A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Series-Premiere Recap: Big Ser

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
The Hedge Knight
Season 1 Episode 1
Editor’s Rating ★★★★

When we first meet Ser Duncan the Tall (Peter Claffey) in the opening minutes of A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, he’s busy burying Ser Arlan of Pennytree (Danny Webb), the knight he squired for since childhood. “Dunk” claims to be a knight himself, knighted by Ser Arlan. Sure, there were no witnesses. Granted, almost no one in Westeros remembers Ser Arlan, including his former employers. And Dunk himself comes across as incredibly naive, beholden to a fantasy version of chivalry that doesn’t line up with the real world.

But he’s a big man, our Dunk. Enormous, even. He has the body of a knight at least, if not the gear or the reputation. By the end of the first episode, he even acquires a squire: a tiny bald boy called “Egg” (Dexter Sol Ansell). Never mind that, at heart, Dunk is maybe more of a kid than Egg. Sometimes you have to go into battle with the heroes at hand.

George R.R. Martin first introduced Dunk and Egg in the 1998 novella “The Hedge Knight” (also the title of the first Knight of the Seven Kingdoms episode). At the time, Martin had recently released A Game of Thrones, the first novel in his “A Song of Ice and Fire” series, and he was a few months away from releasing the second, A Clash of Kings. The world of Westeros was not yet well-known outside of fantasy fiction fandom, and Martin’s sprawling saga had yet to become a densely plotted, densely populated, lore-heavy literary behemoth.

Even compared to the relatively streamlined A Game of Thrones, “The Hedge Knight” is super-simple. The story is about the young and inexperienced Dunk entering a jousting tournament and getting himself into the kind of trouble only Egg can get him out of. That’s pretty much it. The plot spans just a few days and features only a handful of characters.

So yes, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms probably seems small in scale, in comparison to HBO’s at-times-overwhelming Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon. But that’s by design. This is a lighter, sweeter, and often funnier Song of Ice and Fire.

This show even acknowledges its modest ambitions in that opening scene. As Dunk takes hold of his former master’s sword and talks to his horses about proving himself at the upcoming tourney at Ashford Meadow, the soundtrack swells with the familiar Game of Thrones theme song … which then cuts off abruptly when Dunk feels the sudden need to empty his bowels. A chirpy little bird watches as he relieves himself by the tree where he buried Ser Arlan. This is hardly the stuff of heroic ballads.

Dan Romer is responsible for most of the Seven Kingdoms music, which has what I can only assume are conscious echoes of Ennio Morricone’s spaghetti western scores. Ser Duncan, like Ser Arlan, is what is known as a “hedge knight,” a wandering swordsman for hire, beholden to no particular lord but sworn to defend the weak and serve the realm. Hedge knights are somewhat akin to a traveling gunslinger in pulp fiction, albeit with a more rigid moral code. Romer’s stripped-down, folksy soundtrack — laced with low, whistling melodies — evokes those old films about heroic loners.

Much of this first episode is about establishing Dunk’s character. Claffey — with the help of the show’s costume department and writers — gets across Ser Duncan’s humility and decency. He’s dressed like a farmboy’s approximation of a knight, with a belt made of rope and patchwork clothes that carry a stink no matter how often he washes them. He elicits sympathy easily, with his wounded puppy-dog eyes and his unshakeable earnestness. Even a couple of concubines at Ashford Meadow who make fun of Dunk feel bad when they see how hurt he is. (One of them describes a hedge knight as “like a knight, but sadder.” Dunk, walking away, mumbles that his sadness needn’t be “rising to the level of a comment.”) 

Ira Parker, the series’s co-creator (with Martin) and head writer, smartly establishes who Dunk is by putting him in scenes with people more experienced in the ways of Westeros. In the premier’s longest sequence, Dunk enjoys the hospitality of Ser Lyonel Baratheon (Daniel Ings), who struggles to make sense of this towering doofus. With his ludicrously large antlered helmet and his devilish grin, the capricious Ser Lyonel initially seems inclined to make an example of Dunk, who is eating the Baratheons’ food with nothing to offer in return. But Dunk’s so dim — and so gentle — that Ser Lyonel takes pity on him and instead invites him to join him in some awkwardly aggressive dancing in the middle of the pavilion. Dunk, the lunk, is too hapless to hate. 

