A Game of Shadows
Arya thanked the old gods that a gentle seabreeze, not a violent wind, blew from the lake. The medical tent, erected after the battle, hummed with activity. Smallfolk, soldiers, squires, villagers, and even fishermen pitched in to deal with the deluge of the wounded. The smell of honey, oil, wine and vinegar dominated the tent, masking the stink of blood, and wounded flesh. Dressings of cotton and flax were soaked in warm water, wine or vinegar, ready to be applied after wounds were washed and cleaned. Fresh medical supplies and basins of heated water lay on a completely covered oak table, restocked as quickly as they were used.
Many hours had passed since the Battle of the God's Eye, and a line of soldiers still waited patiently for treatment. This was not due to a lack of urgency or preparation. Before the battle, large stocks of herbs, salves and other concoctions were readied. When fighting ended, the Winter Town boys drove carts to carry the wounded on stretchers to the tent. Jon and Talia had done their best to treat the severely wounded first. Not all of them could be saved, but many were stabilized. Broken bones were set, and wounds were closed. Jon had extracted arrows and crossbow bolts, amputated limbs, and demonstrated the proper cleaning, stitching, and care of wounds, emphasizing that bandages were to be kept moist and changed regularly. Then, her brother left, either to mourn Jory's death or to take charge of the prisoners.
Arya finished distributing food and drink - warmed hardtack and bone broth. They had no bowls so the soup was served in scavenged helmets, cleaned by boiling water. The Greatjon had drank two large helmets worth when a tray went flying through, scattering the slices of bread.
"Why are we healing these Reachmen? We should kill them all." In his grief, Lord Rickard had not combed or washed his hair or armor. His grey beard and hair was unkempt and the Karstark sunburst on his chest was stained with blood.
"The battle is over, my Lord." Talisa said, looking up from stitching a wound on a leg. The patient was a gangly squire whose well fed face contrasted with the gaunt Rickard.
"They are our enemies. We save our enemies and do nothing for our own men." Rickard ranted.
"My Lord. We have done everything we can. Jon Snow saw to your son Eddard. If all goes well, he will only lose two fingers. As for Harrion, Snow and I have both examined him. We must hope he wakes. We can do little now but wait." Talisa said.
"They butcher my son Torrhen, beat Harrion, and chop off Eddard's hand. And you want me to wait." he bellowed. He towered over the diminutive healer.
"Karstark." The Greatjon pointed at the fearful squire. "That one had nothing to do with it. He fell off his horse. The Mountain attacked your two older sons. Whoever struck Eddard is long dead."
"And what do you care, Umber? Your son was digging ditches when my son fought."
The Greatjon's face purpled, matching the large bruise on his cheek from an enemy mace. "Are you calling my son a coward? I thought Harrion was the only Karstark hit in the head."
The two powerful Northern lords circled each other. Rickard Karstark was tall, burly and fierce but the Greatjon's greatsword was longer than Arya. They had not drawn their weapons yet. Dacey Mormont whipped out her menacing steel morning star. She had been visiting her injured soldiers while Lyra attended the dead.
"If you idiots want to brawl, do it outside." Dacey snapped.
Karstark stormed off and the Greatjon sat down sheepishly. Besides the soon to be extinct Boltons, no House had suffered the losses of the Mormonts. Talia smiled gratefully before returning to her work.
"Dacey, I am so sorry about….." Arya said.
The She-Bear set the morning star down. "I miss her too, sweetling. But she died fighting and she caught her wolf - for a few nights at least."
"She saved my brother's life." Arya said.
"Bear Island is loyal to House Stark, and Jon Snow has Stark blood. And Jory was happy to stay at your brother's side. Snow vowed to return her bones to Mormont Keep." Dacey said. "I know my sister, Arya. She would not want us to mourn her death, but drink, eat, sing and make merry. Death is hardest for the living."
"How was the battle on your side?" Arya asked.
"Hard. There were many horsemen, guarding the flanks and they are good fighters. We were stronger but we took losses. And then Clegane came." Dacey said.
"Jon thought the Mountain would be with the Lannister men." Arya said.
"Clegane is a beast and a coward. He killed his own men and allies to escape. Snow told us that they hoped to kill him with pikemen. A good plan, better than fighting hand to hand. I understand why Lord Rickard is angry. His sons had no chance against the Mountain."
"Why do monsters live when good people die?" Arya said.
"The war is not over. Clegane has escaped twice - at the Trident and at the God's Eye. His luck may still run out." Dacey said.
Robb surveyed the men from both sides occupied by the grim task of locating fallen comrades. Headless trunks, severed limbs, and bloated bodies littered the battlefield. Five thousand men had died at the Field of Fire, burned by the three Targaryen dragons. Ten thousand had fallen with Daemon Blackfyre at the Redgrass Field. And now over twenty thousand men lay dead at the Battle of the God's Eye. Some bodies were unrecognizable, crushed or buried without mercy as the Northern trap constricted the life out of the enemy forces.
"Lord Stark." The speaker was Ser Garibald, a knight who had forsworn a minor house in the Crownlands for the star crystals and the seven colored cloak of the Warrior's Sons. He escorted six women in dull grey shrouds and cowls, stained with dried blood, and a tired septon.
"My Lord." The septon bowed nervously. "The Seven Pointed Star says that the afterlife is a sweet surcease, where men and women can voyage to a far off land to laugh and love and feast until the end of days in the Father's Golden Hall. We know there are seven heavens and seven hells, and that a godly man will…'
"Get on with it." The Blackfish barked.
"Lord Stark, sinners who do not repent of their crimes go to Hell. The silent sisters wish to cleanse the bodies, and prepare them for burial. Then the septons, by offering prayers over the grave, will guide them to heaven." Ser Garibald said.
"If there are no prayers, they may be damned forever." The septon squeaked.
"Let the Boltons go straight to hell. Roose will join them soon." The Greatjon chortled.
The Greatjon might not have cared about the Faith but that was not true for the Rivermen, the Vale knights, and the Manderlys. "How many silent sisters do you have?" Robb said.
"A dozen, my Lord but there are motherhouses nearby in the Crownlands. We could triple our numbers in a few days, and call even more in a week's time." the septon said.
Robb shook his head. "That is not enough. Even at a thousand bodies a day, it would take over a fortnight. We do not have the time. Jon says that unburied bodies carry disease that will afflict the living. I will not have injured men die to honor those already dead. But I will allow a barrow to be raised over the battlefield. You may clean the bodies and collect the bones after they are burned. Say what prayers and bury them as you will."
"Thank you, my lord." the septon said, and men and women of the Faith left to tend to the dead.
"Bah, why do we care? Why aren't we marching to King's Landing?" Lord Karstark yelled.
"Our men are tired. Our horses are tired. We have many injured. And we have prisoners." Robb said. The North had captured as many men as they killed. The Reachmen were stripped of armor and weapons but still required guards.
The veins on Karstark's neck bulged as he continued his rant. "I say we kill them all. We should have slaughtered them on the field. Kill the prisoners now and be done with these traitors."
"They surrendered in battle, my Lord. I granted them mercy." Robb snapped.
"Mercy? What mercy did Tywin Lannister give your father? Or the Mountain give Torrhen?" Karstark said.
"Our prisoners did not kill your son." Robb said.
"Then give me leave to hunt the Mountain. I will chase him to King's Landing and bring you back his head." Karstark said.
"No. We do not know the terrain from here to King's Landing. Some Tyrell forces escaped. And they will certainly post lookouts on the Goldroad and the Kingsroad. They may ambush your forces if you move South now." Robb said.
"You may know how to win a battle, Lord Stark, but you do not know how to win a war." Karstark stomped off, past the other Northern lords.
"Karstark is just angry over his sons." The Greatjon said.
"I know, my Lords. That is why I will overlook his remarks." Robb said. Then again, he was not certain he could punish Karstark. House Bolton was gone with its two thousand men. The survivors from House Dustin and House Ryswell could be counted on two hands. As for House Mormont, half of their men died fighting. The rest were injured.
"Lord Stark, what do you plan next?" The Blackfish said.
Robb was not certain. He was not afraid of confronting the Tyrell army on the field. Attacking a city with tall walls, and then the Red Keep on Aegon's High Hill was an entirely different matter. And inside the Red Keep, Jon said there was an even stronger fortress - Maegor's Holdfast. Horses and cavalry would matter little in such a fight. "For now, it is more important that our wounded return to health. We will see what the Iron Throne does in answer."
