Cassana

"I shan't forget that look on his face," Kresimir murmured.

"Was he afraid?"

"Nay, Lady, he is not a man who fears easily. I saw something far better than that."

Cassana sat by his bed and bathed his brow. Oswell, the maester of Cloudwatch, sat on the other side of Kresimir's bed, replacing the bandages on Kresimir's arm.

It was six days since they had carried Kresimir to this bed, but while most of the other wounded were recovering well from their injuries, Kresimir was faltering.

Cassana had thought his injured arm was the extent of his injuries, The full tale had come out afterward when the siege was broken and the last of the Swann army was driven away.

Alfred Swann had fallen for the trap just as they had hoped. He had believed Kresimir's injuries to be genuine, and he had believed the tale of ambush and impending attack. All the horsemen of the army had been quickly assembled and marshalled, led by Alfred himself with Kresimir beside him as a guide.

Cassana's own flight to Cloudwatch had provided another useful distraction. Men had wavered between Alfred's departure and the supposed defection of eight riders to the castle. The confusion was such that nobody noticed Lord Selmy's attack until it had already begun.

By the time that Ser Orryn Bolt led his own sortie against the besiegers, the battle was over. Hundreds of men fled in all directions, dropping their weapons and stealing whatever horses they could find. Some had stood their ground and fought to the death, whilst others had knelt down and yielded.

Alfred Swann had not taken long to hear the noise, and to his credit, he had turned back and attempted a counter-charge to turn the battle back to his side. But it was too late; his infantry had been defeated by the time he arrived, and his cavalry was outnumbered by the combined Bolt and Selmy army. After a brief clash, Alfred had retreated eastwards.

Kresimir had been found during the pursuit. According to a captured Swann knight, Alfred had turned on his former servant in a fury, hacking at him with his sword and calling him a turncloak and traitor. When Kresimir had fallen from his mount, Alfred had deliberately caused his horse to trod on Kresimir as he lay on the ground. He'd been unable to rise when Geraint Selmy's men found him.

"Hasty, he called me," Kresimir murmured, as if each word was painful to utter aloud. "Hasty was his name for me, all those proud Swanns at Stonehelm. That's the only part of me he ever saw, that bloody foot. No matter what I did. Hasty…"

"He should have some milk of the poppy," Maester Oswell interrupted, "he is rambling again."

Cassana nodded as she kept her eyes upon Kresimir. The aging man's breathing suddenly became ragged and hoarse. The maester reached forward and held a cup to Kresimir's lips, tilting it so that the medicine trickled slowly into his mouth.

After he swallowed the mixture, Kresimir's breathing did not change, and his mouth widened to show his yellow teeth.

Only then did Cassana realise what was happening. "He is laughing," she informed the maester.

"He saw me," Kresimir declared, louder than before. "He saw me for the first time, he did! I saw it in his eyes, the way he looked back at me! Who was too hasty today, Alfred? Who was hasty today?"

He'd spoken like this several times before; Cassana always endured it patiently as she sat by his side.

"My boys," Kresimir mumbled. "Knights… they see knights… see my boys… not their clubfoot…"

There was a sharp intake of breath. Cassana turned and beheld Koss, Kresimir's younger son. He was staring at his father with an expression that Cassana could not make out. Tears were in his eyes as he looked down at his father.

Although Kresimir seemed to make little sense, Cassana knew what he meant through his delirium.

She had claimed he was a steward when introducing him at Harvest Hall, but truthfully he had never been considered worthy even of that position in Stonehelm. She had spent hours speaking with Kresimir and his sons whilst travelling, and she'd learned much of their situation. Kresimir had served the steward's office, but he had never been given that title himself. As a result, his sons were denied opportunities that stewards' sons sometimes got if lords were generous. Cassana was not surprised to learn that the arrogant Swanns had always sneered at Kresimir, and dismissed his sons despite their abilities with arms.

Keir and Koss had never received an education beyond what little could be provided by Kresimir. They had learned to fight from men-at-arms, but it was no formal training which squires received. Their futures were humble, though they had stood much to gain from a war. Thus, their defection from the Blackfyre cause was all the more admirable to Cassana.

Now she turned back and put her hand on Kresimir's forehead as the medicine took effect. The wounded man fell into a sleep as his breathing became quiet again.

"Let him be," Maester Oswell instructed as he finished his task. "He will need all his rest if he is to recover."

"He will recover, then?"

Cassana often forgot that Koss was barely a man grown, but the way he spoke to the maester made it impossible to doubt. He seemed so boyish as he stood by his father's sickbed, frightened and desperate for hope.

The maester seemed to recognise it too. He pondered the question for a moment, then put his hand on the young knight's shoulder. "Trust in the gods, Ser. Your father is in their hands."

