CHAPTER 184
The moon shone brightly through the sparse stars, and the cool night air drifted over the Trident.
It was the hour before dawn.
At the Ruby Ford, the river had fallen with the tide.
Ordinarily, boats were needed to cross this stretch of the Trident.
Now the water barely reached a horse's knees.
Ser Kevan Lannister quietly reined in his horse on the southern bank, carefully studying the shallow waters stretching toward the opposite shore.
Behind him stood the combined host of the Westerlands and the Brave Companions.
Ever since deciding to trust Roose Bolton's information, Kevan had driven the army forward almost without rest.
After two days of hard marching, they had finally reached the Ruby Ford before sunrise.
"My lord..."
Vargo Hoat, the Qohorik captain of the Brave Companions, rode forward.
His thick accent and constant chewing made every word difficult to understand.
"It grows late."
"Shouldn't we camp here until daylight?"
Kevan glanced at the gaunt mercenary captain.
Disdain briefly crossed his eyes.
"Camp?"
"We didn't march from Harrenhal without sleep merely to rest beside a river."
He pointed his riding crop toward the ford.
"Order your men across first."
"My soldiers will follow immediately."
Vargo blinked.
"Now?"
Kevan's expression grew colder.
"Commander Hoat."
"Are your ears as dull as your tongue?"
"The tide is still low."
"If we miss this opportunity..."
"We'll either require boats or lose precious hours waiting for the river to fall again."
"I intend to cross immediately."
"Then march north."
"And crush every Northern and Riverlands soldier before they can prepare."
He paused before adding in a calmer tone.
"Do this well."
"And House Lannister will reward your company beyond your expectations."
Though Kevan despised the sellswords, he still required their strength.
Gold remained the easiest way to motivate them.
Greed instantly appeared in Vargo Hoat's eyes.
He grinned broadly.
The coins hanging around his neck jingled softly.
"Very well, my lord."
"The Brave Companions are ready."
Without another word, he wheeled his horse around.
Galloping back toward his company, he raised both arms.
"Brothers!"
"The lions have promised gold!"
"The Riverlands are ours!"
"Kill!"
"Loot!"
"Take everything!"
The mixed rabble of outlaws, brigands, murderers and mercenaries immediately erupted into deafening cheers.
"Loot them!"
"Kill them!"
"The Riverlands belong to us!"
Weapons rose into the air.
Faces twisted with excitement.
Satisfied, Vargo pointed toward the ford.
"Cross!"
He immediately urged his horse into the river.
The Brave Companions followed behind in loose formations.
Because the crossing could not accommodate thousands of men simultaneously, Kevan ordered them across in successive groups while maintaining guards on both banks.
Time slowly passed.
By the time dawn approached, only the Westerlands soldiers remained upon the southern shore.
Estimating that the tide would soon begin rising, Kevan turned toward his adjutant.
"Our turn."
"Cross immediately."
The adjutant acknowledged the order.
Moments later, the disciplined Westerlands infantry entered the river.
Kevan himself rode near the front.
Reaching the middle of the crossing, he noticed the current strengthening beneath his horse.
The water slowly climbed higher.
"The tide is returning!"
"Hurry!"
"Everyone move faster!"
The soldiers quickened their pace.
Even so, by the time the last companies reached the northern bank, the water had already risen to their thighs.
Many soldiers climbed onto dry ground breathing heavily after the exhausting crossing.
The darkness slowly retreated.
A pale line of sunlight appeared upon the eastern horizon.
Kevan ignored the sunrise.
Instead, he carefully surveyed the countryside west of the Ruby Ford where the Inn at the Crossroads stood.
Without wasting a moment, he began issuing orders.
"Remain alert."
"Send scouts."
"Find the Northern camp."
"Form battle lines."
"We attack the moment an opportunity appears."
He looked toward Vargo Hoat.
"Keep your men under control."
"No looting without orders."
Then he turned toward Ser Amory Lorch.
"Ser Amory."
"Take mounted men."
"Secure the Inn at the Crossroads."
Before anyone could move, distant hoofbeats echoed from the direction of the inn.
Kevan's eyes immediately narrowed.
"Cavalry."
"Ser Amory."
"Investigate."
Ser Amory Lorch immediately gathered roughly one hundred mounted men and rode toward the sound.
Not far from the inn, they encountered seven mounted scouts from the Northern alliance.
Nearly three hundred yards separated the two groups.
Both sides froze briefly.
Then the Northern scouts noticed the enormous force gathered around the Ruby Ford.
Their expressions changed instantly.
"The Lannisters!"
"Enemy!"
"Warn the camp!"
Without hesitation, they wheeled their horses around and galloped toward the Trident camp.
"Damn it."
"We've been discovered."
Ser Amory immediately reached for his bow.
Several arrows flew after the fleeing riders.
Every shot missed.
He cursed loudly.
"Return!"
"Inform Ser Kevan immediately!"
The cavalry quickly rode back toward the ford.
"My lord."
"They were Northern scouts."
"They've already warned their camp."
Kevan frowned.
He had hoped to surprise the enemy.
That opportunity had now vanished.
According to Bolton's information, the Northern camp lay roughly six miles north of the crossing.
Even cavalry required time to reach it.
His infantry would need several hours.
