Gendry traded with the natives for a handsome Shadowcat cloak, thick black fur streaked with white.
The gaunt riders of the Sons of the Tree and the Milk Snakes soon vanished back over the ridge on their scrawny ponies, so thin their bones showed through. After that, the road ahead was clear.
In truth, one cavalry charge or a few vollels of arrows would have been enough to wipe out those frail natives. Their armor did not even fit properly. But if that led to constant guerrilla attacks afterward, the cost would outweigh the gain. The natives were not fools either.
"This mountain road is becoming more and more dangerous," Ser Brynden Tully said with a frown, his heavy brows knitting together.
"I fear the bigger trouble is still ahead," Bronze Yohn said, looking toward where the Milk Snakes and Sons of the Tree had disappeared. "The Burned Men, the Moon Brothers, the Black Ears, and others all sent men out of the Mountains of the Moon with the Imp. There were not many of them, but they were the fiercest of the mountain clans. If those savages truly get hold of fine armor and weapons, they'll be a disaster for both the Vale and the Riverlands."
"This was Lysa's thinking," Brynden said. "Before, she would not even allow her knights to take part in the Hand's tourney. She said all her strength had to remain here to guard the Vale of Arryn... At the time, none of us knew what she was guarding against. Now I understand."
"How many natives are there?" Anguy asked curiously.
"At least three thousand warriors across all the tribes, but they were never treated as a serious threat. Since Lord Arryn's death, they've become much more active," Ser Brynden said.
"Three thousand warriors." Jon Snow considered it. That number seemed similar to the mountain clans of the North, but the northern mountain clans were fiercely loyal to House Stark, and their lands had more food to sustain them. The natives of the Mountains of the Moon were more like the "free folk" beyond the Wall, true children of a harsh and barren land.
"Though there are only a little over three thousand warriors, they have been a chronic blight on the Vale for centuries. Generations of Lord Arryns have failed to deal with them," Ser Brynden said helplessly. "We once suggested taking picked men deep into the mountains, driving the natives out of their lairs, and teaching them a proper lesson, but permission was denied."
Brynden spoke vaguely. The mountain-clearing campaign he referred to had not only been rejected by Lysa, but by Lord Jon as well.
"These entrenched natives still need to be purged," Bronze Yohn said with a sigh.
The Vale had suffered under these natives for many years. Even after Aegon's Conquest, at least two Lords of House Arryn had rashly ventured deep into the Mountains of the Moon, only to die at the hands of high mountain clan raiders.
Gendry suspected there were still small fertile patches or hidden river valleys in the mountains supporting the natives, but the Vale men had never found them and so could not destroy the root of the problem.
"Your Grace, do you really intend to arm these savages?" Bronze Yohn asked worriedly.
"Let them fight, but outside the mountains. Once they're out of the Mountains of the Moon, won't they be easy enough to clean up?" Gendry said confidently. In truth, these natives were underfed. Fierce enough, perhaps, but fit only to serve as disposable shock troops.
Yohn nodded. These people were enemies of the Burned Men, so they could be used. More importantly, they urgently needed to reach the Bloody Gate, not waste time bogged down in the mountains.
Gendry looked at the long mountain road stretching ahead. In the end, it would lead them through the Bloody Gate.
The Arryns may have held the greatest defensive advantage of any great house, but their reliance on the natural barrier of the Mountains of the Moon had also made their strategy overly cautious.
Had the Arryn kings of the Seven Kingdoms era wiped out the natives and ridden out through the Bloody Gate to raid the Riverlands, then the power that stirred up Westeros might not have been the Storm Kings and the ironborn. House Arryn's geography had been excellent from the start. Yet the conservatism of House Arryn had kept them from expanding into the Riverlands, else they would not have spent a thousand years fighting the North over the Three Sisters.
When Gendry and the others rode out at the mountain pass, the Bloody Gate was already close at hand. The trout banner was flying in the sky, followed by the banners of Runestone and the golden quartered standard. Four riders on four horses. One young man and three old knights.
A knight came galloping toward them, holding high the banner of House Arryn, the white falcon and crescent moon on a blue field. Not far behind him were twenty knights and soldiers, all staring uneasily at the four riders before them. Blackfish, Bronze Yohn, Gendry, and Ser Barristan. And behind those four, there could well be an army of thousands.
"Lord Brynden, how can it be you? And Lord Yohn, Lord Barristan as well," said Ser Donnel. He was a sturdy young man of twenty, ugly in looks but sincere in manner, with a broad nose and a tangle of coarse brown hair. He rode forward first, while the soldiers behind him kept some distance.
