Of rivers and men
If someone were to ask him about what it felt delivering the final blow in the old lion's defeat, Daryn would try his best not to grimace and then say "It felt as if I was a hero of the old songs," or something similar.
Thankfully, no one asked him. And Daryn didn't have to lie.
When the battle was won, Daryn remembers moving to the small hill where Lady Stark and her guards were stationed. From there he saw the battlefield. The blood. The bodies. Gods the bodies.
"A perfect encirclement!" he heard. Gods forgive him, but if a 'perfect encirclement' was what drove Lannister men to…
He stopped his line of thinking.
They had won. They had wiped the entire Lannister foot and about a third part of their cavalry. It was the day after when Daryn heard the estimates. Ten thousand Lannister soldiers dead either in battle or drowned in the Green Fork. Another three thousand made prisoners.
Daryn knew, the victory was a great one. In fact, he couldn't remember a battle more imbalanced from his history lessons.
The truth of the matter was that the North had inflicted a crushing defeat upon the Westerlands. That night, and several subsequent nights, Daryn prayed to never see men desperate enough to throw themselves to a river ever again.
Funeral pyres lit the night, blessedly the wind didn't carry the smell and the camp celebrated a perfect victory but Daryn couldn't get rid himself of images of the drowned on his mind. Even with all that, he was able to assist to Lord Robb's tent for the battle report.
"Eight hundred brave northmen died today," said Master Galbart Glover. "Two hundred are gravely injured and three hundred more will return to the field in a fortnight. Among them Lord Cerwyn and a few others of noble blood." He paused, his lips curled in a big smile. "My lords, we broke the old lion today."
The tent roared in victory chants. Daryn joined, if only to not be singled out.
Lord Robb raised a hand to quiet the tent and once quiet, "A significant part of the Lannister cavalry escaped the trap. Master Glover, what are the numbers Lord Tywin has left?"
"By my estimates, Lord Tywin escaped with around four thousand riders, my lord."
"Bah! Those cunts will be too afraid to attack us!" the Greatjon's voice rumbled. "Besides, those southron lords must be too occupied tearing the throats of one another."
Once again the tent was filled with lords shouting over one another in merry.
"My lords, let's not forget," Robb Stark's voice cut the lords. "We still have to lift the Riverrun siege. Master Glover, what hostages were we able to get?"
"I'll mention them in order of importance, my lords. We captured Tyrion and Kevan Lannister," Daryn briefly looked at Lady Stark, the Imp had been her hostage before. "After them, our captives include Lord Lefford, Lord Lydden, Lord Serret, Ser Flement Brax, Ser Lyle Crakehall and multiple petty lords."
The Young Wolf took control of the tent before it could explode in cheers. "As we previously discussed, I plan to divide our host. I'll take most of our horse to cross the Twins and lift Riverrun's siege. Three thousand foot will be following to secure our supply lines and retake Riverlander holdfasts on their way to Riverrun. The rest of our forces is to march under Master Glover securing the southern Riverlands."
Robb Stark swiped the tent with his gaze and allowed himself a smile. "My lords, we are one step closer to recover my Lord Father and sisters. You have my utmost thanks," he raised his tankard. "To victory!"
"To victory!"
Daryn slipped out of the celebrations, his body was strong still, but he was tired all the same. A light breeze accompanied him on his way until a wolf's howl gave him pause.
Jon Snow slayed Ser Marbrand in single combat, he remembered. The men spun tales on how his direwolf fought besides him, killing man and mount on its wake, and sealed Snow's victory over Marbrand with a howl that sent Westerlanders scrambling in retreat.
After contemplating hills and mountains on the horizon and ignoring the river on his back, Daryn turned to continue his way.
At fifty feet from his tent, in the campfire, he saw Lord Robb and Jon Snow. Daryn stopped himself, he thought to take another path but Robb noticed him and waved at him. Jon Snow left a package with Robb, nodded at Daryn and left.
"I noticed you left the tent without eating," said Robb Stark. "A servant will soon come with my stew, I can tell him to bring you some."
"I… I'm not hungry, my lord."
Daryn felt himself shrink on his seat. He remembered the lords in the tent, vigorous and merry after a triumph worthy of a song. Maybe I'm not meant for the battlefield.
Lord Robb sighed, "Neither I am."
The Young Wolf in front of him had the look Daryn sometimes saw on his father when he told him of winters past. Eyes looking somewhere far away and the weight of the world over his shoulders.