Cassana saw that Koss did not like that answer, but thankfully he restrained himself as the maester went to the next bed.

Keir was regaining his strength, even beginning to walk with a crutch whilst his leg healed, but he wished to stay beside to his father. Like Koss, he too had been watching and listening to Kresimir, but his face was unreadable to Cassana. Instead, he turned his head away and allowed Oswell to inspect his wounds.

"Healing well," Oswell declared loudly, perhaps to distract Kresimir's sons from their father's predicament. "As long as you do not exert yourself, you shall be walking without a limp in a week or two."

"That is well," Keir answered coldly. "Alfred Swann had better enjoy himself as best he can until then."

Falia re-entered the room, standing by with a small plate of food. When Oswell had moved on, she sat down beside Keir's bed and began feeding him. Neither he nor she spoke words to each other as he ate, but Cassana knew that they spent much time speaking together on other occasions.

It was a terrible match for Falia; Keir was a landless and nameless knight. Cassana could only imagine how that would look to the other houses of the Stormlands. How desperate she would seem, how low her house had fallen. Still, his loyalty was unquestionable and it was a fool who spurned such loyalty. Mayhaps they will come to their senses on their own.

That was only a minor problem in the face of the war, of course. Geraint had wanted to resume the campaign, but too many of his troops had been injured. He had thus remained at Cloudwatch, except when he was leading sorties into the marches.

"Lady Dondarrion?"

Cassana turned. It was Basil - Ser Basil of Stag's March, as he was pleased to remind everyone - standing to attention at the door of the infirmary. "Yes?"

"The council is set to begin."

Cassana rose and followed Basil to the great hall of Cloudwatch.

Orryn Bolt and Geraint Selmy were seated there, as were a few of Lord Selmy's household knights. Edmund Straw was one of them. Also present was Geraint's heir, Lanval, whose nose was crooked after he'd broken it during the battle.

"Lady Dondarrion." Orryn stood up and bobbed his head respectfully before holding his seat for Cassana. She nodded and gave a smile of thanks as she sat down.

"Firstly," Geraint Selmy began without preamble, "my scouts have reported that Alfred is reforming his troops at Blackhaven. I cannot be sure how many men he has left, but he will have more than enough to repel us from the castle."

"We cannot starve him out either," Cassana added, thinking of the full larders back home.

"I have received word from Sawyer and Penny," Orryn interjected. "They are sending all the reinforcements that they can spare. We can expect them to arrive within the next three days."

"We can only hope they will be enough," Selmy acquiesced.

Cassana turned to Orryn. "Does your house have enough supplies to support this army?"

"We do," Orryn replied, albeit warily. "As to how long we can last, that remains to be seen."

"We will not encroach on your hospitality for long," Cassana assured him, "and when I come back to mine own, I will see to it that you are compensated for your pains." Orryn gave a grateful nod of thanks.

"Speaking of mouths to feed," Selmy remarked, "what shall we do with our prisoners?"

A few hundred men had been taken prisoner, most of them being men who were sworn to House Dondarrion.

"Whatever we do, we must decide soon," Orryn urged. "I had no room for all of them in my dungeons. I'm keeping some of them locked up in guest rooms!" He shook his head at the absurdity.

"Hang the lot of them and be done with it, then," Lord Selmy suggested brusquely. "So perish all traitors."

"Traitors? Nay, my lord," Ser Edmund Straw countered with a sardonic laugh. "They all swore they were forced to join the Swanns."

As the men spoke, Cassana was filled with furious loathing. She had a mind to follow Selmy's suggestion to have them executed. But then she recalled Kresimir, and the seven men who had risked their lives to turn against House Swann.

"Mayhaps some of them are speaking the truth," Cassana mused. "Is it so strange to think that Alfred would press men into his service?"

The men looked at her with bemusement and surprise.

"Men will say anything to save their skins," Selmy said dismissively. "Do you mean to put them all on trial?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. They shall prove themselves in trial by combat."

The men hadn't expected that. Lanval Selmy was puzzled, as was Orryn Bolt. Geraint Selmy, however, seemed to understand what she was saying, for he gave her a wry look.

"I have learned a good deal about loyalty during the last few weeks," Cassana explained to the others. "Lord Selmy is correct. Men will say anything to save their skins, but what will they do?"

She let that question hang in the air as the others frowned.

"You would have them join us in our attempt to take the castle, then?" Lord Selmy shrugged. "Very well. I am in no position to refuse reinforcements, so long as they prove faithful."

"All the same," Ser Edmund Straw mused, "I imagine we have some other advantage before us? Is there some manner we can seize Blackhaven by guile?"

"I think not," Cassana replied bitterly. "I do not doubt that Ser Alfred is privy to any secrets of Blackhaven thanks to those traitors in mine own household. We shall have to rely on strength and courage alone."

