Chapter 61: Battle of the Abandoned Fishing Village (I)
The abandoned fishing village lay on the south bank of the Trident's mouth. Three leagues upstream on the north bank sat Saltpans. An island called the Quiet Isle rested in the center of the river.
When Ser Daeron Grafton and his caravan arrived, the abandoned fishing village was utterly silent, as it had been for thousands of days and nights since that overcast afternoon fourteen years prior.
That incident occurred shortly after the Battle of the Trident. A detachment of Vale cavalry, pursuing the remnants of the Royalist forces routed at the ruby ford, sacked this prosperous fishing village as they passed.
To avoid the subsequent judgment of the "honorable" Lord Arryn, they swiftly massacred every inhabitant, leaving no one alive.
The abandoned fishing village lay beyond the reach of overgrown wetlands, and the path that once led to the village had become obscured by the repeated flooding of the river over the past decade.
At Ser Daeron's command, the twenty-eight-man caravan halted about eight hundred yards outside the fishing village. Ser Daeron's squire then rode ahead alone, pushing aside the overgrown grass that nearly obscured their view, and headed for the village.
Cautiously, the squire rode over the muddy and slippery road to the village entrance. He exchanged a signal with a sentry and carefully returned to Ser Daeron's side.
After confirming there were no unexpected incidents, Ser Daeron ordered the caravan to dismount and proceed toward the village.
"Daeron, have you noticed how much muddier this path is than the last time we came?" Ser Shalit asked his young lord. "It's not flood season, so there shouldn't be high water here. How could the ground be so soft?"
"Perhaps it rained heavily while we were away?" Ser Daeron speculated.
"Perhaps, but I've a bad feeling about this," the old knight shook his head, "and why didn't Ser Aris come out to meet us this time? I reminded him last time—has he completely forgotten his duties?"
"Oh, Uncle Shalit, I beg your forgiveness on Aris's behalf," Ser Daeron explained for his sworn brother. "He lost his right hand, the hand he wielded his sword with! He used to be the finest knight among us and our vanguard, but now he can only lead men in supply duties. You must allow him his disappointment."
"But not at this moment, young lord," Ser Shalit turned to look at Daeron and said firmly. "Remember the oath you swore to me when you left Gulltown? You vowed not to let the family be implicated in this affair."
"Yes, I swore it."
"But now, Ser Aris's careless manner is dangerous. He may drag us into disaster. I ask you to replace him."
"Uncle Shalit, please forgive me. Aris is not my subordinate! He is the representative of House Darry and our most important ally. How can I have the authority to replace him?" Daeron smiled bitterly, then defended in a low voice,
"And how could there be disaster? Our operation has concluded. Now we're waiting to transfer everything to the fishing village, then board the ship that will retrieve us, and we'll be away!"
"Have you conveniently forgotten the nearly one hundred men deployed by Ser Wilder nearby? They're watching us, wanting to devour us in one bite."
"Come now," Daeron sneered. "If I weren't concerned that killing them would attract wider attention and leave us no time to transport the remaining goods, I would have followed Aris's wishes and ambushed them to annihilate them."
"I don't know what there is to worry about. They're just a band of fools who've been deceived by Simon." Daeron spoke with contempt. "If Wilder had summoned the forces of his entire Knights' Alliance, it might have been troublesome for us.
As for now? Oh! Do you know what his plan is? Simon wrote very clearly in his letter that the heavy infantry and crossbowmen that Wilder planned to rely on to anchor his battle line are all from Darry! Hahaha," Daeron couldn't help laughing. "I'm already anticipating the wonderful expression on Wilder's face when Ser Simon strikes them from behind."
"My lord, don't you think it's too quiet here?" Ser Shalit was unaffected by Daeron's arrogance, and he remained vigilantly observing their surroundings. "And just now, 'Weevil' retreated to the abandoned fishing village after exchanging signals with us. I've a bad feeling about this."
"How could that be?" Daeron said, though he also restrained the smile on his face. Ser Shalit's instincts had always been sound. According to the old knight himself, his intuition had saved him twice during Robert's Rebellion.
"Everyone, halt!" Daeron shouted, stopping the entire company at the entrance to the fishing village. He then turned to his squire. "Take two men and scout the village."
Daeron's squire dismounted and led two men back toward the village.
"You fool! Little Rossi, you saw us coming and didn't even come out to greet us?" Daeron's squire shouted into the village. But his answer wasn't his two old friends, but a hail of arrows.
Sixteen or seventeen archers suddenly appeared from the rooftops of the village's dilapidated houses, loosing their shafts from above at the "caravan" outside.
The three who had first entered the village bore the brunt of the volley. A feathered arrow, loosed from a height less than five yards ahead, pierced Daeron's squire's neck where he wore no gorget, punching through his throat. The other two horsemen beside him were also struck down.
"We're under attack!" Old Ser Shalit was the first to react, shouting as he unhooked his shield from the horse he was leading. He raised his shield above his head and sprinted to the caravan's wagon, where a fine crossbow lay that would allow him to return fire at the enemies on the walls.
However, just as Shalit had pulled back the coarse cloth covering the wagon and seized his crossbow, he saw a large company of shield-bearing infantrymen burst from the fishing village and charge toward the caravan.
"We need to gain distance from them!" Shalit threw aside his crossbow and ran back to his horse, shouting to Daeron behind him. "We can't use our cavalry's advantage here!"
"What about all these goods? Just abandon them? What if they don't pursue us? What if they simply drag everything back to the fishing village and hold their ground?" Daeron looked at the front of the caravan. The enemy infantry, armed with spears, had formed a shield wall and were advancing.
Even if these spearmen were common levies, in such confined quarters, they could still pose a mortal threat to the veteran soldiers in his own company.
Moreover, they had archers providing covering fire.
What had happened? Aris? Daeron looked toward the fishing village with doubt in his eyes.
(End of Chapter)
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