"You will have to address the prisoners. We cannot guard so many for very long." Brynden said.
Robb nodded. He would need to see his brother. They had to deal with Bolton permanently.
Jon Snow left the tent with the most valuable prisoners. There was the Leech Lord, who refused to speak, a few dozen Reachmen who were happy to divulge any secrets, and Randyl Tarly whose only words were yelling at his two sons to be quiet. He walked to the pewter waters of the God's Eye. The lake felt cool to the touch, and he could see stars reflected above.
Something strange had happened here that afternoon, something inhuman and dangerous. The lake nearly froze - and there was cold worse than any summer storm in the North. Jon knew very little about magic but he knew this. It was impossible for him to be able to perform any such sorcery. Seeing through the eyes of a wolf or a raven was one thing. But the God's Eye was the largest lake in the Seven Kingdoms. And the water had been warm and green in the morning. It was barely conceivable that a Rhoynar water wizard or a dragonlord, in the Age of Heroes, could freeze a lake. But he certainly could not.
Something was under the waters here that stole all the warmth and color. He saw faces : death pale and bloodless. Warriors marching - blue eyes and pale white skin. They wore ornate armor and carried long crystal swords, that glowed faintly, like blue stars and moonlight. They vanished into white mist, and Jon wondered again what he saw. Was this the past? Or perhaps the future. Had they ruled the God's Eye thousands of years ago? These creatures had brought the cold, and they far surpassed any threat from the Tyrells or Lannisters.
"Jon." The voice of his brother broke his mind from the spell. He turned to see two dire wolves with Robb, an energetic Grey Wind and a silent Ghost.
He stood and walked away from the lake. There were things that he could not explain to Robb, and that included strange creatures of ice and cold.
"Have the prisoners talked?" Robb asked.
"The Reachmen have. The Tyrells still have men in the capital, five to ten thousand swords. Half the Lannister army fought here, and the other half is with Lord Tywin. And the Throne has mercenaries, gold cloaks, and more guardsmen." Jon said.
"And what of Bolton?"
"He refuses to answer our questions. I doubt he will break. He has nothing to lose and he will not tell us how he sent or received messages." Jon said.
"Whoever acted as his messenger may be dead. All the flayed men were killed on the field." Robb said.
"Perhaps, but he hid his bastard in another House. Bolton is cunning. There may be other spies for the Lannisters still in our army." Jon said.
"Did Tarly say anything?" Robb said.
"That one also wants to be quiet. But his sons say a man delivered a message this morning. They did not see the face or a sigil. The plot seems to be between Tywin and Roose Bolton, and Tarly, as commander, was informed. Ser Baelor and the other Reach Lords claim no knowledge of the treachery." Jon said.
"Karstark wants to march for King's Landing. He desires the Mountain's head. But I do not know if we have enough men. There are three thousand men dead between the Boltons, Ryswells and Dustins. We have another twenty five hundred dead, and three thousand injured, although many will recover thanks to you and Talisa. " Robb said.
"So we really lost 3500 men. But if our wounded die or are slow to heal, that could be another thousand." Jon thought for a moment. They only had ten thousand healthy men. "What is your goal? Do you want to destroy the Lannisters? To take King's Landing?"
"Can we take King's Landing?" Robb asked with surprise.
"Yes, but we would have to be ruthless. Tywin Lannister burned the Riverlands. Do you wish to do the same to the Crownlands?" Jon said.
"March south? How would you attack? Do you mean to follow Karstark in hunting Clegane?" Robb said.
"Karstark is a fool. You don't chase a mad dog. You force it to come out into the open. There are four roads into King's Landing. The kingsroad, the Rosby road, the gold road and the rose road. The Tyrells and the Lannisters have failed against our army in the field - they will hide behind their walls. That means we can sack all the holdfasts and settlements nearby and deny them food. Burn the barley and wheat fields near Rosby and Stokeworth. Close the kingsroad. Control the Blackwater Rush near the goldroad. As for the rose road, the strength of the Reach is dead, captured, or at King's Landing. Highgarden will not resist us." Jon said.
"Starving a city will take a long time." Robb said.
"The long game wins. Lord Karstark would rather rush and storm the walls of King's Landing. Fighting with anger is foolish, and gets men killed." Jon said.
"You are angry at Jory's death." Robb said.
"I am more than angry. Jory should have never died. I should have fallen at the God's Eye, not her. I will mourn her later but our enemies will pay for her death now. And the siege may not take as long as you believe. King's Landing has five hundred thousand people but only one source of clean water, the Blackwater Rush." Jon said.
"Poison the river? Is that even possible for the Blackwater?" Robb asked in surprise.
"No need. During the reign of Jaehaerys the Wise, Septon Barth dug wells outside the city to tap the riverbed. They built pipes and tunnels that carry fresh water into the city, and cisterns that feed the fountains and squares of King's Landing. We destroy the pipes, empty the cisterns and bury the tunnels. Without water, the city will fall."
"So you mean to cut off food and water. Tens of thousands will die. And Sansa is in King's Landing. If the city has no food or water.." Robb said.
"Sana will not die of thirst or hunger. Neither will Tywin Lannister or Mace Tyrell. The soldiers will suffer before the highborn, and the smallfolk before the soldiers. Their army will be forced to leave the keep and walls and face us in the open. Their men will be tired, hungry and thirsty. They will die like flies." Jon said.
"I do not know if I can go down this road. It is dark and bloody. Thousands and thousands will die. And Sansa's life hangs in the balance." Robb said.
"And how do you plan to get Sansa back?" Jon said pointedly. "Victories are good but winning at the God's Eye is not enough. The war ends when we raze Kings Landing. The best way is not to attack the gates, but to choke the city into submission. Tywin Lannister raped, pillaged and reaved the Riverlands. The siege of King's Landing is but a shadow of that."
"But that was Tywin Lannister, not our father." Robb said.
Not my father, Jon thought. My father died at the Trident. "Robert Baratheon's war ended with a sack of King's Landing. There was no honor there. This war could also end that way. And the Iron Throne, or whoever sits on that chair, will not trouble the Starks again."
When Arya emerged from the tent, the sun was already high in the sky. She had slept late last night, only leaving the medical tent when she was too exhausted to stay awake. Nymeria ambled over to her side, as tall and fierce as Grey Wind and Ghost. Arya's stomach growled.
A large field kitchen was set up under a canopy near the lake. Arya breathed in deeply, smelling bread, fried bacon, and newly caught fish, roasted over a fire pit. The bread wasn't dry hardtack but rather freshly baked loaves. Soldiers and villagers unloaded ships, and sacks of potatoes, onions, and turnips were carried to the ovens.
A shy village girl handed her a warm mug with tea and milk. Arya took bread off a large clay pot. It was delicious with a hint of fruit and reminded her of Hot Pie's cooking.
"It tastes better with soft butter." Hot Pie grinned, holding out a tray of dire wolf shaped bread.
"Hot Pie. How did you get here?" Arya asked her friend. Behind him, Gendry ate a biscuit stuffed with bacon. Nymeria sniffed at the tray, then turned her head and snorted.
"After the battle, they sent a raven to Harrenhal. We loaded supplies and waited for the ships to come to Harroway. I sailed last night, and landed at dawn." Hot Pie said.
"Hot Pie has something to say." Gendry said. He looked like he had strained his face, thinking. The fat boy looked sheepishly down at the ground. "Arry, your brother Jon - he is a wizard."
"A what?" Arya said.
"A wizard. A sorcerer. A master of the dark arts." Hot Pie looked around nervously.
"That's ridiculous. Jon is a maester, not a magician." Arya scoffed.
"Arry, that's what they say on the ships. The sailors and the captain." Hot Pie said.
"I spoke to the men who sailed on the lake. They have never seen anything like that. A huge storm blew on the lake. Waves twenty feet high. Air as cold as ice." Gendry said.
"So what? A bit of bad weather doesn't prove anything." she snapped.
"Arya, a devil wind blew in the battle. There was no wind in the morning. I asked the Manderly captain. No wind like that ever blows on a river or a lake. Even on the Shivering Seas, he has never seen a storm that bad. And the wind blew dust and dirt into the enemy. Your brother summoned the storm." Gendry said.