"He might raze the castle in revenge," Orryn suggested, growing visibly alarmed as he spoke his thought aloud.

Cassana was relieved that she could correct him. "Ser Alfred wanted to take Blackhaven for himself. It was his chance to begin his own cadet branch. I have this on the best authority."

The last sentence prompted silent confusion from all at the table save Geraint and Lanval Selmy. They nodded in acknowledgment of Cassana's meaning.

It was the younger Selmy who gave voice to that understanding. "How does Master Kresimir fare? He will be of great use to our cause."

"He is still recovering," Cassana answered. "And what use can he provide? Alfred will not be fooled a second time."

"I meant that he could guide us to take Stonehelm," Lanval explained hastily.

Orryn Bolt gave a short exclamation and stared at the young knight. Even Lord Selmy seemed to be surprised at his son's proposal.

"Stonehelm? Don't be impertinent!" The older man seemed ready to cuff his son across the head.

"Why not?" Lanval's eyes were wide at the acerbic response, darting from face to face wildly. "They won't expect it!"

Cassana had been tempted to laugh at the notion, but then she saw how the others shook their heads and scoffed. She saw their ready dismissals and recalled what she knew of men. She regarded Lanval thoughtfully.

"What do you propose, Ser Lanval?"

Eager to court a potential ally, Lanval leaned forward. "I was thinking that if we took Stonehelm, it would draw the Swanns out of Blackhaven. Once we do that, the castle's ripe for the taking and we can take the army out in the open from two fronts!"

Lord Selmy ignored his son's enthusiasm. "And pray tell, how do we take Stonehelm so easily?"

"Kresimir would be able to play the part, no? Alfred's not the sort of man who would brag about being outwitted by his own servant. What will the other Swanns know of Kresimir's treachery?"

Cassana nodded. "Your son is an ambitious young man, Lord Selmy. He has a mind for strategy that's honed like his blade."

Selmy disagreed, but even a taciturn man as he could recognise a compliment which any marcher would be proud to hear.

Cassana turned back to Lanval. "I believe that Kresimir deserves his rest so that he can recover. He has sons and companions who can perform that task more ably than he."

Selmy was frowning, as all men did when women offered advice on war. "In that case, I propose we march in two days. We can pass through Dondarrion territory relatively unnoticed as long as we slay Alfred's scouts."

"I would expect nothing else from such a doughty warrior, Lord Selmy. I will always be grateful to count you as my ally."

Whatever conflict Lord Selmy was waging inside of himself was resolved by her praise. He gave her a respectful nod and said, "On that much, we agree."

From there, Lanval's suggestion was taken more seriously. A plan was slowly crafted amongst the leaders which slowly grew more plausible. Even as she leaned back and let the men quibble over the details of war, Cassana began to form a plan of her own.

*"*" ""*""**** ""******" **"**

"You must be proud of your son."

"A good lad. I must admit, it took him some time to discover his potential."

"What makes you say that?"

Lord Selmy shook his head. "It is of no concern. He was prone to wander, on his own two feet or in his own mind. Boys must become men, and they all reach that destination by different paths."

After the meeting had finally ended, Cassana had held Lord Selmy back on a pretence. Presently, they were descending a stairwell, undisturbed save for the occasional guard.

"Mine own sons would be well suited under your tutelage, I think," Cassana ventured.

"You flatter me, Lady," Selmy chided her, sounding curmudgeonly without any true hostility. "Anyway, that is high praise from you. Your husband was once the finest lancer in all the marches."

Cassana smiled. "Indeed. He has always been a valiant knight." And none of it mattered to his family. They always spat upon his pathway to manhood.

"Lady?"

Cassana turned back to Lord Selmy. "I beg your pardon?"

"I asked if you'd received any word of Lord Baldric."

Cassana shook her head. "I did not even know we were at war until Alfred's attack. Mayhaps Baldric has sent word to us from wherever he is, but his letters will be reaching Alfred instead." Gods, please keep my husband from writing too much in a letter… "I pray for him each day."

By now, they had reached the bottom of the stairwell, and Cassana followed him outside into the courtyard of Cloudwatch. The training yards echoed with clashes of weapons upon wood, sand bags, or other metal. Shouts and grunts and laughter echoed off the stone walls.

It was clear that Selmy wanted to join in, but Cassana took him by the arm and led him towards the godswood instead. Selmy was bemused by her taking the lead, though he made no protest.

"If I may ask, is your son spoken for?"

"He was," Selmy remarked dryly. "He was betrothed to Lord Peasebury's daughter, but given what you've said about his loyalties in this war…" His voice trailed off, for there was nothing else that needed to be said.

