Chapter 56 - The 30th day of January, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest
Brienne of Tarth had watched the entire spectacle from the battlements. She saw as the king and the kingslayer were dragged away from each other. The latter disappeared into the Lannister host. The former, grunting with effort, had been helped to his feet by Ser Barristan. One of his squires had quickly wrapped a rag around the king's shoulder where the dirk had pierced him. The king had managed to mount a horse for the ride back to the Red Keep, though the rag was red and bloody by the time he trotted off with the kingsguard in tow.
The fighting outside had briefly resumed, before the last of the Baratheon men had retreated back inside the city, the gate again bolted shut. Looking out over the battlements, Brienne could both see as well as hear as Tywin's army approached. It slowly unfurled itself either side of the kingsroad, like a great scarlet serpent, poised to strike.
A short way along she heard more shouting. She looked over and saw both of the king's brothers in a heated discussion. Lord Renly was looking particularly furious. Despite herself, she edged closer to hear.
"…attack every gate at once!"
"…must defend the Riverbank! The Tyrells…"
"Will be here too late. We must hold with what we have."
"If it is not enough?" Renly was saying, sounding uncertain.
"It will be, if everyone performs their duty."
She saw Lord Stannis turn to his younger brother. "I will command the battle from here. Lord Caron will bring his levies to this gate. Ser Donnel will reinforce the Lion Gate. Buckler and Connington the King's Gate…" The Lord Hand barked out a long string of orders. Beside him, several squires had pulled out quill and ink and were making notes. Brienne heard her own house mentioned. "…Morrigen and Tarth to the Dragon Gate."
"Be careful how you command the Stormlords, brother" she heard Renly say, in a low voice. "I am their liege lord, not you, as much as you might wish otherwise."
Stannis was looking daggers at him. "Robert appointed me his Hand. In his absence, I command. Do you have a problem with that Renly? Or will today see fresh treasons?"
"No, my lord Hand" Renly replied after a moment. "I am sure you will do us justice."
"Then you will return to the central square to direct your levies. See to it, or Lord Tywin may yet win the day."
Renly turned and stalked off, his entourage following him. He brushed passed Brienne without a word. Stannis glanced at her.
"To your post, Lady Brienne."
"Yes, my lord Hand" she said without hesitation. She hurried down the steps. In the square below she found Ser Felton and some of the other Tarth knights, to whom she passed the order on.
"Let us return then to the central square, my lady" Ser Felton replied. They found their mounts and headed back into the city. Everywhere Brienne looked she saw signs of men preparing for the coming battle. They passed several hundred Gold Cloaks forming up outside their barracks. She spotted the commander, Ser Jacelyn Bywater, in the center of a knot of Watch offices. Beyond, in Cobbler's Square, Velaryon and Caron men were already streaming past them back to the Gate of the Gods.
Some minutes later they emerged back into the city's central square. Several thousand men had formed up. Several score lords, knights and lordlings had gathered around Renly's entourage, shortly ahead of them. More columns of men were trotting or marching up the Muddy Way. Perhaps half the levies of the Stormlands had crossed by now, with the Reach not far behind. They soon found the Tarth men, all five hundred right where they'd left them. Nearby she saw Ser Guyard and his brother rounding up their own levies.
Tarth was ready first. They marched out of the square to the east, just one of a dozen hosts splitting up in different directions. Brienne trotted along the Street of Sisters near the head of the column. They gradually ascended up Rhaeny's Hill, turning north for a slight detour around the Dragonpit. She got no glimpse of the Faith Militant prisoners within, only a few Massey guards milling about in front of the great bronze doors. They continued north by east. Close to dusk they were passing the East Barracks of the City Watch, where again several hundred Gold Cloaks were congregating.
The Gate itself was held by a mix of Watchmen, Bar Emmon men and a group of twoscore Myrish sellswords. Brienne eyed the foreigners warily, but they seemed steadfast. They were clutching an array of nasty looking crossbows, some of which looked capable of firing two or three quarrels at once.
The Bar Emmon knight greeted her, mistakenly calling her 'Ser' in her armor. Brienne did not bother to correct him as they briefly discussed the dispositions for the men to take. Ser Felton proposed the Tarth men manning the wall to the west, towards the Old Gate, while the Morrigen men sought to the other flank. This was quickly agreed. A fewscore of the Tarth men were mounted. They stayed back as a reserve, while those on foot headed through the gatehouse and up the steps to the battlements.
Brienne went up to see the situation for herself. By now the sun was close to setting way off to the west, but there was still light enough to reveal the Lannister host as it slowly engulfed the city from two directions. Maybe two miles west of them the Old Gate already looked to be under attack. To the north columns of Westermen were approaching their own gate, but were some way off yet.
