As he stared at the remains of the fire, Tristan gripped his sword tightly in his hand, watching the smoke tendrils twist into the air.
"Tris." He glanced over his shoulder to where Cley was approaching. The Lord of Cerwyn shook his head. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" He looked around, his men were still searching the camp, but there was little effort in it. They pulled back covers and opened tent flaps with their swords and poked into bushes. A few crouched down, looking for tracks, but only a few. "Where in all the hells have they gone?" He stepped into the embers of the fire, feeling tongues of heat lick the sole of his foot. "This is still warm."
"They must have gotten some kind of warning," Daryn said, sauntering over, battleaxe resting on his shoulder.
"You were probably too loud," Cley joked.
"Can't have been me, I covered my fart with your bag."
"Enough," Tristan ordered before Cley retorted.
"I'm still impressed you found them," Daryn said to Tristan.
Tristan nodded. The two prisoners from Raventree Hall had been set loose, with Tristan's explicit orders that they were not to be followed. Lady Blackwood had flown into a rage when she had heard, but he had eventually been able to calm her down. When the prisoners ran, Tristan followed, shifting his mind through bird and beast to keep the prisoners in his eye. For the first two days they had led him in circles, clearly suspicious that they were being followed. When they were satisfied that no riders were following them, they made their way to these woods in the Vale, where a small band of brigands awaited them. He had left the robin he'd been in and ordered his men to ride.
This was what they had found. A noon attack into a camp clearly just vacated.
"Do we have any tracks? Anything to hint where they might have been going?" Tristan asked.
"Plenty," Daryn said, waving his battleaxe to indicate all directions. "Pick a direction and start walking, but if this group is small, they're probably doing just what the prisoners did. Scatter, hide until the trail is lost, regroup somewhere else."
"And I told Lady Blackwood I would try and bring the prisoners back," he muttered.
"What's the plan, Tris?" Cley asked.
Tristan ran his hand down his face. "Send five men in every direction, if they encounter anyone suspicious they are to be questioned. They'll ride for half a day, and then turn to Stone Hedge, where they'll meet up with the rest of us." Perhaps Lady Bracken would know more about this brotherhood. This camp was to the south from Raventree Hall, in the vague direction of House Bracken's lands. But Tristan didn't want to assume anything. So as the afternoon sun crystalled the dew damp grass, Tristan led his small army south. The path to Stone Hedge was well beaten by the armies of Houses Bracken and Blackwood, down the Blackwood Vale and across the Red Fork. The main bridge across it was a broken casualty of the war, so they forded the river a short distance downstream from it and headed into Bracken lands.
As befit territory bordering the lands of rivals, many watchtowers were positioned along the route. Most were as broken as the bridge, but a few remained, with lookouts inside. When they saw the Stark Banner they hailed Tristan and directed him to Stone Hedge, with Tristan leaving orders that they guide his soldiers if they follow him. Not all would make it that day, he suspected, but hopefully they would come with news.
The castle of House Bracken was old and sturdy. A hexagon of stone walls surrounded a tall, square keep, there was a gathering of houses outside, still bearing the scorches of the Mountain's attack at the very beginning of the war. Thankfully it didn't look like he would have a problem with it's occupancy. The banners of House Bracken still flew from the walls, and he spied watchmen on the walls.
They approached the bridge and Tristan respectfully approached the gatehouse alone.
A guard in a strong iron helm watched him from behind an arrowslit. "Who approaches Stone Hedge?" He demanded.
"Prince Tristan, of House Stark, Captain of King Robb, charged with restoring order to the Riverlands, I beg an audience and shelter from Lady Bracken."
The guard's face vanished. Not long after the gate creaked open and Tristan led the men inside.
Even inside the keep still bore the scars of ser Gregor's invasion. The stables had been rebuilt, the armoury and guardhouse too, but the godswood was a torn up mess and scorch marks still scored the keep's exterior.
