Chapter 26: Chapter 14: The Dornish Conspiracy (Michael Blackmont, Aegon)
๐๐ข๐ฑ๐ญ๐ก ๐๐จ๐จ๐ง, ๐๐๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐ญ๐๐ข๐ง๐ฌ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ฌ๐ข๐๐ ๐จ๐ ๐๐๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ค๐ฆ๐จ๐ง๐ญ
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Lord Michael Blackmont spurred his destrier faster, feeling the hot wind upon his face, the sand stung his eyes but he urged the horse forward, ignoring the pain, embracing the wind.
๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ช๐ด ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ช๐ฏ๐จ. The old lord thought to himself before finally bringing his mount to a halt, letting his escort catch up to him. The afternoon sun sat low in the sky, almost obscured by the red mountains.
He stopped for a moment and took in the sight of the red mountains. As he did so often he found himself thinking of his sister Wylla who had died almost a decade ago, the memory of her face had faded from his memory, but still she remained at the periphery of his mind, like a ghost, that would not be put to rest until she was avenged.
๐ ๐ธ๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ซ๐ฐ๐ช๐ฏ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ The old Dornishman thought to himself. Maester Nyles had done what he could, but Michael was not fool enough to believe he had much time left, he was already an old man, and the cancer festering inside his body ensured he would be dead within two years, maybe more if he was lucky.
๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ช๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ข๐ด๐ฌ ๐ช๐ด ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ He thought silently. He was not afraid of dying, but the thought of leaving the world without avenging his sister weighed on him each and every night, inhibiting his sleep.
His sister had been wife to Domeric Yronwood, the younger brother to the late Lord Yoren Yronwood. He remembered their wedding, and how proud his late father had been at arranging the match. It had ended in tragedy however as his sister had perished with her husband and all the rest at the burning of Yronwood. His maester claimed that the citadel recorded the event as a terrible accident, but Michael named it murder.
He had hoped to be named Derias spymaster, yearning for the influence and connections it would bring, as well as the opportunity to counsel her that Dorne must rise up against the Dragon. However the lady Martell had never seen fit to honor him with the post and one day he grew tired of waiting and decided to take matters into his own hands to avenge his sisterโฆ.which could only be accomplished with the death of the Dragon King, ordering his connections to explore the possibility of murdering the King.
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Michael continued gazing at the red mountains, he could sense his escort growing restless but he had no wish to return to his bed just yet, within a few months he would like not be able to even ride, and returning home to his thoughts would remind him yet again that it had been another day that his sister remained unavenged.
The old man remained there with his thoughts for quite some time before his captain of the guard roused him from his peace with a terse whisper ''Lord Blackmont.''
Michael was about to chastise the man for disturbing him when he looked behind them and understood why he had been roused, a feeling of great sadness coursing through his body.
๐๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ. The Lord of Blackmont thought to himself, his hand slowly dropping to his sword.
Behind them stood a contingent of mounted men, probably fifty in all, most with light lances, with swords and shields, one of the riders was carrying a large flag, the black and red dragon of the Targaryens stitched proudly onto the cloth. The contingent outnumbered his small escort of ten men.
At the forefront of the column was a man with a long face and pale skin, a ragged black beard and a receding hairline, his black hair tied back behind his head. He wore fine black ringmai, supple leather gloves and a long gray cloak fastened with a silver salmon that covered much of his body as well as the back of his horse. His shield bore an insignia of some sort of fish, a device that Michael did not recognize.
The man rode towards Michael with two guards, and the Lord of Blackmont nodded to two of his men to follow.
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''I do not recognize your standard my lordโฆ..I would know your name and your purpose in my landsโฆ.I received no raven informing me of your visit.'' Michael said, he knew exactly what this was in truth but he was content to let things play out as they would.
''No raven was sent.'' The man said gruffly.
''Nonetheless I would know your name.'' Michael said coolly.
