Cassana
Keir and Koss were the sons of Kresimir; the other five men were Vin Storm, Basil of Stag's March, Danel of Hegg's Mine, and the cousins Dagnir and Orleg of Edain.
As Cassana travelled in their company, she became acquainted with them and their roots. Keir and Koss had grown up in Stonehelm, serving as assistants to the blacksmith or the master-of-horse; they joked that they had each learned half their letters in boyhood, but were not sure which halves.
Vin had worked as a tanner in one of the villages which paid tribute to House Swann; he was allegedly a bastard, but his mother had told him that he was in fact the son of a Baratheon who'd stopped in their village whilst hunting.
Danel had come from a mining family at the westernmost end of the Red Mountains; his archery skills had saved him from a miner's fate, though he strenuously refuted the claim that he'd honed his skills by poaching.
Dagnir and Orleg were foresters by trade, half wild from their lives spent under the eaves of the rainwood.
Basil was a veteran sellsword, fond of telling many tales of his exploits. He and Danel were the eldest of the group, silver-haired with half their teeth missing, whilst Koss was only seventeen years of age.
House Swann had brought these seven men together, recruiting them to serve as guardsmen, and they had marched with Ser Alfred upon Blackhaven, much to their astonishment. All seven of these men had found the campaign distasteful, or else feared the charge of treason. Thus did Kresimir's sons bring them to their father's attention, and when Ser Alfred had summoned Cassana to the siege of Cloudwatch, Kresimir had seen his chance. Elwood had been charged to accompany them as a guide, and none of the seven deemed his death a great loss.
"And in any case," Basil had explained between mouthfuls of roast hare, "it served us well to have him with us. What better way to show milady which dragon we wished to serve, eh?"
"Would have been better if we showed it before he struck milady," Kresimir murmured awkwardly.
Basil's lopsided grin faded, but only for a moment. He gave Cassana a nod. "Begging your pardon, but you did show him what for."
Cassana nodded as she accepted a serving of the meagre food. Not even in the dungeons of Blackhaven had she been so ragged. Her clothing was becoming threadbare. Never before had she eaten so poorly. It often took all her efforts to keep her rage and misery at bay.
In an effort to cheer herself up, she regularly thought of the vengeance she would carry out against those who had attacked her and her family. She thought of the tortures she would implement, the words she would whisper in their ears, the places she would display their mangled remains.
Kresimir and the others often spoke of what must be done, where they could go, and to whom they could turn for aid. Cassana sat in on these conversations, but she kept her thoughts to herself as she pondered their options.
"Cloudwatch is under siege," Kresimir reminded them. "There's nothing awaiting us there, save for a cruel death at Alfred Swann's hands."
"What of Dondarrion's other vassals?" Bits of half chewed food sprayed from Orleg's mouth as he made his query.
"House Bolt is our strongest vassal," Cassandra answered bitterly, "and the others sent most of their men to join Baldric to curry favour with him over the Bolts. They will be in no state to fight the Swanns."
Basil looked up, as if he'd come up with a bright idea. "The Coles! They once served your family, no?"
"Maybe when you was born, they did," Koss quipped. Keir, Vin, Orleg, and Dagnir guffawed at the jape while Basil harrumphed.
"That's enough, boy," Kresimir warned his son.
Cassandra forced herself to sound especially polite as she corrected Basil. "House Cole are not marchers. It was only ever a cadet branch that served my family, and their line died with the Kingmaker. Anyway, that house is also in league with the Blackfyres." She named off the others which she had seen gathered in Stonehelm.
"Gods be good," Danel murmured sadly, comforting himself with another bite of hare. "So what do we do?"
They sat in silence, brooding on Danel's question, but no answer was voiced. A tear ran down Cassana's face. Gods be good, would that I had learned men who might help me plan a strategy. Gulian Straw would have known what to do, but now he is dead.
