And today the main forces were leaving the city. Officially, I commanded them, but in reality Jaime handled everything. I wasn't particularly worried about that — I still had much to learn about warfare, and offering my naive advice to a man who had fought in more than one war was clearly not the best idea.
As had already become tradition, I was accompanied by Herald Orm, two stewards, Tyrek Lannister, and the Kingsguard. This time I took all of them with me, leaving only Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, in the castle — he seemed to be growing tired of constantly remaining in the capital to guard his sister.
Still, it gave me peace of mind — especially with Margaery in her final month.
Our rearguard was to march out tomorrow. It was commanded by Erik Silveraxe — a renowned knight and heir of House Fell, one of the Baratheons' banner houses.
Responsibility for the supply wagons and the army's provisions rested with Ser Steffon Swyft. He had already performed quite well in that role during the campaign to Riverrun.
The road did not take long. We moved calmly, conserving the strength of both men and horses, but mile after mile disappeared behind us.
On the third day of the journey, a raven arrived — Sansa Lannister had given birth. The labor had been difficult; the child had come feet first. The maesters had struggled for a long time to preserve the lives of both mother and child. In the end they succeeded, though both mother and newborn had come very close to death. The child was a girl — small and frail. It seemed Tyrion's fatherhood had indeed left its mark, but the most important thing was that the child had no serious physical defects, something many had feared. And raising her into a proper lady would hardly be the most difficult problem.
They had not yet chosen a name. In his letter Tyrion wrote that Sansa leaned toward the name Catelyn, but the idea did not meet with much of his understanding or approval.
In any case, while they were choosing a name and recovering from their ordeal, I sent a reply with my congratulations. I also wrote to Margaery, asking her to send them some gift on our behalf — though reminding my wife about such trifles was hardly necessary.
Some time later we reached the Ruby Ford. It was pleasing to see how vigorously Crakehall had set to work — trenches had been dug near the water, several rows of stakes had been driven into the ground, and a small palisade had been erected. People really can do things well if they are properly guided and motivated!
We planned to stay here for several days, and a huge tent had been erected for me — it had been carried on several wagons, and I hadn't used it during the march. Just assembling the whole clever construction took half a day!
But now, once inside, I immediately realized that I was practically at home. Several rooms, a fire in a portable hearth, pieces of furniture, coarse cloth laid across the ground with furs spread on top of it, servants and guards — everything was arranged with great scale and comfort. Kings wage war according to their station.
The enormous oak bed alone, covered with the cleanest linens, velvet, and furs for warmth, could have served as a topic of conversation by itself. In another room they had placed a gilded bath, a royal chamber pot, hung mirrors, and arranged a host of small items useful for personal hygiene.
Looking at all this splendor, I unexpectedly recalled Walter Scott's novel Anne of Geierstein. In it, the Duke of Burgundy kept many incredibly expensive items in his campaign tent — among them several precious stones and trinkets that lay calmly on his table without much protection. I don't know whether that was true or not, but I certainly didn't indulge in such nonsense. Royal dignity is necessary, but there is no need to go overboard in trying to throw dust in people's eyes.
A day later the rearguard arrived, and Jaime ordered the Ruby Ford to be taken.
Together with my retinue I positioned myself on a small hill and had an excellent opportunity to observe the entire affair.
Some of the soldiers set out swimming, while others crossed on specially built rafts and boats that had been found nearby. The river filled with countless men. First to move forward, on large rafts well protected by special shields, were the archers and crossbowmen. Once they approached within shooting distance, they began their work — hundreds of arrows cut through the air.
From the northern bank came a unified and powerful reply. The first men fell dead, and the waters of the Trident were stained with blood.
A horn sounded — Mooton, standing among the advancing warriors, was encouraging them, urging them not to retreat and to press forward. From our bank more and more men poured into the water.
On the far side, the first boat struck the shore — from where I stood by the tent I could see only small figures leaping over the sides.
We knew the Blackfish would not surrender the Ruby Ford easily. And he did not. As soon as our men began climbing onto the bank, the cavalry of the Vale entered the fight.
Roughly a thousand heavily armored horsemen attempted to drive Mooton's detachment straight back into the water in one charge. And they succeeded. They rolled through like an iron steamroller, cutting down any attempt at resistance. No one was left alive in their wake.
But from our side more and more forces kept coming, and the archers and crossbowmen spared no arrows. Besides, Jaime and the other commanders had organized things well — our men did not press forward as scattered individuals but as a single, powerful fist.
Then the heavy armored infantry entered the battle, reinforced by pikemen — our main trump cards in that fight. They managed to secure a small foothold, and the Ruby Ford was taken.
By evening, when coolness drifted from the water and the western sky turned shades of pink, the Blackfish withdrew.
Jaime continued driving troops across the ford so they could secure their position and withstand a night attack — no one doubted that one would come.
Just before dawn the Blackfish delivered the expected blow. I was awakened, and, yawning and shivering in the night chill, stepped out of the tent. The opposite bank was lit by torches and the glow of fire.
(End of Chapter)
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