Arya bit her lip. She remembered the sky turning the color of ash, Jon's cry for dust, and the Mormonts pounding their spears into the ground. She did not care what her brother had done. Jon had always defended her and she would never question his actions.
"Don't tell him I said nothing." Hot Pie said. "I don't want to be sacrificed and eaten by a demon."
Arya rolled her eyes. "If my brother was a wizard, he would already know. And he would be plotting revenge against people spreading lies." Hot Pie looked about to piss his breeches.
"It is not a lie." Gendry said. "The story will spread. People already whisper about him."
"Jon doesn't dabble in dark magic. He only means harm to enemies of the North." Arya said.
"Your brother frightens me. He frightens everyone." Gendry said to Hot Pie's vigorous nods.
"Good. They should be afraid. The Lannisters. The Tyrells. My brother is a wolf and he will kill anyone who threatens us." Arya snapped.
They dragged Bolton by a rope. The Leech Lord crawled, crippled legs incapable of walking. The Reach Lords and Ser Addam Marbrand followed. Robb Stark sat on top of a raised platform but all the eyes of the army were on Jon Snow. Large wooden stakes had been hammered into the dirt with the crossbar tall enough to hang a man.
Heartsbane rested on Jon's knees. He put the naked blade to the side when the prisoners squatted, hands bound, before the wooden dais. Roose Bolton was forced forward on bloody knees. The Northern Lords attended, and many of the Rivermen and Valemen. Septons and smallfolk snooped from far away and the soldiers in the camp, even the wounded, went silent.
"Any last words, Lord Bolton? Do you want to confess to your betrayal?" Jon said.
"Why should I? I am going to die here. Unless you allow me to take the Black, I have nothing to say." Bolton said.
"The Wall is too good for you. Traitors to the North deserve death." Jon turned to Randyll Tarly. "Bring him up."
Two boys escorted Tarly to the stage. The Lord of Horn Hill stared at Jon, beady eyes in the hard face. If looks could kill, Jon might have cared about Tarly's enmity.
"Lord Tarly, will you confess to the treachery? And how you plotted with Bolton?" Jon said.
"I am no traitor, Snow. If you cannot keep your lords loyal, that is your problem. Tywin Lannister told me that House Bolton bore no love for the wolves. Take up your complaints with the lions." Tarly said.
"We shall. But for you and your men, Lord Stark wants you to bend the knee. House Tarly will withdraw from any conflict from the North. You shall remain our prisoner. Your life is forfeit if any man from Horn Hill joins the Tyrell army. When our conflict with the Throne ends, we will consider your release." Jon said.
Randyll Tarly spat on the ground. "And what will you do bastard? I serve Highgarden, not the North. And Highgarden is loyal to the Iron Throne."
"We can kill you. Yield and House Tarly may live." Robb said.
"I lead Mace Tyrell's van before you and your bastard brother were born. Other people may care about such threats. I grew up as a soldier. I am not afraid to die with honor." Tarly said.
"Very well. You will not die, Tarly, but you will see your men die. We'll hang them all. But first, bring out your sons." Jon said. Two boys were dragged forward, one very fat, and the other quite young, and only a squire. "Nail them to the stake. Vargo Hoat died quickly but he was tortured first. Your sons may survive for days."
The fat boy blubbered as the Smalljon grabbed him by the neck. Dacey and her sister took the other one, and began to tie his arms to the cross.
"You would kill children?" Tarly shouted.
"Children who fight in war can die in war. Where is Horn Hill?" Jon asked aloud.
"A hundred miles south of Highgarden. In the foothills of the Red Mountains." the older Tarly boy answered.
"I will take our men down the Rose Road. We will raid your lands, and stack the skulls of your men higher than your lord's chair. They say you have a wife and daughters. Perhaps you will be alive when they die. I will burn Horn Hill - your castle, your lands, and your followers. I won't just end your line - I will erase any trace." Jon said.
Chett handed him a hammer and half a dozen iron spikes. He examined the nails, picked three, and walked over to the stakes. Jon placed the spike on the younger boy's right hand, and prepared his swing. "Stop, stop." Tarly cried. "You win, bastard."
"You and your sons will remain our prisoners. You will write a letter to Horn Hill telling your remaining men to withdraw. This is what will happen if any Tarly soldiers fight against the North." Jon slammed Tarly's right arm down on the platform. Chett and another boy held down the arm. Jon drew Heartsbane and with one strike, severed the right hand.
Randyll Tarly screamed in shock as he saw the bloody hand flop on the grass. Chett rushed to get a brass tourniquet wrapped around the arm.
"You should have taken the first offer." Jon said. He turned to the other Lords. "Bend the knee now. I will not ask again. None of our prisoners will raise their arms against House Stark again. I do not care if that means they are dead, blind or crippled. If they do fight against the North, I will cut off your hands. Tell that to your wives and heirs. Tell that to your castellans and knights. We will send ravens to the Reach. The Tyrells will know that they stand alone."
"And you will spare our men if we bend the knee?" Ser Baelor Hightower said.
"Perhaps. But I will kill them all if you do not." Jon said.
As Ser Baelor and the others began to kneel, the other Winter Town boys piled up straw and wood near a stake. The now released Tarly boys quickly dropped to their knees. Chett poured black tar pitch on the kindling.
"Not too much." Jon said. He dragged Bolton by the leash to the stake. He wrapped rope around the legs. The arms were still bound together, so he did not look like the Bolton sigil.
"I thought Starks beheaded their enemies." Bolton said.
"I am not a Stark." Jon said. He finished with the ropes, and spread out the straw and wood, so it was under Bolton's feet.
"Tywin Lannister will murder you, Snow. He will kill your dire wolves and skin them for a cloak. I am not the only one who will break faith with House Stark." he said.
"Who are the others?" Jon asked.
"I will not tell you. One day, the knives will come for House Stark. The lions will hunt you down. You and all your kin." Bolton said.
"They can try. But your line ends today." Jon threw a torch and pitch soaked kindling set on fire. Bolton's silent smirk turned into screams of agony, as he was roasted alive, and men covered their faces to avoid the smell of burnt flesh. It took a long time for Bolton to die.
Margaery Tyrell missed the long walks in the groves, fountains and courtyards of Highgarden. When she was younger, she imagined that the Red Keep would be like her ancestral home, rings of white stone filled with flowers and statues, stables for fine horses and fields of golden roses. She enjoyed exploring the briar labyrinth with her cousins, Megga, Alla and Elinor. She ignored the tray of sweetcorn fritters and cup of hippocras to look at the city through the stained glass of the Maidenvault.
"Don't open the window." Olenna called. "We don't need the smell of shit."
Her grandmother was right. King's Landing reeked like a whore, and not a courtesan who was perfumed with lavender and rosewater. What happened to old whores? Did they settle down with a smallfolk, and raise a passel of brats? For every pot, there must be a lid.
"Have any ravens arrived from the Riverlands?" Elinor called. Her favorite cousin was betrothed to Alyn Ambrose, a squire for her brother Ser Garlan. Alyn swore to wear Elinor's favor in battle versus the Northmen, and promised to marry when he received his knighthood.
"Garlan has not written." Lady Leonette said, fingering the goldenwood harp that her husband gave her for her name day.
"Perhaps he means to ride from the victory and surprise you. I hear that men enjoy a good bedding after a fight." Megga cried.
"Then my grandson would be the biggest idiot in the Reach. After battle, he should send a raven to let us know that he is alive and well. And the Northern army is two hundred miles from here. He would have to ride for days." Olenna said.
A page rushed into the room, wearing a bright red apple. "My lady, a message from Ser Steffon." the boy said.
Ser Steffon was the Fossoway castellan. Two of his sons were fighting in the Riverlands. The ladies looked on curiously as Leonette opened the letter. Her good sister turned pale with shock and dropped the note on the table.
"What is the matter?" Lady Alerie cried.
"Lord Jon was captured. Steffon was ordered to keep the men at arms home, else Ser Bryan, Ser Edwyd, Ser Tanton, and Lord Fossoway will all be murdered." Leonette said.
Margaery took the note and read. "The White Wolf vows to cut off their hands if any man of Cider Hall fights against House Stark again. He may even burn them alive."
"Burn people alive? Does this Snow think he is another Aerys the Mad?" Lady Olenna asked, pushing away the silver plate of soft white cheese. She reached for the note.
