern day prison system works or not (Big Question: Does the modern prison system work? 2013). Prison: The Dominant Form of Punishment: The use of prisons for punishing criminals had been into existence since over 200 years ago. Before

Psychological Approaches to Tackling Hate Crime Research Paper

Psychological Approaches to Tackling Hate Crime - Research Paper Example Such crimes are rooted in the prejudices of the people of every community, against the other communities. If the prejudice is uprooted, hate crimes will definitely be eliminated. Such a step can only be taken through psychological interventions at the personal and community level. Therefore, this paper evaluates hate crimes from the psychological perspective and recommends interventions that may prove helpful in eliminating the menace of hate crimes. Keywords: hate crime, race, sexual orientation, religion, community, psychology, contact theory, scapegoat theory, in-group, out-group Psychological Approaches to Tackling Hate Crime What Psychological Approaches, if any, are Effective at Tackling Hate Crime? Introduction: The motive behind most crimes is either materialistic gain, as in the case of thefts and robberies or pleasure, as in the case of sex offences. However, hate crimes seem to be perpetrated out of no such motives. According to the Association of Chief Police Officers, UK , hate crime is defined as â€Å"any criminal offence which is perceived, by the victim or any other person, to be motivated by a hostility or prejudice based on a person’s race, religion, sexual orientation or disability† (Home office).   In order to tackle hate crimes, many argue that the current laws and regulations should be amended and the penalties and punishments should be multiplied. On a personal level, I am of the opinion that mere alteration of laws and an increase in penalties would only be a â€Å"plaster and band-aid† solution to the problem at hand.  

Week 5 Lt Assignment Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

Week 5 Lt Assignment - Essay Example The processes involved in these improvements include renovation of machines, increased training of employees and establishment of 5S problem analysis team. A new process can be measured using various measurement techniques. Most of these techniques are statistical. One measurement technique is variation and standard deviation. This method determines the level of deviation of the outcome of new process from that of the old process. Returns on Investment (ROI) can also be used to measure the performance of the new process. This involves the measurement of the returns from the new process compared to its investment (Persse, 2006). The initial investment of the process including changes made to the old process is subtracted from the returns of the new process. ROI differs from the Variance and Standard Deviation because Variance and Standard Deviation compares the new process with the old process while the ROI only measures the performance of the new process. However, both measurement techniques show the level of success of the new project based on its performance after the changes to the old

Poem and Short Story Essay Example for Free

Poem and Short Story Essay Mill of the Gods (Estrella Alfon) Among us who lived in Espeleta – that street that I love, about whose people I keep telling tales – among us, I say, there was one named Martha, and she was the daughter of Pio and Engracia. To all of us, life must seem like a road given us to travel, and it is up to Fate, that convenient blunderer, whether, that road be broad and unwinding, or whether it shall be a tortuous lane, its path a hard and twisted mat of dust and stones. And each road, whether lane or avenue, shall have its own landmarks, that only the traveller soul shall recognize and remember, and remembering, continue the journey again. To Martha, the gods gave this for a first memory: a first scar. She was a girl of twelve, and in every way she was but a child. A rather dull child, who always lagged behind the others of her age, whether in study or in play. Life had been so far a question of staying more years in a grade than the others, of being told she would have to apply herself a little harder if she didn’t want the infants catching up with her. But that was so dismal thing. She had gotten a little bit used to being always behind. To always being the biggest girl in her class. Even in play there was some part of her that never managed to take too great a part – she was so content if they always made her â€Å"it† in a game of tag, if only they would let her play. And when she had dolls, she was eager to lend them to other girls, if they would only include her in the fascinating games she could not play alone. This was she, then. Her hair hung in pigtails each side of her face, and already it irked a little to have her dresses too short. She could not help in her mother’s kitchen, and could be trusted to keep her room clean, but she was not ready for the thing her mother told her one night when she was awakened from sleep. It was a sleep untroubled by dreams, then all of a sudden there was an uproar in the house, and she could hear her mother’s frenzied sobbing, and it was not sobbing that held as much of sorrow as it did of anger. She lay still for a while, thinking perhaps she was dreaming, until she could hear her father’s grunted answers to the half – understood things her mother was mouthing at him. Then there were sounds that was clearly the sound of two bodies struggling in terrible fury with each other. She stood up, and like a child, cried into the night. Mother? She wailed the word, in her panic finding a little relief in her own wailing, Mother? And she heard her mother’s voice call her, panting out, saying, Martha, come quickly, come into this room! Martha got up and stood at the door of the room, hesitating about opening it, until her mother, the part of a terrible grasp, said Martha! So Martha pushed in the door, and