Most of the Bracken ladies were waiting for him on the steps leading up to the keep. Lady Bracken was front and centre, with honey coloured hair and dark brown eyes. Closest to her wan an older girl who looked to be twenty or so, proudly dressed in Bracken colours, with red hair pulled into a braid. This one was Barbara, the eldest daughter and heir. She must have taken after her mother, Lord Bracken's first wife, for she looked little like him. The other three stood on Lady Bracken's other side in age order, Catelyn, Bess and Alysanne. The eldest and the youngest took after Lord Bracken, he noted, with his thick brown hair and eyes. Catelyn couldn't be any older than Tristan, and was a curvacious and comely young woman, while Alysanne looked to be eleven or so, too young to have developed into womanhood, by any measure. Bess, meanwhile, was perhaps fourteen, was far more slender than her elder sisters. Her hair was the colour of her mother in the style of her eldest sister. The other sister, Jayne, wasn't present, for understandable reasons, even if Tristan had been hoping to see her.
"Lady Bracken," Tristan greeted her with a bow, his fellow lords coming to join him. "I must thank you for your hospitality."
"It is, as always, a pleasure to host the brother of our King," she curtsied to him, her daughters following suit. "I welcome you to our hall, although I fear you will find its hospitality somewhat lacking this day."
"We shall not trouble upon it for long," he replied as Elmar took his horse to the stables. "Wait one moment, Elmar," he said, before turning back to the Bracken ladies. "My lady, is lady Jayne not present in the castle?"
They all looked uncomfortably at each other. "My stepdaughter is still in her rooms," Lady Bracken explained.
"I see," Tristan said. "I only hoped to present a gift to her." He went to his horst and reached into his saddlebag, pulling out an abnormally large skull, held together by string where it was split across the middle, and where the lower jaw had been cut through. He presented the skull to the Brackens. "The skull of the man who violated her."
"That's the Mountains?" Barbara asked, taking one step forward. "We heard that you had killed him." She turned to her stepmother. "My lady if I may, this may help her."
Lady Bracken regarded the skull thoughtfully, then nodded. "Very well, Barbara, Catelyn, you will accompany Prince Tristan to Jayne's rooms, my prince, we shall have dinner prepared for you and your lords before you return.
"Thank you, my lady."
He followed Barbara and Catelyn into the castle and up several floors to a bedchamber. Outside Barbara turned to him. "My Prince, if I may," she said softly, glancing at the door. "My sister still struggles to be in the presence of men, Cat and I will keep her calm, but please don't approach too closely."
"Of course."
They entered softly and Tristan stayed back as Barbara approached the bed, where a dark mass huddled. She shook the shape softly and whispered to it.
Catelyn slipped close to him and whispered in his ear. "She been getting better, but she still rarely leaves the room. Barbara's been sleeping with her to help her through the night."
"I can't imagine," Tristan replied.
Barbara brought Jayne out. She and Barabra looked like they should be near identical, but Jayne was haunted, dishevelled, and frail.
"My prince," Jayne whispered, wrapped in a sheet as she shuffled towards him. She attempted a clumsy curtsy. "You… you have something for me?"
"Yes," Tristan, took only one step forward, which was enough to make Jayne shy away, and placed the skull of the Mountain on a small table in front of her. "I know it cannot undo what the Mountain has done to you, but this is his head. He has faced justice for his crime, and he will never inflict another."
She stared at the skull. "That's the Mountain's head?" she whispered.
"Yes."
She nodded, stared at the skull, then turned and hurried back to her bed.
"How is sh-" he began, but was cut off by a scream of rage and anguish.
Jayne bolted back across the room, the sheet flying off her, an iron pot in her hand. Her vacant expression replaced with a snarl of fury as she raised the pot above her head and brought it down on the skull. Tristan backed away in alarm as she brought the pot down again and again. The bone cracked and splinted, the table shook. By the time she fell back, panting, the pot rolling across the carpet, half the skull had been reduced to powder, the rest to shards. "Feed the rest," she rasped, "to the dogs."