Lomys, the old stoop backed maester from Highgarden, hobbled in the room. In his hand, there were a dozen letters. "Lady Olenna, the ravens arrived just now. They are all from the Reach."
"From which houses?" Margaery asked.
"Tarly, Hightower, Crane, Ashford, Merryweather, Oakheart, and many others."
"Are there any from Highgarden?" Olenna said.
"None, my lady." Lomys answered.
Her grandmother took the letters in her thin spotted fingers. Her gaunt hands did not shake. "Summon Loras and Mace." Olenna said. The Maester and the Fossoway page rushed to obey. Margaery sat next to her, and broke the seals. The other ladies gave them space, waiting for any tidbits of news. The Queen of Thorns would have the first taste, then Margaery, and finally the lesser Tyrells and other wives. Margaery patted Cousin Elinor gently on the elbow.
Every letter said the same. The captains of the Reach had been captured in battle. Longtable, Bitterbridge, New Barrel, Ashford, Old Oak, Honeyholt, Badallon, the Three Towers - the list of names went on and on. The principal vassals of House Tyrell had been rendered useless - hors de combat for any conflict in the Riverlands.
"Lady Melessa wrote the most complete note. She received two letters from the Riverlands - from her husband and her son, Samwell. Jon Snow chopped Randyll's hand off - for insolence. And Sam adds that the bloody wolf burnt Roose Bolton on a stake." Olenna said.
"But House Bolton is pledged to House Stark!" Leonette said.
"Not any more." Olenna said. "The warnings vary. Hands chopped off, eyes gouged out, burnt at the stake, crippled in both legs. Jon Snow is quite creative in threats to our bannermen."
"This Snow is a beast in human skin." Alerie declared.
"Is there any news of Ser Garlan?" Elinor said. Margaery knew that the girl wanted any hint to her fate of Alyn Ambrose, her betrothed.
"If Garlan was captured, he would have sent a raven to Highgarden or to King's Landing. My brother may have escaped with his men and his squire Alyn." Margaery said.
"Or he is dead. The wolves may have butchered Garlan and any Tyrell men they found." Olenna said brusquely. "Oh, don't chide me, Alerie. False hope will not help anyone. Many lords have been captured but I doubt the Starks do so out of kindness. This stinks of the Golden Tooth. He has forced the Reachmen to submit with vile threats and cruel deeds."
"How could Lord Tarly lose? He had greater numbers and the pride of the Reach." Alerie said. "Mace was certain of victory. Today, he planned to take delivery of a chair as Hand of the King."
"I hope the craftsman made it large enough for his fat arse, and even fatter head." Olenna said.
"Perhaps…" Elinor said hesitantly. "Perhaps, these letters are false. A clever plot to weaken our resolve. Snow is a sorcerer and a trickster. Could this be treachery somehow?"
"The messages were sealed with their sigils. Lady Tarly and the others may have been sent false missives. But how would Snow know these names of the knights and lords? And why would he threaten to kill men who were not his prisoners?" Olenna said. "No, we must treat the ravens as real. If this is some twisted jape, the Tyrell army will still be standing."
Loras rushed in, worry on his beautiful face. That concern only increased at the sight of his despondent goodsister, Lady Leonette. "Grandmother, sister - what has happened?"
"Lord Tarly was beaten in the Riverlands. Thousands of men have been captured, including Ser Baelor, Jon Fossoway, Randyll Tarly, Owen Merryweather and many more." Olenna said.
"But… but - how is that possible? And what of my brother?" Loras asked, half panicked.
"We don't know. And it is no use wasting time over things we do not know." Olenna said. "Who do we trust the most at King's Landing?"
"Uhh… No one, grandmother. King's Landing is full of liars." Loras said.
The Queen of Thorns gave Loras a withering stare. "Who of our men do we trust? We have ten thousand at King's Landing. Surely, one of them can carry a message."
"Ser Gunthor Hightower. He is the third son of Lord Leyton, and wedded to Jon Fossoway's niece. He studied at the Citadel so he would know how to send a raven without the aid of a maester." Margaery said.
"Good. Loras, have Ser Gunthor ride south. When he is out of this shithole, send a raven to Willas with news of the battle in the Riverlands. He should then take a ship at Tumbleton and sail down the Mander to Highgarden. Then he can deliver the news in person and make certain Willas prepares the castle for any attack." Olenna said.
"Highgarden is seven hundred miles away. Surely the Starks will not attack." Loras said.
"Bitterbridge, Longtable, and Cider Hall lie between the Riverlands and Highgarden. And all three lords are captives. Do you think our bannermen will stop them on the rose road? I do not want my home sacked and pillaged by a horde of Northmen." Olenna said.
"Grandmother, we need to approach the Starks. We need to ransom the prisoners." Margaery said. "We have duties to our bannermen."
"Margaery, you are not thinking of going North. They might capture you, and hold you for ransom." an alarmed Loras said.
"No, Loras, I did not mean myself. What about Owen Fossoway? He is friends with Snow. His father was captured. House Fossoway has many ties to our family." Margaery said.
"Yes, he would do well. Find Owen. Tell him we will offer a ransom for our men. As a friend to Snow, he would be treated well at their camp. He would make a good spy." Olenna said.
"But will he spy on the North or will he betray our plans to them?" Loras said.
"What plans? We are sitting on our arses, doing nothing." Olenna said.
"Even if Owen is loyal to Snow, he will tell us of the size of their army, and the state of their prisoners. We know very little now. Better to hear a tale from Owen's eyes than rumors, falsehoods and traveller's tales." Margaery said.
"If these Northmen killed Garlan, I will avenge my brother." Loras said.
"Don't be an idiot. We lost one army in the Riverlands. We don't need to lose another. Rushing to fight the Starks is a fool's game." Olenna said. "And speaking of fools…."
Mace Tyrell waddled into the room, a jovial smile on his plump ruddy face. "Hello, Mother. What did I miss?" He stuffed a lemon cake into his mouth.
The feast was unworthy of a lord of Dorne, particularly one just returned after so many years. The Martells had sent ravens but many bannermen did not come, despite the news of Lorch's capture. Starfall was almost a thousand miles away, and the Wyls, Manwoodys and Yronwoods were busy guarding the Prince's Pass and the Boneway. Any army that marched to the Reach or the Stormlands would have to pass the Red Mountains through these two routes.
The new lord of Starfall did not take offense, not even when a raven arrived, bearing his aunt Allyria's regrets. Edric was a kind soul, without the martial spirit of his uncle, Arthur. In training, his old friend wielding the greatsword Dawn could not be beaten. One day, Edric might be a knight but Oberyn doubted the boy would be the next Sword of the Morning. The older Fowler girl sat to the left of Lord Dayne and the younger Fowler girl at his right. The Fowlers was several name days older, but the sisters were hawks, eager to swoop on any suitable man or boy, judging from the blush on Edric's face. None of the Sand Snakes, not even the younger ones, bothered with Edric. His girls scorned anyone who did not fight. They preferred to flirt with the Foresters, and hear more tales about the wolves in battle. Elia and Obella even spoke to Ser Emmon, and the Reachman wore armor decorated with sunflowers. The Dornish bowed to the sun, not silly yellow flowers.
Oberyn greeted his old squire, Daemon Sand. Daemon's grandmother, the Lady of Godsgrace, whispered to Lord Harmon Uller and his brother Ser Ulwyck. The lords of House Gargalen and Dalt scowled at Myrcella Baratheon, but Sarella spoke kindly to Trystane and his princess. His most sensible daughter recounted a few amusing tales of foolish maesters at the Citadel.
Serving men filled the cups of Dornish strongwine, dark and sweet, and ladled a delicate soup of eggs and lemons into bowls. Oberyn ate and drank very little. He was happy with simple food - flatbread, chickpeas, olives and white cheese. He did not want sweet pies of suckerfish and lampreys, capons glazed in honey and almond milk, or savory snake stew. Fighting and fucking pleased him far more than eating and drinking.
A tall, fierce girl with blazing red hair approached his seat. Areo Hotah stepped forward, the great long axe ready to guard Doran. Oberyn needed no protection.
"Valena." Arianne said. His niece stood up to embrace her friend.
The girl curtsied with a boldness fitting of the Dornish. "Prince Doran, my mother, Lady Nymella could not come. But I brought someone who would see you."