Reflecting on that dead man caused an idea to strike her as if it were the sigil of her house. So shocked was she by this overlooked notion that she sprang to her feet with a gasp. Ignoring most of her companions, she turned to Kresimir. "You saw the traitorous houses?"
"Aye, Milady," answered Kresimir, with no small measurement of alarm and confusion.
"What of House Selmy?"
Kresimir's jaw swung open. "No, I never saw them."
House Selmy were the least of the marcher lords, either in the Stormlands or the Reach. Some japed that they were an upjumped knightly house, and it did not help that Selmy lords still referred to themselves as Knights of Harvest Hall. They were often overlooked by the other marchers, and perhaps this had caused them to become determined to prove their worth.
She knew full well that the Selmys alone could not liberate the entire Stormlands. Nor were they any friendlier to House Dondarrion than the Swanns or Carons. But Cassana was confident that they would join her cause if she could reach them.
Cassana faced the others one by one, unable to remember when she'd felt so hopeful. "We must ride to Lord Selmy and seek his aid! Mayhaps we can break the siege of Cloudwatch before it is too late!"
"*"* "*"* "*"*"*" *"* "*"*"* "*"* "*"* "*
They rode hard at first sunlight, across the endless open country. They were exposed and vulnerable to any who might be pursuing them, but Cassana was confident that her absence was not yet known to her foes. With any luck, Alfred will waste time sending men to seek me out. Let him know fear as he tries to imagine where I have gone.
There was no shortage of shrubs to feed their horses, but there was precious little water along the northern moors. No trees grew here, but occasionally there remained the enduring stump of a weirwood tree, long turned to a strange sort of stone with the passing eons.
At the end of the first day, Cassana and her companions camped amongst three of these stumps They had no fuel for fire, but Kresimir had planned this. Food had been cooked and kept for safekeeping in one of their satchels, and now it was rationed out.
As they ate, Dagnir and Orleg looked with dismay and disgust at the stumps around them. They went from one to the other, touching each stump and murmuring under their breaths.
"What's all that about, lads?" Danel asked them curiously.
"This was a terrible sin," Dagnir declared in a choked voice.
"Sin? To cut down those abominations?" Vin spat upon the ground at the notion.
Scarce had he begun to make a sign of the Seven when the cousins stood over him, axes in hand.
"Mind yourself, bastard," rasped Orleg. "The old gods were here long before you Andals and they'll be here long after!"
"Enough!" Cassana arose, every inch the Lady of Blackhaven. "Stop this at once! You all swore oaths to me, did you not? I will have no quarrels!"
Slowly, reluctantly, Orleg and Dagnir lowered their weapons as Vin mumbled an apology.
Basil regarded the younger men with a curious eye. "You two are First Men, then?"
"Still," Dagnir confirmed. "The rainwood still harbours men who follow the old ways. Our family stretches back to House Durrandon and who knows how far beyond them."
"A proud heritage," said Danel earnestly. His smile had more gaps than teeth as he hefted his great longbow. "A noble profession, is forestry."
"Bold words, coming from a poacher," Orleg retorted sourly.
"Poacher? Where?" Danel turned his head left and right in apparent astonishment. Keir and Koss grinned at the stocky greybeard's reaction.
"You don't fool us," Orleg insisted angrily. "We know poachers when we see them. How else did you get such practice with that bow of yours?"
"These accusations is all fine and good," Danel huffed, "but I appeal to Milady for proper justice!" He nodded his head respectfully towards Cassana.
Cassana was in no mood to entertain this farce. "We have enough enemies without turning on each other! Whatever you men were in the past is irrelevant. All that should concern you is your futures. If House Targaryen wins, your futures are assured."
There were no arguments after that evening. The following day, all the men were amiable, or at least polite with each other. Moreover, rain had fallen during the night. Everyone was soaking wet, but the horses fed well on dew-soaked vegetation.
"More rain means we're getting closer, Milady," said Kresimir eagerly as he watched the horses regain their strength. "Once we see the farmed fields, we'll reach House Selmy."