After marching almost continuously for two days, forcing another rapid advance would exhaust every soldier before battle even began.
"We advance carefully."
"The men eat first."
"They rest."
"Then we march."
He calmly began issuing fresh orders.
"Light cooking fires."
"Feed every soldier within the hour."
"Double the cavalry patrols."
Finally, he turned once more toward Vargo Hoat.
"Commander."
"Take your company."
"Capture the inn."
"Leave no survivors."
Vargo grinned savagely.
With a wave of his hand, the Brave Companions charged toward the Inn at the Crossroads.
Soon afterward, screams echoed across the countryside.
Smoke from fresh cooking fires slowly rose above the crossroads.
Meanwhile, the Northern scouts rode without pause.
Barely twenty minutes later, they reached the Trident camp.
Immediately, they were brought before the assembled Northern and Riverlords.
"What?"
Rickard Karstark frowned deeply.
"You are certain?"
"It was House Lannister?"
The scout nodded firmly.
"Yes, my lord."
"I also saw the banners of several sellsword companies."
Lord Jonos Bracken immediately interrupted.
"How many?"
The scout hesitated.
"We were discovered before getting close enough."
"There were... many."
"Perhaps..."
"Ten thousand."
"Maybe twenty."
Every lord present stiffened.
"Ten thousand?"
"Or twenty?"
Lord Tallhart frowned.
The scout swallowed nervously.
Unable to answer with certainty, he finally settled on a compromise.
"My best estimate..."
"Roughly fifteen thousand."
"Cavalry?"
"Or infantry?"
"Mostly infantry."
"Where?"
"Ruby Ford."
After several more questions, the scout admitted he knew nothing else.
Rickard Karstark dismissed him.
Once he had gone, Karstark looked around the pavilion.
"My lords."
"What now?"
When Roose Bolton departed with Edmure, he had deliberately failed to appoint anyone to command those remaining.
Every important decision now required agreement between the Northern and Riverlords.
In peaceful times, such an arrangement might have worked.
In war...
It became a disaster.
Among those left behind were old enemies whose families had feuded for generations.
House Blackwood.
House Bracken.
Neither would willingly yield to the other.
Lord Blackwood spoke first.
"The enemy outnumbers us."
"We should withdraw."
Lord Bracken immediately scoffed.
"Withdraw?"
"I expected nothing less from House Blackwood."
"Cowards."
Blackwood laughed angrily.
"If House Bracken rides first..."
"House Blackwood will gladly ride beside you."
"Do you possess that courage?"
Before Bracken could answer, more lords joined the argument.
"I agree with Blackwood."
"We should regroup."
"Then decide our next move."
"Nonsense."
"If we retreat now..."
"The Riverlands will become a laughingstock."
The Northern lords were scarcely more united.
Without Robb Stark to command them, every lord defended only his own judgement.
Lady Maege Mormont spoke first.
"We should wait for Lord Garon."
Greatjon Umber immediately shook his head.
"Garon won't arrive for another day."
"Perhaps longer."
"If we wait..."
"The battle will already be decided."
"I say we attack."
"Fight the lions now."
Donnel Locke immediately objected.
"The enemy has thousands more men."
"Charging now is suicide."
A knight from Hornwood grimly muttered,
"Curse Bolton."
"If he hadn't taken half the army..."
"We wouldn't be trapped waiting for Lord Garon."
One Riverlord sneered.
"Garon."
"Garon."
"Can the North fight without him?"
The words instantly provoked the Northmen.
"We're fighting for your Riverlands!"
"For us?"
"We're fighting because your North rebelled!"
"You southern fools!"
"And you northern savages!"
"The Riverlands obeyed King Robb."
"Not Garon Glover."
"Even if he stood here today..."
"He wouldn't command House Blackwood."
"Exactly."
"We accepted King Robb."
"Not whoever he happened to favour."
The pavilion again dissolved into shouting.
Arguments.
Accusations.
Insults.
More than an hour passed.
Finally, Ser Wylis Manderly stepped forward.
"My lords!"
His shout finally silenced the gathering.
"The Lannisters are almost upon us."
"If we continue arguing..."
"We'll lose without fighting."
"I have a proposal."
"We concentrate our strength."
"We meet Kevan first."
"Judge his true strength."
"Then decide our next move."
"Lord Garon is already approaching."
"Even if we cannot defeat the enemy..."
"Surely we can delay them."
The pavilion finally became quiet.
One by one, the lords considered the suggestion.
Rickard Karstark slowly nodded.
"So be it."
"We've little alternative."
At last, both Northmen and Riverlords agreed.
Unfortunately...
A new argument immediately followed.
Who would command?
Neither side trusted the other.
No one wished to sacrifice his own soldiers under another lord's orders.
Another half hour disappeared.
Still they reached no agreement.
Finally, a knight of House Hornwood spoke.
"Each lord commands his own banners."
"No one commands anyone else."
After another long silence...
Everyone reluctantly accepted.
Thus the host defending the Trident prepared for battle as a collection of separate armies rather than one united force.
Meanwhile, Kevan Lannister's rested army had already resumed its advance toward the Trident camp.
The battle between both sides was finally about to begin.
At the same time, Garon Glover's flotilla had already entered the upper waters of the Trident.
Less than an hour remained before they reached the Ruby Ford.
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