''Jon Mootonโฆ.Lord of Maidenpool and Master-at-Arms to our King Aegonโฆand here on his orders.'' The man said, and Michael got the feeling he was one that enjoyed the sound of his own voice.
''Your King perhaps.'' Michael said, dropping his courtesy, there was no further point in the farce.
''You damn yourself with your own mouthโฆ..more so than you are alreadyโฆ.I have been sent to take you to the Aegonfort to stand trial for plotting to murder the King.'' Jon said.
''If you think I will go off meekly you are mistakenโฆ..you will get no fear from me Lord Mooton.'' The old Dornishman said.
''I dont give a fuck what you do or how you goโฆ.so long as you tell your men to drop your weapons and surrender.'' Jon Mooton said.
The Lord of Blackmont then drew his blade, causing Jon Mootons men to do the same, as well as his own escorts.
Lord Mooton chuckled at that, drawing his own blade from a well oiled sheath ''You're outnumbered more than three to oneโฆ.spare your men a slaughter.''
๐'๐ฎ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ณ๐ณ๐บ ๐๐บ๐ญ๐ญ๐ขThe old man thought to himself, he would go to his grave with his sister unavenged.
Michael Blackmont was many things, but no man could say he lacked for courage, blindly stupid as it was.
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The old man suddenly lunged at Lord Mooton, putting all his strength into a brutal downwards slash at the mans unprotected head, Jon Mooton had not been named the Kings master-at-arms for no reason however and he brought his own sword up to meet it with a clash of steel. The riverlander then brought an elbow into the old Dornish man's chest while the two were engaged and Lord Blackmont fell to the sand from his horse, his head ringing.
He saw his own men had rushed forward to join the fight, hopelessly outnumbered. One of the youngest members of his guard Dallar rode forward riding straight for Lord Mooton, Mooton caught the boys spear on his shield and bashed it into the boys chest, sending him to the ground where he was soon surrounded and captured.
The fight, if it could even be called that, ended almost immediately with his men surrendering once they saw their lord had been downed, with very few casualties on either side. The surviving men would be spared and Michael Blackmont, weary from his fall and illness, brought back to the capitol to face the King's justice.
To the east of Blackmont, another similar situation occurred, albeit without the struggles of the prior one.
Visenya Targaryen had also received word that Ellaria Toland, the lady of Ghost Hill, a castle on Dornes northern coast, was involved in Lord Blackmonts treason.
The King had sent the hedge knight Ser Neilyn, whom he had met at Wyl during the Dornish war, with a contingent of men from Ory's household guard in Storms End to sail from the weeping town and apprehend Lady Toland.
Ser Neilyn was an interesting choice to send as he was an unlanded hedge knight of humble birth whose only title was that of the Master of the Hunt in the Aegonfort, but given that Aegon kept no full time executioner, he bid Ser Neilyn to travel as the King's Justice. This decision was made more palatable due to the fact the man was Dornish himself and knew the people.
Lady Ellaria had been taken without incident and was taken back to the capitol where, along with lord Blackmont she would stand trial for her role in what became known as the Dornish Conspiracy.
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๐๐๐ฏ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ก ๐๐จ๐จ๐ง, ๐๐๐๐
๐๐ก๐ซ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐๐จ๐จ๐ฆ ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ ๐จ๐ง๐๐จ๐ซ๐ญ
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''By right of birth and bloodโฆ..I demand a trial by combat.'' The old Dornish lord said, leaning on a cane, drawing forth a murmur from the court in the timber longhall of the Aegonfort.
Aegon was not surprised, it was hardly unusual for a lord to invoke this right when imprisoned, men claimed that the gods would favor the side that stood for righteousness, but in Aegon's mind, the only ''gods'' involved in a trial by combat were the sword arms of the men involved, nonetheless Aegon would not attempt to subvert the man's right.
The King nodded slowly ''You have that rightโฆ.will you be summoning a champion?''