Cassana felt more like her old self again with every stride that her horse made to the north-west. The rain did not abate for the rest of the day, but that only encouraged her. The horses' hoofprints would be lost in the wet ground, and the grass grew more plentiful as they continued on their journey.
Finally, on the third day beneath a bright summer sun, the modest but sturdy castle of Harvest Hall appeared on the horizon. It had been constructed on a plateau which overlooked a flat plain which had been cultivated since the First Men had crossed the Arm of Dorne. These fields were surrounded by a stone wall which must have taken years to be fully built. Men stood atop it wearing three wheat stocks of House Selmy.
As they approached a large gate, they were addressed by a guard. "Who goes there?"
"Lady Cassana Dondarrion," Cassana replied. "I am a fugitive from traitors and I demand assistance from any honourable man who keeps his vows to the true king!"
The gate opened for them after a moment of dithering, and a group of Selmy men escorted them towards the castle. It was not lost on Cassana that the wall was teeming with armed men.
The land which the wall guarded was dotted with farms, but there seemed to be forty smallfolk to each farm. It would be another good year for crops, judging by the state of the fields. Most of them boasted wheat, corn, or barley, but there was also a scattering of orchards and bushes. Hundreds of old men, women, and children were at work tending these crops.
Like many marchers, Geraint Selmy was a hard-looking man whose face did not smile easily. When Cassana and her followers entered his hall, Lord Selmy sat at his table. His chair was just as ornate as the Lord's seat in Blackhaven, and his drawn sword lay across the table, pointing towards them. Four other men sat on either side of him. The youngest was obviously his son, given their ages and resemblance towards each other. The eldest wore a maester's robes. The other two wore mail and leather just like Lord Selmy, and one of them wore a yellow surcoat with a brown scythe stitched upon it.
"Lady Dondarrion," Geraint Selmy declared in a gruff voice. "You have seen better days." His cold eyes glanced over her ragged and lowborn companions.
"I mean to see them again," said Cassana, matching Selmy's curt tone. "You and your people have seen better days too, from what I saw when I entered Harvest Hall.
"Indeed," Lord Selmy's eyes narrowed. "I know that Blackhaven has been claimed by House Swann. And I know that they are besieging Cloudwatch to seize your family."
"How do you know that?" Cassana asked suspiciously.
The mailed men frowned, but Selmy glanced at them and held up a hand. "Peace. I daresay that Lady Dondarrion has earned the right to be mistrustful in these wicked times."
The grim man folded his arms. "As to your question, Ser Alfred demanded after your boys and your cousins. I assured him that I was not keeping them. When my scouts reported the siege, I guessed that he found them."
"You did not wish to fight?" Cassana asked.
"I do not wish for fighting needlessly," Selmy retorted. "That is not the same as cowardice, as you ought to know." His patience was wearing thin.
"No one called you a coward, Lord Selmy," said Cassana. "But if you are seeking the right time to fight, it has come upon you."
"How convenient," Selmy quipped dryly. "And what makes you say that?"
Cassana turned to the knight of the brown scythe who sat at Selmy's right hand. House Selmy had only one knightly house of any significance as their vassals, but House Straw was the key to Cassana's bid for an allegiance.
"What is your name, Ser?"
The knight frowned. "Ser Edmund of House Straw."
"And what was your relation to Gulian Straw?"
The man might have been as young as twenty-five or as old as forty; his looks had been disfigured by a burn mark across one side of his face. Now he gave her a puzzled look. "Gulian is my uncle, though it has been a long time since I saw him." He blinked as he registered what Cassana had said. "Did you say "was"? What has become of him?"
"When Alfred Swann ambushed me," Cassana declared icily, "he threw my loyal followers into the dungeons alongside me. Gulian Straw was a man of honour, and was made to suffer for it. Ser Alfred allowed him to die a slow and painful death among the rats. Both his sons are far from home. He died without anyone by his side, nor do I even know if Alfred gave him a proper burial."
