"Two turns of the moon ago, less even, the Tyrells were marching on King's Landing with Renly, swearing to depose the Lannisters, and now they're siding with the Lannisters against Stannis!" Robb said incredulously.
"Against us," Brynden answered drily. "Stannis is dead, slain at the battle of the Blackwater, and Joffrey has mounted his head atop the Red Keep."
"Slain by his own brother Renly, if these rumors are to be believed."
"Renly is dead," Catelyn cut in. "And not a match for Stannis in single combat when he lived. More like it was Loras Tyrell in Renly's armor." The three of them, plus Brienne, were sitting in Lord Hoster's solar at Riverrun. Robb's wolf lay on the floor, apparently sleeping.
"Perhaps we should have marched on King's Landing. If Stannis had won, we might have made our peace with him," Robb groused.
"Not without yielding up that crown of yours, Your Grace," his mother answered.
"It is no use worrying about what we might have done anyway. We might now make our peace with the Tyrells," Brynden interjected. "Mace Tyrell is Joffrey's hand now, and he has more than ten times as many men in King's Landing as the Lannisters. And the Tyrells have no grievance with us, surely."
"You are sheltering me," Brienne spoke up.
"And will continue to do so," Robb said flatly.
"Still, we should try to negotiate a peace with Highgarden," Catelyn added.
"How? Mace Tyrell didn't marry his daughter to first Renly and then Joffrey so that his grandson could rule the Reach and the Stormlands," Robb answered. "And he has more than twice our numbers. On top of which, he holds Arya and Sansa, and what have we with which to negotiate? The last thing the Tyrells want is Tywin Lannister released. No, the Tyrells won't make peace with us until after they're beaten."
"And how do you propose to do that, Your Grace?" Catelyn asked. "We have received no reply from the Vale, nor shall we, and Lord Mallister has returned with the Greyjoy's latest refusal. And as you say, the Tyrells have more than twice our numbers."
"What about Dorne?" Robb asked. "The Dornishmen have been warring with the Reach for thousands of years, and they have no reason to love the Lannisters either."
"But no cause to love us either," Brynden answered. "And what can we offer them? To be sure, Prince Doran wants revenge for the murder of his sister and her children, but you have already executed Gregor Clegane, and Roose Bolton killed Amory Lorch after he took Harrenhal. And as for the man who gave the order, the Martells know you will not kill him so long as the Lannisters hold your sisters."
"Besides, Doran Martell is nothing if not cautious," Catelyn added. "He might secretly pray for your success against his enemies, but he is not like to rally his spears to your banner unless he were already confident of your victory."
Just then Grey Wind rose on his haunches, turning his head toward the door. A moment later, an insistent knocking came. "Your Grace! Your Grace!" came the voice of Ser Robin Ryger.
"What is it?" the Blackfish asked, opening the door a crack.
"We have taken a prisoner," Lord Hoster's steward answered.
"Prisoner, old man?" came a gravelly voice from the hall beyond. "No one forced me to come here, least of all you, old man."
"Bring him in," Robb called. Four guards in the blue and red livery of House Tully led in the prisoner, or rather prisoners, it soon became apparent, for standing behind the big man was his squire, a scrawny boy of perhaps ten.
The Hound? Catelyn wondered. Why would he come here, and of his own free will, or so he says?
"Thank you, Ser Robin. You may leave us," Robb said.
"Your Grace," Ser Robin protested, before Robb cut him off.
"Who else knows of this?"
"Just the five of us, and the guards at the gate, Your Grace."
"Very well, keep this quiet for now." The king sat down again after Ryger had shut the door. Although Sandor Clegane appeared unarmed, both Brienne and the Blackfish were standing between him and Robb, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Grey Wind looked ready to pounce.
"Sandor Clegane," Robb began. "You say you have come to see us of your own free will. Why?"
"First, to return this," and with that, Clegane pulled his squire out from behind him, only to reveal that the boy was no squire, nor, for that matter, a boy.
"Arya?" Catelyn asked, unbelieving. I had not thought ever to see her again, she admitted to herself as her younger daughter raced across the solar and flung herself into her arms.
"You have our thanks," Robb said feelingly. "Sit, please. We shall have refreshments brought for you."
"I'll stand 'til I've said my piece."
"Very well. Was it Lord Tyrell who has released Arya? Is this some peace overture?"
"Released? Ha! They never had her, only the little bird—your other sister. Cersei just gave out as she had this one too. That idiot Trant had four men with him, and this one's dancing teacher held him off while she ran. After I left King's Landing, I found her wandering around the Riverlands and brought her to you. But it is a peace overture of a sort. I want to enter your service. With the Tyrells against you, you'll need every sword-hand you can find."
"So I shall. Why did you leave King's Landing and Joffrey's service?"
"That's my business, Your Grace."
"Do they know you have left their service?"
"I didn't walk up to the Queen and tell them I planned to go to Riverrun and pledge myself to their mortal enemy, if that's what you're asking, Your Grace. They know I ran off in the middle of the battle, though, so they aren't like to welcome me back any time soon, if that's what you're worried about.
