Chương 93: ' The Bridge ' Part I
Hello everyone, here's another chapter for you.
Today unfortunately is not a very happy day for the world.
A thought to all the people living in Ukraine.
I was going to post a link today to donate to the Ukrainian people. Unfortunately I have not yet been able to find anything valid or apparently 'reliable'.
If any of you should find it please post it in the comments.
Thank you.
I have finally found stability with my new work commitments. I can announce that I will be posting a chapter every 5 days from now on.
We went from 1 week to 5 days, it's not much I know but for now it's the best I can do.
Thanks again to all of you for your support.
See you on Tuesday.
I hope you can enjoy the chapter.
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POV: The Vanguard Commander;
Less than eight hundred feet from the Great Keep, Fortress of Pyke.
Year 289; the ninth day of the fifth moon. Minutes before the attack on Pyke Fortress is to begin...
The vanguard commanded by Jorah consisted of two thousand five hundred units. The majority of them belonged to House Dustin, only four hundred were composed of Mormont forces. Three hundred men belonged to House Tallhart, half of whom were members of the famous elite unit called the Winter Guardians. Even Lord Eddard Stark had contributed five hundred men of his finest chosen troops. At the head of the massive Stark militia was the famous knight Ser Haymitch 'The Drunk', the melee champion of the Torrhen's Square Tournament.
Ser Haymitch wore very fine full battle armour adorned in the reverse colours of House Blackwood and Direwolf shoulder straps to symbolize his loyalty to the Stark house. The plate armour looked fresh from the forge. If he remembered correctly, the top prize for the winner of that melee would also have had four or five sets of the armour of his choice... That one had to be a work from the forges of House Tallhart.
Although the armour of the Captain of the Stark forces was flashy, it still ranked second to Jorah's.
Since their last meeting, Barbrey had given his future spouse a brand new full suit of armour. A work of one Master Thobo Mott, the same blacksmith who had forged the ceremonial thin-bladed long sword of Damascus to his beloved.
Jorah's armour didn't stand out in splendour at a distance, a shrewdness made on purpose so as not to direct too much of the archers' attention to the owner, but already around a distance of about fifty feet, one could see the fine workmanship worthy of a king.
The Lord of one of the poorest Islands in the Seven Kingdoms had no idea how much such a piece of craftsmanship could cost. Jorah was clad in three layers. Silk and linen clothing lined with a light layer of the finest Karstark leather, a layer of fine iron mesh with thicker, denser states at the exposed seams, and steel plates perfectly matched to his measurements. Even the gloves refreshed by steel plates on the back were perfectly shaped for his hand and the specific measurements of his favourite weapon, Longclaw.
Jorah had never seen a steel plate with such a thin and light thickness. At first, he had feared that the armour would not protect him sufficiently from the sharp dangers of battle... but he had to reconsider. That battle set was unparalleled in lightness, comfort, freedom of movement, and protection. Each of the three layers was perfectly joined to one another with special laces and rings. Normally his old split armour and boiled leather sets weighed at least sixty-five pounds in their entirety, and now his new set (with an extra layer of chain link) weighed barely fifty.
Jorah was certain he had never worn or seen anyone wear, anything like it. The man was beginning to suspect that his armour might be sold in the marketplace at a higher price than King Robert's royal armour... The generosity and financial largesse of his bride-to-be were beginning to make him a little uneasy.
The Lord of Bear Island did not know how to reciprocate such gifts. Certainly, with the future glass trade, even House Mormont would soon reach unprecedented economic heights, but it would take time to catch up with the other Northern Houses. Jorah knew for a fact that House Dustin's coffers had exceeded the capacity of many houses for some time, including House Manderly, which for hundreds of years had always been the richest house in the North.
The future Lord of Barrowton, for now, knew only that from the single salt trade, House Dustin grossed an average of fifty thousand net gold dragons each month...
For any member still living and not of the House of Mormont, that amount of gold was exaggeratedly huge.
