Assessing Corporate Culture Essay Example for Free

Assessing Corporate Culture Essay 1. Scheins approach to assessing organizational culture a. Strengths of scheins approach to assessing organizational culture Schein defines and describes culture as any one of many elements of organizational culture. The culture of an organization can be viewed and treated like other structures within an organization. Certain organizations such as by-laws, committees, and chain of command flow charts, may serve to answer basic questions such as â€Å"how do we interact with the external environment?† and â€Å"how do we order ourselves internally?† As an organization responds to these questions, the responses become core assumptions. These core assumptions become the frames through which the organization interprets the world round it. In place of questionnaire or instrument that utilizes typologies, Schein prefers clinical research model of assessing organizational culture. In this model of organizational culture investigation, the researcher gets much more directly involved within the organization by acting as participant observer or ethnographer. He suggests that members of the organization will more openly respond to the researcher and the investigation because the members of the organization think they have something to gain by collaborating with the researcher. Schein believes that valid data on the culture of the organization will only be collected when the researcher is perceived as the consultant who is seeking to help the organization and has the best interest of the organization in mind. Schein admits that the clinical model of evaluating organizational culture assumes that the researcher intervenes in the culture of the organization. If the organization perceives that the researcher is helping to make changes that will benefit the organization, then the research will accurately yield the cultural dynamics of the organization. b. Weaknesses of Schein approach to assessing organizational culture The results gained from qualitative result are limited to specific cases under investigation. Direct comparison cannot be made between the results from other studies unless the research is specifically designed in that manner. Furthermore, results cannot be generalized to other settings and links to organization’s performance are rarely explored. One significant weakness to Schein’s approach (qualitative method) is the time needed for data collection and analysis which makes the research more costly and time consuming 2. Cameron and Quinn approach a. Strengths of Cameron and Quinn approach to assessing organizational culture Cameron and Quinn provide an evaluation tool called the organizational culture assessment inventory (OCAL). The OCAI is a survey instrument established on a theoretical model called the competing value framework. This framework is valuable for organizing and interpreting various phenomena within an organization. The competing values framework refers to whether an organization strives for flexibility and individuality or stability and control, whether or not an organization is focused externally or internally. The purpose of the OCAI is to discern the relative strengths of these culture types within a given organization. Used over time, the OCAI can measure culture changes within the organization. Cameron and Quinn observe many cases in the business world where culture change is the key to increasing organizational effectiveness. The four major culture types proposed by Cameron and Quinn embody these competing values: clan-internal/control; adhocracy-external/flexible; market-external/control; hierarchy-internal/control. In fact pure control (hierarchy), compete (market), collaborate (clan), or create (adhocracy) are extremely rare. Most of the company cultures that have been diagnosed using Cameron and Quinn’s organization culture instrument indeed have a strong secondary component. Cameron and Quinn identify the cultural and organizational competencies that give rise to value creation. It explains how cultural and leadership competencies can be profiled which, in turn, can lead to a diagnosis of culture gaps, cultural congruency and cultural strength. 3. London first united church Cameron and Quinn’s model is appropriate for this church. This approach is built around clan, adhocracy, market and hierarchy. These four maps themes were also used in the analysis of how organizational culture of London first united Methodist church chances with structural inventions. The church is both an organization and an organism. As such, the church has a lifecycle development built into it: birth, growth, reproduction, decline, and death. The church itself historically has through several changes. Change as renewal is a major aspect of the Methodist movement. Much of the rise and fall of the Methodism can be traced to how the church was willing, or not, to change. Oftentimes, organizations experience growth and/or renewal because of structural changes within the organization. The four maps themes therefore fit this church.