"No, not that. You are aware that I personally executed your brother after the battle of the Red Fork?"
Clegane only nodded at this.
"Very well. Ser Robin," Robb called.
"Your Grace?" the old knight asked, cracking the door.
"Give him back his sword."
"Your Grace?"
"His sword, Ser Robin."
"As you command, Your Grace. The boy also had this pig-sticker, Your Grace."
"I'm not a boy!" Arya shouted. "I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell! And my sword is called Needle, not Pig-Sticker!"
Ryger was momentarily taken aback. "Your pardons, my princess."
"Don't call me a princess!" she shouted, snatching back her blade.
"Hush," Catelyn soothed her daughter. "Ser Robin was not mocking you. I shall explain later."
"I'd like to get this done tonight," the Hound barked. Ryger handed him his sword, cautiously keeping his hand on the hilt of his own blade, as did his guards. Clegane knelt before Robb and placed his sword on the floor before him. "I shall be your sworn sword, Your Grace. I shall shield you in battle and fight your enemies and obey your commands, and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new."
"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. Arise." When Robb had finished taking Sandor's oath, he turned back to Ryger and said "See that this man is given a place to rest and food." Turning back to Clegane he said "I have a mission for you, and you'll be leaving before dawn, so rest while you can."
"As you say, Your Grace."
After Sandor had left, and the door was closed again, Catelyn turned to her son and said "Has it not occurred to you that this could all be an elaborate deception?"
"Of course it occurred to me. But it's a peculiar one if it is. Arya, is it true that he just found you on the road?" When she only nodded, he said "We must have the entire story, from the beginning."
And so Arya let the whole tale tumble out, telling them about Syrio and Yoren, Gendry, Lommy, and Hot Pie, Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Raff the Sweetling, and the Tickler, Vargo Hoat and Robett Glover and the Bloody Mummers, and Roose Bolton and Nan and stupid Elmar Frey and his stupid princess, Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr. She left out only the stableboy in King's Landing, Weese and Chyswick and Jaqen H'ghar, Weasel Soup, and the Bolton guard at Harrenhal. When she finished, her mother hugged her so tightly that it hurt, but she did not complain.
"Clegane was telling the truth about chancing upon Arya on the road. The Lannisters could never have counted on that, and that could never have counted on our accepting him without her. And if he had brought Arya back to King's Landing, they doubtless would have accepted him with open arms, seeing as how desperate they were for us to believe that they already had her," Robb concluded.
"The man was called the Hound for his devotion to Joffrey," Brynden said. "And any man who will turn his cloak once can do so again."
"I know, but the chance he offers us is too great not to be tried. Tell me, how many crimson cloaks and lion half-helms have we collected by now?"
"Thousands, Your Grace," the Blackfish answered.
"More than enough, many and more. Eight hundred should suit our purpose. Just make sure you take every guardsman who has already seen him. Now here's what I want you to do…."
After Brynden had left to gather his men, Robb sat at Lord Hoster's desk and began writing the first of several letters. While he was doing so, Arya demanded of her mother "Why did that stupid man call me a princess? He shouldn't make fun of me like that."
"That man was Ser Robin Ryger, and he has been your grandfather's captain of the guard here at Riverrun since before I was born, and you do him wrong to call him stupid, young lady. And he was not making fun of you: you are a princess now. Your brother's lords bannermen have proclaimed him the King in the North, which means that you are now a princess. And you should not call Elmar Frey or his princess stupid."
"No!" Arya cried, realizing the truth. "I hate him! He's stupid and he's mean to me, and I won't marry him! I won't marry anyone, not ever!"
"Arya, we had no choice. We needed this marriage to win the Freys to our cause. Robb has also promised to marry one of Lord Frey's daughters. But I promise you that it won't be for several years yet."
"Then I don't want to talk to him or see him until then." If he sees me, he'll know I was Nan, and he'll know I killed that guardsman at Harrenhal, she thought. And then he'll tell Lord Bolton and Robb, and Robb will have to cut my head off. I have to kill Elmar and Lord Bolton before that happens.
"As you wish, my princess," her mother told her. "As soon as I can, I plan to take you back to Winterfell."
By then, Robb had finished his letters and sealed them with silver-colored wax. He embraced his sister and told her "Once we've won the war, we'll all go back to Winterfell, and maybe visit the Wall to see Jon."
"Have you a plan for winning the war?" his mother asked.
"One of these letters is for Roose Bolton, commanding him to leave a strong garrison at Harrenhal and march the rest of his army to Acorn Hall, where I'll meet him with our horse and the greater part of your lord father's strength as well. We'll cross the Blackwater at Stoney Sept and march south to end this war."
"South? Robb, you can't mean to march on King's Landing. Even with all your forces together, the Tyrells still have more than twice your strength—"
"Who said anything about King's Landing?" he answered with an enigmatic smile.
To be continued….
