For the past two days, Aldric had asked an old woman among the refugees to sew a banner. Using the red silk of a captured Lannister standard, she had stitched a golden sun with twelve points in the corner.
The Golden Dawn.
Aldric had kept it furled, hiding his true strength. But now, as he gave the order to raise the flag, it was a declaration of war.
"Commander!" Duncan Beck grabbed Aldric's arm. "Please, hold! Give me a chance to talk to him!"
Aldric glanced coldly at the knight on the wall. "Talk? He doesn't look like he wants to talk."
Duncan swallowed hard. "I know him. That is Ser Gavin Hunt, sworn to House Vance. We fought together at the Golden Tooth. Let me try to negotiate a peace."
Duncan had been invaluable since joining. He knew the land, the lords, and the politics. Aldric trusted his judgment.
"Fine," Aldric said slowly. "You have fifteen minutes. But remember this, Duncan: in the eyes of An'she, a noble and a peasant are the same. If he cannot give me a just answer, he dies. I do not bluff."
"Understood." Duncan bowed and rode toward the gate.
He ignored the arrows pointed at his face. He removed his helm.
"Ser Gavin!" Duncan shouted. "Is this how you greet an old friend?"
The knight on the wall peered over his shield. "Who are you?"
"Duncan Beck! Captain of House Vance's guard! We shared a wineskin at the Golden Tooth!"
Ser Gavin blinked. "Duncan? You still owe me five silvers! What are you doing here? I thought you were at Pinkmaiden!"
"Pinkmaiden is ash," Duncan said grimly. "Gregor Clegane burned it. I have no home."
"So you run with this rabble?" Gavin sneered, gesturing at the refugees.
Duncan winced. It was hard to explain. "Ser Gavin, if you value our past friendship, let me in. We need to talk. Alone."
Gavin hesitated. He looked at the grim, armored men behind Duncan. "Just you."
Duncan glanced back at Aldric. Aldric nodded.
A basket was lowered from the wall. Duncan climbed in and was hoisted up.
"Teacher," Kevin whispered, watching him go. "Will he come back? He's a knight. He prays to the Seven. He might sell us out."
"Duncan is a traditionalist," Aldric said calmly. "But he knows which way the wind blows. We are walking a hard road, Kevin. Anyone who doesn't stand in our way can be a friend."
"But what if he reveals our strength?"
Aldric laughed. "What strength? We are a band of broken men and refugees. Besides... I hope he does tell Gavin about the Light. If Gavin has any brains, he'll surrender immediately."
Aldric's smile faded. "But we don't wait. We prepare."
He gathered his officers—Jon, Harold, Kevin, Ser Tylan behind a wagon.
"How do we crack this nut?" Aldric asked.
"The walls are low," Ser Roger Hogs said. "Four meters. But without cover, climbers will be pincushioned."
"We could use the wagons," Roger suggested. "Push them to the wall, jump from the roof."
"Good idea," Harold, the old veteran, interjected. "But we'd have to unhitch the horses under fire. Men will die pushing them. And they could burn the wagons with oil."
"War means death," Roger argued. "Why worry about a few jars?"
"No," Harold said. "We use psychology. We chop a tree. We make a ram. We make a lot of noise doing it. If Ser Gavin sees we are ready to smash his gate, he will listen to Duncan."
"Big stick diplomacy," Aldric nodded approvingly. "I like it. As a wise man once said: Unity through struggle allows unity to survive; unity through concession leads to destruction. Without fear, there is no respect."
"So we prepare to siege?" Kevin asked.
"Yes. Harold, get the ram. Jon, Tylan, scout the perimeter with the wolves. Kevin, arm the refugees. Anyone willing to fight gets a weapon from the supply wagons."
"Yes, Commander!"
The camp exploded into activity.
Harold dragged a massive log from the forest and began stripping the branches in plain view of the manor.
Kevin opened the armory wagons. "Who wants to fight?" he shouted to the refugees. "Who wants to stop running?"
A short young man with stubble stepped forward. "Lightbringer... let us fight. We are tired of being helpless."
"Are you sure?" Aldric asked. "No coin. No glory. Just a chance to die."
"In the name of An'she," the youth said firmly. "We will fight."
Within minutes, the ragged mob transformed. Sixty men and women donned leather jerkins and picked up spears and shields. They weren't soldiers, but they were armed, and they were angry.
On the wall, the fat guard who had replaced Gavin looked nervous.
"What are you doing?" he squeaked. "This is House Hunt's manor! We are protected by King Joffrey and Lord Tywin! Watch your heads!"
Kevin stepped forward, laughing. "Is that so? I hope your King and your Lord are standing behind you right now. Or do you just have two dogs named Joffrey and Tywin?"
"Kevin," Aldric chided gently. "Save your breath. Fifteen minutes. If Duncan isn't out, we breach."
The sun dipped lower. The shadows lengthened.
Harold's men lifted the ram onto a modified wagon chassis. The Sunwalkers took their positions.
Just as they were about to push, the gate groaned open.
Duncan Beck walked out. Beside him was Ser Gavin Hunt, stripped of his armor. Behind them, two soldiers carried a stretcher.
Gavin walked up to Aldric and bowed low.
"Lightbringer," Gavin said, his voice humble. "I apologize. I did not recognize you. I heard of your deeds at Riverrun, but I thought you were in the West with the Stark boy. Please, forgive my rudeness."
Aldric raised an eyebrow. A noble bowing to a mercenary?
He wants something.
Aldric helped him up. "I don't care about recognition, Ser Gavin. I care that your man shot a child under my protection."
Gavin nodded quickly. "It was a mistake. My archer is a fool. But I take responsibility."
He pulled a small box from his belt. "Five gold dragons. For the boy. And this." He handed over a bundle of fine black linen clothes. "My son's clothes. The boy's tunic must be ruined."
Aldric inspected the cloth. Fine quality.
"Five dragons and a suit of clothes," Aldric said. "You are generous. But you didn't come out here just to apologize."
"No," Gavin admitted. He gestured to the stretcher.
Lying on it was a young man, pale and sweating, shivering with fever.
"This is my second son, Sean," Gavin said, his voice cracking. "A week ago, he fought off bandits in the woods. He took a few cuts. We thought it was nothing. But the fever... it won't break. The maester says he is dying."
Gavin looked at Aldric with desperate eyes.
"They say you can summon the Sun's grace. They say you are a saint. Please. Save my son."
Gavin Hunt, a proud knight of the Riverlands, bent his knees and bowed again.
"Please."