Fire and sword, she said.
The fire burned all through the night. No one in Standfast slept tonight. Before long they could smell the smoke, and see flames dancing in the distance like girls in scarlet skirts. They all wondered if the fire would engulf them. Dunk stood behind the parapets, his eyes burning, watching for riders in the night. "Bennis," he said, when the brown knight came up, chewing on his sourleaf, "it's you she wants. Might be you should go."
"What, run?" He brayed. "On my horse? Might as well try to fly off on one o' these damn chickens."
"Then give yourself up. She'll only slit your nose."
"I like my nose how it is, lunk. Let her try and take me, we'll see what gets slit open." He sat cross-legged with his back against a merlon and took a whetstone from his pouch to sharpen his sword. Ser Eustace stood above him. In low voices, they spoke of how to fight the war. "The Longinch will expect us at the dam," Dunk heard the old knight say, "so we will burn her crops instead. Fire for fire." Ser Bennis thought that would be just the thing, only maybe they should put her mill to the torch as well. "It's six leagues on t'other side o' the castle, the Longinch won't be looking for us there. Burn the mill and kill the miller, that'll cost her dear."
Egg was listening too. He coughed, and looked at Dunk with wide white eyes. "Ser, you have to stop them."
"How?" Dunk asked. The Red Widow will stop them. Her, and that Lucas Longinch. "They're only making noise, Egg. It's that, or piss their breeches. And it's naught to do with us now."
Dawn came with hazy grey skies and air that burned the eyes. Dunk meant to make an early start; though after their sleepless night he did not know how far they'd get. He and Egg broke their fast on boiled eggs while Bennis was rousting the others outside for more drill. They are Osgrey men and we are not, he told himself. He ate four of the eggs. Ser Eustace owed him that much, as he saw it. Egg ate two. They washed them down with ale.
"We could go to Fair Isle, ser," the boy said, as they were gathering up their things. "If they're being raided by the ironmen, Lord Farman might be looking for some swords."
It was a good thought. "Have you ever been to Fair Isle?"
"No, ser," Egg said, "but they say it's fair. Lord Farman's seat is fair too. It's called Faircastle."
Dunk laughed. "Faircastle it shall be." He felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I'll see to the horses," he said, when he'd tied his armor up in a bundle, secured with hempen rope. "Go to the roof and get our bedrolls, squire." The last thing he wanted this morning was another confrontation with the chequy lion. "If you see Ser Eustace, let him be."
"I will, ser."
Outside, Bennis had his recruits lined up with their spears and shields and was trying to teach them to advance in unison. The brown knight paid Dunk not the slightest heed as he crossed the yard. He will lead the whole lot of them to their deaths. The Red Widow could be here any moment. Egg came bursting from the tower door and clattered down the wooden steps with their bedrolls. Above him, Ser Eustace stood stiffly on the balcony, his hands resting on the parapet. When his eyes met Dunk's his mustache quivered, and he quickly turned away. The air was hazy with blowing smoke.
Bennis had his shield slung across his back, a tall kite shield of unpainted wood, dark with countless layers of old varnish and girded all about with iron. It bore no blazon, only a center bosse that reminded Dunk of some great eye, shut tight. As blind as he is. "How do you mean to fight her?" Dunk asked.
Ser Bennis looked at his soldiers, his mouth running red with sourleaf. "Can't hold the hill with so few spears. Got to be the tower. We all hole up inside." He nodded at the door. "Only one way in. Haul up them wooden steps, and there's no way they can reach us."
"Until they build some steps of their own. They might bring ropes and grapnels too, and swarm down on you through the roof. Unless they just stand back with their crossbows and fill you full of quarrels while you're trying to hold the door."
The Melons, Beans, and Barleycorns were listening to all they said. All their brave talk had blown away though there was no breath of wind. They stood clutching their sharpened sticks, looking at Dunk and Bennis and each other.
"This lot won't do you a lick of good," Dunk said with a nod at the ragged Osgrey army. "The Red Widow's knights will cut them to pieces if you leave them in the open, and their spears won't be any use inside that tower."
"They can chuck things off the roof," said Bennis. "Treb is good at chucking rocks."
"He could chuck a rock or two, I suppose," said Dunk, "until one of the widow's crossbowmen puts a bolt through him."