found her mother and her father locked in an embrace n which both of them struggled and panted and had almost no breath left for words. Martha stood wide – eyed and frightened, not knowing what to do, just standing there, even though she had seen what it was they struggled for. A kitchen knife, blade held upwards in her mother’s hand. Her arms were pinioned to her sides by her husband, but her wild eyes, the frenzy with which she stamped her feet on his feet, and kicked him in the shins, and tried to bite him with her teeth, these were more terrible than the glint of that shining blade. It was her father who spoke to her saying urgently, Martha, reach for her knife, take it away. Yet Martha stood there and did not comprehend until her mother spoke, saying No, no; Martha, your father deserves to be killed. Then it was Martha who realized what she was to do, and slowly, hesitantly, she went near them, her fear of both of them in this terrible anger they now presented making her almost too afraid to reach up for the knife. But reach up she did, and with her child’s fingers, put her mother’s away from the weapon. And when she had it in her hands she did not know what to do with it, except look at it. It wasn’t a very sharp knife, but its blade was clean, and its hilt firm. And so she looked at it, until her father said. Throw it out of the window, Martha and without thinking, she went to a window, opened a casement and threw it away. Then her father released her mother, and once her mother had gotten her arms free, she swung back her hand, and wordlessly, slapped him; slapped him once, twice, three times, alternating with her hands, on alternate cheeks, until her father said. That’s enough, Engracia. And saying so, he took her hands in his, led her resisting to the bed, and made her sit down. And Martha was too young to wonder that her father, who was a big man, should have surrendered to the repeated slapping from her mother who was a very small frail woman. Her father said, â€Å"Aren’t you ashamed now Martha has seen? † And immediately her mother screamed to him, â€Å"Ashamed? Me, ashamed? I’ll tell Martha about you! † Her father looked at Martha still standing dumbly by the window out of which she had thrown the knife, and said, â€Å"No, Aciang, she is just a child. † And to her: â€Å"Martha, go back to bed. † But now her mother jumped up from the bed, and clutched at Martha, and brought her to bed with her. And deliberately without looking at Martha’s father, she said, Martha you are not too young to know. And so, the words falling from her lips with a terrible quiet, she told Martha. The words that were strange to her ears, Martha heard them, and listened to them, and looked from her mother to her father, and without knowing it, wetting her cheeks with her tears that fell. And then her mother stopped talking, and looking at her husband, she spat on him, and Martha saw the saliva spatter on the front of the dark shirt he wore. She watched while her father strode over them, and slowly, also deliberately, slapped her mother on the cheek. Martha watched his open palm as he did it, and felt the blow as though it had been she who had been hit. Then her father strode out of the room, saying nothing, leaving them alone. When her father had gone, Martha’s mother began to cry, saying brokenly to Martha, â€Å"It is that woman, that woman! † And making excuses to Martha for her father, saying it was never completely the man’s fault. And Martha listened bewildered, because this was so different from the venomous words her mother had told her while her father was in the room. And then her mother, still weeping, directed her to look for her father and Martha went out of the room. Her father was not in the house. The night was very dark as she peered out of the windows to see is she could find him outside, but he was nowhere. So she went back to her mother, and told her she could not find her father. Her mother cried silently, the tears coursing down her cheeks, and her sobs tearing through her throat. Martha cried with her, and caressed her mother’s back with her hands, but she had no words to offer, nothing to say. When her mother at last was able to talk again, she told Martha to go back to bed. But it wasn’t the child that entered who went out of that room. And yet the terror of that night was not so great because it was only a terror half – understood. It wasn’t until she was eighteen, that the hurt of that night was invested with its full measure. For when she was eighteen, she fell in love. She was a girl of placid appearance, in her eyes the dreaming stolid night of the unawakened. She still was slow to learn, still not prone to brilliance. And when she fell in love she chose the brightest boy of her limited acquaintance to fall in love with. He was slightly older than herself, a little too handsome, a trifle too given to laughter. Espeleta did not like him; he was too different from the other young me n on the street. But Martha loved him. You could see that in the way she looked at him, the way she listened to him. Martha’s pigtails had lengthened. She now wore her braids coiled on the top of her head like a coronet, and it went well with the placid features, the rather full figure. She was easily one of our prettier maidens. It was well that she was not too brilliant. That she did not have any too modern ideas. The air of shyness, the awkward lack of sparkling conversation suited her Madonna – like face and calm. And her seriousness with love was also part of the calm waiting nature. It did not enter her head that there are such things as play, and a game. And a man’s eagerness for sport. And so when she noticed that his attentions seemed to be wandering, even after he had admitted to a lot of people that they were engaged, she asked him, with the eager desperation of the inexperienced, about their marriage. He laughed at her. Laughed gently, teasingly, saying they could not get married for a long time yet; he