Distinctions Between Whats True, Whats False

Distinctions Between Whats True, Whats False The statement There are no absolute distinctions between what is true and what is false is both correct and incorrect when examining certain areas of knowledge and ways of knowing. To evaluate the statements accuracy we must understand the meaning of the words true, false and absolute. In my opinion something that has been proven as correct or real is true. On the other hand, something which has failed to be proven true is false, yet this definition itself may be incorrect as others might argue that a claim which has not been credited as true does not necessarily mean it is false. Lastly, the term absolute is something perfect or unlimited. However, how can something be proven true, and if it has, then who determines when there is enough proof to make it true? Normally we rely on evidence to help us prove the validity of a claim, particularly for historical and scientific claims. On the other hand, evidence used could contain problems of knowledge due to bias which could be associate d with it. Therefore, what kind of evidence is needed to have a justified truth in the different areas of knowledge? In my opinion, perception is one of the most important ways of knowing, since we often depend on it to determine whether a claim is true or false. For example, the existence of light is considered a fact due to perceptionyet to a person who has been blind their whole life, light would be considered a myth since they have never perceived it. On the other hand, perception can deceive us and lead us away from the truth. Take for instance a schizophrenic patient. Science has proven that people who suffer schizophrenia are delusional.  [1]  The people they interact with are true to them but their existence to us is false. What gives us the right to deny their existence? Perhaps we are the ones who have a barrier to our senses that stops us from seeing what schizophrenic patients see. Therefore perception could be considered relative as it creates different truths to different individuals and is therefore subjective. Nevertheless it is not just perception alone which leads us to the tr uth. Science is a discipline that is based on hard, objective and systematic evidence before truths can be reached. Through tests and observations possible explanations or hypotheses are formed and later developed into scientific claims which could be regarded as true or false. For example, the cell theory, which states that all living organisms are composed of cells, that cells are the smallest units of life and that they come from pre-existing cells, was derived from several similar hypotheses and then confirmed after many scientists experiments and observations.  [2]  The cell theory is considered true by a large number of scientists yet it can be argued that we cannot claim that the theory is an absolute truth since new evidence can appear and contradict explanations to the theory which could lead, after further experimentation, to new and improved knowledge and a more accurate truth. This is apparent when examining the induced-fit model by Koshland which was discovered after the lock and key model was developed to describe the mechanism of enzyme action.  [3]  The induced model highlighted that certain enzymes could catalyse several similar reactions contradicting the belief that enzymes were as rigid as previously proposed by the lock and key model. From the above examples we can see that scientists are able to distinguish between a true claim and a false one, to a certain extent, and that new truths are built from previous claims which were/are believed to be true but, that it is almost impossible to state that a claim is the absolute truth. I believe the problem with scientific claims is that most scientists have not tested the validity of the previous scientific truths on which they build their new scientific claim. This makes the previous scientific truths, subjective truths, but scientists use these subjective truths in the hope of finding objective truth. Meanwhile, not all scientific claims which have been proven true remain true. Science has witnessed paradigm shifts such as the shift in the belief that stress and spicy food were the causes to stomach ulcers. This was thought because the idea of bacterium surviving in the acidic environment of a stomach was not a possibility, yet it was later proven that the true cause of ulcers was a bacterium known as Helicobacter pylori which lives in the mucus layer near the stomach wall cells.  [4]  This example shows that science has its limitations at certain points of time and that what we believe is true today may not be true tomorrow, therefore embracing Karl Poppers idea of falsification. These paradigm shifts also lead to the idea that there may be no absolute proof in science that can verify nor falsify the validity of a scientific hypothesis. Therefore, should science embrace the concept of relativism, the idea that some claims are true for some people but not necessarily true for all?  [5]  If we deny the concept of relativism, would it prevent us from moving forward and gaining new knowledge since scientific knowledge comes from known truths? I believe that we should bear in mind the chance that any scientific claim known now could be altered or changed at any moment, but as knowers ourselves we should avoid gullibility by continuing to question these scientific claims especially during classes such as the sciences where we as students are exposed to these claims through secondary sources. History is an area of knowledge where determining true historical claims is very different from in science since knowers cannot directly observe the past.  [6]  It is up to historians and the evidence left behind to develop historical claims and prove their validity. During a History class, I was asked to evaluate a few sources of evidence in relation to the Vietnam War. Each source showed different aspects of the war. Here, I was introduced to propaganda and how far off from the truth it can lead people. Certain evidence such as photographs can deceive us again due to our perception as each person may conclude something different. The media is often accused of using certain photographs which appear to convey a certain message leading to biases. Reasoning, one of the ways of knowing, is used in order to conclude on past events. However, how reliable is the historical evidence? Is it all correct, or does it consist of fabricated facts? I once gave a seminar on the Arab-Israeli conflict, the central conflict in the novel One More River, by Lynne Reid Banks. Countries such as the US have failed to solve this conflict due to the two stories of each nation. For both Palestinians and Israelis, most of the evidence they have is based on their beliefs and stories. However stories in history are often not considered as legitimate evidence, for the truth to be determined. Where does the truth really lie with the assumption that previous generations of both sides may have tried to hide the truth in order to insure that future generations could continue to claim the land as their own? Other nations are involved in trying to resolve this conflict, and emotions can play a major part in determining whose side you take through religious or linguistic affinity. The media play on emotion and help shape peoples opinions towards certain topics through the very language, tone and imagery that are used. Language and emotions can either mask the truth or make it clearer. The media are full of news stories that project their own biases, often negatively influencing the perception of the readers/viewers. In such instances, it is almost impossible to establish what is true and what is really false. Mathematics is an area of knowledge which begins logically from a set of axioms (assumptions)  [7]  from which objective truth is stereotypically claimed to be present. For example, 1+1 will always equal 2 yet this example faces counter-claims such as the fact that 1+1= from an artistic perspective forms a window. It could also be argued that when looking at a real life situation where 1 man and 1 woman enter a house we should have 2 people in the house according to the definition, but what if the woman is in the early stages of pregnancy? Therefore in contrary to perception, there would be more than two living human beings in the house, disproving the mathematical definition. An example of objective truth in mathematics is the fact that parallel lines never meet. If they meet, then they would no longer be parallel. In my opinion, math is the not the strongest area of knowledge which agrees with the statement at hand since distinctions between true and false mathematical claims i s possible. However, some areas in mathematics remain subjective. For instance, it could be argued that in order to solve a mathematical equation, mathematical theories and laws must be accepted, making the truth in maths subjective. Over all, after examining three of the six main areas of knowledge, mathematics seems to least support the claim that There are no absolute distinctions between what is true and what is false, as there is much objective truth in mathematics. We see that different areas of knowledge use different ways of knowing as evidence to distinguish between true and false statements in addition to the problems associated with them. Lastly we see how difficult it is to state that absolute truths exist as well as form an absolute distinction between what is true and what is false. Word count: 1598

Julius Caesar Analysis :: essays papers

Julius Caesar Analysis Aristotle was perhaps the pioneer of modern day dramas, more specifically dramatic tragedies. He first defined what a tragedy is: A drama which contained hubris, pathos and/or bathos, and the most valued element in a tragedy, a tragic hero. This was usually the main character who is noble in his deeds, yet has one flaw which causes him to fall. The tragic works of Shakespeare were no exception. In the drama, Julius Caesar the reader can clearly see many of the principles of a tragedy. That is all except for the tragic hero. Ideas as to who is the tragic hero range from Cassius to Julius Caesar himself. The trouble is all characters have material to prove and disprove them. However the hypothesis that Marcus Brutus is the tragic hero is incorrect. One element to a tragic hero is the hero has only one tragic flaw, and Brutus clearly has more than one flaw in his character. The first flaws in Brutus character is his naivete and the assumptions he makes about other characters. Through out the entire story these two flaws are reflected in many of his decisions and actions. A specific example is his view on the Roman populace. Thinking all Romans are honorable and noble it is not only incorrect, but it plagues him until the very end of the play. One instance occurred as the conspirators were meeting. Brutus stated, Lets kill him boldly, but not wrathfully...... This shall make our purpose necessary and not envious.... (Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, 2.1. 172 & 177-178). He honestly believed that all involved were going to kill Caesar for honorable reasons. Not once did he question the motives of everyone, where, in reality Brutus probably was the only involved for noble reasons. Brutus undoubtedly convinces the reader of his own naivete when he states, ... let us bathe our hands in Caesars blood... Lets all cry ^Peace, freedom, and liberty!! (3.1. 106 & 110) Just by his enthusiasm, Brutus is not aware of any other motives. He simply believes that , Peace, freedom, and liberty are the only motives. Another example was during his speech at Caesars funeral. ... not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more (3.2. 18-20). Addressing the nobility of his actions and his love for Rome, Brutus surmises that the people understand him because of their equal love for their country. This assumption is evident because he uses it as the sole reason for killing Caesar. A reason that Brutus believes the people agree with, otherwise he would not use it to rationalize such a