Ser Edmund was aghast at the news, but his alarm soon turned into fury. He arose and impulsively put a hand on his sword hilt before turning back to his liege lord.
When Selmy spoke again, his voice was deathly serious, bereft of any sardonicism. "Alfred is a traitor, and if the gods are good, he will answer sorely for his crimes."
"With all due respect, Lord Selmy, I do not wish to wait for the gods to intervene," Cassana retorted. "I believe that we must break the Swann army which has invaded my lands. If we do that, we can form a united front against the Carons and the Swanns."
"A reckless plan, Lady Dondarrion," the other knight interjected. "We cannot fight a war on two fronts."
"It is better to keep those houses apart rather than let them unite," Cassana insisted, angry that this was taking such effort. "If we keep the Blackfyres divided, others will rally and join us."
"You speak boldly," Selmy said approvingly. "Your father would be proud that his daughter was such a worthy successor."
As always, any mention of her father caused a chill to go through her body. She had no wish to antagonise these men, however, so she simply gave a polite smile in response to his ill-favoured compliment.
Lord Selmy gave a sigh. "All the same, it does not do to wage war on notions of bravery alone. If we march to Cloudwatch, they will prepare themselves against us."
"If I may, milord," Kresimir suddenly hobbled forward, "I know the army and its commander better than anyone else in this hall."
Lord Selmy looked offended at the interruption, so Cassana quickly stepped forward. "This is Kresimir, my lord. He served as a steward to the Swanns before they revealed their treason. It is thanks to Kresimir and these gallant men that I stand before you today." She did not need to see the faces of her companions to sense Basil swelling with pride, or Dagnir and Orleg grinning sheepishly.
"Brave men, no doubt," Selmy murmured, looking over them again. "And what exactly can you tell us, Master Kresimir?" He spoke the courtesies with reluctance, or perhaps that was simply his nature.
"Ser Alfred has nearly fifteen hundred Swann soldiers," Kresimir explained, "and many Dondarrion smallfolk have joined to his banners. By choice or by force, they are there. At least another four hundred, maybe more. He left fifty Swann men to hold Blackhaven. The rest are camped out against Cloudwatch. Them Bolts are holding firm, last I heard, but they can't last forever."
Selmy nodded, frowning. "I sent a good number of my men to Skagos. We do not have enough men left to overcome those numbers without serious losses."
"If you will pardon me, Lord, but Ser Alfred was expecting me," Kresimir answered. "He won't know where I've been or what's happened to us. I can lead him and his men into an ambush. Lady Cassana and some choice men can go and rally the Bolts to catch the others by surprise."
He and Cassana had discussed the plan whilst riding to Harvest Hall, so Cassana was not surprised by what he said. It struck her all the more fiercely just how brave this clubfoot was proving. He had volunteered without hesitation to play the most dangerous part of the scheme.
Lord Selmy was looking at Kresimir with unabashed respect. "Forgive my errors, Master Kresimir. I begin to see the sense of this plan. Perhaps we should continue this discussion over supper?"
"That would be most welcome," Cassana replied, trying to restrain her immense relief at getting a proper meal again.
"Very well." Selmy turned to his maester. "Summon Joffrey and have him assign rooms to our guests."
Cassana was about to bow, but then she spoke again instead. "Lord Selmy?" The marcher lord turned back to Cassana.
"It is my wish," Cassana declared, "that all these men should be rewarded with knighthoods, to start. Might I trouble you or one of your household knights to perform the honours?"
Selmy and his knights looked astonished, all of them looking askance at the shocked smallfolk standing with Cassana. She took a moment to enjoy their looks of surprise and delight.
"You are sure of this?" Selmy asked.
"If you do not find such rewards fitting for them," Cassana stressed, "then I will wait until I am home to bestow their knighthoods myself. But given that they can help you overcome the Swanns, I would find it an insult to refuse them this reward."
Selmy did not refuse, though Kresimir did. The clubfooted steward bowed his head humbly and waved his arm.
