His eyes slowly opened and looked up at the beams of the low ceilinged room he was in. The feather bed he was in was slightly musty, and it had a few lumps in it. It was also the best bed that the inn had available. The Crossroads Inn had fallen far since the start of the war, but it was still preferable to sleeping in a tent.
As he levered himself out of the bed, Jaime ran his hands over his face and tried to scrub the sleep out of his eyes. The Riverlands forces that his Lord Father had ordered Littlefinger to send had arrived early in the morning the previous day. Those men had been drawn from Houses all over the Riverlands and included men from Houses Bracken, Piper, Mooten, Mallister and Paege. Lord Bracken was the man who had been placed in overall command of the River Lords.
Additionally, Ser Marq Piper had been ransomed from the Freys by his father, had bent the knee and as a sign of his newfound fealty, he was leading not only the men supplied by his House, but was the second in command of the rivermen. A small contingent of Frey cavalry rounded out the force. All that was well and good. Outside of the Freys he didn't really trust the whoresons. And the Freys he only trusted as far as he could throw one of them. But he desperately needed every spear, sword and bow he could lay his hand on. Jaime had learned the hard way not to underestimate Ned Stark's sons.
The only fly in the ointment, so far at least, was the late night arrival of Lord Tytos Blackwood. Jaime had expected him to arrive with at least as many men as the Brackens had brought. Their feud was well known and neither would ever let the other show him up. But the man had arrived essentially alone, with only a handful of household guards. Jaime had put off speaking to him last night, but he wouldn't be able to avoid it this morning.
Deciding to get on with it, he called for his squire, Josmyn, to help him get dressed. Much had changed of late for him. And having a squire was mayhaps the least of the changes that had been forced upon him. Even dressing was odd now. He'd worn white for so long that it felt strange wearing any other color. And seeing himself in the red of his Father's House was jarring.
In but a moment Josmyn had entered his room and begun to perform his duties. Fortunately for him, the lad had a bit of an idea of what he was expected to do and how to go about doing it. In only a quarter of an hour Jaime found himself suitably attired and prepared to go about his day. Before heading down to the common room to break his fast, he told Josmyn, "Before you eat, prepare my weapons and armor, then do the same for your own. After you've eaten, we'll go down and train for a bit in the yard."
Josmyn's eyes lit up at being told they were going to train and he eagerly responded, "Yes, Ser Jaime!"
Nodding his head, Jaime left him to his duties and headed downstairs. For a squire, he wasn't a bad sort, and he'd more than proven himself on the battlefield at the Blackwater. He'd set Bronn against him later. Let the boy see how a man who made his living selling his sword fights. The experience was sure to be enlightening for him.
Dismissing his squire from his mind, he saw Lord Blackwood already up and sitting a table with a loaf of bread and a mug of ale before him. Best get this over with he thought. Signaling to the girl called Willow for bread and ale of his own, he joined Tytos at the table.
"Lord Blackwood," Jaime greeted him as he sat down.
"Ser Jaime."
"Correct me, My Lord. But were you not commanded to supply men to the army for the purpose of returning the North to the King's Peace?"
Tytos slowly nodded his head and said, "I was, Ser Jaime."
"You were. Yet I see none of your men here. You were pardoned by the Crown for your part in the Northern Rebellion. You swore your fealty to King Joffery. And you renewed it when Tommen succeeded him to the throne. Am I to now understand that those vow mean naught to you? That you have chosen to, yet again, be faithless, My Lord?"
Lord Blackwood very slowly placed both of his hands flat on the table before him. When he replied, it was with a strained voice. He said, "No, Ser Jaime. I rode here to show that I am not breaking my oaths. When Riverrun fell to the Freys after the Red Wedding, Ser Brynden fled the castle along with his household. The man came to Raventree Hall. The Tullys were our Liege Lords, and they had always been friends to my House. So my guards so no reason to refuse him entry to my castle. But upon entering the courtyard, he betrayed my trust and my hospitality and immediately siezed members of my family as hostages. His men even went so far as to kill several of mine when they resisted this unjust act.
"He demanded food and various other supplies be given to him. Seeing as he was holding my children, several with knives at their throats, I complied with his demands out of fear for their lives. Once the blackguard finished with his evil deeds, he left. With several of my children as hostages!
"The man made sure I understood as well that should he see any of my banners chasing him, or across a battlefield from him, he'd personally ensure that my children, including my only daughter, would never see another dawn." Blackwood's voice began to crack at the mention of his daughter.
Jaime actually felt for the man. Having your children held hostage was a sure way to keep any man from sleeping soundly at night. But something about the man's tale didn't sit well with him. So he asked him, "The Blackfish did this? From all that I know of him, it surely doesn't sound like him."
"Aye, it was the Blackfish, right enough. Without a doubt he lived up to his name that day, Ser Jaime. It may not have been like him when we were winning our war with you, but as soon as the tide had turned, and with the death of Robb Stark and the imprisonment of Edmure, perhaps something broke in the man, My Lord."