"Ser?" Egg stood beside him. "Ser, if we mean to go, we'd best be gone, in case the widow comes."
The boy was right. If we linger, we'll be trapped here. Yet still Dunk hesitated. "Let them go, Bennis."
"What, lose our valiant lads?" Bennis looked at the peasants and brayed laughter. "Don't you lot be getting any notions," he warned them. "I'll gut any man who tries to run."
"Try, and I'll gut you." Dunk drew his sword. "Go home, all of you," he told the smallfolk. "Go back to your villages, and see if the fire's spared your homes and crops."
No one moved. The brown knight stared at him, his mouth working. Dunk ignored him. "Go," he told the smallfolk once again. It was as if some god had put the word into his mouth. Not the Warrior. Is there a god for fools? "GO!" he said again, roaring it this time.
"Take your spears and shields, but go, or you won't live to see the morrow. Do you want to kiss your wives again? Do you want to hold your children? Go home! Have you all gone deaf?"
They hadn't. A mad scramble ensued amongst the chickens. Big Rob trod on a hen as he made his dash, and Pate came within half a foot of disemboweling Will Bean when his own spear tripped him up, but off they went, running. The Melons went one way, the Beans another, the Barleycorns a third. Ser Eustace was shouting down at them from above, but no one paid him any mind. They are deaf to him at least, Dunk thought.
By the time the old knight emerged from his tower and came scrambling down the steps, only Dunk and Egg and Bennis remained amongst the chickens. "Come back," Ser Eustace shouted at his fast-fleeing host. "You do not have my leave to go. You do not have my leave!"
"No use, m'lord," said Bennis. "They're gone."
Ser Eustace rounded on Dunk, his mustache quivering with rage. "You had no right to send them away. No right! I told them not to go, I forbade it. I forbade you to dismiss them."
"We never heard you, my lord." Egg took off his hat to fan away the smoke. "The chickens were cackling too loud."
The old man sank down onto Standfast's lowest step. "What did that woman offer you to deliver me to her?" he asked Dunk in a bleak voice. "How much gold did she give you to betray me, to send my lads away and leave me here alone?"
"You're not alone, m'lord." Dunk sheathed his sword. "I slept beneath your roof and ate your eggs this morning. I owe you some service still. I won't go slinking off with my tail between my legs. My sword's still here." He touched the hilt.
"One sword." The old knight got slowly to his feet. "What can one sword hope to do against that woman?"
"Try and keep her off your land, to start with." Dunk wished he was as certain as he sounded.
The old knight's mustache trembled every time he took a breath. "Yes," he said at last. "Better to go boldly than hide behind stone walls. Better to die a lion than a rabbit. We were the Marshals of the Northmarch for a thousand years. I must have my armor." He started up the steps.
Egg was looking up at Dunk. "I never knew you had a tail, ser," the boy said.
"Do you want a clout in the ear?"
"No, ser. Do you want your armor?"
"That," Dunk said, "and one thing more."
There was talk of Ser Bennis coming with them, but in the end Ser Eustace commanded him to stay and hold the tower. His sword would be of little use against the odds that they were like to face, and the sight of him would inflame the widow further.
>
The brown knight did not require much convincing. Dunk helped him knock loose the iron pegs that held the upper steps in place. Bennis clambered up them, untied the old grey hempen rope, and hauled on it with all his strength. Creaking and groaning, the wooden stair swung upward, leaving ten feet of air between the top stone step and the tower's only entrance. Sam Stoops and his wife were both inside. The chickens would need to fend for themselves. Sitting below on his grey gelding, Ser Eustace called up to say, "If we have not returned by nightfall..."
"...I'll ride for Highgarden, m'lord, and tell Lord Tyrell how that woman burned your wood and murdered you."
Dunk followed Egg and Maester down the hill. The old man came after, his armor rattling softly. For once a wind was rising, and he could hear the flapping of his cloak.
Where Wat's Wood had stood they found a smoking wasteland. The fire had largely burned itself out by the time they reached the wood, but here and there a few patches were still burning, fiery islands in a sea of ash and cinders. Elsewhere the trunks of burned trees thrust like blackened spears into the sky. Other trees had fallen and lay athwart the west way with limbs charred and broken, dull red fires smoldering inside their hollow hearts. There were hot spots on the forest floor as well, and places where the smoke hung in the air like a hot grey haze. Ser Eustace was stricken with a fit of coughing, and for a few moments Dunk feared the old man would need to turn back, but finally it passed.