The sun was setting as Brienne headed back down to check on the gate itself. The City Watchmen and Bar Emmon men were throwing up barricades in the streets immediately behind it, while the Myrish practiced losing a few quarrels. Looking around, she was relieved to see a column of Morrigen men making their way down the street. Ser Richard led them. She watched him confer briefly with the Bar Emmon knight, then began directing spearmen and archers up onto the battlements.
Brienne watched this proceed. Somehow, she felt a growing sense of unease, and it had naught to do with the Lannister host outside the gates. It took her a few minutes to work out what was amiss. Most of the Morrigens had proceeded up onto the walls by now. She had not been counting, but now started to wonder if she should have. Had she seen all eight hundred?
She spotted Ser Richard exiting back from the gatehouse. As she passed him she spoke.
"Ser Richard."
He whirled around as if struck. Seeing her, he straightened up. His helm was closed, his face hidden.
"Lady Brienne, I did not see you there."
"Where is your brother Ser? Ser Guyard?" she asked pointedly.
Ser Richard glanced around. "I am sure he will be along soon, my lady."
"Have all your levies arrived?"
"Nearly all, my lady. My brother has the remainder."
"Then he has been waylaid?"
"I am sure he will be along soon, my lady" Ser Richard repeated. Brienne stared at him a moment, confused and uneasy in equal measure.
"Perhaps we should send a party to confirm his whereabouts?" she suggested.
"My lady…the Lannisters are at our doorstep" Ser Richard replied, gesturing at the Dragon Gate a hundred feet away. "There is no time, surely."
"I will take only a score of men then, we will ride, and return shortly."
"I do not think that necessary my lady" Ser Richard pressed. Under her helm, Brienne frowned. Resolve overtook her.
"Nonetheless Ser, I will do so" she replied. "We may need every man to hold the gate." Brienne turned and walked over to the group of Tarth riders. There were maybe fifty all up. She recognized the knight at their head, a Ser Jarmen who for many years had served as her father's Master of Horse at Evenfall Hall. She explained the situation to him.
"Pick out a score of men, we must ride and find Ser Guyard quickly."
"Aye my lady, these city streets are a right labyrinth" Ser Jarmen replied, though yellowed teeth.
Brienne mounted up. She heard as the Tarth knight picked out twenty others. Slowly, the group of them started to move. Brienne turned to look ahead, not daring to look back as she trotted forward. Only at the first corner did she chance a glance, relieved to see them following.
They headed back through the maze of streets, passing the barracks, followed by rows of houses, stalls, potshops and tanneries. They had come this way less than an hour before, yet Brienne struggled to remember the way. Twice the riders with her offered help. She prayed at least a few of them had seen King's Landing before. Nonetheless, within a few minutes they were somewhat lost.
The streets here were rundown and shabby. As far as she could tell this was not Flea Bottom, known even in Tarth to house the dregs of the city, but crowds of half-starved smallfolk still proceeded them everywhere. Barefoot children ran around her, begging for bread. Do they not know there's a war on? Brienne ignored their pleas, still focused on finding the missing Morrigens. Could they have gotten lost also?
She had half a mind to give up the search when they passed into another alleyway and she saw a great hill of stone rising up to their left. The Dragonpit.
"Let us head there" she called over to Ser Jarmen, as confidently as she could. "If we see no sign of them before the Dragonpit we shall head back to the gate."
"Yes, my lady."
They made a few more twists and turns, eventually emerging into another laneway that seemed to wrap right around the edge of the huge structure. Night had truly fallen now. Lanterns were being lit outside the nearest shops, attracting swarms of moths. They headed left again, and perhaps a hundred yards on were approaching the great bronze doors that marked the entrance.
She saw again the men standing outside, perhaps a score of them, though she noticed now one of the bronze doors was slightly ajar. The gap was large enough to admit three of four riders at once. The guards were clutching spears…where they the same as the ones earlier? For a moment Brienne wasn't quite sure.
"Who goes there?" a voice cried out at their approach.
"Brienne of Tarth" she replied. "Are you Massey men?"
There was a pause. "Might be we are" replied the voice. Brienne trotted closer. She saw the figure, though it was dark enough she couldn't quite make out the man's face, or any sigil on his surcoat to reveal his rank or loyalty.
Brienne frowned. "We are seeking Ser Guyard Morrigen. Have you seen him? Or his men?"
"Can't say I have" the voice replied. Brienne was going to say something further, but at that moment they were interrupted. From behind the great bronze doors there came a shout, followed by a clash of what sounded suspiciously like swords.
"What is happening here?" Ser Jarmen asked, rearing up beside her.
"Prisoners" the voice replied, almost casually. "Might be causing trouble." The man was clutching his spear as a walking stick. He took a few steps towards them, his fellows not far behind.