Barbara helped Jayne back to the bed and the three of them withdrew. "Did that help, at all?" Tristan asked.
Catelyn glanced back at the closed door. "I'm not sure."
"But that was more of a response than anything else that has happened since the rape," Barbara said. She smiled at Tristan. "She may not have said it. But thank you, for killing him."
Tristan nodded. "It should have been done long ago."
"Justice delayed is still justice done, and by killing him justice has been done for many." Tristan nodded. That was true, he supposed. "Come, the Lady Bracken is waiting."
The meal was a pleasant affair, all things considered. Tristan, Dom, Cley and Daryn left their swords at the door and Tristan bid Shield to remain outside, before they took their seats at the long table in Stone Hedge's hall. "My prince," Lady Bracken stood, presenting the layout of the table, a fine meal of meat platters and mead. "Please, have a seat," she said, directing him to a seat opposite her own. He politely accepted, taking the seat, with Catelyn on one side of him and Alysanne on the other. Barbara walked slowly around the table and took the seat beside her stepmother. Daryn was directed to a seat next to Barbara, while Domeric and Cley took seatson the other sides of Catelyn and Alysanne.
"Is Bess not to join us?" Tristan asked once they were all seated.
"Our sister is in prayer, my prince," Alysanne said sweetly from beside him.
"I see."
"Let us dine," Lady Bracken said.
After the first course was cleared, Catelyn leant over to him. "Why do you keep your hand gloved, my prince?" she asked, running her fingers over his gloved claw softly. "It's not cold, surely?"
"No," Tristan replied, half smiling, in fact, his claw was sweltering, but it was unsightly to behold and taking off the glove was impossible to do elegantly. Most days he simply kept it on for the day, taking it off to wash the sweat off his hand at night and putting it back on in the morning. "It covers a war wound," he said simply.
"From the Mountain?" She asked eagerly.
"No, from before then." He replied.
"Can I see?" She asked, leaning into him.
"It's not something to show at the dinner table."
"Does it pain you?"
"Yes."
"Shall I kiss it better for you?"
"That won't be necessary," he said gently, turning to his plate. He awkwardly worked his fork between his curled fingers and started cutting through the meat. But still Catelyn kept up her questions, which he was more than happy to answer, but her questions were laced with suggestive undertones. Tristan found himself taken aback. Not so much by the questions, but by his response. Before he would have reciprocated such comments, engaged in the flirtatious banter in the hope of ending the night in her bed. But now his body responded, but his soul wasn't in it. He just didn't want to respond. It wasn't that Catelyn was unattractive, far from it, she exuded appeal and confidence. It just did little for him. In fact, when Catelyn turned away for a mouthful of pork, Tristan caught Domeric's eye behind her back and looked rapidly between her and him. His friend raised his eyebrows teasingly, before striking up a conversation with Catelyn.
The young woman suitably distracted, Tristan turned to his food. Across the table, Daryn and Barbara were talking animatedly. Something the young Lord of Hornwood said made Barbara laugh into her plate, which made her stepmother chastise her sharply.
On Tristan's other side, Cley was talking to Alysanne about something that seemed to be confusing him.
"Something troubling you, Cley?" He asked.
Alysanne turned to him. "Lord Cerwyn was just explaining that you came from Raventree Hall." A hush fell on the table. "I was telling him of our long feud with the Blackwoods of that hold."
Tristan was aware of the feud, though not its causes. "Yet he seems uncertain."
Cley glanced at the others. "I would not wish to speak words that would offend our hosts," he said softly. "But I have heard different tales than the ones lady Alysanne spoke to us."
"How so?" Lady Bracken asked.
Cley looked truly flustered now. "I was under the impression that the Brackens took their lands from House Blackwood by hiring sellswords to usurp them in the elder days."
Barbara snorted. "A Blackwood tale. We came as First Men, just as they did. They never forgave our conversion and have slandered us ever since."