The crowd whispered in anticipation, the old Dornishman was clearly in a poor state, with his illness and his fall from the horse. Any sane man would elect a champion but tales of Lord Blackmonts brave yet stupid resistance had reached the court and with a man like that you never could be certain. The King hoped the man would elect to summon a champion, he did not want an old dying man to be cut down in his hall, if the man would die it would be swift, any duel would be a mummer's farce.
These fears proved unfounded as Lord Blackmont shook his head ''I am not the sort of man to have others do my fighting for me, but I can scarce lift a blade let alone swing oneโฆ.my brother in law will stand for meโฆ.no need to send a raven, he is here in the city.''
Aegon nodded, he had given the old lord the courtesy of a tower cell, traitor or not he was still a lord, no doubt the Lord Blackmont had managed to deliver a message informing his brother in law of his plans and summoning him to the capitol in haste.
The King turned to Orys, who had recovered from his wound in the tourney, though a cloth sash covered his eye.
''Have Lord Blackmonts champion found and bring him here at sundownโฆ.the trial will take place today.'' Aegon commanded and his half-brother nodded and went to his task.
The King had a sudden urge to handle the duel himself, and why not he was capable, he was perhaps the best swordsman in the city, though his sister Visenya could match him and Ser Gawen Corbray would likely prove a challenge, his cousin Corlys would be tough fight as well, though the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had less energy as of late due to his injury.
His thoughts were interrupted as one of his Kingsguard stepped forward immediately, approaching the throne.
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''Your Graceโฆ..when I was sworn as one of your Kingsguard I made a pledge that If I should fall let it be surrounded by the bodies of your enemiesโฆ.I have no plans of falling today but let me make good on that pledge todayโฆ.I protected the queen from harm during her tour of the Free Cities, and I fought well in your name during the Dornish warโฆ.let me stand for you your grace.'' The Kingsguard said.
Aegon looked down at the face of Ser Harold Langward, the Kingsguard that represented the Stormlands.
The King gave a look towards Corlys, who nodded, Ser Harold might have been arrogant but none could deny he was a skilled swordsman, though Ser Gawen Corbray and the Lord Commander outskilled him.
The King nodded slowly ''I will give you the honor of representing me in the trial Ser Harold, make yourself ready for tonightโฆ.you shall have the use of both of my squires.''
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๐ ๐ ๐๐ฐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฌ ๐๐๐ญ๐๐ซ
๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ญ๐ฒ๐๐ซ๐ ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ ๐จ๐ง๐๐จ๐ซ๐ญ
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The sun was slowly setting as both combatants presented themselves in front of the King and his court. The King had decreed the fight was to be held outside, he did not want blood spilt in his throne room.
Some in the court had suggested that benches be set up and a feast held, but Aegon had refused them, he had no intention of the trial becoming a spectacle, it was a trial, nothing more nothing less, but certainly not an event that warranted frivolity.
A cold wind from the bay blew in causing many in the court to mumble about the lack of seating, but Aegon was silent, his arms crossed.
Lord Blackmonts champion was little more than a hedge knight, lowborn who had married the Lord Blackmonts youngest sister. He did not look particularly impressive, having a pinched face, small dark eyes and rough yellow stubble. He did not have a squire so Corlys Velayrons own squire, Omer Bulwer, son of the runner up to the tourney of Kings Landing, attended him.
He wore a long black robe that reached his legs. On his chest he had a heavy padded cloth gambeson. He wore leather arm guards and gloves, his sword was plain yet well sharpened while his shield was freshly painted yellow with the black eagle of house Blackmont standing proud. He wore a leather helm with a steel guard over his nose.
Ser Harold Langward made the much more impressive figure, wearing the heavy white plate of the Kingsguard, a cloak as white as snow upon his shoulders while his face was fully obscured by a plate helm, save for his eyes. Behind him, Aegon's son Vaemond held his sword while Dalton Wynch held his shield, emblazoned with the sigil of house Langward.
The septon spoke a few words, holding out his crystal in front of the sun's dying rays asking for the gods to favor the man who represented justice.
Once the septon had finished, Aegon gave a curt nod and commanded the trial to begin.