"My lady, I am not certain this is wise." An old man with links on his collar said.
Valena quieted the maester with a glance. She gently led a girl forward. She was short, plump and shy with the red hair of the Tolands of Ghost Hill. "This is my younger sister, Teora."
"My prince, her humors are unbalanced. She has too much bile from eating rich foods. She needs to purge herself of her excesses and stop with this nonsense." the Maester said.
The pudgy girl balled up her hands. "I hate you." she declared.
Sarella approached. "Archmaester Ebrose believes the four humors are a load of codswallop. He has studied the heart and lungs to see how blood circulates around the body."
"Vile sorcery." The maester sneered. "Does Ebrose still rob graves?"
"The Archmaester experiments on snakes, fish, and small animals." Sarella said coldly.
Teora looked up from her feet. "I have seen things." Her pale face met the gaze of Oberyn, Doran and Arianne. She no longer looked like an inadequate child of a powerful family. "I have seen them - fire made flesh, flying high above the skies."
"What do you see?" Oberyn asked.
"Dragons." Teora said. "Three dragons. The first is black and silver, pretty but held on strings and sticks. The second is silver and gold, born again in blood and fire. But it is the third dragon that is the greatest - black and red. Scarlet wings and blood red eyes. A dragon whose breath can melt steel and stone, and fuse sand into glass."
"The last dragon was the last dragon. That is known." Alleras said.
"Sailors tell stories that Daenerys Targaryen has birthed three dragons." Oberyn said. "But we do not know the truth of it. And any dragons born to her would be young - easy to kill with a scorpion, catapult, or even a spear."
"I saw the dragons dance. All three of them. And everywhere the dragons danced, people died." Teora said.
"The Dance happened when dragon riders fought each other in the air. Daenerys Targaryen may have three dragons but they are far too small to ride." Doran said.
"We are House Martell. Even dragons must bow to the sun." Oberyn said.
Teora shook her head. "The last dragon will blot out the sun. Death comes in his wake." The pudgy girl began to cry and Valena wrapped her arms about her sister and led her away.
Oberyn was not the only one who saw the message slipped in Doran's hand during the feast. Ellaria, Arianne and the Sand Snakes did as well. Maester Myles might be an expert healer and a capable tutor but he lacked any skill at deception. Oberyn was not surprised that his brother requested his presence that night. He did not expect Edric to attend, and with the shy boy, came Arianne and her cousins. Ellaria had at least forced his younger daughters to bed.
Doran dismissed the young maester. A large raven sat on the golden wood table, peering at the Martell family with beady suspicious eyes. Doran patiently extended his hand and the bird gave up the message.
"Edric, this raven came for you this evening." Doran said.
"But my Aunt already wrote that she could not come." Edric said.
"The sigil is not the sword and star of House Dayne. It is a white wolf on gray." Doran handed the letter to the boy.
Edric took the letter and broke the seal. Arianne inched closer and the Sand Snakes stared at the young Lord Dayne. The boy was certainly taking his sweet time to read a short note.
"What does the letter say!" Obara demanded, her hand on a whip.
Edric looked up, a smile on his good natured face. "The Starks defeated the Reach at the God's Eye. Jon writes that they killed fifteen thousand and captured another fifteen thousand, including Lord Tarly, Lord Fossoway, Lord Merryweather, Ser Baelor Hightower, and many others. He asks when I will return North with the Dornish."
"But they are just young boys. How could they win so great a victory?" a stunned Arianne said.
"Wolves are good at fighting. Roses are not." Sarella said.
"With so many captured, the Reach is weak. And many of their strongest lords are prisoners or at King's Landing." Nymeria Sand asked.
"Father, we can attack now. Send Fowler men through the Prince's Pass and the Yronwoods over Boneway. We can teach the Reach and the Stormlands to fear our spears."Arianne said.
"We are not Ironborn raiders. Our feud is not with Highgarden or Storm's End." Doran said.
"And why not? The Reach stands behind the Iron Throne. The Tyrells have married their rose to the lions. And the Stormlanders killed our men in the rebellion. The time has come to get revenge for Dornish blood." Arianne said.
"Edric, what did Robb Stark and Jon Snow ask for?" Doran said patiently.
"Dornish swords and spears to fight the Lannisters." Edric said.
"The Lannisters." Doran repeated. "Not the Tyrells. Not Horn Hill or Oldtown. And if we march North over the Boneway, our men would pass four hundred miles before King's Landing. The stormlords are not likely to grant safe passage through their lands."
"Who cares about the stormlanders? Two stags are dead and the other is a kinslayer. The Stormlords will hide in their castles, just like you do." Arianne said.
"You will care, cousin, when they bleed our men. An enemy army in Dorne would get no peace. Why would it be different in any of the other kingdoms?" Sarella said.
"We have no alliance with the North. Before I sent ten thousand men to die in the riverlands, we must understand the Stark's plan. Will they attack King's Landing? Will they sack the Reach or the Crownlands? Will they ally with Stannis Baratheon?" Doran said.
"Our men will not die. They fight for the glory of Dorne." Obara said.
"They will fight and they will die. In war, men on both sides die, and there is little glory in skulls and bones." Doran said.
"By the time you understand these things, the war will be over. Either King's Landing will fall or the wolves will be beaten." Arianne said.
"We should send men north. But there may be another way that doesn't cost much Dornish blood." Sarella said. "The North may need spears and swords, but they also need information. If the Starks know the Lannister plans, Lord Tywin has no chance in an even battle. If the wolves could get enough men through the walls, no city will resist them."
"You want us to be spies, and open the city to another sack. That will not be easy. The fat flower and the old lion will not trust us. And the spider will watch with his little birds. A raven cannot fly from Sunspear without our knowledge. It will be no different in King's Landing." Oberyn said.
"No one said it would be easy, father. You have waited sixteen years for vengeance. Why not go to King's Landing and send a message to the Starks? If we betray Lord Tywin's location on the battlefield, Jon Snow will kill the old Lion." Sarella said.
"I would rather kill him myself." Oberyn said sourly. "You will come with me to King's Landing. And Ellaria as well, but her children will stay behind in the Water Gardens. The Iron Throne promised Dorne a position on the Small Council.
"We will come too, father." Tyene said. "Revenge, intrigue, and danger - we could hardly let Sarella go alone." Obara and Nymeria nodded in agreement.
"You are not going." Doran said to a disappointed Arianne. "Bad enough your cousins risk their lives in the snake pit. I will encamp a Dornish host at Yronwood, ready to cross into the Stormlands on my signal. And Edric, give a message to this Snow. If he can deliver Tywin Lannister and Gregor Clegane to Dorne, we would be most grateful."
"What of Trystane and his little lioness?" Oberyn asked.
"Myrcella is not to be harmed. Even if the Iron Throne falls, House Martell will honor the betrothal." Doran said.
"She is a bastard of the Kingslayer and the queen. If the Lannisters have no claim to the throne, what can she offer? A Dornishmen will never rule Casterly Rock." Nymeria said.
"She is my ward. I will not see her harmed." Doran said.
"A ward is a hostage. If her family dies, a hostage is not needed." Nym said.
"We are not Lannisters. We do not kill little girls in Dorne." Oberyn said.
"She will not be little forever." Tyene said sweetly.
"Milady, milady." The serving girl cried as she ran. In her flight, the young village lass still carried a woven basket of clothes, freshly washed in the lake. Arya refrained from correcting the girl. Every smallfolk - boy or girl, man or matron - bowed and scraped before her, and called her milady. At Winterfell, she had been Arya Underfoot, more interested in riding and exploring. But at the God's Eye, she was the White Wolf's heir. The Rivermen and the Vale knights deferred to her, and the prisoners from the Reach gave her a wide berth. They were afraid.
"Milady Stark." The girl nearly fell as she curtsied. At least, she didn't kneel, Arya thought. "Me and Shyra saw riders, coming up from the lake, waving a white flag."
A white flag meant a request for negotiation. "How many? And what were they wearing?"
The girl held out six fingers. "The one in front was in brown and red. The others wore mail, but carried no weapons. At least not that we could see."
"Thank you, Bandy. I will go see them." She stepped past chained men carrying water for the horses. They lowered their eyes and murmured. The Manderly overseers nodded respectfully and other soldiers began to draw swords and spears as the strangers came into view.