"The faith militant?" Ser Jarmen asked, sounding concerned.
"Yes Ser, may be. The faith, causing trouble."
Brienne's heart was pounding. Had Stannis ordered the faith put to the sword already? Had a Lannister ram breached the walls somewhere? Her ears pricked up. Within the Dragonpit they heard more unmistakable sounds of struggle. There were more shouts, more clangs of steel on steel. She turned her mount to move closer to the doors, but it gave a whinny and refused to move. She glanced down on the ground, only now noticing a dark slick in the dirt. Had the faith militant tried to stage an escape?
Ser Jarmen was just asking whether Ser Justin might need assistance when she heard a sort of strangled yell. Brienne whirled around. The Tarth knight had been skewered by two long pikes. One had been blocked by his breastplate, while the other found his side and seemed to split open the mail like cheese. Brienne nearly met the same fate, but years in the training yard made themselves of use. In an instant she had unsheathed her own sword and parried the pike meant for her. Around her the other riders were shouting as the guards swarmed at them.
Her horse reared at the violence, but Brienne clutched tightly at the reins. She urged it forwards, almost running a man down. More pikes came for her but somehow she managed to swat them aside. The horse reared again, and this time one of its hoofs connected with something solid. She saw a man drop like a stone, his spear flying away. Only as he fell to the ground did she finally recognize the black crow embroidered over his breastplate. Suddenly it all fell into place.
"They're not slaughtering the Faith!" Brienne called out. "They're freeing them! These are Morrigen men!" She looked back at the melee. A few of the riders had fallen or been otherwise dragged off their mounts, but she was relieved to see that the remainder had rallied, falling back into a solid knot of flashing steel. Brienne turned her mount around, hacking away at the attackers as she charged back. In moments she had closed with her fellows. As she turned around once more she saw the Morrigen men break off, now falling back to the bronze doors.
"Riders of Tarth!" she called out. "To the gate! Inside! After them!"
The group of them, maybe fifteen left, all trotted forward. There were calls of "Tarth! For Robert! For the Dawn!" Brienne herself had a different war cry.
"For Renly! Renly! Storm's End!" She urged her mount forward. The guards had retreated back inside by now. Some may have tried to shove the gate shut but they weren't fast enough with the heavy doors. In moments Brienne had led the charge through.
The scene inside momentarily shocked her back into silence. She had never been inside a space so cavernous. It must have been five hundred feet end to end and some three hundred wide. Even collapsed, the dome was enormous. Some of the surviving columns soared a hundred feet or more into the air. Blackened and charred and twisted, they resembled giant tree stumps, as though left behind after some great forest fire.
Throughout were spaced the individual 'pits' that gave the structure its name, great depressions carved out of the rock, some fifty or a hundred feet wide, large enough for even a grown dragon to curl up in comfort. Instead of a dragon however, each appeared to now house hundreds of prisoners, the former host of Lord Bonifer that Stannis had taken unawares at the Ring.
Everywhere above them however there was fighting. Hundreds of Morrigen and Massey men were having at it with sword and spear. Crossbow bolts were soaring throughout the space. Here and there a brasier had been overturned in the chaos, the hot coals spreading the flames to anything that would burn.
They ran head on into a score or more of Morrigen men. Spears clashes with sword and lance. They made some headway, but the Morrigens had the numbers. Despite everything Brienne found herself trying to do some quick arithmetic in her head. How many men could Ser Guyard have stolen away with? Half? That would be four hundred…Then what of Ser Justin? Did he have half as many again?
Even as she parried another spear Brienne was shouting out more orders. "You…and you!" she commanded, pointing to two of her own. "Ride back to the Dragon Gate, tell Ser Felton what is happening here! The other head for the city square, tell Lord Renly!"
The pair shouted their ascent. They whirled around and in moments had galloped back out the doors. Brienne turned to the battle at hand. There were a scant dozen of them now, all mounted, but there was little room to charge even inside a space such as this.
The edge of the nearest pit was twenty feet away. A stone staircase ran down one side. Already she saw men racing up it. The faith militant prisoners looked haggard after weeks of captivity, but many still seemed capable of picking up a sword or spear from a fallen foe. Everywhere Morrigen men were passing out dirks and shields and other weapons to the freed prisoners. Further afield, the faith were throwing bricks and stones and even what looked like small jars and pots. Some exploded upon hitting the ground, spilling a dark liquid.
The remaining Massey men appeared to have fallen back to several corners of the structure. Near the far end, she could hear screaming. A row of crossbowmen were loading and firing into one of the pits. At the prisoners she realized. Ser Justin was trying to finish the job, even at the last minute.