They rode past the carcass of a red deer, and later on what might have been a badger. Nothing lived, except the flies. Flies could live through anything, it seemed. "The Field of Fire must have looked like this," Ser Eustace said. "It was there our woes began, two hundred years ago. The last of the green kings perished on that field, with the finest flowers of the Reach around him. My father said the dragonfire burned so hot that their swords melted in their hands. Afterward the blades were gathered up, and went to make the Iron Throne. Highgarden passed from kings to stewards, and the Osgreys dwindled and diminished, until the Marshals of the Northmarch were no more than landed knights bound in fealty to the Rowans."
Dunk had nothing to say to that, so they rode in silence for a time, till Ser Eustace coughed, and said, "Ser Duncan, do you remember the story that I told you?"
"I might, ser," said Dunk. "Which one?"
"The Little Lion."
"I remember. He was the youngest of five sons."
"Good." He coughed again. "When he slew Lancel Lannister, the westermen turned back. Without the king there was no war. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Aye," Dunk said reluctantly. Could I kill a woman? For once Dunk wished he were as thick as that castle wall. It must not come to that. I must not let it come to that.
A few green trees still stood where the west way crossed the Chequy Water; their trunks were charred and blackened on one side. Just beyond, the water glimmered darkly. Blue and green, Dunk thought, but all the gold is gone. The smoke had veiled the sun.
Ser Eustace halted when he reached the water's edge. "I took a holy vow. I will not cross that stream. Not so long as the land beyond is hers." The old knight wore mail and plate beneath his yellowed surcoat. His sword was on his hip.
"What if she never comes, ser?" Egg asked.
With fire and sword, Dunk thought. "She'll come."
She did, and within the hour. They heard her horses first, then the faint metallic sound of clinking armor, growing louder. The drifting smoke made it hard to tell how far off they were until her banner-bearer pushed through the ragged grey curtain. His staff was crowned by an iron spider painted white and red, with the black banner of the Webbers hanging listlessly beneath. When he saw them across the water, he halted on the bank. Ser Lucas Inchfield appeared half a heartbeat later, armored head to heel.
Only then did Lady Rohanne herself appear, astride a coal-black mare decked out in strands of silverly silk, like unto a spider's web. The widow's cloak was made of the same stuff. It billowed from her shoulders and her wrists, as light as air. She was armored too, in a suit of green enamel scale chased with gold and silver. It fit her figure like a glove and made her look as if she were garbed in summer leaves. Her long red braid hung down behind her, bouncing as she rode. Septon Sefton rode red-faced at her side, atop a big grey gelding. On her other side was her young maester, Cerrick, mounted on a mule.
More knights came after, half a dozen of them, attended by as many esquires. A column of mounted crossbowmen brought up the rear and fanned out to either side of the road when they reached the Chequy Water and saw Dunk waiting on the other side. There were three-and-thirty fighting men all told, excluding the septon, the maester, and the widow herself. One of the knights caught Dunk's eye--a squat, bald keg of a man in mail and leather, with an angry face and an ugly goiter on his neck.
The Red Widow walked her mare to the edge of the water. "Ser Eustace, Ser Duncan," she called across the stream, "we saw your fire burning in the night."
"Saw it?" Ser Eustace shouted back. "Aye, you saw it...after you made it."
"That is a vile accusation."
"For a vile act."
"I was asleep in my bed last night, with my ladies all around me. The shouts from the walls awoke me, as they did most everyone. Old men climbed up steep tower steps to look, and babes at the breast saw the red light and wept in fear. And that is all I know of your fire, ser."
"It was your fire, woman," insisted Ser Eustace. "My wood is gone. Gone, I say!"
Septon Sefton cleared his throat. "Ser Eustace," he boomed, "there are fires in the kingswood too, and even in the rainwood. The drought has turned all our woods to kindling."
Lady Rohanne raised an arm and pointed. "Look at my fields, Osgrey. How dry they are. I would have been a fool to set a fire. Had the wind changed direction, the flames might well have leapt the stream and burned out half my crops."