The leader was a broad shouldered, brown haired and square faced man with a red apple on his plain doublet. He was older than her brothers, but not by much. He gave a short whistle and all six horses stopped. They dismounted, and Arya could see that the hilts of their swords were tied to the sheathes, making it difficult to draw. The three in the rear carried unstrung bows and arrows in the quiver were also tied together.
"Lady Stark?" The brown haired man bowed low.
"How do you know who I am?" Arya asked suspiciously. Northern knights and Stark guards stood behind her. Nymeria bared her teeth in a silent growl.
"You have a dire wolf. Just as large as the two I saw at Riverrun. My name is Owen Fossoway. I was a friend of your brother at the Citadel." the man said.
"This isn't the Citadel, boy." A tall Northmen yelled. Arya wasn't certain if it was Robett or Galbart Glover.
"But I am still Jon Snow's friend." Owen said. "I am here to see your brother, Jon, and to ask about the Reachmen that you captured. You hold my father, my cousins and many of my friends." he said.
"This could be a trick…." Glover said.
"I will show you the way." Arya handed the Reach man a small bottle. "Peppermint oil. You will need it for your nose."
They walked west to the battleground. Several days later, traces of the battle littered the field- broken arrows, shivered spears, chipped swords, crushed armor and dried blood. Even with peppermint, Arya gagged from the overpowering and oppressive stench. Men worked hard to bury the dead. Deep trenches had been dug, and unknown bodies were placed there. Rows of graves had been constructed for the highborn, and Jon ordered a cemetery erected, with the names and houses be preserved for the honorable dead. It was difficult, back breaking work but the prisoners did not complain. They feared being burnt alive.
The dead Boltons filled a nameless grave with Roose's blackened body on top. Lord Bolton's screams in death stunned the prisoners, and the Vale and Rivermen turned away from the burning. Robb defended their brother wholeheartedly. He had told the septons that they could chant prayers and recite hymns but no one would mourn the traitor Bolton. And no one did.
Piles of dry straw, kindling, wood and pitch had been gathered on mounds of earth. Dozens of crude coffins were piled, and the Silent Sisters had washed and cleaned many bodies. She found Ghost and her brother standing over Jorelle Mormont lying in full plate mail, with shield and morning star over her chest. Jon knelt and placed the bascinet above Jory's head.
"Lord Snow." Owen said.
Jon stood up. "Owen Fossoway. I am surprised to see you."
"I came to ransom my father and any other Fossoways." Owen said.
"I am not surprised that you are here, but that you came so quickly. The raven flew to Cider Hall four days ago. You could not have travelled from Cider Hall." Jon said.
"I didn't." Owen said.
"Then who ordered you to come? Ser Garlan?" Jon said.
"Ser Garlan is alive then. I am glad." Owen said.
Jon chuckled. "It is a wonder you did not cross paths. Ser Garlan fled the battle with the Mountain. We do not know if they went south or east into the crownlands."
"Jon, I ask for mercy for my family and countrymen." Owen said.
"What would the Reach have done if we lost? Lord Tarly does not seem like a merciful man." Jon gestured to the bodies of the Mormonts soldiers. Many were placed on the central mound. "His charge at the end of the battle cost many lives."
"You told me that holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal. When you throw it at someone, you are the one who gets burned." Owen said.
"I would not be burnt. I would use a catapult." Jon said. "If you wish mercy, tell the truth. You were sent, if not by Garlan, then another Tyrell. But if you are honest, then I shall be fair. Arya. find Robb. He will wish to hear."
Arya sat down with Robb, and waited for Owen to speak. Freshly woven mats of sweet smelling rushes were placed on the grass for the Starks and their guest. The Reachman finished a swig from a wineskin that Jon had offered.
"Three days ago, the captain of the guards delivered a sealed letter to me at Tumbler's Falls. It was signed by Mace Tyrell but I am certain the message comes from Lady Olenna. The Tyrells want no further conflict with the North. They ask that prisoners be released. Highgarden and the Reach will pay a ransom." Owen said.
"Are the Tyrells going to break with the Lannisters?" Arya said.
"I don't know. News of the battle has not reached Tumbler's Fall." Owen said to her surprise.
"Arya, it takes several days to ride from here to King's Landing. The Tyrells only know because of the ravens we sent to the Reach." Jon said.
"Why should we help the Tyrells?" Robb said. "They are keeping Joffrey on the Iron Throne."
"Lady Margaery is still to be queen. The Tyrells will have a great deal of power in King's Landing. Two of their bannermen are already on the Small Council. The North is not the only one who remembers. The Reach will not forget your victory or your mercy." Owen said.
Her brothers looked at each other. A year ago at Winterfell, Robb had been just her big brother, quick with a smile and happy to spar in the yard. Jon had been her other big brother, a fond memory exiled to Oldtown, whose letters never failed to bring cheer. All the softness was gone and they were hard and lean. Like wolves, Arya thought. She wanted to be a wolf too.
"I want my sister back. What can the Tyrells do to return her?" Robb said.
"I do not speak for Highgarden but I do not think the rest of the Tyrell forces will be eager for battle, Lord Stark. They certainly would trade Lady Sansa for peace. Perhaps…" Owen said.
Jon snorted. "Actions matter, Owen. Not words. And these words are as empty as Lazy Leo's head. If the Northern army appeared before the gates of King's Landing, would the Tyrells surrender the city? Or would their men attack from the walls?"
"I am a messenger, not a general. If I was Lord of Highgarden, we would be sipping wine and eating fireplums. I always hoped you could come to Cider Hall, marry a cousin, and stay in the Reach. I told the Tyrells they should offer you a bride." Owen said.
"A bride? Among the Fossoways? I will try not to kill any of my good brothers." Jon smiled. "Owen, how close are the families of the Reach?"
"Very close. My father married Mace Tyrell's sister, so Ser Garlan and Lady Margaery are my cousins. And Lady Olenna was a Redwyne. Lord Leyton Hightower had ten children, and most are married in the Reach. My sisters and brothers married into House Tyrell, Hightower, Crane, Oakheart, Rowan, and Redwyne." Owen said.
"You have large families." Robb said.
"It is the Reach, my lord. It is a very fertile land." Owen said.
"We will show mercy but your lords will remain hostages." Robb said. "Tell the Tyrells that the North demands the return of Sansa Stark."
"What are you offering for the other prisoners?" Jon said.
"Gold for their return South. They will not fight against you again." Owen said.
"Twenty dragons for every man at arms. Forty for squires and crossbowmen. And sixty for knights." Jon said.
Owen gulped. "A high price. How many Fossoways were captured?".
Jon shook his head. "The price is for all of them. Fifteen thousand men."
"Fifteen thousand?" Owen squawked. "We will not pay for the Westermen."
"We took only a few hundred Lannister prisoners in the battle. Most died when they charged the shieldwall with Tarly." Jon said.
"Fifteen thousand prisoners - that is a great deal of gold. I am not certain how long it will take the Reach to raise such sum." Owen said.
"As you say, the Reach is a very fertile land. There is a price to be paid for helping our enemies. But your men will be safe." Jon said.
"And there will be no executions of our commanders? You will treat my father and our lords and knights fairly?" Owen said.
"So long as the prisoners do not take up arms again. They will never fight the North. If they keep those vows, the highborn will not be harmed." Jon said.
"That is quite fair." Owen hesitated. "Jon, what of their swords and horses. Many of the men are farmers, smallfolk or castle guards. With their mounts, they could return home more quickly."
"You want us to return your horses?" Robb asked in surprise.
"They are not much use to us." Jon said. "We are not Dothraki. We cannot feed ten thousand horses. The Reach promises that their men will ride south immediately without bloodshed?"
"After this battle, I doubt that any prisoner wants to continue fighting. These men will go south to Tumbleton and take the rose road home." Owen said.
Her brothers spoke quietly before coming to an agreement. "Very well, Owen. The prisoners will return home with their horses. They can take back arms and armor but must swear to only fight for self defense. We will give them a few days of rations for the trip home. But the Tyrells must swear to pay our ransom." Jon said.
"That is more than five hundred thousand dragons!" Arya said.
"Thank you, Jon. Your terms are more than fair. The Tyrells will be glad, well except for the gold dragons." Owen said.
"Highgarden is rich and the Tyrells will collect the gold from Cider Hall, Oldtown, Tumbleton, and many other bannermen." Jon smiled. "You will have to sell more apples and cider."