Bear Island had never been a rich land. Before the trade support initiated by House Tallhart, House Mormont managed to earn, between taxes, fishing, trading, and timber sales, a total of about ten thousand gold dragons a year. And only if it was a year free of wars and seasonal bad weather. Thanks to the development of trade in the North, House Mormont was now able to earn an average of thirty to thirty-five thousand gold dragons per year. A wealth already above any half-yearly recorded by House Mormont in recent centuries.
House Dustin probably already had revenues at least thirty times more massive than the meagre House Mormont...
The fine refined flavoured salt produced from the shores of Salt Spear was in demand even in the markets of Vaes Dothrak and Qarth...
Soon, it would be Jorah's job to take care of Barrowton's business. His Lady wife would mainly have to focus her attention on the Never Winter Bank and the development of the Silk Road.
"The attack has begun, my Lord." Ser Wyatt Stout warned, waking Jorah from his monetary thoughts. Wyatt was his new right-hand man that Barbrey had highly recommended. The Lord Bear had a good eye for discerning good men-at-arms, and Ser Wyatt deserved the reassuring praise sung by his beloved lady, both for fighting ability and tactical-military skills.
His right arm pointed to the trebuchets and catapults less than three hundred feet away from them. The target was the sidewall supporting the gate. Many construction engineers had agreed that was the best place to concentrate fire. If they could demolish that specific supporting wall, half of the gate would collapse and they could even create a corridor around the iron grates that protected the main entrance just beyond the large oak and iron-studded gate.
At first, the stone projectiles missed their chosen target by a few dozen feet, but a few minutes later at least two out of three shots hit it squarely. The enemy had no chance to counterattack in that position. There were no long-range catapults to support the Greyjoy forces. King Robert's vanguard was more than fifty feet of safe distance from the enemy's maximum range point.
It would be at least another hour before the eleven catapults and seven Royal trebuchets brought down the reinforced walls of the fortress.
"Lord Commander Jorah." Called a voice to his left.
"Deputy Commander William." Greeted Jorah addressing the leader of the Tallhart forces present in the vanguard.
"Soon the forces of the infiltration unit led by my lord Duncan will join our ranks in the rear guard, my lord." William.
"Good... I have already briefed Captain Ted and his deputy on the details of the plan. There will be chaos within the Great Keep. That's probably where we'll meet the greatest armed resistance. Are the identification symbols visible, Deputy Commander?" Jorah asked, searching his eyes for the group of one hundred volunteers who would be disguised as ironmen in the service of House Greyjoy. The plan was that at the right time before the enemy forces retreated to the second Bloody Keep tower, the disguised group and Jorah's forces would simulate a confrontation with each other to get the enemy to let Bloody Snow and his forces infiltrate their lines.
At that point a third of that hundred men would take over the gates of Bloody Keep and the remaining forces would secure the integrity and safety of the rope bridge to the last tower the Sea Tower.
Ancient Pyke was originally built on a cliff overlooking the sea, but over time the cliff has eroded, leaving the castles and towers standing on two barren islands and a promontory, surrounded by water. The last two towers are connected by a swaying rope bridge.
The keep, its towers and walls are made of the same grey-black stone that the rest of the island is composed of. It was nearly impossible to assault the Bloody Keep and the Sea Tower except for the bridge.
The grey-black stone that supported the small island more than three hundred feet high from sea level was slippery and sharp. If they lost the bridge, the only alternative to conquer the last Greyjoy bastion would be a starvation siege. That is unless Robert decided to bury the enemy forces alive with catapults...
But if the plan had succeeded, if Bloody Snow and his group had managed to hold out long enough until reinforcements arrived, Pyke's fortress might have fallen before sundown.
"Yes, my lord. It will be the Stark soldiers who will clash with Lord Duncan's forces. Every Stark soldier has just been briefed on what to do. The chances of incidents of internal casualties in the chaos of battle should be minimal." William replied.
"Good...
Now Vice Commander, I am left with only one question to ask..." Jorah.
"Yes, milord?" William.
"Why is it that fifty of your Winter Guardians continue to surround me as if I were the King and they the Kingsguad?.... And why is it that all the militia captains under my command keep suggesting to me in a rather forbidding manner that I should not lead the front line?.... Even my trusted Captain Ted seems to be strongly motivated to insubordination..." Jorah did not miss the instant when William and Ser Wyatt exchanged a glance of understanding between them.