The Tarth riders stayed together, hacking away at the Morrigen men, but they were making little headway from the gate. There are too many Brienne thought. We cannot win here. How long would it take for reinforcements to arrive? Could they at least keep the violence contained? The great bronze doors were behind her, but looking around she could see other, smaller entrances dotted throughout the structure here and there. Some Morrigen men were exiting even as she watched. How long before they looped around and they were taken from the rear?
Amid the melee, she soon heard a voice crying out for her. "Lady Brienne! Lady Brienne!" She turned, sword raised, and was surprised to see Ser Guyard himself approaching, flanked by several other knights. His blade was red almost to the hilt.
"What is the meaning of this Ser!" Brienne cried back. The melee died down a little, the Morrigen men backing off slightly as their leader approached.
"Robert is forsaken! He is no true king!" Ser Guyard answered. He paused, standing twenty feet away from her, blade also held high.
"He beat the Kingslayer!" Brienne called back, confused. "He challenged him to trial by combat, the king won!"
"No, both parties struck each other!" Ser Guyard replied. "The Kingslayer is fallen, 'tis true. Ser Jaime is a sinner, to be sure, but he struck Robert also. The Warrior guided his blade. The king's wound will fester. The Father has seen fit to strike him down in agony!"
"You cannot know this Ser!" Brienne replied, frustrated. "He is your king! This…" she waved a gauntleted hand about the Dragonpit. "This is treachery against your liege lord!"
"No" Ser Guyard took a step forward, his knights following like shadows. "The High Septon recognized Joffrey as king, and now Tommen reigns after him. Robert has been twisted by the Stranger, changed by his time beyond the ring. Joffrey was his own son, and he murdered him cold, him and other innocent babes, we both saw it. Who do the gods accurse more than the kinslayer?"
"No" Brienne said. She struggled to think of something to say. Stall him, just keep him talking. "Joffrey was the Kingslayer's get" she went on "not his son at all."
"How do you know that?" Ser Guyard demanded. "If Joffrey was no king, why did his Holiness crown him? If Robert is innocent, why did the gods let Ser Jaime strike him at all?"
"I…I don't know" Brienne admitted. For a moment doubt gnawed at her. Could both men have been unworthy? Were the Gods actively taking sides today in the disputes of men? For a moment she thought back to mornings in the castle sept at Evenfall Hall, listening to old septon Tarl reading from an ancient copy of The Seven-Pointed Star chained up to the pulpit. The nights spent silently praying that the gods would send her a good husband who would love her and treat her gently.
But the moment passed. She quickly found something to anchor her courage. "I fight for Lord Renly" she said stubbornly. "I am loyal to him, and he is loyal to Robert."
"Renly!" Ser Guyard spat. "Who cavorts with flying men! Who has allowed himself to become the Stranger's servant!"
"I am loyal to Lord Renly!" Brienne repeated.
"Then you are the Stranger's servant also" Ser Guyard said threateningly. He might have been ten feet away from her now. "Stand aside. Put your swords away. I am not here to kill you, we are saving these men's lives, holy men."
"No" Brienne said desperately. "You will open the city gates to Lord Tywin."
"It is too late. My brother will have seen to that already. Now join us."
Ser Richard she thought. Seven hells. "No…no you won't win. The Tyrells…"
"Will be here too late. Now stand aside, or I will strike you down as I did Ser Justin."
So that was the blood on his blade she thought. "I will fight you if I must Ser."
"So be it."
Ser Guyard lunged forward, blade swinging. Brienne was still ahorse, not a good thing in a confined space. The other Tarth riders were shoulder to shoulder with her however. At least three swords clashed with Ser Guyard's own, before the rest of his men joined in again. Brienne was sweating, her attention focused solely on the Crow's Nest knight and his blade. Several of the attackers fell, as did one of her own. A sort of press had formed, neither side able to budge the other.
Brienne was so focused on the fight before her she took some time to notice what was happening at the far end of the Dragonpit. There were more shouts, especially panicked ones. Then suddenly the whole scene turned green.
She looked up. The flames inside the Dragonpit had spread in the intervening minutes. One of the far pits, still held by Massey men, had suddenly gone up in a great spout of green flame. There was a blast of heat, scorching even at that distance. No sooner had it passed, then the flames spread to the next pit, rearing up so high they licked at the ruined dome. Brienne had never witnessed it before, but the thought of what she was seeing came unbidden. Wildfire.
For a moment everyone stood there, stunned, then a sort of primal panic took over. Every horse seemed to rear at once, and this time Brienne really was thrown. No sooner had she fallen to the ground then she was staggering again to her feet and joining in the mad rush to the exits. Tarth, Morrigen, Massey men, Faith, it no longer mattered. They all raced for the doors as the wall of green flame bore down on them from behind like the breath of a vengeful god.