"It's been a long time, Donnel. So now you're the Knight of the Bloody Gate," Blackfish said. Time had weathered his face and stolen away his auburn hair, leaving only gray and white, but his smile remained the same, as did his thick caterpillar brows and the laughter still hidden in his deep blue eyes.
"Yes, thanks to you, my lord. You should have told me before you left," Ser Donnel said to his former commander. His armor was blue and white, but his cloak had been changed to green, and his sigil was a broken black wheel on a green field.
"I did not leave happily, so why trouble old friends over it?" Blackfish waved a hand. When he left, he had a fierce quarrel with Lysa. Lysa had refused to move so much as a single soldier.
"This is..."
"Gendry." Gendry lifted his visor, revealing a handsome, untamed face. He wore a great antlered helm, tall and striking, with both his warhammer and arakh hanging from his saddle.
Ser Donnel's expression changed at once. He had long since heard of the chaos beyond the Vale. "Gendry the Blacksmith" had shone brilliantly in war, crushing the Kingslayer and lifting the siege of Riverrun. The moment he saw Ser Barristan, he had already guessed most of it. The news that had reached the Vale only covered the battle at Riverrun, not the events at the Twins. But the Vale welcomed no outsiders. Lysa had long since given orders that not a single man of the Vale garrison was to leave, and no one at all was to be allowed through the Bloody Gate.
"Lord Yohn, so you truly did join the war," Ser Donnel said, looking at Bronze Yohn, understanding many things at once now that Yohn had appeared here as well.
Lysa Tully had flown into a rage over Bronze Yohn's decision to march, declaring that House Royce had betrayed its liege lord. Tensions within the Vale had been knife-edge sharp of late. Ser Donnel dared even less to let these men through the Bloody Gate. Yohn, Gendry, Brynden, and Barristan were all rebels named by the Iron Throne.
"My duty is to House Arryn, yes, but my greater duty is to the King and his lawful heir. As for Lysa, she is not my liege," Bronze Yohn said.
For all lords, loyalty in truth ran in two directions. To the Iron Throne, and to their immediate liege. It was a dual structure of fealty. But when throne and liege came into conflict, how each lord chose depended on the authority and popular support of that liege. The War of the Usurper had already proven as much. Most of the lords of the eagle, wolf, and stag had risen against the Iron Throne. Houses like Lannister, Stark, Arryn, and Baratheon, all once royal houses, carried the greatest weight in such matters.
"My lord..." Ser Donnel said in shock. Bronze Yohn was clearly ready to break with her completely, rejecting Lady Lysa's title and her regency.
"There are many things you may not know," Ser Brynden said. "Do you remember those shadows we once guessed at? The Hand's death. Lord Arryn's death. We need to go to the Eyrie and have words with Lady Lysa about them."
Ser Donnel looked at his old commander and listened carefully. The Blackfish's hints sounded all too real. It seemed Lady Lysa herself was now in grave danger.
"I... what am I supposed to do?" Ser Donnel asked hesitantly.
"Let us pass through the Bloody Gate and see Lysa."
Ser Donnel still wavered. Stammering, he said, "If... if you wish, I can send a raven to the Eyrie first and wait for a reply."
"Ser Donnel, there is no time for that. Must I truly spell it out for you?" Ser Barristan said. "Lysa is implicated in the plot against Lord Jon. Not the Lannisters. Lysa. The crime is unforgivable. Riverrun has already severed all ties with her."
"Lysa? Lady Lysa?" Ser Donnel's mouth fell open, his heart surging like storm waves. By rank and standing, Lysa could have remained regent until the young Great Lord came of age, though the young Great Lord might not even live that long.
But faced with such grave accusations, a husband-killer could never remain the lady of the Vale. A flash of realization crossed Ser Donnel's mind. Fool Harry. House Waynwood had always had closer ties with Harry.
While Ser Donnel still hesitated, Blackfish had already ridden back to speak with his old men, chatting and laughing with them. The soldiers lowered their guard as soon as they saw him, all the more because he was Lady Lysa's uncle. He had served at the Bloody Gate for many years, and he knew nearly all of them.
"In the name of your old commander, Brynden Tully, open the Bloody Gate. I want to see that black sheep, Lysa," Ser Brynden said, turning back to Ser Donnel on horseback. When it came to prestige, Donnel was no match for the Blackfish. He was only in his twenties, his position not yet secure.