Harry Forster Chapin: Musician, Song Writer, Film Editor and Political

In the short thirty-nine years of the life of Harry Forster Chapin (1942-1981), he managed to distinguish himself as a creative genius in multiple fields, ultimately leaving a distinct mark on this world, though he received only moderate public recognition. Professionally, he was a musical performer and songwriter, a film editor, and a political activist and lobbyist, able to reach remarkable heights in all three fields. In the field of music, Chapin rose to stardom as a rock and roll performer and songwriter during the 1970's, introducing the world to a new style of music he created and popularized, the story-song. Within this new framework, Chapin was able to use his interest and proficiency in poetry to create song lyrics which told the story of a character or group of characters. He was able to weave wonderfully powerful tales of the lives of his characters in a few short stanzas, applying many traditional story-line techniques; a rising action which lead to a climax, followed by a falling action which usually revealed an unexpected twist, offering a recognizable message in the last few lyrics of the song. The subjects of these songs were generally based on Chapin's real life experiences and moods, and in this sense, he was able to express more honestly the feeling associated with the stories. Furthermore, Chapin went a step further by adding music to his stories, accentuating the changes in tone of the stories with musical accompaniments. His musical style contained many folk, rock and roll, jazz and blues elements, revealing his diverse musical background and familiarity with a variety of styles. The result was a remarkably popular style, which granted Chapin the ability to generate a strong connection to his audience during... ...o Gardner, another major milestone taking place around 1976, with the completion of perhaps his most comprehensive piece, an autobiographical song called "There Only Was One Choice". In it, Chapin mysteriously foretold of his tragic death at a young age: When I started this song I was still thirty-three. The age that Mozart died and Sweet Jesus was set free, Keats and Shelly, too soon finished, Charlie Parker would be And I fanaticized a tragedy be soon curtailing me. He also included in the song, the lyrics which have come to define his life more than any other: Inexperience - it once accursed me, but your youth is no handicap, it's what makes you thirsty. (From "Danceband on the Titanic" 1977) Bibliography: Coan, Peter M. Taxi: The Harry Chapin Story. New York:Carol Publishing Group. C. 1990. Http://www.littlejason.com/chapin/longbio.html

Free Will Essay -- essays papers

Free Will â€Å"Free Will and its effect on the Greeks, Christians, and Romans† Free will is defined as: Voluntary choice or decision; freedom of humans to make choices that are not determined by prior causes or by divine intervention (Webster’s Online Collegiate Dictionary). Free will had an effect on the Greeks, Christians, and the Romans. Three stories, Oedipus the King, the Bible, and the Aenied, respectively, that we have studied and that fall in each society are examples of how free will is altered by different societies and how it effects their lives. Oedipus the King was written by a Greek, Sophocles. During this time, the Greeks believed that everything was done for the gods, they did not have free will over their lives. There are many examples in the play in which the gods are controlling and tell the people what they should do or how they should live their lives. At the end of the play Oedipus asks Creon to banish him from Thebes: Oedipus: Drive me out of Thebes, in exile. Creon: Not I. Only the gods can give you that. Oedipus: Surely the gods hate me so much- Creon: You’ll get your wish at once†¦(Oedipus 639 lines 1168-71). Creon and Oedipus discuss here how they have no control over their lives, decisions and all. The gods are the ones who make all of the choices. Oedipus, along with the rest of the Greeks, believed that he had no say in the way his life was going to turn out. He believed that it was destined for his life to end the way it did, with him being cursed and banished from Thebes. The Bible is the word of God for the Christians. There are many examples of free will throughout the Bible. Christians believe that God gave us free will to do as we please, but whatever we do should be ... ...s different in each society, the Greeks, Christians, and Romans were all effected in one way or another. Whether it was the gods controlling their lives or God watching over their lives, free will had a very strong imprint on how each society lived their life. Bibliography: Works Cited Genesis. The Bible. The Norton Anthology: World Masterpieces. Ed. Lawall. & Mack. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1999. 51-72. Merriam Webster’s Online Collegiate Dictionary. 2000. Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. 8 October 2000. www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary Sophocles. Oedipus the King. The Norton Anthology: World Masterpieces. Ed. Lawall. & Mack. New Tork: W.W. Norton & Co.,1999. 596-640. Virgil. The Aenied. The Norton Anthology: World Masterpieces. Ed. Lawall. & Mack. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1999. 814-895.

