For this eastern campaign, House Crabb had all but emptied its muster: one hundred Crabb household soldiers, four hundred from the Thorn Legion, one hundred from the Crabb Longbow Corps, and two hundred from the Crabb Spear Corps—a total of eight hundred fighting men.With an additional three hundred auxiliaries for logistics, the force numbered eleven hundred in all.
For the Crabb lands, there had been no expedition of this scale in more than a decade, and Lord Gawen could plainly feel the troops' swelling excitement.
At his lord's order, Steward Herschel had gathered as much dried meat from the domain as possible, and with the preparations complete, the Crabb host began its march eastward.
On the fourth day, they fought their first engagement since setting out.
After a month of constant training, the Crabb longbowmen were far more seasoned. A few coordinated volleys shattered the attack of some five hundred hill tribesmen.
Near sunset that day, however, tempers flared among several veteran household soldiers.
Days of marching had left them tired; today's victory brought no wine, no camp-followers, and the captives were off-limits.
It was not a matter of disloyalty to their lord, but the sudden breaking of long-held habits. Irritation, discontent, and frustration, coupled with their own hot tempers, finally boiled over.
The shouting men did not understand that such behavior could bring chaos to the camp.
But the laws of war are as immovable as mountains.
Gawen knew well that an army cannot be ruled by leniency. Determined to break the habits that hindered discipline, he would make the rules even stricter.
Hearing the disturbance outside, Gawen strode from his tent with his riding whip in hand, mounted swiftly, and along the way seized a spear from one of his men. Without hesitation, he hurled it straight at the loudest of the offenders.
With a sharp whsst, the spear pierced the man's chest and burst out his back, carrying him several yards before both man and spear slammed into the earth. The shaft quivered where it stood, buried deep.
The watching soldiers felt their breath catch; a sudden, heavy silence fell.
Only the slow, steady clop of hoofbeats filled the air.
Gawen twitched the reins slightly, and his mount shook its head with a snort, pacing slowly through the crowd.
His gaze was cold and unwavering, pressing down on the men like a mountain. One by one, they dropped to their knees before him.
His voice was far louder than usual: "I told you—no loud gatherings in camp!"
"Look at me. Look at your lord. The laws I proclaim—if you defy them, you defy me. And there is only one punishment for defying your lord: death!"
The folk of the Crab Claw Peninsula lived in relative isolation, and the people of House Crabb's lands were indeed less worldly. If Gawen tried to explain why he called such ways 'bad habits,' they would not understand; too many words might only leave them baffled.
If they could not grasp the reason, there was no need to waste breath—better they learn with their bodies that a lord's command must never be defied.
"I will repeat myself: Crabb soldiers, so long as we are at war, there will be no wine, and no women!"
"In war, there is only obedience!"
"When we win, I will reward you—reward your courage, reward your obedience! Farmland, houses, fine food, fine wine…"
He pointed his whip at the nearest few men. "You—stand up and answer me."
They rose warily.
"Answer me—do you understand? Can you follow the law?"
"I can." "I will." "I swear it."
Gawen turned to another group, asking the same question."Louder! Have I not filled your bellies? Shout it—obey the lord's law!"
"Obey the lord's law!""Obey the lord's law!""Obey the lord's law!"
The chant grew louder, the voices rising in unison until they rolled like thunder.
Only then did Gawen's stony expression curve into the faintest smile.
He ordered extra meat for the soldiers' supper.
And the men, throats still raw from shouting, cheered anew.
As the Crabb forces advanced, the hill tribes finally realized this was not a foe a single clan could withstand. In haste, several great tribes formed an alliance.
More than three thousand warriors gathered on the far slope.
The Crabb Spear Corps formed a three-deep defensive wall to the sound of steady commands.
The household soldiers split into two groups of fifty, each anchoring a flank beside the spear line.
Behind the formation stood the five hundred of the Thorn Legion and the Longbow Corps.
The wildlings' horns sounded, and the charge began.
Each Crabb longbowman carried forty arrows; as the three thousand tribesmen entered the two-hundred-yard killing range, they were met by a storm of shafts.
In Whisper City, two septons of the Faith of the Seven—who had volunteered to accompany the army—watched the battle with awe.
"This is no longer a contest between equals…"
"No. If the Crabb bowmen ever numbered ten thousand, they would be unstoppable."
"Silent for over a decade, this house is rising again under its young lord. Without outside interference, the Crab Claw Peninsula will soon be his."
"Have you decided to act? If you have, I will contact the High Sept in King's Landing at once. Perhaps we should speak directly to Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand—he may take more interest in this."
"But allow me to say this: the Peninsula is land of the First Men. They have never trusted outsiders, and its old gods run deep. Yet the young lord is inclined to support us—he will need the Faith's light to bring stability after the war."
"…"
"He has conditions."
"Oh? What can we offer, beyond the light of the Seven to those in need? Surely not the few copper stars in a poor septon's purse?"
"You misunderstand—not copper, nor even gold dragons. He wants the right to appoint and remove the lord bishop of his lands. Ha! That is a king's prerogative!"
"The prize is tempting indeed. With the young lord's support, the entire Crab Claw Peninsula could be brought into the Faith's embrace. It would be a great and holy triumph—anew chapter in our history."
"A proposal hard to refuse."
.
.
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