"The songs never tell anything about what happens after a battle. I heard some people call this battle a resounding success… I disagree. We didn't capture Lord Lannister, if we did… my lord father and sisters would be as good as free."
Robb Stark, the man whose strategy gutted the Lannisters, thought he failed. Daryn's mind went back to midday, when they rode to smash the Lannister center.
Locking his eyes to the ground, Daryn replied, "I'm sorry my lord. We were late."
"That's not what I meant Daryn… listen, your arrival to the Lannister rear won us the battle." Robb stood to sit next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't do enough to make Lord Tywin commit the entirety of his forces, Ser Brynden arrived the exact moment he said he would. It is ultimately my fault…"
Daryn raised his head and saw the Stark heir biting his tongue.
"My lady mother told me to not wallow like a child on this. My uncle told me that a battle is as fickle as the Riverland's rain and that I did great," Robb Stark was sheepishly scratching his head. "And my brother said something similar and threatened me to commission his bards to write a song," he shook his head. "What I mean to say is that we did the best we could, but sometimes our best is not enough."
The fire crackled and the two lordlings kept silent. When the stew arrived, Daryn said his goodbyes and left for his tent.
Tomorrow morning they were marching to the Twins together with their most important prisoners. Tonight, Daryn needed rest.
When he closed his eyes, he saw men drowning.
A Lord searching for an answer
By the time the Mallister host was assembled, it was already too late. Jason Mallister received news of the battle in Riverrun. He thought to ride and harry the Kingslayer host but the threat of the old lion from the south and the unreliable Freys forced him to stay put.
Decided to not commit a blunder again, Lord Mallister sent riders all over his borders to get news as soon as possible.
So, when the Stark host went past the Neck, the Mallisters marched to join the young Stark.
Jason expected the Starks to cross the Twins and make haste for Riverrun. It surprised him when his riders said that the Starks didn't cross and marched south to confront the old lion first.
He thought it the folly of youth or perhaps the response of a petulant boy to the absurd price Lord Frey set for the crossing. He was thinking the latter because his men informed him Lady Stark spoke with Lord Frey. Either way, it lowered his opinion of the young Stark.
Had it not been for his son Patrek, he would've dissolved his host then and there. "They have experienced commanders in their host father," his son said. "Not even Lord Tywin could butcher twenty thousand men to the last and I gather a more experienced commander such as Lord Karstark or Lord Bolton would take command of the retreating host."
His son spoke truth, Jason fought side by side with many northmen in the Rebellion and knew their stock.
Besides, a defeat would humble young Robb and make him cautious, sending him straight to Riverrun.
With these thoughts, Jason Mallister marched to the Twins. "With us to one side and the Starks on the other Lord Frey will think twice before demanding his toll," he said to his son.
At half a day of march to the Twins, setting camp and organizing the sentries, a messenger interrupted the Mallister war council.
"M'lord! Important news from the Stark host," said the man in one knee.
His knights shuffled and looked at each other, ill whispers threatened to stifle the meeting. Gods damn you man, couldn't you wait for me to be alone?
"Out with it then," it wouldn't do for his commanders to see him in doubt after all. If the Starks took a crushing defeat, he'd deal with it the way a Mallister would.
The man looked around and gulped, apparently he could read the room.
"The Starks defeated Lord Lannister. Men across the Green Fork saw Lannister banners running south on the kingsroad."
The tent started muttering in incredulous tones. He himself, was doubtful of the information, "What are the casualties? What about the prisoners?"
"We don't rightly know, m'lord. But the pyres could be seen for miles, Westerlander bodies were ashore the Green Fork and the Starks are marching some five thousand horses north."
Did young Robb win against the old lion? How costly was the battle?
"Dismissed," Jason waited for the messenger to leave before addressing the tent. "We rush our riders with the first light on the morrow. The foot will be staying. We'll ensure Lord Frey lets our Northern allies cross."
Later in the campfire eating with his son, Jason still didn't have the answers to his questions.
"Father, what do you think of the message?"
"I think, we'll find out tomorrow."
His son let out a long and dramatic sigh, "That's not what I mean, father. How do you think the Starks won?"
If Jason was the commander, he would've crossed the Twins to relieve Riverrun and leave a force to defend the castle.
If he was forced to march and confront Lord Tywin, he'd leave his infantry to build palisades and take two forces of riders of two hundred each, and harass Tywin's host to make him pursue, and then and only then, with his soldiers fresh and the Westerlanders tired, he'd force the battle.