Bread of the World

Our nation’s dedication in eradicating poverty has indeed created a great impact in the country’s image. The humanitarian programs of the government has effectively help millions of families survive the test of poverty. In addition, the foreign assistance has help alleviate the economy of the other countries drowned in poverty. But, at present, poverty is still prevalent in the poor continents like Africa. Inadequacy of food has killed thousands of lives of young Africans. Due to the continuous poverty, the hope for development may never be realized in some poor countries.This also proves that the foreign aid being afforded by the country is not enough. Hence, this letter asks your good office to initiate a change of the country’s foreign aid programs and policies. Time for action should be instigated now. By your help, please coordinate with your fellow solons to include poverty among the priorities of the country. By enhancing our programs in alleviating povert y, millions of lives would be saved and changed. The period for fighting poverty should be now and be continued until a shadow of it will be eradicated.At the same time, the economic status of the country would eventually be build and the confidence of the people in their government would be strengthened. Let the Congress start renewing foreign aid programs and save many children from death caused by hunger. Sincerely, (Your Name) (Address) Reference Bread for the World & Bread for the World Institute. (2008). Bread for the World: Have Faith End Hunger. Retrieved March 20, 2009, from http://www. bread. org/page. jsp? itemID=28131907

A Game of Thrones Chapter Twenty-nine

Sansa Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind . . . and the knights themselves, the knights most of all. â€Å"It is better than the songs,† she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling. They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime Lannister in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as freshfallen snow. Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion's-head helm and a golden sword. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, thundered past them like an avalanche. Sansa remembered Lord Yohn Royce, who had guested at Winterfell two years before. â€Å"His armor is bronze, thousands and thousands of years old, engraved with magic runes that ward him against harm,† she whispered to Jeyne. Septa Mordane pointed out Lord Jason Mallister, in indigo chased with silver, the wings of an eagle on his helm. He had cut down three of Rhaegar's bannermen on the Trident. The girls giggled over the warrior priest Thoros of Myr, with his flapping red robes and shaven head, until the septa told the m that he had once scaled the walls of Pyke with a flaming sword in hand. Other riders Sansa did not know; hedge knights from the Fingers and Highgarden and the mountains of Dorne, unsung freeriders and new-made squires, the younger sons of high lords and the heirs of lesser houses. Younger men, most had done no great deeds as yet, but Sansa and Jeyne agreed that one day the Seven Kingdoms would resound to the sound of their names. Ser Balon Swann. Lord Bryce Caron of the Marches. Bronze Yohn's heir, Ser Andar Royce, and his younger brother Ser Robar, their silvered steel plate filigreed in bronze with the same ancient runes that warded their father. The twins Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, whose shields displayed the grape cluster sigil of the Redwynes, burgundy on blue. Patrek Mallister, Lord Jason's son. Six Freys of the Crossing: Ser Jared, Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell, Ser Emmon, Ser Theo, Ser Perwyn, sons and grandsons of old Lord Walder Frey, and his bastard son Martyn Rivers as well. Jeyne Poole confessed herself frightened by the look of Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night, but when she saw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willing to marry him on the instant. The Hound entered the lists as well, and so too the king's brother, handsome Lord Renly of Storm's End. Jory, Alyn, and Harwin rode for Winterfell and the north. â€Å"Jory looks a beggar among these others,† Septa Mordane sniffed when he appeared. Sansa could only agree. Jory's armor was blue-grey plate without device or ornament, and a thin grey cloak hung from his shoulders like a soiled rag. Yet he acquitted himself well, unhorsing Horas Redwyne in his first joust and one of the Freys in his second. In his third match, he rode three passes at a freerider named Lothor Brune whose armor was as drab as his own. Neither man lost his seat, but Brune's lance was steadier and his blows better placed, and the king gave him the victory. Alyn and Harwin fared less well; Harwin was unhorsed in his first tilt by Ser Meryn of the Kingsguard, while Alyn fell to Ser Balon Swann. The jousting went all day and into the dusk, the hooves of the great warhorses pounding down the lists until the field was a ragged wasteland of torn earth. A dozen times Jeyne and Sansa cried out in unison as riders crashed together, lances exploding into splinters while the commons screamed for their favorites. Jeyne covered her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened little girl, but Sansa was made of sterner stuff. A great lady knew how to behave at tournaments. Even Septa Mordane noted her composure and nodded in approval. The Kingslayer rode brilliantly. He overthrew Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings, and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy, who had won his first two tilts against men thirty and forty years his junior. Sandor Clegane and his immense brother, Ser Gregor the Mountain, seemed unstoppable as well, riding down one foe after the next in ferocious