"I see. And you rode all this way just to tell me that you can't join us? Forgive me, My Lord, but that seems just a fair bit unbelievable."
"I thought you might say that, Ser Jaime. No, I didn't ride all this way to tell you that. Because my children are being held by the Blackfish, I can't have my men join with you, but I can send supplies. I rode ahead of the wagon trains I'm sending. I've included wheat, barely, oats, peas, dried and salted beef and fish, and a few casks of ale. I know I need to show my fealty to the Crown.
"All I ask is that you lift the Blackfish's head from his shoulders and return my children safely to me."
"Well, should I run across him, I will do my best to honor that request. When should we expect to receive these supplies, My Lord? Sometime after we no longer have use for them? Honestly, Lord Blackwood, did you really think I'd believe you? Promising to send supplies and then claiming they were delayed is one of oldest ruses known to man. Give me one reason I shouldn't arrest you here and now and send you to King's Landing to answer the King's Justice?"
Tytos actually smiled at him. And when he replied, the man's voice was considerably lighter. He said, "I figured that would be your response. The wagons are only two days away, one day's hard ride for a small party. You're free to come with me and see for yourself if you like. Don't take my word for it, verify it yourself."
Now it was Jaime's turn to smile. "Or I could just keep you here for two days and see if they arrive as you claim they will. Why should I ride out with a man who has every reason to lead me into an ambush? No, My Lord. You will stay here with me. And if the wagons don't arrive within three days, your head will be on the block. Do we understand each other?"
"We do, Ser Jaime. We do. I've naught to fear. The wagons will be here shortly."
"So you say. But we shall see."
Two days later, and Lord Blackwood proved to be a man of his word. The promised wagons arrived and he bid farewell to the Lord of Raventree Hall, who was fearful of even this meeting being told to Bryden Tully. For a man who had never shown fear before, he showed quite a lot of it now on account of his children. He had asked Tyrion to keep an eye on him, but his brother had seen nothing out of the ordinary. He spoke to his fellow River Lords and some of the Knights that he appeared to know, but that was all. Jaime's mind wasn't entirely put at ease about the Blackwoods, but he was at least reassured enough that he felt comfortable allowing the man to return to his home.
The days since Lord Blackwood's departure had passed slowly. Beyond training in the yard and a handful of patrols, there was naught to do beyond wait for the men from the Vale to arrive. The days were slowly growing colder as well, though it had yet to snow, thank the gods. With just a little luck, they would be able to conclude this campaign before the winter truly set in and they were trapped in the North.
Of all the things that shouldn't have surprised him but did, was the fact that Ser Bronn had taken a liking to the surly Ser Gendry. The two had a good deal in common, both being low born and only recently raised to knighthood. It was something that he should have seen earlier. Regardless, he saw no harm in it, in fact he even thought it useful. Afterall, if Gendry was occupied by Bronn, he and what he could only assume was his paramour, the Lady Jeyne, couldn't plot or scheme against them. And in the meantime, watching Bronn train the boy was at least entertaining.
By this point, he was all but certain that Gendry was Robert's son. While he had clearly learned to wield a sword at some point in the last two years, he showed more than a little natural affinity for the hammer. Perhaps that came from working as a blacksmith, but it was there nonetheless. Of course, that natural skill was no match for a fighter of Bronn's caliber and the Flea Bottom Knight routinely found himself flat on his back with a sword at his throat.
But at long last, the men from the Vale finally arrived. Lord Royce he knew well. Their Commander, a Ser Harrold Hardyng, he knew not at all. He had been curious as to why a mere Landed Knight was leading the men instead of the far more renowned Lord of Runestone, but that curiosity vanished when he was told that Ser Harrold was the heir of Robert Arryn. It only made sense that the Knights of the Vale would want to see for themselves if their likely future Liege Lord was a capable commander or not. The boy seemed to know his business, or at least he was smart enough to listen to those that did and take their advice. Either way, he was likely showing the Valemen what they wanted to see. He would reserve judgement on the young Lord until after he saw his performance in battle.
After holding a short meeting with all his gathered commanders where he laid out his plans for the upcoming invasion of the North, he gave the order to prepare to march. The entire force would head for Moat Cailin in the morning. At last report, the Boltons had retaken the fortress from the Ironborn and the entire force could simply march through the Neck rather than fight their way through.
Later, when the broken towers of the Moat loomed against the horizon, Jaime's optimism that they would only have to march through the neck had faded. The Cranogmen that infested the region like lice had spent the entire march north picking off man after man. Their poisoned arrows were a menace that Jaime hadn't fully appreciated before. Between the Cranogmen, the lizard lions and the vipers, he'd already lost over a hundred men.