"I will send ravens to Highgarden, Tumbleton and King's Landing." Owen said.
"When we receive the letter from Lady Olenna or Lord Mace, we will release your men. I will also speak to my lords and Jon to the prisoners." Robb said.
"Yes, but first we have to say goodbye to our dead. You may attend." Jon said.
By sunset, news of the agreement with the Reach spread far and wide. Not the ransom, or Fossoway's role as a messenger but people knew though that the prisoners might soon be released, and returned their horses and arms. A palpable sigh of relief went through the camp. No one wanted to see more men burnt alive.
Arya stood with the Northmen, as Jon and Robb walked about the funeral pyres with torches. Owen sat with his father, and several Reach nobles. The Rivermen and the Vale knights also attended. The kindling and pitch caught fire quickly, and the coffins of the hallowed dead burned brightly on the biers. There were tears of farewell and salutes to the courage of the fallen. No house was praised more than the Mormonts. The flames rose high, and the wind blew from the lake. The fires were cleansing, and the smell of death dissipated into the night air.
"I thought we were taking the bones back to the North." Arya said.
"We are." Dacey replied. "Jory's bones will be collected into an urn. For the other Mormonts soldiers, Snow will raise a barrow on top of a hill, overlooking the lake, for their bones to rest. My sister died, but her name will not be forgotten. When men wonder who won this battle, they will know that it is the She-bears."
"I would rather Jory live than be remembered but no one can outrun their fate." Lyra said. "The Stranger comes for us all."
The flames finally died, and the army sat down for dinner. A rider came from the North - a burly knight on a brown destrier wearing the colors of House Tully. "My lord, my lord." The knight breathed heavily and as he took off the helmet to reveal a bald head, Arya could see the sweat pouring down his face. The old man looked as exhausted as his horse.
"Ser Robin, you left a week ago for Riverrun." the Blackfish said. "Why have you returned?"
"The Kingslayer is gone." Robin Ryger gasped.
"What? How did he escape?" Robb yelled.
"He did not escape. Lady Stark set him free." the knight answered before falling to his knees.
Tyrion ignored the pounding on his door. It was not yet noon, which meant he was far too sober to deal with fools and idiots. Word of the massacre sent the entire city into a panic. Smallfolk streamed out of the gates, hoping to find shelter in the kingswood, the vast primeval forest to the South. Crackpots and begging brothers gathered in the squares, wailing about how the North would butcher those who did not repent their sins. Tyrion doubted that Robb Stark or Jon Snow would give two shits about the rantings of the septons. If he was about to die, he would do so with a whore and a bottle of wine. He guzzled down a flagon of Arbor gold.
"Is that the Northern army at your door?" Bronn said, as he cleaned his nails with an ugly knife.
"I hope so. Then they can end my suffering." Tyrion kept his tone light. The last thing he wanted was the sellsword to desert. Japes were one way to keep the fear away. Wine was another. Drinking allowed him to stay sane. He and Varys had kept their wits at the Small Council meeting held in the Red Keep last night. The same could not be said for a flummoxed Mace Tyrell and the other Reachmen, his screaming sister, and a pathetic Pycelle. Baelish was away in the Vale, wooing Lysa Arryn.
"Open the door, Imp." Ser Meryn Trant loudly demanded.
Tyrion sighed and nodded. Two white cloaks stepped forth, flanked by his cousin, Lancel. Cersei had once jested that Jaime was the stupidest Lannister. Clearly she had not remembered their younger cousin.
Lancel flourished a scroll. "I bring orders from the King. He demands that Sansa Stark be handed over for punishment."
"Where is the Stark girl?" Trant said, sword in hand. Both Trant and Ser Boros Blount wore a set of gleaming plate armor and a crested T-shaped helmet.
"She is staying here." Bronn replied. In the blink of an eye, he drew a longsword and a dirk. The sellsword wore only black ringmail over leather but he relied on speed over sheer force.
"Call off your dog, Imp" Trant said. "It is treason to attack a kingsguard." Blount stepped to the side, in an obvious attempt to flank Bronn.
"Not treason for me." Sandor Clegane's two handed sword rested at the back of Blount's neck. A weaker man might be unable to push the tip through the mail coif hanging from the helmet. The Hound would have no such problems. Sansa Stark stood behind Clegane, wearing a purple dress and a gray hood that hid most of her thick auburn hair.
"Clegane, these are orders from the King." Trant said.
"Then he can come here himself." Clegane said. "The king ordered me to guard the girl so she comes to no harm. She won't be taken by three cocksuckers who can't swing a sword."
"King Joffrey will be greatly angered." Lancel managed to say.
"Joffrey is always angry. Northmen get angry as well. I hear they burn men alive, and cut off the hands of their prisoners." Tyrion said.
"King Joffrey will crush the traitors." Trant announced.
"He certainly hasn't done a good job of it so far." Tyrion snarked. "No doubt when the Starks see you lead our men at the walls, they will quake in their boots.
Lancel withdrew and the two white cloaks went with him. Bronn sat down and oiled his sword. The servants brought Sansa hot bread, butter and honey. A second plate was set out for Jeyne Poole but the timid girl refused to venture to the great hall.
Lady Sansa wrapped the food in a handkerchief. Clegane gobbled down bread and a hunk of cold chicken. "Lord Tyrion, is there any more news from the Riverlands?" the girl asked.
"The men return from the battle, but not many of them. The stories differ as to how many were butchered in battle versus taken prisoner." Tyrion said. He refrained from saying more. There was no need to spread the wilder tales of sorcery and torture. Others already had done that.
The girl kept her face impassive, smooth as steel. She left, the Hound trailing in her wake. Bronn stood guard over her door. Neither the Hound nor the sellsword had no intention of leaving the Stark girl.
Tyrion entered the council chamber of Maegor's Holdfast. Bronn's spies informed him that his father had returned last night to King's Landing. He was surprised that Tywin waited until the afternoon to summon him. His father was not a patient man in the best of times.
"Tyrion." Tywin sat behind a long table, with quill and parchment. Several letters were already written, waiting to be dispatched by messenger or raven.
"Father." Tyrion set down the chain of linked golden hands on the wood. Tywin ignored him and continued to write. "Are you so pleased with my work that I am to remain the Hand? You can return to Casterly Rock while I rule the Seven Kingdoms."
Tywin gave him a familiar glare. "If I wanted a fool in motley, I would have summoned one."
"Well, perhaps Lancel would do. We do have other cousins and uncles, but the Starks enjoy their company too much to release them." Tyrion said.
"Varys has told me of the events of this morning. Lancel and Joffrey are both fools." His father handed over a letter written in a graceful, feminine hand.
Tyrion read the words with shock, his mind reeling with the implications. "Catelyn Stark has agreed to free Jaime. But….. Why?"
"I have promised through Baelish that Sansa Stark is not to be harmed." Tywin said.
"This letter was written before the Battle of the God's Eye." Tyrion realized.
"Yes, Lady Stark feared that her eldest son would fall in battle. She freed Jaime to ensure that her daughter would not suffer if the Northern army was defeated." Tywin said.
Tyrion almost felt sorry for Lady Catelyn. But then the foolish woman had nearly gotten him killed at the Eyrie. "Where is Jaime now?"
"That is of no importance to you. Just know that Jaime is returning to King's Landing. Now, we need to finish off the Starks." Tywin said.
"Finish off? They are winning. They slaughtered the army of the Reach." Tyrion said.
"Have you forgotten what I taught you? War is more than swords and spears. There is a tool for every task, and a task for every tool." Tywin said.
He wondered whether his father had become ensnared by his own legend, the man who triumphed in the Rains of Castamere. The Starks were not the Reynes. "These tools seem to be failing. Everyone knows that Roose Bolton was your man. And now they realize traitors to the North are burnt at the stake."
"Bolton is not the only traitor in their army. Rivermen have never been loyal." Tywin said.
"Why not just return Lady Sansa and pay weregild? The sword Ice, Ned Stark's bones. If the Starks want to freeze in the North, let them." Tyrion said.
"The wolves have made a mockery of the Lannister name. Our own houses refuse to follow us in battle. And what if the Starks should claim the Throne?" Tywin said.
"Through a Baratheon bastard apprenticed in the Street of Steel? Who would follow him? The Stormlanders are a prickly lot. Stannis is too proud to marry his daughter to a smith with smallfolk blood." Tyrion said.