style. The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The youth fell not ten feet from where Sansa was seated. The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one. Jeyne Poole wept so hysterically that Septa Mordane finally took her off to regain her composure, but Sansa sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching with a strange fascination. She had never seen a man die before. She ought to be crying too, she thought, but the tears would not come. Perhaps she had used up all her tears for Lady and Bran. It would be different if it had been Jory or Ser Rodrik or Father, she told herself. The young knight in the blue cloak was nothing to her, some stranger from the Vale of Arryn whose name she had forgotten as soon as she heard it. And now the world would forget his name too, Sansa realized; there would be no songs sung for him. That was sad. After they carried off the body, a boy with a spade ran onto the field and shoveled dirt over the spot where he had fallen, to cover up the blood. Then the jousts resumed. Ser Balon Swann also fell to Gregor, and Lord Renly to the Hound. Renly was unhorsed so violently that he seemed to fly backward off his charger, legs in the air. His head hit the ground with an audible crack that made the crowd gasp, but it was just the golden antler on his helm. One of the tines had snapped off beneath him. When Lord Renly climbed to his feet, the commons cheered wildly, for King Robert's handsome young brother was a great favorite. He handed the broken tine to his conqueror with a gracious bow. The Hound snorted and tossed the broken antler into the crowd, where the commons began to punch and claw over the little bit of gold, until Lord Renly walked out among them and restored the peace. By then Septa Mordane had returned, alone. Jeyne had been feeling ill, she explained; she had helped her back to the castle. Sansa had almost forgotten about Jeyne. Later a hedge knight in a checkered cloak disgraced himself by killing Beric Dondarrion's horse, and was declared forfeit. Lord Beric shifted his saddle to a new mount, only to be knocked right off it by Thoros of Myr. Ser Aron Santagar and Lothor Brune tilted thrice without result; Ser Aron fell afterward to Lord Jason Mallister, and Brune to Yohn Royce's younger son, Robar. In the end it came down to four; the Hound and his monstrous brother Gregor, Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, and Ser Loras Tyrell, the youth they called the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. Sansa had never seen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd. His last match of the day was against the younger Royce. Ser Robar's ancestral runes proved small protection as Ser Loras split his shield and drove him from his saddle to crash with an awful clangor in the dirt. Robar lay moaning as the victor made his circuit of the field. Finally they called for a litter and carried him off to his tent, dazed and unmoving. Sansa never saw it. Her eyes were only for Ser Loras. When the white horse stopped in front of her, she thought her heart would burst. To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. â€Å"Sweet lady,† he said, â€Å"no victory is half so beautiful as you.† Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off. When Sansa finally looked up, a man was standing over her, staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in his hair, almost as old as her father. â€Å"You must be one of her daughters,† he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did not smile when his mouth did. â€Å"You have the Tully look.† â€Å"I'm Sansa Stark,† she said, ill at ease. The man wore a heavy cloak with a fur collar, fastened with a silver mockingbird, and he had the effortless manner of a high lord, but she did not know him. â€Å"I have not had the honor, my lord.† Septa Mordane quickly took a hand. â€Å"Sweet child, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, of the king's small council.† â€Å"Your mother was my queen of beauty once,† the man said quietly. His breath smelled of mint. â€Å"You have her hair.† His fingers brushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock. Quite abruptly he turned and walked away. By then, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee. While the commons began their walk home, talking of the day's jousts and the matches to come on the morrow, the court moved to the riverside to begin the feast. Six monstrous huge aurochs had been roasting for hours, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the pavilions, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread. Sansa and Septa Mordane were given places of high honor, to the left of the raised dais where the king himself sat beside his queen. When Prince Joffrey seated himself to her right, she felt her throat tighten. He had not spoken a word to her since the awful thing had happened, and she had not dared to speak to him. At first she thought she hated him for what they'd done to Lady, but after Sansa had wept her eyes dry, she told herself that it had not been Joffrey's doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya. She could not hate Joffrey tonight. He was too beautiful to hate. He wore a deep blue doublet studded with a double row of golden lion's heads, and around his brow a slim coronet made of gold and sapphires. His hair was as bright as the metal. Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again and send her weeping from the table. Instead Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs, and said, â€Å"Ser Loras has a keen eye for beauty, sweet lady.† â€Å"He was too kind,† she demurred, trying to remain modest and calm, though her heart was singing. â€Å"Ser Loras is a true knight. Do you think he will win tomorrow, my lord?