"Your conversion was a problem for House Blackwood? House Hornwood's lands border House Manderly, our differing faiths have never been a concern for us," Daryn asked.
"Perhaps it was different for you. They call our conversion treachery, we call it survival. The Andals conquered all the way up to the river you crossed to reach us, the Blackwoods could hold the waterline, we had to survive alone, so our ancestors converted, and the Blackwoods held long enough for the fire of Andal invaders to have cooled long enough to spare them." Barbara said.
"And that was enough to ignite a feud that has lasted ever since?" Domeric asked.
Barbara made to speak again, but Lady Bracken cut across her. "Fires continue to burn if you add fire to them. Arguments over lands here at the Trident, or mistresses in the beds of kings, some will always find an excuse to restart an old grudge."
"Especially Blackwoods," Barbara said.
"Perhaps," Cley said, having regained a little of himself. "But having heard their side many times, I can assure you they would say the same of Brackens."
Before anyone else could speak, Alysanne piped up. "Does it matter now? We are both great lords, we have both suffered against the same foe and fight under the same king. Perhaps in this new future we can finally put the past behind us. Find peace with our neighbours, as the Seven teach."
"That is a worthy goal," Tristan said, smiling but not hopeful. He had come from the Blackwoods after all, and Lady Blackwood's concerns would have to be raised. "Perhaps we can all work for it together. But for now, I must have some air." He got to his feet. "No need Dom," he said, waving Domeric down when he rose as well. "I shan't be long. Lady Bracken, we must needs speak on my return however. I cannot deny my duties here."
"Of course, my prince."
Tristan took his cloak off the rack, leaving his sword, and stepped out into the cold evening air. He sucked in a breath between his teeth and headed for the well beside the stairs leading into the keep. When he had a bucket of water he headed for where Shield waited, tied up beside the godswood, only to find he wasn't alone.
"I thought you were at prayer, Lady Bess," he said softly. Bess was sat on the fence of the godswood, a short distance from where Shield was tied up, head resting between his paws.
Bess jumped down from the fence, surprised. "Yes… I mean I was, my Prince." She stood there awkwardly before bowing softly. Tristan smiled, placing the bucket on the ground.
"A short prayer."
"I've given longer ones, I just didn't want to get in the way."
"Of dinner?"
"My mother's scheming," she replied. "You were sat between my sisters at dinner? My full sisters?"
"I was. What is that to do with anything?"
"You aren't married yet."
"And she wants a Bracken to marry a future prince?" That made sense.
Bess nodded. "One of her Brackens, preferably."
"Not your half-sisters?"
"Well, you saw Jayne?" Bess pointed out, hugging her cloak tighter around herself. "My prayer was for her, that she might recover."
Tristan nodded, pressing his lips together. "She'll be in my prayers too."
"Thank you, my prince."
Wanting to change the subject, Tristan said, "are you not one of your mothers' Brackens?"
Bess smiled sheepishly. "I am, but there's nothing I can offer you that my sisters can't do better."
"How so?"
"If you want a woman who is eager for you, in every way, then you couldn't do much better than Catelyn. If you want the pious and devoted wife, then Alysanne is the best that can be, compared to them I'm, well," she gestured down at herself. Tristan wasn't exactly sure what she was gesturing at. "I'm out here staring at a wolf."
"He's a good wolf," Tristan said. He reached over to his left hand and carefully started working the glove off his hand. He winced in pain as he moved his fingers out so the glove could come off.
"Can I help you with that?"
"No no," Tristan replied, pulling the glove off finally. He plunged his hand into the cold water from the bucket. "So," he said, washing the sweat from his hand. "What about your last sister?"
"Barbara?"
"Yes, your mother sat her further away from me, does she not want me marrying Barbara?"