"Excuse me from this business, if you please. I was never meant to be a knight," he insisted, "But my boys are another matter."
Selmy bade the other seven men kneel as one, then personally tapped their shoulders with his sword tip as he declared the words. Each man swore to uphold the vows, some of them unable to speak properly through their wild emotions. As they stood up again as knights, Cassana permitted herself to smile, taking in their gratitude to her. Loyalty must be rewarded just as much as it is earned. You forgot that lesson, Alfred, and it will be your downfall yet.
"*" *"*"*"* "* "*"* "*" *"*" *"*"* "*
Selmy did not wish to leave his lands unguarded, so it was eight hundred men that rode off on a wide assortment of horses. Many were knights or mounted men-at-arms, but most were infantry or archers mounted on coursers, rounseys or even stots. Geraint had emptied his stables to ensure that they made haste.
After nearly three days of hard riding, the small army was bidden to halt and make camp atop a ridge that overlooked the southern territory of House Dondarrion. Scouts reported that the siege was ongoing.
Just like Harvest Hall, Cloudwatch had been built on a plateau. The castle overlooked the Red Mountains and the Boneway from across a rolling plain. The name had come from the fanciful notion that the castle often stood above the clouds. Cassana had been there enough times to know that it was merely fog or mist, settling in the lower plain.
Over time, a small town had formed behind the castle, protected by the steep rocks. Only a few narrow pathways were carved into the rocky slope. Its people were among the hardiest in the Dornish marches, whether they lived at Cloudwatch or in the various villages which it defended. If anyone was going to defend the legacy of House Dondarrion, it would be them.
Cloudwatch's defences were not impenetrable; across the centuries, it had fallen several times to Dornish invaders. House Bolt was only the latest house of some two dozen to hold Cloudwatch. But now they continued to hold.
Kresimir prepared for his journey to the besiegers. He'd cut his face and arm at Harvest Hall, so that the wounds would be a few days old. He had prepared his story for Ser Alfred; he would claim that the party had been ambushed by men who freed Cassana and left him for dead. He'd been forced to make his way to way to Cloudwatch on foot.
Now he prepared to hobble to Ser Alfred's encampment. One of his arms was tied in a crude sling which he'd cut from his own jerkin to further sell their ruse.
Cassana came to see him off. In preparation for her journey, she was dressed in men's clothes, along with leather armour and a light half-helm to hide her face. She'd also smuged her face with mud to give herself the shadow of a beard should any man glance at her.
"May the Warrior see you safe in time of danger," she told Kresimir.
"And to you, Milady," he replied with a sad smile. "My thanks for what you did. My sons will not forget."
"Nor will I. This was just the first of their rewards. They will doubtless earn many more ere the war is over."
Kresimir bowed and limped off. He had some distance to go, but Cassana and her seven knightly escorts intended to approach the camp from a different direction. They rode out, intending to give the camp a wide berth so that they arrived after Kresimir had roused Ser Alfred. The sun was beginning to set as they rode across the countryside. Vin carried a standard which held two banners. The outward one depicted the white and black swans that would garner the least suspicion.
"I still can't believe it," Keir exclaimed as they rode along. "Everyone has to call us "Ser" from now on!"
"Don't get too big for your britches, now," warned Basil. "All you are now is a hedge knight."
"So? I didn't see you turning the knighthood down," Vin jeered.
Basil ignored Vin and turned to address Keir. "It's a tough life, riding the roads and sleeping under hedges. Why, there was one hedge knight, he carried this bally odd standard, it was a serpent with a smoking tail. One day I was riding along with him through this village, and we watched these boys playing in the mud. Well, turns out the mud was deeper than those young rips expected. One of them got pushed over and went head-first into this muddy puddle. Legs kicking out into the air like he was running upside down! Well this old serpent knight starts laughing harder than I've ever seen a man laugh in me life. Poor bastard couldn't stop laughing neither, he kept on roaring and gasping till his heart burst! Dropped over dead at my feet!"
The others burst into astonished laughter of their own.