† â€Å"No,† Joffrey said. â€Å"My dog will do for him, or perhaps my uncle Jaime. And in a few years, when I am old enough to enter the lists, I shall do for them all.† He raised his hand to summon a servant with a flagon of iced summerwine, and poured her a cup. She looked anxiously at Septa Mordane, until Joffrey leaned over and filled the septa's cup as well, so she nodded and thanked him graciously and said not another word. The servants kept the cups filled all night, yet afterward Sansa could not recall ever tasting the wine. She needed no wine. She was drunk on the magic of the night, giddy with glamour, swept away by beauties she had dreamt of all her life and never dared hope to know. Singers sat before the king's pavilion, filling the dusk with music. A juggler kept a cascade of burning clubs spinning through the air. The king's own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after all. Even Septa Mordane was helpless before him; when he sang his little song about the High Septon, she laughed so hard she spilled wine on herself. And Joffrey was the soul of courtesy. He talked to Sansa all night, showering her with compliments, making her laugh, sharing little bits of court gossip, explaining Moon Boy's japes. Sansa was so captivated that she quite forgot all her courtesies and ignored Septa Mordane, seated to her left. All the while the courses came and went. A thick soup of barley and venison. Salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts. Snails in honey and garlic. Sansa had never eaten snails before; Joffrey showed her how to get the snail out of the shell, and fed her the first sweet morsel himself. Then came trout fresh from the river, baked in clay; her prince helped her crack open the hard casing to expose the flaky white flesh within. And when the meat course was brought out, he served her himself, slicing a queen's portion from the joint, smiling as he laid it on her plate. She could see from the way he moved that his right arm was still troubling him, yet he uttered not a word of complaint. Later came sweetbreads and pigeon pie and baked apples fragrant with cinnamon and lemon cakes frosted in sugar, but by then Sansa was so stuffed that she could not manage more than two little lemon cakes, as much as she loved them. She was wondering whether she might attempt a third when the king began to shout. King Robert had grown louder with each course. From time to time Sansa could hear him laughing or roaring a command over the music and the clangor of plates and cutlery, but they were too far away for her to make out his words. Now everybody heard him. â€Å"No,† he thundered in a voice that drowned out all other speech. Sansa was shocked to see the king on his feet, red of face, reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and he was drunk as a man could be. â€Å"You do not tell me what to do, woman,† he screamed at Queen Cersei. â€Å"I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!† Everyone was staring. Sansa saw Ser Barristan, and the king's brother Renly, and the short man who had talked to her so oddly and touched her hair, but no one made a move to interfere. The queen's face was a mask, so bloodless that it might have been sculpted from snow. She rose from the table, gathered her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, servants trailing behind. Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. â€Å"The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer.† He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. â€Å"Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!† Jaime Lannister rose and brushed himself off. â€Å"As you say, Your Grace.† His voice was stiff. Lord Renly came forward, smiling. â€Å"You've spilled your wine, Robert. Let me bring you a fresh goblet.† Sansa started as Joffrey laid his hand on her arm. â€Å"It grows late,† the prince said. He had a queer look on his face, as if he were not seeing her at all. â€Å"Do you need an escort back to the castle?† â€Å"No,† Sansa began. She looked for Septa Mordane, and was startled to find her with her head on the table, snoring soft and ladylike snores. â€Å"I mean to say . . . yes, thank you, that would be most kind. I am tired, and the way is so dark. I should be glad for some protection.† Joffrey called out, â€Å"Dog!† Sandor Clegane seemed to take form out of the night, so quickly did he appear. He had exchanged his armor for a red woolen tunic with a leather dog's head sewn on the front. The light of the torches made his burned face shine a dull red. â€Å"Yes, Your Grace?† he said. â€Å"Take my betrothed back to the castle, and see that no harm befalls her,† the prince told him brusquely. And without even a word of farewell, Joffrey strode off, leaving her there. Sansa could feel the Hound watching her. â€Å"Did you think Joff was going to take you himself?† He laughed. He had a laugh like the snarling of dogs in a pit. â€Å"Small chance of that.† He pulled her unresisting to her feet. â€Å"Come, you're not the only one needs sleep. I've drunk too much, and I may need to kill my brother tomorrow.† He laughed again. Suddenly terrified, Sansa pushed at Septa Mordane's shoulder, hoping to wake her, but she only snored the louder. King Robert had stumbled off and half the benches were suddenly empty. The feast was over, and the beautiful dream had ended with it. The Hound snatched up a torch to light their way. Sansa followed close beside him. The ground was rocky and uneven; the flickering light made it seem to shift and move beneath her. She kept her eyes lowered, watching where she placed her feet. They walked among the pavilions, each with its banner and its armor hung outside, the silence weighing heavier with every step. Sansa could not bear the sight of him, he frightened her so, yet she had been raised in all the ways of courtesy. A true lady would not notice his face, she told herself. â€Å"You rode gallantly today, Ser Sandor,† she made herself say. Sandor Clegane snarled at her. â€Å"Spare me your empty little compliments, girl . . . and your ser's. I am no knight. I spit on them and their vows. My brother is a knight. Did you see him ride today?