The soldiers of House Tyrell were indeed slow-moving—no wonder they were called strawberry soldiers.
They had rested for three full days before setting out, with Lord Mace's vassals grumbling that the rain was too heavy.
"The rain is too heavy—it's soaking the rose petals," Tyrion remarked from horseback, riding beside Lord Mace near the middle of the column as they advanced along the Roseroad toward King's Landing.
Tyrion had already sent the mountain clansmen ahead to the Kingswood, south of the city, and into the deep forests north of the Blackwater Rush, to ambush Stannis's scouts and harass his march.
"Not everyone is like that," Ser Garlan said, hearing the undertone in Tyrion's words. "Lord Randyll always prizes speed in battle."
True enough. Lord Randyll Tarly served as vanguard commander, and in the Reach, none could rival him for that role.
"How fares Storm's End now?" Margaery Tyrell asked from within her carriage. She could ride, of course, but showing her face among the army was hardly proper for a lady.
Throughout the journey, Tyrion often felt her gaze upon him. "Worried about your late husband's inheritance? If you're with child, you could claim Storm's End."
A wicked thought crept into his mind—perhaps he could help create one, and claim Storm's End through her.
Thank the gods there were no mind-reading witches among the Tyrells.
"What if Stannis reaches King's Landing first and lays siege?" Mace Tyrell suddenly asked. "His army numbers over twenty thousand, a force equal to ours, and..."
Equal? The Tyrells had far more infantry. Typical of Lord Puff Fish—hesitant even when he held the advantage.
"And his army consists mostly of cavalry, supported by Dragonstone's fleet," Tyrion interjected. "Are you suggesting our chances are too slim?"
"I'll crush them," said the Knight of Flowers, his tone fierce.
"I do not fear Stannis," said Ser Garlan, known as Garlan the Brave. Tyrion knew how skilled he was—perhaps no worse with a sword than his brother, only far less boastful about it.
"And we still have Lord Randyll," said Margaery Tyrell. "Lord Tyrion, have you ever seen Lord Randyll in battle?"
Lord Mace had wanted to send his beloved daughter back to Highgarden, but the Rose had refused.
"I have not," Tyrion replied. The Rose of Highgarden never missed a chance to speak with him, and he almost dreaded the sight of her brown eyes.
Too clever a woman—too dangerous.
"He's the only man to have defeated His Grace Robert Baratheon," Margaery continued. "Even Prince Rhaegar never bested the king."
Robert and Rhaegar were warriors—warriors could only defeat other warriors. But Tywin, Randyll, and Stannis were commanders, and no warrior could ever best a true commander.
Jaime was a warrior too, and that was why he failed. Tyrion thought to himself, and I am a commander...
"My lord, what are you thinking?" came Margaery's voice. "If I may say so, you remind me of Prince Rhaegar. Perhaps Robert's brother wouldn't be your match at all."
Tyrion turned sharply, meeting the rose's gaze. The young woman recoiled as if struck by lightning.
"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to... or imply..."
"I take no offense," Tyrion said. The long march, the endless rain, and the mud underfoot had begun to wear on his patience.
If this went on, the Blackwater Rush would surely rise—and Stannis's fleet would find it far easier to reach the city's shore...
"Bronn!" Tyrion called out.
The sellsword urged his horse closer from a short distance away. "My lord."
"Take a squad of horsemen and ride upstream along the Blackwater Rush. Don't stray too far from King's Landing—find a narrow stretch of the river," Tyrion ordered. "Once you find it, report back to me."
"Aye." Bronn kicked his horse's flank and galloped off with several riders in the opposite direction.
"Lord Garlan," Tyrion said. "I have a favor to ask of you."
"You flatter me," Ser Garlan replied courteously. "What do you need?"
"I'll need carts, laborers, and sacks. If there aren't enough laborers, soldiers will do," Tyrion said. "I've sent Bronn to scout narrow spots along the Blackwater Rush. I plan to fill those sacks with sand and stone to dam the river. It'll take at least ten thousand men to do it."
"Ten thousand is too many," Mace Tyrell objected. "Our sacks are filled with grain, and the carts are hauling supplies. And if we need ten thousand men for this, how are we to face Stannis?"
"We don't need that much grain," Tyrion replied. "The rain's getting heavier—it'll rot soon enough. And we won't be facing Stannis for long. Distribute the grain, keep the sacks and carts, and gather peasants from along the Blackwater to work. I doubt it'll be hard to find ten thousand."
"Cutting off the river is the right move," Garlan agreed. "If the water level downstream drops, Stannis's ships will have trouble sailing into the river. Without the cover of his fleet, our chances of victory rise."
"But the riverbank will be broader and flatter," Lord Mace countered. "They'll have more room for their cavalry."
"I don't fear their cavalry," said the Knight of Flowers.
"I believe Lord Tyrion's plan is sound, Father," Ser Garlan said earnestly.
"We should camp outside the city and wait for Lord Tywin to join us," Lord Mace muttered in dissatisfaction. When it came to warfare, Lord Puff Fish still relied heavily on his second son—and on Randyll.
"But if you trust him, see it done."
Lord Mace ceded command, and Ser Garlan took charge. "Ser Loras, take a thousand horsemen and gather the folk along the Blackwater. Carry out Lord Tyrion's plan."
"As for where to begin, find Bronn," Tyrion added. "We don't need to block the river completely—just ensure the upper reaches can hold water."
"And... make sure it's easy to breach later."
The Knight of Flowers moved quickly, rallying his men and riding off in Bronn's direction.
"My lord, you don't seem like a warrior," came Margaery's voice again, "but you do look like a fine commander."
Tyrion returned her smile. "My brother's the warrior. And, of course, your brother is one too."
"If I marry the king, he'll be your junior," Margaery said with a sweet laugh. The sound was soft as honey. "But I think you and I would make better equals."
"With you two together, no one in this kingdom could stand against you."
"I'm not so sure," Tyrion countered. "If you tied my father and Stannis together, then we'd have no chance at all."
The rest of the journey passed in easy laughter.
Before long, a lone rider appeared ahead—a messenger from Lord Randyll.
"My lords, Ser Randyll sent me to report," the knight said, lifting his visor. "The vanguard has reached Stannis's camp."
...
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