"Nonsense!" Danel shook his head. His grey hair was long and tied in the back to keep it out of his face. "Who's ever heard of a man laughing himself to death?"
"Me, you dolt!" Basil shook his head as the others laughed again.
At first, Cassana was ready to reproach them for their levity in the face of an important task at hand. But then it occurred to her that this was exactly the sort of mood which would most likely dispel any sort of hostile response.
"Can't argue with that," Orleg observed wryly.
"I still say it's nonsense!" Danel brushed a loose strand of hair from his forehead.
"Never mind all that," Vin interjected. "Give us a ballad, Dan! It'll take us to the castle and back by the time you're finished." The others laughed at his jape.
Danel wasted little time; he was proud of the singing voice which the mines had not taken from him. As he held his longbow in one hand, he began a marcher ballad which Cassana knew well:
The lightning lord was once a scout,
Man of the march, the Dornish march.
Lord Caron sent him north for aid,
Man of the march, the Dornish march!
Keir stuck a fist in the air, grinning from ear to ear. "House Dondarrion!"
Undeterred, Danel went on with the ballad. His voice was somewhat lost when a wind began to blow in their faces, but he refused to give up and continued the marcher ballad until they were close to the camp.
Danel was beginning the sixteenth verse when Basil leaned forward and gave him a gentle clout over the head. "Enough of that song, dolt! You want to get us killed?"
The eight riders approached a sprawling camp in the plain beneath Cloudwatch. A hundred banners flew above the tents bearing House Swann's sigil. Above them all, the banners of House Dondarrion and House Bolt still flew proudly from the towers of Cloudwatch. Much to her surprise, Cassana felt tears in her eyes as she watched her family's banners dance in the strong gusts of wind.
It quickly became clear that the besiegers' camp was in an uproar. Men were rushing to and fro, putting on armour or leading horses past the tents. A stream of horsemen were hurrying off to the north-west, just as they'd hoped.
Cassana and her escorts rode through the camp, picking up speed as they got closer to the castle. At one point, a voice called out to them.
"You're riding in the wrong direction!" A burly knight of House Swann glared at them from atop his own horse.
Basil did not even halt his horse to shout back at the man in a harsh, rasping tone that still managed to ring out over every other sound. "You give me no orders, you blithering idiot! Now shove off and jump in the shit-pit, you fat dunce!"
Keir and Koss were choking on their laughter, as were Dagnir and Orleg. Vin was weeping as he forced his lips shut. Danel's lips were also together, and his jaw clenched shut, but a wheezing, whistling sound was escaping him. Even Cassana could not help but giggle as she looked back at the knight's stunned expression; it was clear that no man had ever spoken so foully to him in all his life.
Still, that brought more attention to them as they cantered on towards the castle. Cassana could see men glancing at them as they rode past, and even the occasional shout of "Swann" from one of Cassana's escort wasn't enough to dissuade suspicion.
As they reached the end of the camp, there was a vast open space that was littered with the occasional arrow, bolt, and stone. There were also several horses lying dead in this empty ground, in various states of decay which made Cassana feel bile rising up in her throat. This, more than anything else, caused her suddenly to throw her head back and scream the signal.
"Dondarrion!"
Immediately, Vin ripped off the Swann banner from his standard; now it was the second banner which flew in the air, and it was black with purple lightning stitched over it. The men echoed Cassana's cry as their horses broke into a sprint, desperate to get out of range of the enemy behind them.
Suddenly, Cassana heard a whizzing sound. One of the men grunted, and another screamed.
"Arrows," Cassana shrieked.
"Scatter! And don't ride in a straight line!" Basil shouted.
The riders did as he bade them. More arrows flew at them, embedding themselves into the ground, even as they spurred their horses to the foot of the plateau. More corpses were piled there, stripped of arms and armour and left to rot.
Cassana ripped the helm from her head, allowing her unwashed orange hair to fly freely in the wind. "Dondarrion! Open the gate to Dondarrion!"
