Chapter 8: Lords Paramount
Davos
"No."
"Why not father?" Allard said urgently. "With Ser Loras gone somebodies got to command the attack on the Old Gate, and it shouldn't be that oaf Mace Tyrell." Davos's second to eldest son was a tall, lean, handsome youth of twenty-four. He wore steel plate armor that had cost him all his money to make, and had with him an impressive longsword. He was popular among the ranks, and reportedly among the women of the camp, with long hair that reminded Davos of Ser Loras. Behind him his brother Dale, senior by one year stood, similarly armored. Dale did not have the looks or easy way that Allard did. He was a recluse, and rigidly faithful to his wife back at Cape Wrath. Very like Stannis, Davos always thought. Both had, without his permission, gotten themselves anointed in holy oils and now went by Ser Allard and Ser Dale. They were fine swordsmen, but untested in battle or tourney. With this they had burst into Davos's tent and demanded a command during the coming battle.
"No, you will not be given any commands until you have both tasted battle. You will fight, but you will not lead," Davos said sternly. "You're wasting your breath anyway. Stannis would never allow you to command the attack. There will be battles after this one."
"Are you so sure?" Allard said, keeping the pressure on him. "What if Tywin Lannister gives up after this? What if Robb Stark agrees to swear fealty to King Stannis?"
"Yes father," Dale spoke quietly, "Lord Robb's war is with the Lannisters, not us."
"Then you can kill Greyjoys," Davos said angrily. "I hear they have decided to become kings themselves. But you will not be given command yet!"
"Seven Hells father you're going to be Lord of the Stormlands!" Allard shouted, frustration ringing through his voice. "You know what your future vassals say about you, about us, about how Stannis is a fool to give you such titles? They're laughing at us father, spitting on us. They call us scum and speak of teaching us our place. Tell Stannis to give us command of the attack on the Old Gate and we'll show them our place as Lords Paramount!"
Davos hesitated, grinding his teeth. "How does your brother feel about this?"
"I agree with him father," Dale said softly. He always half mumbled things, as if he was telling a secret.
Davos ground his teeth some more, acceptance on the tip of his tongue. "I have a war council to attend," he said, and swept out of the tent as fast as he could.
As Davos walked for Stannis's tent, his sons words sunk into him. Davos could endure mockery, but Allard was proud, proud of what his father had accomplished, and intending to accomplish great things himself. Even as he walked he saw knights and petty lords looking down on him. They made jokes and sniggered once he passed. But with the rank and file of the army it was a different matter. They saw him as an idol, a source of hope that their lot could rise. "Glad to see you m'lord," they said as he passed, or "I hope I'm placed under your command for the battle." He felt the weight of Lordship lessened by their admiration. He wasn't quite sure that he deserved it, but it felt good.
Davos came to Stannis's tent and walked past the guard, Ser Richard Horpe today, a Queen's man. He came into the tent for a rather small war council. Lord Tarly and Lord Florent had not yet returned from Dragonstone, and had sent a raven saying Florent thought it best to remain their until the attack was to be launched.
Mace Tyrell was there, a fat man with curly brown hair and a triangle beard. Davos had figured out from many councils that Tyrell was useless for anything pertaining to military matters. Davos's admiration for Stannis's holding of Storm's End had been lessened when he found out how tedious and bumbling the man he faced was. Worse was his sense of entitlement. He demanded to play a large role in the attack, commanding ten thousand men at least, and when Stannis had wanted Margaery to go back to Stom's End, and she had refused, he had threatened to march his men back to Storm's End with her and torch the place. Stannis had very nearly thrown him in a cell for that, but Davos had calmed him.
Also in attendance was Ser Garlan Tyrell, Mace's second son, who was a fine knight by all accounts, with a thin beard and handsome face. He was was a quiet man who rarely spoke, but Davos liked him far more than his father. Stannis stood staring at the map of King's Landing, as if he could find a secret entrance that hadn't been there before.
"Good, the Onion has arrived and we can begin," Mace said haughtily. He had shortened Davos's nickname, probably because he was to lazy to say the whole thing.
"Yes," Stannis said, "The current plan was to launch our primary attacks against the Lion Gate and King's Gate while diverting them with attacks on the Old Gate and from the river, but I've been thinking. It's more important that we throw our main weight against the Lion and King's. And with Ser Loras gone there is no one to lead the attack on the Old." Davos almost spoke up and mentioned Allard and Dale, but thought better of it. "We'll push the gates with 20,000 men each, close enough that they can support one another. Another 10,000 men will attack from the river, led by Lord Tarly. We'll keep 10,000 men in reserve, to support where needed. I'll lead the assault on the King's Gate and-"
"I will lead the attack on the Lion Gate," Mace announced. It was not a request.
"No," Stannis told him, "You will lead the reserve. Lord Davos will lead the assault on the Lion."
Lord Mace swelled up in anger, puffing out his cheeks. He bore a striking resemblance to a blowfish, although Davos didn't mention it. "You would give a fisherman more troops than I? He has no experience in war whereas I beat Robert himself at the Battle of Ashfort, and nearly had you yourself at Storm's End."
"The Battle of Ashfort was won by Randyll Tarly long before you arrived," Stannis said, "And you were never close to taking Storm's End. Ser Davos fought by my side during the Greyjoy rebelion. His advice helped me destroy the rebel fleet, and he fought by my side during the ground war. I trust no one else to the task."
Mace puffed up even larger. "You intend for me to sit back while this commoner leads my army to ruins? I challenge you to combat for the command of the Lion Gate attack!"
"You will do no such thing," Stannis said coldly, but he was to late.
"I accept your challenge," Davos said at the same time, hardly knowing what he was doing. Allard had gotten to him, he realized. He wanted to show this pompous fat man that the Seaworths were a house to respect.
Stannis gave him a hard stare. "Are you sure?" Davos nodded, not opening his mouth for fear he would say something else foolish.
"Father," Ser Garlan said, touching his father's arm, "Lord Davos has lost the tips of his fingers on his left hand. Hardly noble to fight a man who can not use one hand. Perhaps a battle of champions instead. I would gladly serve as yours."
Davos got the feeling Garlan was trying to save his father from being gutted. Davos was not a great swordsman, but he was sure he could beat a arrogant fat lord. "Fine then," Mace said, "A battle of champions then. You best find a good one. My sons never lose one on one combat." He stormed out of the tent, his son close behind.
"That was foolish," Stannis told him. "If you need a champion I'll lend you one of my kingsguard."
Davos was about to accept his offer when Allard's words came back to him. "No your grace," he said, "The Seaworth's will fight this battle."