"In the name of the lord of Runestone and House Royce, I ask you to open the Bloody Gate and denounce the traitors and villains of the Vale, ser, if you still possess any sense of justice and honor," Bronze Yohn added as he rode up.
Ser Donnel felt like a pitiful lamb facing a beast of prey, forced to accept whatever fate came next.
"In the name of Robert the First of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, the lawful heir to the Iron Throne, hereby command you to obey me at once. Open the Bloody Gate and let us enter the Vale swiftly, so that under the King's law we may punish the false traitor and all accomplices who conspired with that traitor to poison Lord Arryn. I hereby declare that from this day forth, the traitor is stripped of all offices and titles, deprived of all lands, revenues, and holdings, and sentenced to death. May the gods above have mercy on their soul."
Gendry fixed his eyes on Ser Donnel as he spoke.
"Ser Donnel, if you refuse the heir's command, then you too are a traitor," Ser Barristan declared.
"I... how am I supposed to choose?" Ser Donnel was in agony, as if he were drowning under unbearable pressure. Ser Brynden was his former commander. Lord Yohn was deeply respected in the Vale and its second greatest lord. Ser Barristan the Bold, every knight had heard his stories. And Gendry the blacksmith knight, many knights said he was like the Warrior made flesh, the one who truly bore the blood of the Laughing Storm.
Ser Donnel felt as though lightning had shot through him. The golden war banner fluttered before his eyes, and he saw the young stag. Tall, handsome, warhammer in hand, fierce and savage upon the battlefield.
He thought of all those terrible tales. If he refused now, the soldiers behind him might well still obey their old commander, and his own head was certainly no match for the Kingslayer's.
"I... I..." Ser Donnel dismounted and came before Gendry. "I can do this, but I ask that you protect Great Lord Robert."
"I remember Lord Jon's kindness, and I will never harm Great Lord Robert. With the mountains beside us as witness, I will not break my word." Gendry smiled faintly and motioned for Ser Donnel to lead the way.
Behind the four of them, a few more knights followed. The mountain road here was so narrow that only four men could pass abreast, making the ride miserable.
"Have there been any new men sent here from the Eyrie recently?" Blackfish asked softly.
"A few, but not many. The lady is still playing her games, and many men are currying favor with her for the honor of the regency," Ser Donnel, knight of the Bloody Gate, said with a nod, speaking quietly to the old knight. Donnel knew a few things himself.
Blackfish's face tightened. They would need to get through quickly and cut off the flow of information.
"Anguy," Gendry said.
Anguy nodded. The longbowmen would have to make sure that any news went no farther than the Bloody Gate.
As they continued onward, the fortifications came into view ahead. Long battlements stretched along the sheer cliffs on both sides. The mountain road narrowed until it could barely admit four riders abreast. Two watchtowers clung to the rock face, joined by a sealed gray stone arch bridge weathered by the years. Silent faces watched them from the arrow slits, the battlements, and the bridge.
Suddenly Blackfish spurred his horse to the front and waved his banner at the soldiers. The bright red-and-blue standard of Riverrun, with its black fish upon it.
"It's Ser Brynden!"
"Lord Brynden!"
The soldiers waved back as well. Men who had stood silent a moment ago now looked openly excited. None of them had expected to see their old commander again after his hurried departure, and they were plainly glad of it. Blackfish had been deeply rooted at the Bloody Gate for many years. Lysa likely had never imagined this could happen.
"I, Ser Donnel Waynwood, am passing through the Bloody Gate!" Ser Donnel shouted. "And with me are Ser Brynden Tully and his companions. They bring greetings. Greetings from Riverrun and from the Iron Throne."
Gendry guided his horse forward. In the Age of Heroes, countless armies had died here and still failed to break the pass. But today, he had done it, entered without shedding blood. The road ahead was still long, and the hardest part would come beneath the Eyrie.
All of them passed beneath the shadow of the Bloody Gate and through it. Once the gate had been opened, it could no longer truly be shut again, not with a cavalry force of this size pressing through.
The soldiers of the Bloody Gate had never before seen such a force. Men in fine armor, banners from Runestone, from Crackclaw Point, and the golden quartered banner as well. As for the conflict between the Eyrie and Runestone, only the lords understood it. Most of the soldiers knew nothing of it.
"To the rookery," Ser Brynden ordered at once, and his old men moved the instant they heard.
Sure enough, beneath the rookery there were men trying to send ravens up to the Eyrie. But with longbows ready, the ravens were shot down at once, and news of the change at the Bloody Gate would never reach the Eyrie.