Crackclaw Point had always been cold and damp. Some days brought rain, others only clouds, but it was never warm. Even when they made camp, it was hard to find enough dry wood for a fire.
Golden quartered banners fluttered from bamboo poles. To Mortimer Boggs and Raymun Darry, those were the most reassuring banners of all. The most elite few hundred riders wore black scale armor, while behind them came infantry with spears, leather armor, mail, and a few suits of scale. They also carried Myrish triple crossbows, their secret weapon. Another group of elite Crackclaw cavalry remained at The Twins; the men Mortimer Boggs led now were the best he had gathered again.
"I survived that lost war. I did not die beside the Prince at The Trident. That was the will of the gods. I will hold my sword and avenge him, even if I kill only one Lannister," Ser Mortimer Boggs thought silently. Now King Robert was dead, Jon Arryn was dead, Eddard was most likely dead as well, and the Lannisters still remained.
"What is our purpose?" Ser Mortimer Boggs asked. He had cavalry with him, as well as Crackclaw infantry. Whether they were Crabb, Brune, Boggs, Hardy, or Pyne, none had lost their fierce nature.
Crackclaw Point was thick with pines. Pines were stubborn trees, much like the Crackclaws themselves.
"Revenge!" the soldiers shouted.
"Revenge!"
"Kill the Lannisters!"
"Kill!"
"Move out." Ser Mortimer Boggs raised the sword in his hand, and the Crackclaws lifted their spears in answer. They had lost the war years ago, but they had never forgotten it.
Ser Boggs had chosen a small path. During the years he had lain hidden on Crackclaw Point, he had never stopped scouting its terrain, its marshes and wastelands, its main roads and hidden tracks.
Ser Mortimer Boggs chose to march along the shore of the Bay of Crabs. There was a winding little trail there, so narrow it could not be found on the knights' precious parchment maps.
Here there were no steep mountains, no dark marshes, and none of Crackclaw Point's pine forests. The land was low and wet. Under the blue-gray sky stretched only barren dunes and salt marshes. The path sometimes vanished among wild grass and tidal pools, only to reappear a mile later. Without a guide, a man would certainly lose his way. The ground was soft, so Ser Boggs sent men ahead to beat at it, making sure they would not sink into the mud.
For leagues around there were no trees, only sea, sky, and sand. The Crackclaw army hurried onward, their target House Mooton's Maidenpool.
"How am I to face that fat man?" Ser Mortimer Boggs thought. Back then, he had fought alongside Myles Mooton, who had died for the Silver Prince. Yet Myles's own younger brother was a foolish, fat coward, weak as a maggot.
"Willem is a coward, but his head still works well enough," Raymun Darry said. He had abandoned his family estate at Plowman's Keep and, following the Storm's arrangements, had taken some men to hide on Crackclaw Point. Plowman's Keep was too sensitive and dangerous a position.
Mortimer Boggs nodded and tightened his grip on his sword. "We need to move faster. We take Maidenpool, and leave Duskendale to the Vale men."
"A very quiet path." The path was indeed quiet. Crackclaw Point had always been poor, with little worth taking. The soldiers crossed more than a dozen gentle streams where frogs and crickets lived. Terns glided high over the bay, and oystercatchers cried on the dunes. At times, they even saw foxes.
By the time Ser Boggs's men were less than a day from Maidenpool, they also found the quietest fishermen. The fishermen knew Mooton ruled these lands, but few had ever seen him. Riverrun and King's Landing were nothing more than names to them.
Some of the fishermen lived in mud-and-thatch houses among the wild grass. Others fished from small round leather boats in the bay and built their homes on crooked wooden poles atop the dunes. Most seemed to live alone and had little contact with outsiders, as if they were shy.
When they saw the army pass, a few children even gathered their courage to joke with them and offered baskets filled with clams and small fish.
"Thank you." Ser Boggs had his soldiers give the children some sweets.
The Crackclaws quickened their pace until they appeared on the hills east of Maidenpool. The hills were thick with growth, pines closing in from all directions like silent gray-green ranks of soldiers. Those pines also concealed the real cavalry.
Maidenpool lay before them, and the bay was a little farther off. Legend said that in Maidenpool, Florian the Fool had first seen Jonquil at Jonquil's Pool while she bathed with her sisters.
On the hill above Maidenpool stood the castle, while below it lay the town and the docks. The docks were not especially busy, but the town itself was lively. Though the coast had no natural defenses, it had a shoreline and fertile land, and had always been fairly prosperous.
In Maidenpool, House Mooton's red salmon banner still flew over the castle. The town, however, looked somewhat battered. Some of the walls bore marks from hammer blows, and the houses and shops looked as though they had been harried. The Lannisters had plundered here as well.
Crossbowmen paced back and forth along Maidenpool's pale red stone walls. A golden quartered banner flew above the gatehouse, along with Riverrun's trout banner, a silver trout leaping across red-and-blue stripes. House Mooton's red salmon was there too, a red fish on white, edged in gold.
"The fat man is definitely still in the castle," Ser Boggs said.