"You are the commander of the vanguard, Lord Mormont...it is our duty to protect the leader in command of this militia," William replied, trying to mask possible omitted parts in his reply.
"Deputy Commander William, Ser Wyatt, as your commander-in-chief I command you not to lie to me...I would like you both to answer this question of mine...
Have you received specific orders from authorities 'above' mine? Why are all the Tallhart, Dustin, and Stark militias on my back like this! Why does this guy Todd 'The Shield' follow me everywhere I go? I'm telling you, Todd, I don't need your unsolicited service!
Do I make myself clear Todd?!" Jorah asked for the umpteenth time to the barely eighteen-year-old Tallhart boy who had been stalking him like a shadow from the moment he first stepped out of his ward this morning.
"I am your shield, Commander Mormont. I follow the orders of my Deputy Commander and the Lord General, milord." Repeatedly and neutrally replied Todd, the Winter Guardians' best support-defender. Todd was nicknamed 'The Shield' because even if he was surrounded in a forest by half a dozen sharpshooters, that boy only needed a shield in his hand and no one would be able to scratch him. Todd had great reflexes and hearing as well as an excellent sixth sense of danger. He wasn't the most experienced or lethal fighter in the Guardians, but he was certainly the best support and defender the Tallhart army had to offer.
Jorah had no idea what a huge life-saving element he had nearby.
"You already said that, Todd... Deputy Commander William, could you please..." Jorah was interrupted.
"I'm sorry, Lord Jorah, neither I nor Chief Lieutenant Todd can disobey the orders of our superiors in command. Our general, Lady Dacey's future fiancé, has instructed us to protect his beloved bride-to-be's cousin at any cost..." William.
Jorah had no authority over those militias, the man knew that if he wanted to remove those Tallhart men, he would have to resort to the force of the Mormont and Dustin militias. But after that look between William and his second-in-command, Ser Wyatt was also beginning to doubt the authority of those one thousand two hundred Barrowton men of whom, technically according to the future Lady Barbrey Mormont, he should have full control.
To be certain, Jorah needed to do a little test...
"Ser Wyatt Stout."
"Yes, my Lord?" His Second-in-Command replied promptly.
"Don't think I didn't notice your lack of response to my earlier question... But time is running out now, Ser. I have orders for you, my Deputy.
I will leave the command of the central forces and the rear guard to you, Ser. I will be leading the Mormont troops along with five hundred soldiers from House Dustin... I will personally lead the first line of attack as soon as the breach is created, Ser Wyatt." Both the knight and William let slip a small trace of astonishment and concern on their faces. Something that Jorah did not miss...
"There... my Lord... I..." Wyatt couldn't find the right words. Little drops of sweat were beginning to condense on his forehead.
"Is there any problem following my command, Ser?" Jorah.
At that point, Ser Wyatt threw off his mask.
"I cannot carry out your orders, milord. I offer my apologies." Ser Wyatt.
"What?... Remember well that I am your Commander, Ser. Also, Lady Barbrey..." Jorah was interrupted.
"I'm afraid I must take over and take command of House Dustin's militia, Lord Jorah... Lady Barbrey's orders are clear, milord." Ser Wyatt.
"What orders?! What did Lady Barbrey command you?" Jorah.
"Should I judge your military choices to be too... 'risky' for your safety, I have the power to use all the forces of House Dustin to 'suggest' you make different choices, my lord."
End POV.
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POV: A Young Ironborn Guard;
Great Keep, Fortress of Pyke.
About an hour after a Lord's authority and pride was severely shaken...
"All you have to do is say yes, Jex, and you can see your sweet Rosy and little Jason again." Whispered the man that Jex, one of the six guards responsible for securing Great Keep's main grate, had been meeting for less than a week. Only now had this man in his forties named Dolan revealed his true cards...