Her voice rang against the castle walls of Cloudwatch; horns answered it immediately, both from the walls and from the besiegers' camp. She did not look back to see what madness was unravelling behind her, for men were shouting down at her to ride up the slope towards the gate.
It was a very narrow pathway carved from the solid rock face, an accomplishment which must have taken untold numbers in both time and labourers. Only three horses could ride it abreast, and only one carriage at a time. For the last half of the journey, one rode almost directly beside a wall, where archers could easily slaughter anyone who dared make the climb without leave. Now, however, they cheered as the eight riders hurried up to the gate and charged through as the great doors of wood and metal were pulled open with a large groan.
Cassana sprang from her saddle, breathing heavily as if she had made the journey on her own two feet. Guards in Bolt livery surrounded her, eyes wide with amazement as they shouted her family name and other such things.
Around her, the men were dismounting, not without some difficulty. An arrow had pierced Koss's shoulder, while another had pierced Vin's calf. Keir had been struck twice, most alarmingly. All three men were carried off their horses, even as the others called for a maester to fix them.
Cassana added her voice to theirs. "Attend those knights," she demanded, earning a few looks of surprise from the guards. "These escorts are all anointed knights, I will see them treated as such!"
"Lady Cassana!"
When she turned, Cassana beheld Ser Orryn Bolt, the heir to Lord Lyle. Although he was younger than her, Orryn's hair was rapidly receding from his forehead. She knew that he had some five or six children by now, the eldest of whom stood beside him along with his lady wife.
"We welcome you to Cloudwatch," he began in a dazed voice, "but how is this possible?"
"I have brought you relief from the siege," Cassana declared. "Lord Selmy is marching upon our foes, but he is outnumbered. We must strike now whilst the camp is in disarray or the chance will be lost!"
To his credit, Ser Orryn did not dither; he turned and began to shout for a muster, swearing that he would lead them to the aid of House Selmy. But that was his business now, for Cassana turned to his wife. She could not remember anything about her other than her right name.
"Where are my sons?"
"The godswood, my lady," answered Myranda Bolt. "Your cousins take them there most days."
Duty should have kept her at the walls, observing the battle for her territory. But she had gone far too long without seeing her children. Thus, she fled the commotion outside the castle and plunged into its depths, until the meagre godswood - little better than a copse on the small grounds - stood before her.
There they were, the four of them. Falia and Jocelyn Dondarrion sat together, watching over the boys as they bickered over sticks. Despite their having been trapped in a siege, all four of them looked reasonably well fed.
She didn't choose to cry out; the noise escaped her throat as instinctively as if she were an animal. All four of her kin turned round in alarm, then stared at her in amazement.
"Whence come you?" Falia looked on the verge of tears.
Jocelyn's hands were over her mouth. "Is the siege over?"
"It might very well be," Cassana replied. She suddenly felt dazed and uncertain of what to do now. She stood before them, drinking in the sight of her cousins and sons.
Caspor, the younger, ran forward and threw himself upon her with a childish sob. He is still three. Cassana put an arm around his shoulder.
Manfred conducted himself better, but Cassana could see that it was a struggle for him. He walked forward and embraced her, but unlike his younger brother, he let go and stepped back after a proper length of time.
"We prayed for you every night, Mother," Manfred declared in a choked voice.
"Just as I prayed for you. The gods are good, son," Cassana replied, holding one of his wet cheeks in her hand. "The gods are good."
She turned to her twin cousins. "It is a great relief that Lord Lyle kept you safe."
"Aye, he did that," Falia replied, not without some remorse.
That checked Cassana. "Is he well?"
Jocelyn shook her head. "He died three days ago. His son Orryn is Lord Bolt now."
And I just sent him to battle without so much as my thanks. Cassana sighed. "Duty calls me away, then. Will you attend me?"
Falia paused and looked at the boys. "Would you have them attend you too?"
"I would," Cassana insisted. "Good men are fighting for us, and the sooner my sons understand what that means, the better."