Bess shrugged softly, leaning back against the fence. "Barbara's in a difficult situation. My mother is not so old she couldn't give my father a son. Every pregnancy threatens to change her position as my father's heir. But until we know for certain, how are we to arrange a marriage. Is she the desirable heiress to one of the greatest holdings in the Riverlands, or is she simply the eldest daughter?"
"I suppose that changes a great deal," Tristan said. After finishing cleaning his hand, he placed the bucket on the ground in front of Shield. Shields ears flicked up at the sound and he raised his head from between his paws, padded over to the bucket and started drinking. "What about you?" He asked Bess.
"Me?"
"I've known many women, and even though I didn't see it at the time, they all had something to offer. You may not be your sisters, but you must have something to offer in marriage."
Bess shook her head. "Nothing that they don't do better."
"I don't believe that."
Bess shrugged and approached Shield. "If there is anything, someone else will have to find it. May I approach him?"
Tristan nodded. "Of course."
"Will he bite?"
He laughed. "No. He's a good wolf, but do be careful, he's not a tame one."
Bess approached Shield, reached out, and gently stroked the back of his head. Shield raised his head from the bucket, water dripping from the fur around his maw and turned his head to Bess. She froze for a moment and swallowed, but met Shield's eye. After a few moments, he returned his head to the bucket and she resumed her stroking.
"You must be thankful to have such a guardian."
"I am," Tristan said.
He left Bess with Shield and went for a short walk around the deserted courtyard, then checked in on Elmar who was sitting with the other men in the barracks. Most of his men had by now arrived from their scouting with nothing to report, it seemed the inhabitants of the camp had slipped his noose. He returned to the great hall to find that dinner was over and only Lady Bracken remained, her head resting on her knuckles in thought.
She looked up when Tristan entered. "Was the air good for you, my prince?"
"It was, though not as good as your company, my lady."
"I'm glad I could provide some shelter. But now, I feel it's best that we get down to business."
"I agree."
She leant back. "You came here from Blackwood lands. What accusations have they made of us?"
Tristan didn't reply, instead reaching inside his cloak and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He slid it across the table to Lady Bracken, carefully studying her reaction. She read the paper, her brow furrowed. "What is this?" She asked.
"A warning, nailed to the gates of Raventree Hall after we had driven off some foes in the area."
"Foes?"
He gestured to the paper. "This Brotherhood of the Sevens' Sword."
"And the Handless," Lady Bracken said.
"Do those names mean anything to you, my lady?"
"Should they?"
"They attacked the castle of a neighbouring lord. You tell me?"
She looked up at him. "So Lady Blackwood thinks that we sent them?" She dropped the letter on the table. "We didn't. We have enough men and weapons to protect out own lands, not to attack our neighbours. Besides, did she have any evidence for the claim?"
"So these people attacked a castle, and you know nothing of them?"
"Not directly. These names mean nothing to me."
"But something does?"
She steepled her fingers. "You say they attacked Raventree Hall?"
Tristan nodded. "Far from your common brigands."
"I can't promise anything will come from this. But House Smallwood wrote to us recently, their lands stand between us and House Vance, to whom they are sworn. They were asking us to take possession of a Reacher captive."
"Someone of note?"
She shook her head. "The name meant nothing to me, I believe they took him captive in the Battle of Bayonne and were awaiting ransom. Regardless, they said their lands and castle were coming under attack by brigands and they feared losing him, so they asked us to take temporary possession until the situation had been remedied?"
"Has it been?"
"I don't know. We only received the message the other day. I haven't responded yet."
"You have no other idea about this brotherhood?"
"Neither them nor," she picked up the paper again, "the Handless. We have plenty of reports of brigandage, but whether it's the same group, I can't say."
"I see," Tristan said softly. "Then it seems like House Smallwood is my next destination. You say that House Bracken's lands are secure?"
"As secure as we can hope with the army away."
"You don't need any additional men?"
"We'll suffice, my prince."
He nodded. "Very well. I thank you for your hospitality and the company of your family. Tomorrow we'll depart."
