chapter 172 part 1
Chapter 172: Bread and Swollen Faces
Catelyn stood on tiptoe and gently touched her son's forehead.
"Robb, I believe in you."
Catelyn Tully had witnessed the vassals' provocations toward the young lord. At the time, she had remained silent, choosing to believe in her son… or perhaps, she did not dare to step forward and defend him, fearing her interference would only make the lords see Robb as even more of a greenhorn. Therefore… Robb could only rely on himself to earn the respect, and even fear, of his bannermen.
At that moment, her hands, hidden beneath the table, were clenched into tight fists. She silently watched as the vassals used their own methods to "test" their young lord.
Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort insolently demanded to lead the army… Robert Glover of Deepwood Motte, though milder in his attitude, also coveted command of the army.
Maege Mormont of Bear Island bluntly said Robb was young enough to be her grandson and had no right to order her around, but then added that she had a granddaughter she could marry to him.
Mya Seaworth of Widow's Watch brought her plump daughter along directly. About thirty years of age, she sat at her father's left hand and kept her attention fixed on her plate from beginning to end.
Harys Hornwood of Hornwood had not brought a daughter, but he brought Robb many gifts: a horse one day, a large cut of venison the next, and a beautiful silver-rimmed horn the day after that, asking for nothing in return… except for hoping Robb would help him wrest a small piece of land from his grandfather, gain the hunting rights north of a certain mountain ridge, and the authority to build a dam on the White Knife, among other things.
Finally, Jon Umber of Last Hearth declared that if he were made to march behind the Hornwoods or the Seaworths, he would immediately take his men and go home.
…
Robb responded to each of them calmly and politely, gradually winning the hearts of his vassals… Catelyn was proud of her son, but it also made her miss her husband all the more.
…
"What do you plan to do next? You have twenty thousand men gathered here. As their commander, you must make a decision as soon as possible."
The army her son had assembled was not a standing army from the Free Cities, nor were they household guards who dined with their lord. Most were common folk: farmers, fishermen, shepherds, sons of innkeepers, merchants, and tanners, along with a few sellsword knights, freeriders, and hedge knights eager for plunder. When their lord sent the summons, they came to serve, and they each had their own needs.
Robb nodded. "Uncle Edmure is gathering the lords of the Riverlands. I want to march south and join him as soon as possible."
Lady Catelyn murmured, "Family, Duty, Honor… Your uncle will assist you with all his heart."
"Mother, the castle is in your hands."
Lady Catelyn shook her head slightly and said, "I will go south with you. It would be best if I set out before you. I must go to the Eyrie to speak with Lysa in person."
Robb hesitated. His mother's decision was wise, but he worried for his two younger brothers. They needed their mother with them.
As if she understood his concerns, Catelyn said, "Robb, you are my child too, and you also need my help. I want to help you win this war."
Maester Luwin interjected softly, "Lady Catelyn, Lord Robb, I will take good care of Bran and Rickon."
"Thank you, Maester Luwin."
"Thank you, Mother."
Lady Catelyn smiled gently. "I will leave first thing tomorrow morning. The rest is up to you… Robb, I hope you remember that they are vassals of House Stark, not your friends. They are duty-bound to obey your commands."
…
…
Near Cobbler's Square, West Barracks of the Gold Cloaks, the Lord Commander's tent.
"Lord Glynn, I am worried King's Landing will soon run short of grain."
"My lord, I share the same concern. Reports say there are almost no grain merchants from outside the city to be seen."
"Is that so?"
"If there's a shortage of grain, even the sheep-like smallfolk will bite…"
"You mean those commoners will riot?"
"It seems obvious. Of course, I'm just speculating."
"I agree with you. No one will just wait patiently to starve."
"What worries me most is Flea Bottom. I suggest we increase our manpower there."
"The alleyways there are a tangled maze… unless we mobilize all our men, and you know as well as I do that's impossible."
"What about… what about… the Street of Steel? Do we need to send more men there too?"
"You truly are an idiot. Don't underestimate the smiths. The gold dragons they have hidden away are no fewer than what the noble lords possess. Not even the Others would believe they could go hungry."
Glynn had been staring silently at the map on the table, letting his Gold Cloak officers argue. But when he heard the words "gold dragons," one of his ears twitched.
"Let's get back to Flea Bottom. We all know it's a place where morality has been lost."
"Don't they have their bowls of brown?"
"Gods preserve you, you've never seen that stuff, have you?"
…
"I've seen it a few times myself. I don't wish to recall it. May the gods forgive me."
"And that's why I say he's an idiot. Luckily for us, you'll never be Hand of the King."
"I… I…"
*Tap, tap.* Glynn lightly knocked on the table. The men gathered around it immediately ceased their arguments and turned their attention to him.
"I have heard your concerns. I will report this matter directly to the Queen Regent and the Small Council."
After a pause, Glynn continued, "The duty of us Gold Cloaks is to maintain the peace in King's Landing. Therefore, we must naturally pay attention to any potential threat to that peace. But…"
Glynn swept his gaze over the men. "We have several thousand mouths to feed ourselves. Are we going to go hungry? Can Gold Cloaks on empty stomachs still maintain peace in this city?"
A sudden silence fell over the tent as Glynn's words sank in.
Glynn's eyes moved. "Leyton, how many days of food does the West Barracks have left?"
Leyton bowed his head slightly and said respectfully, "My lord, we normally receive our provisions for the next seven days every seven days. It is still three days until the next shipment… Therefore, we only have three days of grain stores remaining."
A collective gasp went through the room.
The Gold Cloak officers understood Glynn's meaning. A grain shortage meant the price of food would become outrageous. When that time came, would their provisions still arrive on schedule?
Glynn spoke slowly, "Gentlemen, will a starving soldier care who riots? Or rather, can a starving soldier even quell a riot?"
"Lord Glynn, what should we do?"
No one was concerned about the situation in Flea Bottom anymore. In their eyes, the Gold Cloaks were the top priority.