"Knights of the Vale fought for the North in the last battle. What if they are joined by their fathers and brothers? Royce and Redfort could declare for the Starks. And Jon Snow sent Amory Lorch to Dorne. The Martells will torture him into squealing." Tywin said.
The murder of a Dornish princess and the royal children sixteen years ago. Tyrion knew that terrible things were done for power, but the stain of those three deaths could not be washed from his father's hands. "How do you expect to vanquish the Starks? They have won every battle, and if they should strike an alliance with Dorne or the Vale, we're fucked. With time and allies, Jon Snow and Robb Stark could take King's Landing." Tyrion said.
"Robb Stark and Jon Snow are better on the field but there is more to war than fighting. We cannot defeat them in the open. We can attack from the shadows. A pack of wolves is hard to kill. But a lone wolf can be hunted down and skinned." Tywin said, finishing the third raven.
Author's Note
I have talked about Roman medicine before but it is extremely impressive. The third most senior commander of the legion was the praefectus catrorum, the camp prefect in charge of the medical service. The medicus primus was a trained physician who served for tours of duty. People who wanted to be trained as doctors could enlist, be trained, and serve for 25 years. Augustus, the first emperor, bestowed the status of knight on all doctors in the army.
I have read some articles that claim only the modern world was concerned with the bodies of fallen soldiers, citing the efforts of the US military to retrieve fallen soldiers. But funeral rites were a big deal in the past. In the Iliad, the recovery of Hector's corpse is a big deal. Of course not all bodies could be recovered. But the notion of allowing enemy bodies to be buried after battle in accordance with religious practice isn't uncommon. In the Iliad, Patroclus is burned on a pyre, and his bones collected into a golden urn with two layers of fat.
Hannibal did not march immediately on Rome (250 miles away) after Cannae. One of his cavalry commanders, when told that Hannibal had decided against that, said "You know how to conquer, Hannibal; but you do not know how to make use of your victory." We will never know but most historians believe Hannibal was correct in his assessment. These are the same issues Robb is wrestling with. Tactical brilliance matters less in a siege. Rome, even after Cannae, had a huge wealth of manpower which Hannibal, far away from Carthage, could not match. He could recruit Gauls, but these are small numbers. Rome lost 50K+ at Cannae. In a few months, they replaced that, showing how strong the Roman belief system was. .
I haven't broken down the numbers between the North and the River, but think about the last battle as a great but costly victory. Historians note that Hannibal lost 6,000 to 8,000 at Cannae while the Romans lost 50,000. Depending on how you count the Boltons, Robb loses 3500 to 5500. The Starks could not rely on the Bolton men so Robb loses 5500 men - so his army is down to 13K with 3,000+ injured. The Starks could have killed the entire Tyrell-Lannister army except for a couple thousand that escape - they spared roughly half. Adjusting for Robb's mercy, the ratios are the same.
The injury toll of three thousand may sound high but it really wasn't. Of course Cannae was more brutal than the battle in the story. But there are records that Hannibal did not march on Rome because 10,000 of his men were injured. That is twenty percent of his force.
Poisoning or denying water resources is certainly not considered noble but has happened several times in the past. In 600 BC, Athens poisoned an aqueduct leading to Cirrha, a city under siege. Other reports claim Athens built a dam rather than use poisoned herbs. In 430 BC, Sparta poisons wells near Athens. Caesar sent his miners to wreck one spring and posted guarded on the other spring for Uxellodum during the Gallic Wars. The town soon surrenders. Saladin uses water as a weapon to defeat the Crusaders. He lured them away from springs and fill in wells. Before the Battle of Hattin (1187), the Franks were despond, tormented by thirst. Now one can argue how successful these efforts really are. My sense is that it is as psychological as it is practical.
Randyll Tarly is referring to leading the vanguard at the Battle of Ashford during the Rebellion. He says very similar words to Guyard Morrigen before the Battle of the Blackwater. Of course, Ned Stark also says something similar - that he would not trade his honor for a few more years of life. Then Varys threatens him with Sansa's life, and Ned Stark recants his statement. I always thought Ned should have demanded a trial by combat. He had a bum leg but the best fighters were in the Riverlands.
I personally do not understand why Daenerys burning Randyll and Dickon was a big deal. They had betrayed their liege, Lady Olenna. She offered them the chance to bend the knee. Do we really think Cersei or Tywin or anybody wouldn't have executed them? So what they died by fire. They were going to die anyway.
Death by fire can be quick by asphyxiation. But if there is a wind, or the pile of wood is damp or small, death can take hours. When Mary the First, a staunch Catholic, persecuted Protestants with burning at the stake, a priest begged for forty five minutes to be killed more quickly.
"A beast in human skin" is how Robett Glover describes Ramsay Snow. The irony of course is labelling Jon in the same manner. I also like the contrast of Jon with Aerys. And the best moment of a Dance with Dragons was when Mace Tyrell, as Hand of a King, sat on a chair that was shaped like a hand.
The sack of Highgarden by Jaime Lannister was one of the main explanations of the Lannister comeback in Season 8. The argument is that with Tarly as traitor, the Tyrells had no idea. Well - Jaime Lannister has to march 600+ miles from Casterly Rock to Highgarden. He would have to march 700+ from King's Landing. Could an enemy army march that far without being detected by anyone loyal to the Tyrells? I get that Tarly was supposed to be this major commander - but what about the rest of the bannermen? Where were they?
As for crossing that type of great distance, most medieval armies were incredibly slow. To give you a sense, it took Harold Godwinson 18 days to move his army 241 miles South to face William the Conqueror. People generally consider Harold's army march incredibly fast. Other historians comment that people were concerned about Harold's physical and mental state. Some sources though state that much of Harold's army didn't travel, and that he had to recruit new men. Either way, the point was that 240 miles in under 18 days was hard. The one great exception to this would be the Mongols. They travelled all on horse, and they had multiple horses per warrior. Mongol armies could travel up to 100 miles per day which was blazingly fast back then. It was one of the keys to how the Mongols could easily beat forces that outnumbered them, because their speed disrupted enemy plans.
In feudalism, the lord has responsibilities to their vassals. I am not a huge Margaery fan but I think she would make a good queen. Hence, her sensibility in trying to find out a solution. The Tyrells could care less if Sansa is a captive. Sending her a ransom to pay off the North would sound eminently sensible to them. England and France paid off the Vikings multiple times.
I have read the Arianne chapter in the Winds of Winter and everyone, including her older sister, is dismissive toward Teora's visions. Honestly - this is a dumb trope. Bran predicts the Ironborn will attack Winterfell - but Jojen says nobody will believe you. In a world where dragons are born, a red priestess can conjure shadows, and the dead walk, why don't people believe in magic? By this time, everyone knows Daenerys has dragons. And there are dragons skulls in King's Landing. So in this story, Valena brings Teora to see the Martells.
In the middle ages, doctors believed that there were four humors - sanguine (blood), choleric (yellow bile), melancholic (black bile) and phlegmatic (phlegm.) People believed this since Hippocrates in the 4th century BC. Melancholic is related to sadness and depression - which aligns closest to prophecies of doom. It took 2000 years for the four humors to be challenged by William Harvey, an English physician who documented his discoveries in anatomy. It took twenty years for Harvey's theory on how blood circulated to be accepted.
In the chapters on GRRM's webpage, Teora says "They were dancing. In my dream. And everywhere the dragons danced, the people died." In the books, there is (fake) Aegon, who is about to take Storm's End. Presumably a more believable version of weakening Daenerys would be a clash between Aegon and Dany with their armies.
For fans of military history, the surrender is based on the meeting at Appomattox Court House. Grant had communicated with Lincoln and the two agreed that generous terms be given so the country could start healing. Grant allowed the South to surrender with dignity, and the Southern men kept their horses, mules, and side arms. Both generals told their men to go home and farm. When other generals heard, they accepted the terms rapidly. There were one or two small battles (far West), but in a month, the vast majority of the Confederate army surrendered without bloodshed. The South remained grateful to Grant for his kindness.
Tywin's words mirror Ned Stark's advice to his kids. As Arya notes, it was the lone wolf that survived while the wolves of the pack were skinned. But then again, Arya did not know her brothers and sister (Jon, Bran and Sansa) were alive.