"I have two cousins," Cassana declared, "both of whom are free to wed."

"My thanks, but Lanval will have need of only one." His only hint that he spoke a jape was that the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards.

They exchanged other such pleasantries, which Cassana sensed were part of a language that came naturally to neither of them. Thankfully, Lord Selmy made the discussion shorter by suggesting that Falia and Jocelyn should sit with Lanval at dinner that night.

"A wonderful idea," Cassana answered with all her practiced courtesy. It had taken her a long time to master that earnest charm which came so easily to Jena. It should have been something she struggled to achieve, then she might have made better use of it instead of being deliberately wilful.

"It is very good," she continued, "to have something to look forward to when this war is over."

When she took her leave of him, Cassana made her way back to the infirmary. She needed to speak with the maester on whether Keir could join the others on this journey to Stonehelm.

As she walked, Cassana's mind drifted back to her cousins. Jocelyn would be only too eager for Lanval's attention. Mayhaps I can spare Falia from this matter.

It was a foolish thought, of course, but Cassana could not easily shake it from her mind. Still, she knew what must be done.

She was still choosing her words to Falia when she entered the infirmary. Her young cousin was, in fact, still in the room. She was between Keir and Koss as they stood around Kresimir's bed. All of them looked to be on the verge of tears.

Kresimir was still sleeping as when Cassana had left, only now his hands were interlocked on his chest. Maester Oswell knelt beside him and called to the gods to watch over him. Two silent sisters, hooded and shawled, stood nearby and watched the proceedings patiently.

Cassana had expected this; she had even found herself feeling melancholic over what seemed like the inevitable. But she was still surprised to find a lump growing in her throat as she joined the others.

"*" *"*"* "*****""" *"*" *"* "*" *"* "* "* "* "* "* "*

He had been a servant, not even a steward, but his sons were knights, and Cassana would not allow Kresimir to be disposed of. She further reasoned that the men did not intend to march for Stonehelm in two days, so it did no harm to allow for his body to lie in state at least until they departed.

Keir and Koss stood vigil for their father, saying nothing to each other as far as Cassana could tell. She knew that Falia kept company alongside them whenever she could. The brothers were also accompanied by Basil, Vin, Danel, Orleg, and Dagnir when they weren't training or preparing for the march to Stonehelm.

Cassana intended to join the brothers too, and she insisted that Manfred and Caspor accompany her. Both boys objected to the notion, for they were of a restless and easily bored age.

"Were it not for this man, I would not have seen you again," she snapped as she admonished and disciplined them. They soon learned to keep a civil tongue after that.

The three of them went to the small sept of Cloudwatch, where Kresimir had laid out after the silent sisters had prepared his body.

Keir and Koss were both standing by their father's body as were the other five men who'd escorted Cassana from Blackhaven. All of them wore steel helms, mail hauberks, greaves, gorgets, gauntlets, counters and poleyns, and rondels. Cassana had personally seen to it that they were gifted with this armour at her expense, as well as swords and a side-arm of their choosing.

"My Lady." Keir nodded to Cassana when he saw her. Maester Oswell had tried to discourage Keir from standing vigil, but to the shock of nobody, Keir had angrily insisted on doing right by his father.

"Sers," Cassana replied quietly, looking at all seven men. She gave Kresimir a wordless blessing before standing beside them, composed and dignified to set an example for her sons.

She did not know how long all of them stood in silence. She was not willing to speak first, even though there were a few things she wanted to discuss with these men.

Thankfully, it was Koss who broke the silence. "Lady Cassana, my brother and I wish to ask a boon."

Cassana turned to the young knight. "What is this boon, Ser?"

"When we were knighted, we took no family name. It didn't occur to us at the time, and anyway, we had no name to begin with. But we wish to take one now."

"Of course," Cassana answered readily. "Which name do you wish to take?"

"Hasty," Keir answered resolutely.

Cassana paused, unsure whether it was a jape. None of the other knights smiled or laughed, and the brothers were certainly serious.

All the same, Cassana could not hold back her curiosity. "You wish to name yourselves after your father's shame? He would surely not have wanted that for you."

"Aye." Koss turned back to where Kresimir lay in his peaceful rest. "Maybe so. But the way we see it, that name's what he left us. He showed them Swanns what he was capable of, how wrong they were to mock him. We grew up with it all our lives, too. Hasty's boys, they called us. Well, so be it, then. We'll take that name for ourselves and show them what we're made of. And we'll show our father that we were never ashamed of him."

His voice broke as he explained himself, and tears went down his cheeks. He cuffed at them, looking ashamed of himself.

"So be it, then," Cassana replied softly. "With these knights and my sons as witnesses, you shall be henceforth known as Ser Keir and Ser Koss of House Hasty."