Chapter 260: The Swamps of the Bottleneck
Legends say that during the Dawn Age, a group of humans known as the First Men crossed the land bridge called the Arm of Dorne, invading Westeros with bronze weapons, leather armor, and horses. The native Children of the Forest were powerless to stop the human onslaught. Driven back step by step toward the north of the continent and facing imminent extinction, they finally resorted to a desperate magical act, summoning a cataclysmic flood. This Hammer of the Waters not only shattered the Arm of Dorne but also nearly tore the land of Westeros in two to halt the northward migration and invasion of humanity.
After the Great Flood receded, the Arm of Dorne became the Broken Arm and the Stepstones, while the washed-out center of the continent formed the Neck—the Swamps of the Bottleneck.
Myths are myths, but it is an indisputable fact that the Neck divides Westeros into the South and the North. This expanse of bogs, mires, and lakes is riddled with sinkholes and quicksand. Most treacherous of all are the areas covered in vibrant, lush green grass or aquatic plants—to the unwary, they look like solid ground, but the moment a foot is set upon them, the person sinks instantly into the depths.
A simple stumble is the least of one's worries. The true threats to adventurers who stray from the main road are the countless venomous insects, snakes, poisonous flowers, and the giant lizard-lions with teeth as sharp as daggers that thrive in the stagnant pools and wet mud.
If the Neck is the natural barrier of the Northmen, then Moat Cailin is the Bloody Gate guarding that barrier.
Moat Cailin was once a massive fortress with twenty towers and basalt walls as high as those of Winterfell. It successfully blunted countless Andal invasions, ensuring the North remained the only land in Westeros still fully controlled by the First Men who kept the Old Gods.
However, as the ground subsided and time flowed on, almost all of Moat Cailin's walls have collapsed. The wooden keeps rotted away long ago, and of the twenty towers, only three remain. From the outside, this castle barely earns the right to be marked on a map, let alone possess any military defensive capability.
It is merely a small, lonely fortress standing in the wilderness; any small army could utterly destroy it in a single assault.
Yet, Robb Stark was held at bay by this small, dilapidated ruin for weeks. The reason was simple: Moat Cailin does not stand in open wilderness as one might assume; it was built within the Neck.
The only dry route through this vast wetland is the causeway. Though the towers of Moat Cailin are ruinous, they command the northern exit of this road like a cork in a bottle. The causeway is narrow, and the fortress is so cleverly positioned that any enemy must pass directly through its center.
An army marching north from the south must effectively crawl into the bottle, traversing the long neck—the causeway—before they even reach the fortress. To attack any of the three remaining towers is to be exposed to arrow fire from the other two. The damp stone walls are slick with moss and draped with hanging strands of slimy, white ghost grass, making them nearly impossible to scale. The surrounding swamps serve as a natural moat where no man can stand, let alone pass.
These are just the advantages of Moat Cailin itself. More troublesome is the causeway, which is an integral part of the natural defense: it is entirely man-made, only wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast. It allows for passage, but staying, camping, or deploying a large-scale formation for an assault is out of the question.
The nearly twenty thousand Northern soldiers returning home were forced to camp dozens of miles south of Moat Cailin in a few rare villages situated on firm ground within the Neck. This meant that any unit assigned to attack had to travel a great distance from camp just to reach the foot of their objective. Due to the narrowness of the road, despite having a hundredfold advantage in numbers, the Northmen could barely commit more than two hundred men to an assault at any one time.
The Bloody Gate is steep and formidable, but it sits at the mouth of the Vale, with vast plains outside where an army can camp and array itself; once breached, one enters the long Vale of Arryn. If one is willing to pay any price, it can be taken by force. But while Moat Cailin looks ready to topple with a single shove, it prevents the attackers from even getting close enough to trade lives with the enemy.
Because of the unique geology, the causeway is constantly sinking into the swamp, requiring sand and stone to be brought from elsewhere to raise it periodically. Since the Ironborn's surprise occupation, the unmaintained causeway had been washed by several rains, becoming pitted and difficult to traverse, further compounding the attackers' woes.