must repay his parents first for all that they had done for him. He must first be sure to be able to afford the things she deserved. Well turned phrases he said his excuses with. Charming little evasions. And if she did not see through them while he spoke them, his frequent absences, where his visits had been as a habit; his excuses to stay away when once no amount of sending him off could make him stay away; these but made her see. And understand. And then the way neighbours will, they tried to be kind to her. For they could see her heart was breaking and they tried to say sweet things to her, things like her being far too good for him. And then they heard that he had married. Another girl. And they saw her grief, and thought it strange that a girl should grieve over an undeserving lover or so. She lost a little of the plumpness that was one of her charms. And into her eyes crept a hurt look to replace the dreaming. And Espeleta, with all the good people, strove to be even kinder to her. Watched her grief and pitied her. And told her that whatever mistakes she had committed to make her grieve so, to make her suffer so, they understood and forgave. And they did not blame her. But now that she had learned her lesson, she must beware. She knew her own father as much as they knew about him. And it was in the Fates that his sins must be paid for. If not by himself, then by whom but she who was begotten by him? So, didn’t she see? How careful she should be? Because you could, they said it to her gently, kindly, cruelly, because she could if she were careful, turn aside the vengeance of the implacable fates. And she believed them kind although she hated their suspicions. She believed them kind, and so she started, then, to hate her father. And that night long ago came back to her, and she wished she had not thrown that knife away. Espeleta saw Martha turn religious. More religious than Iya Andia and Iya Nesia, who were old and saw death coming close, and wanted to be assured of the easing of the gates of heaven. Espeleta approved. Because Espeleta did not know what she prayed for. Because they saw only the downcast eyes under the light veil, the coil of shining hair as it bowed over the communion rail. Yet Martha’s mother and father still lived together. They never had separated. Even after that night, when she was twelve years old and frightened, and she had called for him and looked for him and not found him. The next day he had come back, and between her mother and him there was a silence. They slept in the same bed, and spent the nights in the same room, and yet Martha and Espeleta knew he had another bed, another chamber. Espeleta praised Martha’s mother for being so patient. After Martha had fallen in love, when she began hating her father truly then also she began despising her mother. You did not know it to look at Martha. For her coil of braided hair was still there, and the shy way of speaking, and the charming awkwardness at conversation. And Martha made up her earlier lack of lustre by shining in her class now. She was eighteen and not through high school yet. But she made up for it by graduating with high honours. Espeleta clapped its hands when she graduated. Gave her flowers. Her mother and father were there, too. And they were proud. And to look at Martha, you would think she was proud too, if a little too shy still. Martha studied nursing. And started having visitors in her mother’s house again. Doctors this time. Older men, to whom her gravity of manner appealed, and the innate good sense that seemed so patient in her quiet demeanour. Espeleta was now rather proud of Martha. She seemed everything a girl should be, and they cited her as an example of what religion could do. Lift you out of the shadow of your inheritance. For look at Martha. See how different she is from what should be her father’s daughter. But what they did not know was that all of these doctors Martha had to choose someone slightly older than the rest. And where the girl of eighteen that she had been almost a child unschooled, now she was a woman wise and wary. Where the other nurses knew this doctor only as someone who did not like their dances as much as the younger ones, who did not speak as lightly, as flippantly of love as the younger ones, Martha knew why he didn’t. Between the two of them there had been, form the very start, a quick lifting of the pulse, an immediate quickening of the breath. From the very start. And where he could have concealed the secrets of life, he chose the very first time they were able to talk to each other, to tell her that he was not free. He had a wife, and whether he loved her or not, whether she was unfaithful to him or not, which she was, there had been the irrevocable ceremony to bind them, to always make his love for any other woman, if he ever fell in love again, something that must be hidden, something that might not see light. She was a woman now, Martha was. Wise and wary. But there is no wisdom, no weariness against love. Not the kind of deep love she knew she bore him. And as even she him, she found within herself the old deep – abiding secret hate. Against her father. Against the laws of man and church. Against the very fates that seemed rejoiced in making her pay for a sin she had not committed. She now learned of bitterness. Because she could not help thinking of that night, long ago, when her mother had sat on the bed, and in deliberate words told her just what kind of a father she had. It had been as though her mother had shifted on to her unwilling, unready shoulders the burden of the sorrows, the goad of the grief. Espeleta, that was so quick to censure, and to condemn; even Espeleta had taken the situation in Martha’s house as something that could not be helped. And as long as there was no open strife, Espeleta made excuses for a thing that, they said, had been designed by Fate. Martha’s father came home. Acted, on the surface, the good husband. And since he was married