He'd tried sending men out into the swamps to stop the attacks, but that had proven to be worse than useless. The men that managed to avoid the Cranogmen seldom returned unscathed. More men than he could count had suffered the effects of poison kisses, several had fallen into quicksand while trying to make their way through the bogs, and those were just some of the issues they'd had so far on the march.
But once they were through the Neck, his hope was that the worst of their problems would be past them. The battles? The battles didn't worry him. He'd spent his entire life fighting battles of one sort or another. And he had learned well the lessons that Robb Stark had taught him. It would take meticulous planning and flawless execution, but he would not lose another battle to a Stark.
As he and his men passed through the ruins of Moat Cailin, Jaime saw a woman with brown and grey hair sitting astride a magnificent destrier. As they drew closer, he could see the lines around her eyes and mouth. Lines that anger and bitterness had drawn there. The Lady of Barrowtown cut an imposing figure. She was also a reassuring one. Per the plans his father and Lord Bolton had arranged, the Dustins were joining him just past Moat Cailin for the march to Winterfell.
"Lady Dustin. I'm pleased to see you here."
"Kingslayer. You and your Lord Father chose a piss poor time to try and launch the Lannisters first ever invasion of the North. I hope you enjoy the cold."
"We'll manage, Lady Dustin. And we are hardly invading. We are here merely to aid the Warden of the North in returning peace to his lands."
"Unless you're of the North, you're invading the North. Invited or not, it makes no matter. There are many in the North that have lost loved ones to you and yours, Kingslayer. Believe me when I tell you, that if my men and I were not riding with you, you would not see the south again."
"Surely you jest, My Lady? Who in their right mind would be so foolish as to attack a column of seven thousand men? Obviously, Jon Snow might should he be able to muster an army, but beyond that? Only those with shit for brains would even contemplate it."
A bitter laugh escaped from Lady Dustin's lined mouth. And when she answered, she said, "You're naught but a sweet summer babe, Kingslayer. When winter comes, many a man will leave his hearth and home to 'go hunting.' And come spring, they'll find his frozen body somewhere. Do you know why they do this? Because there isn't enough food to feed their families for the whole winter. So they'll sacrifice themselves so that there's one less mouth to feed.
"Love them or hate them, the Starks are always right in the end. Winter is Coming. And there are many men in the North who know that one way or another, this winter will be there last. And men with nothing left to live for are more dangerous than all the Knights in the all the Seven Kingdoms. Those men, Kingslayer, would be your doom."
"If these men are so formidable, why didn't the North win? Why didn't Robb Stark call these men to his banners?"
"Because Robb was a foolish boy who made too many mistakes. He had never fought in a war the way his father had. And his father was no longer here to guide him. He never thought to ask for the old men that would fight with abandon. He wanted the boys he grew up with. And he paid for that."
"And will his brother make that same mistake?"
Barbrey let out a short bark of laughter. "His brother doesn't have a choice. The old men are all that's left. That and boys too young to fight. This war will not be so easily won as you think, Kingslayer."
With that, Barbrey put her spurs to her horse and rode to rejoin her own men who were waiting at the top of the causeway. Jaime was left wondering if this truly would be the simple campaign he had though it would be. If Lady Dustin was an example of what he could expect from his allies, what must his enemies feel about them?
Beside him Tyrion's voice broke his thoughts, "If those are our allies, then I shudder to think of how our enemies feel about us."
"Are you a mind reader now, brother?"
"Only your mind. And that only because you lack the face for deceit. I can tell what you're thinking just by reading your face. You really must learn to hide your every thought if you plan to rule the Rock one day, brother."
Jaime grunted in annoyance and said, "Still, if this is the way the northmen feel about us, your mission is likely failed before it's even truly begun. Jon Snow will never bend the knee if he knows his own people would turn on him."
"As I told Father when he first put it to me. But Father gets what Father wants. And I'd much rather live out my days in Castamere than Castle Black."
"Watch yourself, Tyrion. Cersei couldn't take your head, but these northmen might."
Tyrion just smiled, held up a wineskin and drank.
It had been a week since they had entered the North, and the walls of Barrowtown were before them. Jaime had already given orders for his men to pitch camp, and they were doing so rapidly, having gained an extraordinary amount of practice at it over the months of their march north. Jaime had just been about to head into Lady Dustin's castle when a flash of sunlight glinting off something caught his eye.
It had come from the nearby pig stye. Walking to it, he looked down and saw a bit of silver wire, still shining despite the efforts of the pigs. As Jaime's eyes followed the wire, they opened wide in shock at seeing the wire tied to a deadman's skull. Before he could turn away, Lady Dustin had joined him at the bars of the pig pen. And seeing where his eyes were pointed, she said, "Ah, I see you've found my pigs most prized possession."
"Your pig's prized possession? And just what is it that makes it so prized?"
A slow, dark smile spread across Barbey's face before she answered. And when she did, he voice was full of hate. "Those are Eddard Stark's bones."