Having enjoyed the fame of breaking the Bloody Gate under King Robert's command, followed by an unstoppable momentum against the Westerlands and an undefeated record against the Reach... Robb Stark now found himself firmly blocked outside his own front door. Unable to pass and unable to conquer, his patience worn thin, Robb was forced to choose a flanking tactic. He split his forces to travel by sea and through secret paths in the marsh to reach the north side of Moat Cailin, intending to pull the cork from the outside of the bottle.
Due to the limited transport capacity of Gulltown and the treacherous nature of the secret paths, only a few hundred soldiers had bypassed Moat Cailin to reach the north. However, these few hundred could draw supplies from White Harbor and surrounding villages, quickly gathering a force of over a thousand... When the time came for a pincer attack with the main force led by Robb Stark, Moat Cailin would fall in a matter of days.
One's own gate cannot block the master for long—especially when there are still people inside the house. Even if the Gift army led by Egger hadn't arrived, the fortress was on the verge of being taken.
However, the sudden death of the rebel Balon Greyjoy and his replacement by Crow's Eye Euron, who publicly declared support for Stannis Baratheon; the withdrawal of the Iron Fleet; the disappearance of roaming Ironborn in the North; and the good news of the Umbers assisting the Gift army in retaking Deepwood Motte—all these factors meant the race to save the North was no longer a desperate emergency.
Furthermore, there was another important reason Robb decided to allow Egger to try his persuasion strategy: his brilliant record of twice repelling the Reach army led by Randyll Tarly in the Westerlands and King's Landing had caused the young Young Wolf's confidence to swell. So much so that when ordered to intercept the Reach reinforcements heading for Storm's End at the Kingswood, he chose to abandon all flexible tactics in favor of a direct, frontal confrontation. In that battle, although the Northern army held the line without collapsing thanks to the sheer fearlessness of the men and officers, the casualties they suffered exceeded the sum of the entire campaign in the West and the retaking of King's Landing.
Randyll Tarly used his skilled and flawless deployment and coordination of different units to deliver a harsh slap to his young opponent's face, shocking Robb out of the illusion that he was invincible.
Fortunately, Stannis later led the royal army on a flanking maneuver at an unexpected time and place to strike the Reach army from the side, luckily turning the tide. The Northern army kept its winning streak by clinging to its ally's coattails... but only Robb Stark knew the truth: his arrogant and mistaken decision meant that a thousand Northmen, who had already filled their pockets in the West, would never have the chance to bring their spoils home.
This self-reproach made him hesitate to launch a brutal assault on Moat Cailin. Thus, in today's war council, he overrode all objections and decided to accept the help of the so-called Gift Army—though everyone knew it was actually the Night's Watch.
Failure can help a man grow. Randyll Tarly's slap didn't just wake Robb from his dream of being an ever-victorious general; it made him sober up and mature rapidly. He suddenly realized he wasn't just a military commander, but the head of the entire North—the least populated Great House territory in the Seven Kingdoms. More important than the hollow title of invincibility was his mission to protect the lives and property of his subordinates and subjects.
With this realization, Robb Stark now stood on the narrow causeway with two hundred elite Northern soldiers, looking out toward Moat Cailin where the Kraken banner flew high. He waited patiently for the Night's Watchman's plan to either succeed or fail. The reason he brought no more men was that two hundred was the maximum number the causeway could support for an attack; any more would not help and would only turn the narrow path into a bottleneck, making his own men sitting ducks for the defenders.
Not far away, the Drunkard's Tower remained tilted as ever. The shattered spire of the Children's Tower still pierced the sky like a spear. Atop the broad and sturdy Gatehouse Tower, a few pale faces of the Ironborn defenders peered through the embrasures and broken battlements.
There were still three or four hours until dark. If Egger's persuasion strategy ultimately failed, Robb would send the signal in one hour, ordering the White Harbor forces to the north of Moat Cailin to launch a general assault, coordinating with his own pincer movement to forcibly remove the cork.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!