to Martha’s mother, so must Martha’s mother bear it, and welcome him home again. Because she would rather he came home, then went to the other one, wouldn’t she? Espeleta cited heavenly rewards. For Martha’s mother. And Martha went to church regularly, and was a good nurse. And still called her father, Father. You have heard that one of course, about the mill of the gods, how they â€Å"grind exceedingly fine, and grind exceedingly slow. † Espeleta hadn’t heard that one, nor had Martha. But Espeleta of course would have a more winded version of it. Anyhow, one day at the hospital, Martha was attendant nurse at an emergency case. A man had been shot. There were three bullets through his chest, but he was still alive. Martha laughed queerly to herself, saying I must be dreaming, I am imagining that man has my father’s face. It was the doctor she loved who was in charge. With a queer dreaming feeling, she raised her eyes to meet his, and was shocked to see him drop his gaze, and over his face steal a twist as of pain, as of pity. They were instantly their efficient selves again, cloaking themselves in the impersonal masks of physician and nurse. It was as if he who lay there beneath their instruments and their probing fingers was any man, the way it could be any man. Not her father. But all while, training and discipline unavailing. Martha said to herself, but it is my father. He died on the table. He never gained consciousness. Martha drew the sheet over his face and form. And watched as they wheeled him out of the room. She still had the instruments to put away and the room to put in order. But this did not take long and when she went out into the corridor, she found her mother weeping beside the shrouded form on the wheeled table. There was a policeman beside her awkwardly trying with gruff words to console the little woman over her loss. Beside the policeman stood also the doctor, who passed an arm around the shoulder of Martha’s mother, saying simply, we tried to save him. Martha joined them, knowing that she should be in tears, yet finding that she had none to shed. It would ease the tightness within her, would loosen the hard knot in her heart to cry. But you cannot summon tears when you feel no grief, and the pain you feel is not of sorrow but of the cruel justness of things. She could not even put her arms around her weeping mother. When the doctor told her that she would be excused from duty the rest of the day, that he would arrange it for her, she did not thank him. She did not say anything for indeed she no longer had any words, nor any emotions that required speech. Or should be given speech. For one cannot say, how right! How just! When one’s father has just died. Her mother and she took a taxi together to accompany the hearse that took her father home. There was a crowd awaiting them. Espeleta in tears. Espeleta crying condolence and opprobrium in the same breath. It was from them – their good neighbours, their kind neighbours – that Martha learned how â€Å"God’s justice had overtaken the sinner. † Colon is not as intimate as Espeleta. For it is a long street and broad street. But where the railroad crosses it, the houses group together in intimate warmth and neighbourly closeness and its families live each other’s lives almost as meddlingly as Espeleta does. And is as avid for scandals as Espeleta is. Among the people in Martha’s house were some from Colon. And it was they who supplied the grimmer details, the more lucid picture. In that other woman’s house – and Martha did not even know the other woman’s name there had existed the stalemate state of affairs that had existed in Martha’s house. Only where in Martha’s house it had been a wife who was patient, in that other woman’s house it had been the husband who had bided his time. And yet the neighbours had thought he had not cared. For indeed he had seemed like a man blind and deaf, and if he raised his voice against his wife, it was not so they could hear it. Yet today, he had come home, after he had said he was going away somewhere. And had come upon Martha’s father in the house, and had, without saying anything, taken out his revolver, and shot at him. Martha heard all these. And thought you know often life seems like an old – fashioned melodrama, guns and all. And yet the gun had not gone off. It had jammed, and Martha’s father had been able to run. And running, even as he seemed far enough from the house to be safe, the gun in the husband’s hand had come right again. The man had gone out in the street, aimed at the fleeing figure. That explained why the bullets had gone in through his back and out through his chest. They said that the street was spattered with blood and where he fell, there was a pool of gory red. The killer had surrendered himself at once. But everyone knew he would not pay with his life he had taken. For the woman was his wife and he had come upon them in his own home. Martha stayed with the kind condolers only a while. She left her mother for them to comfort as best as they could. They would have praises like â€Å"The good God knows best;† they would have words like, â€Å"Your grief is ended, let your other grief commence. † She went to look at her father lying well arranged now in his bier. Already in spite of the manner of his death, there were flowers for him. Death had left no glare in the eyes that the doctor at the hospital had mercifully closed, over the features lingered no evidence of pain. And Martha said, Death was kind to you. In Martha’s room there hung a crucifix. Upon the crossed wood was the agonized Christ, His eyes soft and deep and tender, even in his agony. But as Martha knelt, and lighted her candles, and prayed, in her eyes was no softness, and on her lips no words appealing for pity for him who had died. There was only the glitter of a justice meted out at last, and the thankfulness for a punishment fulfilled. So she gave thanks, very fervent thanks. For now, she hoped, she would cease to pay.