But young Robb didn't do anything like that, for people to see Westerlanders washed ashore the Green Fork, a great battle must've happened way before the Lannisters marched too far north.
So he explained his entire line of thought, "But Robb Stark is not me, I think he faced Lord Tywin straight in the field and, with the grit Northeners are known for, won."
Will his son see the problem with the last thing he said? He kept his silence, a Mallister needs a good head over his shoulders. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long.
"But father, the messenger said five thousand horses were marching. From what I remember, five thousand horses are the same numbers the Starks marched south with. If it was a straight battle they shouldn't have the same numbers."
His heir was observant it seemed. "Aye. And that's why I said we'll find out tomorrow."
He chuckled and left his aggrieved heir to get sleep. He hoped the young Stark didn't sacrifice too many of his forces on his victory.
They woke up early and rode to the Twins, at midday the Stark force arrived on the other side. And by the hour, they started crossing.
At the head of the column, Jason recognized Lord Umber, Lady Stark and the Blackfish, between them was the young lad who presumably was Robb Stark. He approached with his son and two guards.
"Well met Lord Umber, Lady Catelyn and Lord Robb," he said. "Allow me to pledge Seagard to your cause," they knelt.
"My father told me stories of your prowess and valor, my lord." The young lordling said. " Rise. It would be a honor to have you fighting by my side."
After exchanging a few more words of respect, Jason said. "If it would please you, while we wait for your army to cross, I can offer you refreshments in my tent, my lord."
"Aye. You have my thanks Lord Mallister," said Robb.
In the tent, his son Patrek, asked what needed to be asked and Jason felt like a young lad again hearing war stories in his castle's hearth.
"You butchered Lord Tywin's host!" said incredulous, his heir. Jason couldn't blame him, he too was shocked.
"Bahaha! I cut swathes of those Westercunts with my sword, begging your pardons," said Greatjon Umber with an apologetic smile for Lady Stark.
"It was thanks to Ser Brynden," said the young Stark. "He knew of a passage to slip away and attack the Lannister rear."
"My nephew is too humble for his own good, my lord. He had the Lannisters ready to rout when we arrived."
This changed things, Jason knew. One battle a war does not win, but cutting the Lannister forces by fifteen thousand… that was different. He couldn't see himself recovering from that.
"Don't forget the Wolfboy! Bahahaha. The lad slayed Ser Marbrand in single combat," said the Greatjon. "I don't know how Ned raised his sons, but he sure did a fine job!"
"My lord, who is the Wolfboy?" cautiously asked Patrek.
"Jon Snow the Wolfboy. Lord Robb's bastard brother. When my vanguard was crushing the lions, the lad was gutting the Marbrand knight. Once the deed was done, the entire host echoed 'Wolfboy, Wolfboy the Slayer'," Lord Umber took a gulp of his drink. "Ahhh, the lad may have gutted Tywin's trusted commander, but my Lord Robb here gutted Tywin's host on his own! Bahahaha!"
Jason had met Ned some fifteen years ago. Hearing of the man's sons being as remarkable as the father… Eddard's sons indeed.
His son was delighted like a young squire and kept asking details of the battle. From the conversation, Jason learned the Snow lad had stayed with the infantry with the mission to retake the castles and holdfasts Lord Tywin took. For a while, Lord Robb was politely answering everything with as many details as he could, but Jason saw some darkness in the Stark heir's eyes. He's still just a young man after all.
"Lord Robb, I have a vintage Arbor red back in the tent. I'd like to share some with you."
The Stark heir gave him a nod and followed him.
Out of earshot and with the vintage in his hands, Jason spoke: "Please excuse my son for assaulting you with questions," he said while pouring a glass for Robb.
"There's nothing to forgive my lord. He was just asking of our victory," said Robb Stark with a small nod.
He poured himself some wine before answering. "Then, you have my thanks. I wasn't lying about the wine, it really is a vintage one, please enjoy."
Jason sipped his wine while thinking how to best breach the subject he wanted to address. Searching his memories, he found what he was looking for.
"In the Trident, after we took the day… I remember having the same eyes you have now."
"…"
"We had won I knew, but I saw many men, allies and enemies alike die for our victory. That night and many more I had nightmares with the faces of the dead in them," Robb Stark had a pensive look on him. "Jon Arryn noticed, and told me something I'll carry to my last breath."
The young man raised his head, "What was it, my lord."
He approached Robb and put a hand over his shoulder, "It's the sign of a good man to feel the weight of lives. Ally and enemy alike. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. But at the same time," he locked eyes with the young man, "don't let yourself wallow in the past."