"Yes. His brother would never have been as cowardly as he is. Ser Myles was a warrior, and died beneath King Robert's hand." Lord Raymun nodded. "He sent a small number of men to Riverrun, but hid behind the walls himself."
Tywin had plundered around Maidenpool, but had not gone too far. That was not only because Mooton was cowardly, but also because Maidenpool was close to the Crownlands, so his hand had been somewhat lighter.
"Still, it seems we should put our weapons away. The fat man does have a little backbone after all," Ser Boggs said. If Lord Willem had truly feared Tywin, he would have surrendered long ago instead of supporting Riverrun.
"Charge!" Ser Boggs ordered. The golden war banner rose, the cavalry tightened their reins, then roared as they charged down the hill. The golden banner streamed in the wind like golden flame.
The Crackclaws raised their war banners, and the cavalry shouted their battle cries.
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
The Maidenpool garrison on the town wall was startled. They rubbed their eyes and saw the golden quartered banners, while the army pouring down from the hills clearly belonged to the Crackclaws.
"What do we do?" the crossbowmen asked the captain of the guard.
"Lower your crossbows," the captain said with difficulty. "Lord Tully is our liege, and our liege has already supported the Storm."
The iron portcullis stood open, and the Crackclaws swept into the town like a storm. The soldiers of Maidenpool raised their spears in welcome.
The sept, the wooden inn, the brothel. Maidenpool's town was still quite lively.
Lord Willem, protected by his guards, also descended from the hilltop castle. His skin was pale, his body soft and fat. He wore a white tunic and red breeches, with a mink cloak fastened at the shoulder by a red-gold brooch shaped like a salmon.
Lord Willem dismounted beneath the golden banner and gave a bow.
"Lord Willem." Ser Boggs looked at the fat man before him. There was still a trace of Ser Myles in that round face, though not much.
"Ser Boggs, Lord Raymun, I did not expect to meet you here," Lord Willem said. House Darry, House Ryger, and House Mooton were all vassals of Riverrun, yet during the Battle of the Trident, they had fought beside Rhaegar Targaryen. Lord Frey, by contrast, had arrived late with his men only after the war was over.
"The war has begun, my lord," Ser Boggs said.
"What can I do?" Lord Willem did not refuse. He thought of his elder brother. He himself had never been meant to be the heir, much like Eddard. It was war that had made him Lord.
"I do not want you. I want your cavalry, your good horses, and your hounds. I want to cut off the grain road north of King's Landing, and raid Rosby and Stokeworth," Ser Boggs said.
"My hounds are almost gone, though I do still have horses and cavalry," Lord Willem said awkwardly.
"What happened to your hounds?" Lord Raymun asked.
"A great wolf pack appeared near the Gods Eye. They say it carries off babes in broad daylight. My sons and I swore to kill it, so I took a pack of wolfhounds and followed them all the way to the she-wolf's den. In the end, we nearly all died there. Not a single hound came back. Not one." Lord Willem spoke with fear. "The lead she-wolf was terrifyingly large, huge and cunning. She nearly killed us. If not for my loyal hounds, I would have died there too."
"Prepare the cavalry. The time for vengeance has begun," Ser Boggs said, looking at Lord Willem. If they had anything in common, it was that both of them had once fought beneath the black-and-red dragon banner.
"Maidenpool is yours to command," Lord Willem answered solemnly, as if he were seeing again the day he sent Ser Myles off to war.
...
In Gulltown, Bronze Yohn and Lord Gerold Grafton had already invited the merchant shipowners and fleet commanders.
Runestone, as the Vale's second-ranking lordship, also had its own docks, but those docks were not as wealthy or convenient as Gulltown's. Gulltown remained the better choice.
"We have two routes!" Bronze Yohn said. "Just as during The Dance of the Dragons, half will go to Duskendale, and half to Maidenpool. If fortune is with us, the Crackclaws have already taken Maidenpool. House Mooton once fought for the Targaryens. They would rather follow the Tullys than the Lannisters."
"If we go through the Bay of Crabs to Maidenpool, the risk is not great. But if we take the Duskendale route, we might encounter Stannis's interception," Lord Gerold said.
"It should not be too serious a problem." Golden Eagle Isembard stroked his chin. "Stannis lacks men, but I hear he is negotiating with Renly near Storm's End. The others cannot make decisions for him."
"We also need to consider logistics and the fleet. Even ten thousand men will require a very large number of ships," Ser Shett added.
"Tywin has more than twenty thousand men at Harrenhal. Could he move early and swallow us?" Gerold asked.
"It would be best for us to hold the line from Duskendale to Maidenpool, and the Crackclaws will be our rear. If Tywin does not wish to court death, he will not dare chase us into Crackclaw Point."
"The northern army is being trimmed down. They can coordinate with us in the attack. Roose has better winter wolves under his command, while we have the fleet. Splitting his army in two is a dangerous decision for Tywin. Besides, we only need to coordinate to cut off King's Landing's grain road. We are not directly attacking King's Landing." Bronze Yohn waved his hand over the map.
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