† â€Å"Yes,† Sansa whispered, trembling. â€Å"He was . . . â€Å"Gallant?† the Hound finished. He was mocking her, she realized. â€Å"No one could withstand him,† she managed at last, proud of herself. It was no lie. Sandor Clegane stopped suddenly in the middle of a dark and empty field. She had no choice but to stop beside him. â€Å"Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite.† â€Å"That's unkind.† Sansa could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. â€Å"You're frightening me. I want to go now.† â€Å"No one could withstand him,† the Hound rasped. â€Å"That's truth enough. No one could ever withstand Gregor. That boy today, his second joust, oh, that was a pretty bit of business. You saw that, did you? Fool boy, he had no business riding in this company. No money, no squire, no one to help him with that armor. That gorget wasn't fastened proper. You think Gregor didn't notice that? You think Ser Gregor's lance rode up by chance, do you? Pretty little talking girl, you believe that, you're empty-headed as a bird for true. Gregor's lance goes where Gregor wants it to go. Look at me. Look at me!† Sandor Clegane put a huge hand under her chin and forced her face up. He squatted in front of her, and moved the torch close. â€Å"There's a pretty for you. Take a good long stare. You know you want to. I've watched you turning away all the way down the kingsroad. Piss on that. Take your look.† His fingers held her jaw as hard as an iron trap. His eyes watched hers. Drunken eyes, sullen with anger. She had to look. The right side of his face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a grey eye beneath a heavy brow. His nose was large and hooked, his hair thin, dark. He wore it long and brushed it sideways, because no hair grew on the other side of that face. The left side of his face was a ruin. His ear had been burned away; there was nothing left but a hole. His eye was still good, but all around it was a twisted mass of scar, slick black flesh hard as leather, pocked with craters and fissured by deep cracks that gleamed red and wet when he moved. Down by his jaw, you could see a hint of bone where the flesh had been seared away. Sansa began to cry. He let go of her then, and snuffed out the torch in the dirt. â€Å"No pretty words for that, girl? No little compliment the septa taught you?† When there was no answer, he continued. â€Å"Most of them, they think it was some battle. A siege, a burning tower, an enemy with a torch. One fool asked if it was dragonsbreath.† His laugh was softer this time, but just as bitter. â€Å"I'll tell you what it was, girl,† he said, a voice from the night, a shadow leaning so close now that she could smell the sour stench of wine on his breath. â€Å"I was younger than you, six, maybe seven. A woodcarver set up shop in the village under my father's keep, and to buy favor he sent us gifts. The old man made marvelous toys. I don't remember what I got, but it was Gregor's gift I wanted. A wooden knight, all painted up, every joint pegged separate and fixed with strings, so you could make him fight. Gregor is five years older than me, the toy was nothing to him, he was already a squire, near six foot tall and muscled like an ox. So I took his knight, but there was no joy to it, I tell you. I was scared all the while, and true enough, he found me. There was a brazier in the room. Gregor never said a word, just picked me up under his arm and shoved the side of my face down in the burning coals and held me there while I screamed and screamed. You saw how strong he is. Even then, it took three grown men to drag him off me. The septons preach about the seven hells. What do they know? Only a man who's been burned knows what hell is truly like. â€Å"My father told everyone my bedding had caught fire, and our maester gave me ointments. Ointments! Gregor got his ointments too. Four years later, they anointed him with the seven oils and he recited his knightly vows and Rhaegar Targaryen tapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Arise, Ser Gregor.' â€Å" The rasping voice trailed off. He squatted silently before her, a hulking black shape shrouded in the night, hidden from her eyes. Sansa could hear his ragged breathing. She was sad for him, she realized. Somehow, the fear had gone away. The silence went on and on, so long that she began to grow afraid once more, but she was afraid for him now, not for herself. She found his massive shoulder with her hand. â€Å"He was no true knight,† she whispered to him. The Hound threw back his head and roared. Sansa stumbled back, away from him, but he caught her arm. â€Å"No,† he growled at her, â€Å"no, little bird, he was no true knight.† The rest of the way into the city, Sandor Clegane said not a word. He led her to where the carts were waiting, told a driver to take them back to the Red Keep, and climbed in after her. They rode in silence through the King's Gate and up torchlit city streets. He opened the postern door and led her into the castle, his burned face twitching and his eyes brooding, and he was one step behind her as they climbed the tower stairs. He took her safe all the way to the corridor outside her bedchamber. â€Å"Thank you, my lord,† Sansa said meekly. The Hound caught her by the arm and leaned close. â€Å"The things I told you tonight,† he said, his voice sounding even rougher than usual. â€Å"If you ever tell Joffrey . . . your sister, your father . . . any of them . . . â€Å" â€Å"I won't,† Sansa whispered. â€Å"I promise.† It was not enough. â€Å"If you ever tell anyone,† he finished, â€Å"I'll kill you.†