That’s the main idea here, put across quite snappily: We are dealing with the tale of a likable loser. Dunk may or may not be an underdog in the Ashford Meadow jousting tournament. (We don’t yet have any evidence either way.) But he’s clearly at the bottom of the social order. As Dunk explains to Ser Lyonel, he has no title or inheritance to fall back on. If he loses in the first round, he’ll have to give up his horses to pay the “ransom.” 

And that’s assuming he’s allowed to compete. The master of the games warns Dunk that because “there are princes about” in Ashford Meadow, he “can’t just let any sellsword in.” Dunk’s only hope may be if he can get vouched for by Ser Manfred of House Dondarrion, whose father once enlisted Ser Arlan to hunt the Vulture King in the Red Mountains at the Dornish border. But Ser Manfred’s too preoccupied with his prostitutes — including the ones who mocked Dunk — to be of any help. This story may be over before it begins. 

Seven Kingdoms is set roughly 80 years after the events in House of the Dragon and about 90 years before Game of Thrones, but it’s not necessary to know anything about the Baratheons, the Dondarrions, Dorne, septons, “the Seven,” or any other Ice & Fire mythology. Dunk sure doesn’t know a lot. He was born into poverty, and most of what he knows about Westerosi aristocracy he picked up from Ser Arlan, who himself was pretty much a nobody.

In other words: This series doesn’t view Westeros from the perspective of the Iron Throne. Dunk is someone who can only afford to sleep outside, with the biting insects and the pouring rain. He was rescued from the King’s Landing slums by a man who frequently gave him “a clout on the ear” for even the smallest transgression (as seen in a darkly hilarious montage). Nothing’s ever come easy for our Dunk. 

But he does have one stroke of luck in this series premiere. Early in the episode, while stopping at an inn for a meal on his way to Ashford Meadow, he meets Egg, whom he assumes is a stable boy. Egg secretly follows him to the tournament, then proves his worth as a potential squire by setting up a camp for him in the woods, with a fire and some fresh-caught fish. He knows Dunk isn’t the most impressive knight, but he’s someone who needs help, and who’ll let the extraordinarily handy and eager Egg hang around. 

The episode ends with Egg giving the exhausted, forlorn Ser Duncan a pep talk, saying that none of the other knights that night — zonked out in their tents — are lucky enough to look up at a shooting star. Dunk tells the boy to hush. But Dunk’s an impressionable young giant, so the idea does cheer him. After all, as he was saying to himself earlier that day, it’s not a crime against the realm to entertain a nice thought. 

A Few Clouts in the Ear

• Let’s talk about spoilers! I’ve read all three of Martin’s Dunk & Egg novellas, and will bring in thoughts about the books whenever it’s appropriate. But I won’t spoil any plot-points before they appear on the show … and that includes one major element of these stories. Those who’ve read the books (or the show’s Wikipedia page) will know what I’m talking about. The basic premise of the whole Dunk & Egg series isn’t fully revealed until about two-thirds of the way through the first novella. This show likely won’t spring its surprise until around episode four. Until then, I’ll stay mum. (But fair warning: There’s no way to guarantee the comment section will remain spoiler-free.)

• Even though this is a scaled-down, smaller-budgeted Westeros show, it doesn’t look cheap. The sets are incredibly detailed and teeming with extras. The show’s creative team makes the locations vividly realistic — right down to the lighting in the Baratheon pavilion, which has a warm candle glow, pushing softly at the surrounding darkness.

• Is Dunk actually a knight? We don’t see him get knighted. In the montage of his memories of Ser Arlan, his former master never clarifies his intentions. When asked about the knighting by the master of the games, Dunk claims the only witness was a bird … just like the one we see while Dunk’s taking a dump, just after he wields Ser Arlan’s sword and talks about how well it fits his hand. Did this songbird “witness” him knighting himself?

• Characters to keep an eye on: As Dunk is walking through Ashford Meadow, he’s challenged to a sparring session by the obnoxious Ser Steffon Fossoway (Edward Ashley), who — according to his friendly cousin and squire Raymun (Shaun Thomas) — likes to injure potential jousting competitors during practice. Also, the as-yet-unnamed drunken knight at the inn who tells Dunk “I dreamed of you” will return. And although she doesn’t get a proper introduction, I can tell you we haven’t seen the last of the lady puppeteer who catches Dunk’s eye — or her giant wooden dragon. 

• Too true, from the inn-keeper: “Never knew a joust to change the price of eggs.” 

• One of Ser Manfred’s concubines, describing Dunk’s jousting ambitions frankly and colorfully: “It must put its body at hazard for the pleasure of strangers.”