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Ser Harold began the attack launching a succession of heavy strikes at the hedge knight who barely managed to block them, at the end his shield becoming wrent and broken, He retreated back to little Ormer Bulwer who handed him another shield and he returned to the fray.
''Yieldโฆ'' Ser Harold called out and the hedge knight shook his head and the battle continued.
Ser Harold launched another downwards strike at the knight who was unable to get his shield up, the Kingsguards blade hitting the mans leather helm and gliding downwards, badly damaging the steel nasal guard and causing blood to drip down the mans face.
The crowd shouted encouragement from all sides, the courtyard mixing with shouts and the clash of steel on shield.
''Kill him!'' the Ironborn Dalton Wynch cried out.
Ser Farrel caught a slash on his shield and launched one of his own but Ser Harold turned it away with his own shield with a tremendous clash of splinters, Ser Harold tossed it away and waved away the offer of a fresh shield, holding his longsword in two hands.
The hedge knight launched an attack but Ser Harold sidestepped it and the dance continued.
The Kingsguard retook the offensive, launching two more strikes but the hedge knight blocked one with his sword and avoided the other.
Aegon had to admit the Hedge Knight was fast as the man avoided another one of Ser Harold's strikes before catching another on his shield; he was clearly comfortable in his light armor, though he gave up ground too easily in Aegon's opinion.
Ser Farrel, who had been pushed near to the other side of the keep launched his own attack but the Kingsguard caught it on his blade and slashed downwards, cutting the man's shield hand and causing him to drop it to the ground, now both men stood, with only swords in hand.
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''YieldโฆI have no wish to kill you Ser.'' Harold repeated but was once again ignored by the hedge knight whose face was furrowed in concentration.
The two men exchanged blows as they made their way back to the center, both strikes being blocked.
Ser Harold looked much more comfortable, he was able to hold his longsword with two hands while his opponent could only hold it in one due to his wounded shield hand.
The Kingsguard, sensing this weakness brought his longsword in a sideways strike towards the man's left side, it was not the best of strikes, rather slow and clumsy, but the hedge knight was unable to get the sword to the opposite side in time before the blade hacked him square in the side of the neck, cutting through sinew and muscle, spraying blood.
The hedge knight collapsed in a heap, gurgling and coughing blood as red spittle poured out of his mouth before at last he went still.
The crowd began cheering for the Kingsguard who had not even suffered a scratch in the duel, Aegon noted the man's face was filled with no joy when he took off his helm, looking almost sad at his victory.
Aegon had ordered Lord Blackmont to be brought back to his tower cell to await execution, which would take place the next morning.
The King had no permanent executioner so he once again entrusted the role to the Dornish knight Ser Neilyn. That morning Michael Blackmont was taken into the courtyard and sentenced to die. Aegon had rejected the proposal that he be executed in front of the entire city, he would not make a spectacle of justice.
To his credit the man died well, there had been no fear in his eyes as he was led to the block and no move to avoid Ser Neilyns strike.
Ellaria Toland, Lady of Ghost Hill who had watched the proceedings from her tower cell realized a trial by combat was a fool's errand, she had no skilled warriors in her family and the Kingsguard were more than a match for any of her household knights so she consented to a trial in front of the court.
To her credit she spoke well, passionately detailing the burning of her father at Yronwood and the toll it had taken on her house, but in the end it was all for naught, she had no friends on the council and in a unanimous decision the small council delivered their verdict to the Kingโฆshe was guilty of attempting to murder him.
The next morning she too was executed in the courtyard of the Aegonfort by Ser Neilyn. Ser Gawen Corbray had suggested that they place both traitors heads on spikes outside the city as a warning to traitors but Aegon had refused and had the remains of both sent back to their families.
So ended what the Maesters would refer to as the Dornish Conspiracyโฆ.two lords of proud houses lay dead in its wake, yet even King Aegon's greatest opponents could not argue the fact that justice was done both swiftly and fairly.
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