"Might have?" Ser Eustace shouted. "It was my woods that burned, and you that burned them. Most like you cast some witch's spell to drive the wind, just as you used your dark arts to slay your husbands and your brothers!"
Lady Rohanne's face grew harder. Dunk had seen that look at Coldmoat, just before she slapped him. "Prattle," she told the old man. "I will waste no more words on you, ser. Produce Bennis of the Brown Shield or we will come and take him."
"That you shall not do," Ser Eustace declared in ringing tones. "That you shall never do." His mustache twitched. "Come no farther. This side of the stream is mine, and you are not wanted here. You shall have no hospitality from me. No bread and salt, not even shade and water. You come as an intruder. I forbid you to set foot on Osgrey land."
Lady Rohanne drew her braid over her shoulder. "Ser Lucas," was all she said. The Longinch made a gesture, the crossbowmen dismounted, winched back their bowstrings with the help of hook and stirrup, and plucked quarrels from their quivers. "Now, ser," her ladyship called out, when every bow was nocked and raised and ready, "what was it you forbade me?"
Dunk had heard enough. "If you cross the stream without leave, you are breaking the king's peace."
Septon Sefton urged his horse forward a step. "The king will neither know nor care," he called. "We are all the Mother's children, ser. For her sake, stand aside."
Dunk frowned. "I don't know much of gods, septon...but aren't we the Warrior's children, too?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "If you try to cross, I'll stop you."
Ser Lucas the Longinch laughed. "Here's a hedge knight who yearns to be a hedgehog, my lady," he said to the Red Widow. "Say the word, and we'll put a dozen quarrels in him. At this distance they will punch through that armor like it was made of spit."
"No. Not yet, ser." Lady Rohanne studied him from across the stream. "You are two men and a boy. We are three-and-thirty. How do you propose to stop us crossing?"
"Well," said Dunk, "I'll tell you. But only you."
"As you wish." She pressed her heels into her horse and rode her out into the stream. When the water reached the mare's belly, she hal
ted, waiting. "Here I am. Come closer, ser. I promise not to sew you in a sack."
Ser Eustace grasped Dunk by the arm before he could respond. "Go to her," the old knight said, "but remember the Little Lion."
"As you say, m'lord." Dunk walked Thunder down into the water. He drew up beside her, and said, "M'lady."
"Ser Duncan." She reached up and laid two fingers on his swollen lip. "Did I do this, ser?"
"No one else has slapped my face of late, m'lady."
"That was bad of me. A breach of hospitality. The good septon has been scolding me." She gazed across the water at Ser Eustace. "I scarce remember Addam any longer. It was more than half my life ago. I remember that I loved him, though. I have not loved any of the others."
"His father put him in the blackberries, with his brothers," Dunk said. "He was fond of blackberries."
"I remember. He used to pick them for me, and we'd eat them in a bowl of cream."
"The king pardoned the old man for Daemon," said Dunk. "It is past time you pardoned him for Addam."
"Give me Bennis and I'll consider that."
"Bennis is not mine to give."
She sighed. "I would as lief not have to kill you."
"I would as lief not die."
"Then give me Bennis. We'll cut his nose off and hand him back, and that will be the end of that."
"It won't, though," Dunk said. "There's still the dam to deal with, and the fire. Will you give us the men who set it?"
"There were lantern bugs in that wood," she said. "It may be they set the fire off, with their little lanterns."
"No more teasing now, m'lady," Dunk warned her. "This is no time for it. Tear down the dam and let Ser Eustace have the water to make up for the wood. That's fair, is it not?"
"It might be if I had burned the wood. Which I did not. I was at Coldmoat, safe abed." She looked down at the water. "What is there to prevent us from riding right across the stream? Have you scattered caltrops amongst the rocks? Hidden archers in the ashes? Tell me what you think is going to stop us."
"Me." He pulled one gauntlet off. "In Flea Bottom I was always bigger and stronger than the other boys, so I used to beat them bloody and steal from them. The old man taught me not to do that. It was wrong, he said, and besides, sometimes little boys have great big brothers. Here, have a look at this." Dunk twisted the ring off his finger and held it out to her. She had to let loose of her braid to take it.