Chapter 28. Robb Stark.
The northern cavalry led by Robb Stark did not slow after joining the Riverlands forces from Seagard and the Twins. Nearly six thousand horsemen moved southwest toward Riverrun, their banners snapping above a road churned into mud by hooves and wheels. Stark direwolves, Tully trout, Mallister eagles, Frey towers, and the sigils of lesser houses all rode beneath the same urgent purpose: break the siege before Riverrun was strangled.
When the host passed the ruins of Stony Sept, Robb Stark pulled on his reins. A strange banner flew from a repaired section of the old wall: an oak with deep roots, golden wheat on either side, and the head of a beast no Westerosi maester would have found in any proper book. The sight made several riders tense. A stronghold in that place could be useful, but it could also be dangerous if held by the wrong men.
"That banner?" Robb asked.
"Ser Arthur Greyoak's," Ser Patrek Mallister said, riding forward. Behind him, Lord Jason Mallister nodded in confirmation. "One of ours, Your Grace. He holds the area around Stony Sept under my father's authority."
Robb studied the repaired wall, the smoke from new hearths beyond it, and the small patrols moving beneath the banner. Then he nodded and signaled the host onward. He had no time to waste clearing a post already held by allies, and the army moved again like a great dark river of steel and horseflesh.
Arthur was waiting by the roadside with his Battanian Rangers when the Mallister banners came into view. He had received word of the approaching army and gathered his men quickly. The force that joined Lord Jason's column was no longer the small band that had left Wintertown. After Newroot, the raids along the Blue Fork, and hard marching, the Rangers were close to two hundred men, though not all of them had the same experience or discipline.
"Ser Arthur," Lord Jason said from horseback. "You have arrived in time. Reorganize your men and join the marching column."
"Yes, my lord."
Arthur led his men into the Mallister formation. He noticed immediately that most of the host was cavalry. This was not an army crawling toward a siege. It was a blade moving fast toward a throat. Robb Stark meant to strike Jaime Lannister before the Kingslayer could finish tightening the noose around Riverrun.
The army halted at the edge of the Whispering Woods, a few miles from Riverrun. Robb gathered the commanders in a makeshift tent beneath wet canvas and dim lantern light. The map spread over the table showed Riverrun, the Lannister camps, the river lines, and the dark mass of forest waiting like a mouth.
"Jaime Lannister's main force camps northwest of Riverrun," Robb said, his finger tracing the marked positions. "About twelve thousand men, more than half cavalry. He has placed them in open ground, confident in the strength of his horse. That gives him power, but it also gives us a path to pull him where that power breaks."
His finger moved to the forest.
"The Whispering Woods."
The plan was simple in the way good traps often were. Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Rickard Karstark would lead three hundred elite riders dressed in captured Tully armor and banners, pretending to be a breakout force from Riverrun. They would harass Jaime's camp, feign defeat, and retreat into the woods. If Jaime pursued, the forest would swallow his cavalry.
Once the enemy entered the woods, Robb would strike from the west with the main northern force. The eastern line, held by the Mallisters, Freys, and Arthur's Rangers, would block retreat and strike the flank. To the north, Greatjon Umber would bring cavalry through the wooded ridge and close the trap.
"Our goal is not to kill every man," Robb said. "We break their cavalry, shatter their command, and if the gods are good, take Jaime Lannister alive."
Arthur looked at the map and said nothing. Would Jaime truly ride into a forest after bait? A cautious commander would send a lieutenant and wait in camp. But Jaime Lannister was not famous for caution. Pride, impatience, and the desire to end matters personally had killed better men than him.
Robb's gaze turned to Arthur. "Ser Arthur, your men fight well in woods. Cover the right flank of the Mallister line. If the Lannisters try to break through there, hold them. If you see a chance to strike their command, take it."
Arthur placed a hand over his chest. "As you command, my lord."
The next morning, the bait rode out. By noon, the scouts returned with the news everyone had expected and still feared. Jaime Lannister had taken nearly two thousand elite cavalry from camp and pursued the false Tully force into the Whispering Woods. Pride had taken the reins, and now the forest would test whether it could be made to bleed.
When the vanguard of the Lannister cavalry plunged deep enough into the trees, Robb's horn sounded. The woods erupted with northern war cries, and cavalry burst from the western trees like floodwater breaking through a dam. Almost at the same moment, the eastern force charged from hiding. The Mallister and Frey men moved in from their side, and Arthur ordered the Battanian Rangers into position on the right flank as the battle turned violent all at once.