With a nod and a pat, he freed his arm and sipped his cup.
"Lord Mallister? How does one stop wallowing?" asked the young man who grew too soon.
How indeed. He almost let a bitter laugh escape him. "When you find out, you'll have to tell me," the boy's eyes grew like plates. Jason chuckled with the weight of memories past. "I don't know Robb, and truth is, Jon Arryn didn't either. What I can tell you, is that a good start is to put a leg in front of the other and keep on moving."
He finished his wine and turned to leave.
"Take your time, my lord. I am not too old yet and can entertain a guest or two for a while."
A glimpse into the future
Excerpt from "Riverlands: War and Conflict" by Maester Jos Rivers. White Harbor Press.
[…]
Many of my most skeptical colleagues are prone to point that the number of casualties we have of the Battle on the Green Fork (popularly known as the Crimson Field) have to be inflated as 'no battle prior was so utterly one-sided'.
To argue why the sources we have for those casualties are trustworthy is beyond this book's purpose. But, given the amount of colleagues that like to puff and huff on these matters, I'm adding this next paragraph:
Robb Stark's host wrote everything down. Food, weapons, armor, horses, boots, marching men, injured men, sick men and a long etcetera. We know these registries to be accurate by contrasting them with multiple sources. Then, if most information is accurate, why is it then that my esteemed colleagues who happily rely on other data points from these registries, turn up their noses and call 'inaccurate' or 'unrealistic' the number of casualties registered?
I will let the reader reach their own conclusions.
As I was saying, or rather, writing. The Battle of the Green Fork was the first victory of the then five and ten name days Robb Stark.
Before the battle, when the armies were face to face the Stark heir gave a short speech to his soldiers, "Fear not brave men of the North, for justice is on our side. Take the day. Victory!"
From the other side, the experienced Lord Lannister addressed his soldiers, "bring me the boy and I'll give you twofold his weight in gold."
The Lannister vanguard on river side started the battle […].
[…]
By the time Ser Brynden Tully took the field with his two thousand cavalry, the battle was long decided. The Northerners never gave an inch and pushed the Westerland's center and vanguard to the river. Many men threw themselves to the Green Fork in desperation hoping to find its waters more forgiving than the Northerners.
That day, prominent men and women made their names known. The Greatjon Umber, the lord of the Last Hearth, commanded the Stark right wing and captured Tyrion Lannister and Lord Lefford. Maege Mormont, the She-bear of Bear Island, commanded the Stark center and captured Ser Kevan Lannister brother of Lord Tywin. In the Stark left wing, Robb Stark's baseborn brother distinguished himself by slaying Ser Addam Marbrand in single combat.
One could fill a book (as a few of my colleagues already did) about Lord Eddard Stark's two older sons' lives, alas this is not that book. Instead, I will deal with the aftermath of the battle.
The funeral pyres lasted the night and were seen for miles in all directions. Soon after, surrounding villages started talking of restless ghosts trying to cross the river to the western side.
Decades later, no construction crew was able to build a bridge, the currents increased from one day to the other, cranes broke, ropes snapped and men drowned. It was not until a crew under the Stark banner arrived that a bridge was built in place.
News of victory ignited the spirit of resistance in the river lords. The common populace believe that the first river lord to declare for the Stark banner was Lord Jason Mallister, but due to the written sources from the time, we know that it was in fact Lord Walder Frey the first river lord to declare for Robb Stark.
This dissonance can be explained by Walder Frey's previous hesitancy in Robert's Rebellion, House Frey's reputation at the time and the house's problematic incidents after declaring for the Stark banner, cementing the Mallisters as the first Riverlander house supporting the Stark cause in the popular consciousness.
At the same time the Riverlands found a new resolve, the news were slow to reach King's Landing, High Garden, Dragonstone, Pyke and the realm at large. […].
[…]
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A/N: Not gonna lie, I did a little bit of procrastination writing this chapter.
Maester Jos' part was a bit hard to write, since I wanted an academic with a bit of a light tone. Please tell me if you liked him (or not, that's also fine).
This interlude deals with the aftermath of the 'Battle of the Green Fork' from the Stark side. At first I planned to write a Westerlander captive PoV but someway or another Daryn took that spot.
Also, let me know what you guys think of Jason Mallister's part, I like the guy, I think mostly due to fanfics lol.
Happy new year! And as always, giff me your comments ง( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)ง