Manfred and Caspor made little fuss as they left the sanctity of the godswood and up to the walls. Cassana held Caspor up so he could see, while Manfred stood upon a chair which some guardsman had left behind.
Although the sun was almost gone, the battle was still in earnest. Lord Orryn Bolt had taken over a hundred mounted men out to the camp, which was already half overrun by Selmy's forces. Everywhere Cassana looked, she could see the siege camp being thrown down in the midst of combat. The swans were floundering or burning, whilst the white lightning bolt and the wheat stalks flew proudly.
She looked to her sons and pondered how they would spend the rest of their lives in ignorance of what she had endured. Just like everyone else.
She thought also of Kresimir, and her seven brave knights. She prayed silently for their safety, for Orryn Bolt's safety, and for that of Lord Selmy. Take Alfred Swann alive if you can. Take him alive and bring him to me.
Soon, it became too dark to make out what was happening, so Cassana led her kin from the wall and sought out Cloudwatch's infirmary.
Keir, Koss, and Vin lay together on beds which reflected their knightly rank. The arrows had been taken from Keri's body, though the other two were still impaled.
Cassana brought her family forward so that they stood at the feet of the three beds. "Sers," she announced, "these are my cousins and my sons."
As the three men looked on bemusedly, Cassana led Falia and Jocelyn so that they each sat beside one of the wounded knights. Cassana took up a bowl of water, dipped a rag in it, and began cleaning Vin's brow.
"How do you fare, Ser?" Cassana asked as she tended to him.
"For a man with an arrow in his leg," Vin rasped, "I daresay this is the best I've ever been treated. Got me in a proper bloody bed, they do! Excuse me, I meant to say..." He trailed off as Cassana put a finger on his lips.
"No need for that, Ser," Cassana answered. "You owe me no apologies. You have my gratitude, and the gratitude of my house."
She turned to look at the others. Jocelyn and Falia were speaking to Keir and Koss in quiet tones as befitting injured men.
Eventually, more men were brought into the infirmary from outside the castle walls. Cassana asked a few of them how the battle had fared, and they were quick to declare a victory. That was about all they knew for certain, or at least all they could agree on, so Cassana was forced to wait for better news.
As the trickle of wounded men became a flood, one of those men was Dagnir of Edain. A fearsome slash across his face had nearly cut his nose in half, it was said, for bandages already covered his face. Cassana insisted that he take a bed beside his companions, and that he be given as much milk of the poppy as could be spared.
Later on, Kresimir was carried in upon a makeshift stretcher by two men of House Selmy. His left arm was crudely tended to staunch the bleeding, but he seemed to be on the cusp of death.
"He led Ser Alfred astray, as commanded," one of the soldiers explained. "When we fell upon the Swann ranks, Alfred attacked him in a fury. He managed to escape our attack and flee into the countryside."
Cassana was livid, but she was more concerned for Kresimir. "Will he live?"
"That's for the maester to decide, Lady Cassana," Lord Geraint declared, for he had entered the infirmary whilst his man had told of the battle.
Cassana nodded to Geraint. "You are unhurt?"
"Praise the gods, yes," the Lord of Harvest Hall replied. "Ser Alfred is fled, as have many of his men, but we have our victory. Some five hundred men dead on both sides so far, and they lost four for every one of ours. We have taken a number of prisoners as well. We will question them later, of course."
Cassana nodded. "We cannot linger in Cloudwatch for long. We can secure Blackhaven against Alfred and his soldiers."
"That will be our next goal," Lord Selmy agreed, "but this one is still being achieved."
She did not press him on that, for the remainder of her escort was also arriving. Danel and Orleg had minor wounds, whilst Basil was unscathed.
Kresimir was placed beside his sons, and the others were placed together so that Cassana and her cousins could tend to them all. Danel began to sing again, resuming the marcher ballad which he'd begun earlier.
As her sons looked on, Cassana sat amongst her cousins and companions, and permitted herself a small smile.