Dolan didn't live in Lordsport...but came from Ten Towers Castle, the fortress on Harlaw Island. He was no Pyke ironman in the service of House Greyjoy. Still, that wrought iron armour bore the banners of the Kraken. It had been no accident that on recent nights Dolan had approached him during the small banquets offered by King Balon to encourage the troops.
"I never told you my wife's name!!! You... " Jex's hand was anticipated by Dolan's.
"Easy, easy, Jex... Your wife and son are fine. They are both safe in a comfortable hold of one of Lord Harlaw's ships.
Here is another proof of my claims. You named your son Jason, to honour the memory of Rosy's Uncle. The only member of his family who cared for that poor girl at a young age..." Jex's gaze froze. He was certain now, the man did hold his family. No one else on that island could know such detail but him or his Rosy.
Dolan continued.
"Your future and that of your family depends on you, young Jex.
Do you wish to spend the next few years in the arms of that beautiful, sunny Southern maiden and watch that wonderful child grow? How old is young Jason now, two?" Fortunately, their dangerous talk was considerably concealed by the chaos within the fortress. The walls shook at regular intervals about every ten seconds... It wasn't long before the Northeast wall gave way and the battle finally began.
"... Yes, I do. Please don't hurt them." Pleaded Jex as he abandoned his intent to attack Dolan. The young Ironborn of just twenty years old loved his Rosy very much. Even though she was only a salt wife.
Jex loved that girl and the son he had with her with all his heart. An affection was reciprocated by the young orphan from the Honey Hills. Not many people knew that Jex had not kidnapped Rosy in that attack on the village, but rather protected her from the other ironmen rapists in his crew. During that attack on the fishing village, Jex had hidden the girl for an entire day and eventually claimed her as his booty to protect her under all the laws and customs in the Old and New Ways. Jex and Rosy's love was spontaneous, not forced by the ruthlessness of iron, but rather born of kind actions and words. A rare anomaly that did not escape the eyes and ears of enemy spies.
Jex was, however, a true Iron Islands fighter. For generations, his family had served House Greyjoy. His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had always held a key position in House Greyjoy's fortress. Now that his old man had been dead for over a year due to a fever, it was up to him to fill that role.
Jex would have gladly died for House Greyjoy...but he would not have been able to sacrifice the lives of his wife and son.
"I mean them no harm, my dear friend. On the contrary, I would like to offer you, Rosy, and little Jason a more prosperous and better future. Away from Pyke if you wish. My Lord is very generous and of his word, I assure you. Here...see for yourself." Dolan passed a half-closed leather pouch, bulging and heavy the size of a fist. Jex's eyes widened. Just from the weight and the corner of his eye, he could already estimate that there were at least forty gold coins inside the bag...
Jex and Rosy's favourite dish was the spicy mussel and clam soup served at the 'Seabass Hearth'. An inn that was very famous and popular with the common people of Lordsport, Pyke's largest port city. A serving of that dish cost exactly three copper stars. Old Beggher 'Fish Hands', the owner of the inn, had launched an offer for his loyal customers: One gold dragon per person in exchange for unlimited portions of one of the House dishes until the day he died...
Whenever Jex and Rosy had the pleasure of enjoying that soup together they would joke that one day they would save up the coinage needed to invest that famous gold dragon each.
Whenever his family was faced with a large expense, he and Rosy would quantify the expense in servings of Soup.
'Does the roof of the house need to be repaired? How much will it cost us? More than thirty soups, my love.' Jex thought quickly, remembering the last exchange between him and his beloved.
The coins inside that bag would buy unlimited soup for three future generations of Jex's family.
The young family man returned the bag into Dolan's hand.
"Do I have your word that I, my son, and my wife will be safe?"
"I can vouch for your son and wife, but you and I will still take risks. Should you perish this gold will go into your family's hands, I promise." Dolan placed the pouch back in the young guard's hands.
Jex considered the proposal for a few seconds as he looked at the pouch.
'Fuck it... I was going to die in the battle anyway. There's no hope of victory...
House Greyjoy has already lost the war. At least, this way, Rosy and Jason will have a few more chances.' He inwardly assessed Jex realizing he had no other choice.
"What does your master want from me in return?"
End of Part I.
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