Chapter 58 55

Two weeks after the tourney of the Hand.

He had predicted that the lords would try to extract some advantage from him, but he had not anticipated the scale of the problem. Every lord presented him with a daughter, a sister, a niece, an aunt, or a mother, yes, those too, and explained at length what a fine woman she was, how capable a mistress of the household, and what a handsome pair the two of them would make together. In short, open season had been declared on the young King's Hand.

He was twenty-one and the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom. The only men who came close were Edmure Tully, Willas Tyrell, and Renly Baratheon, but the first had nothing to recommend him beyond his birth, the second was a cripple, and the third swallowed swords, not common knowledge, but those with an interest in the matter knew. Against that backdrop, the Lord of the Vale, a veteran of the Greyjoy Rebellion, Experienced in The Disputed Lands and the King's Hand cut a rather more striking figure.

What troubled him deeply was that most lords compared him to Tywin Lannister and hoped for similar results. The general resemblance of the situation irritated him further, but it also gave him pause. In the end, through Ser Kevan Lannister, who had come to the tourney as the West's representative, he sent a proposal inviting participation in the coming cleansing. It was unpleasant to write, but it would spare him a great many problems and let his reforms proceed more smoothly.

The North had sent the Manderlys, as was traditional. With them he spoke of expanding trade and potential future ventures. He had not yet sent his letter to Ned proposing that the North earn some coin selling timber to the Royal Fleet. If it worked out, an ally would be strengthened and money saved.

With Mace Tyrell he exchanged pleasantries. Tyrell made a clumsy attempt to offer his daughter, speaking at length of her generous dowry, her intelligence, and her beauty. Axel promised to give it thought and promptly forgot about it entirely. The true ruler of the Reach was Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, the genuine power of her region, and she was the only one with whom any productive conversation could be had. The rest were not worth mentioning. He spoke neutrally with the Riverlanders, who were counting on family ties. Things with the Stormlanders had already been settled, though they were still nursing their grievances. The Dornish, as usual, came in small numbers. No one sailed from the Iron Islands.

At last the tourney was over, and the guests would no longer stand in the way of his plans. The champion was Ser Jaime Lannister and, accordingly, his sister was named queen of love and beauty. Robert was displeased, but the prospect of personally humiliating the Kingslayer on the training yard gave him fresh motivation.

When the guests had ridden home, it was time to act.

...

The forces at his disposal were substantial. Nearly five hundred of his own swords, two hundred Baratheon men, a hundred Lannister men, and another two thousand of the Gold Cloaks' rabble. Targets were disclosed only immediately before each strike and only to men who were reasonably trustworthy.

Throughout the tourney he had been working with his inner circle and the commanders of the Lannister and Baratheon soldiers to hammer out a strategy. In the end, their forces were divided into groups of forty swords each and sent to clear their assigned routes of the city's refuse. Two hundred men were held in reserve for unforeseen complications. Given his certainty regarding the Gold Cloaks' corruption, they were assigned to serve as a cordon, a strike force against mid-level criminality, and an escort for prisoners.

Whatever contempt the high lords felt for the smallfolk, without the people's sympathy the plan would be very difficult to execute. From the moment of his arrival, Varys had been given orders to circulate certain rumors. "The Falcon has come and things will get better." "The Hand has promised to fight crime." Everything was done to ensure the smallfolk did not interfere, and ideally lent a hand themselves.

The targets were organized crime, slavers, and child- fighting dens. The raids would begin at the harbor. It was seized first to prevent the more resourceful from slipping out of the city. For the same reason, every gate in King's Landing would remain closed until the following morning. The first phase of the plan complete, and several particularly brazen smugglers' warehouses seized along the way, their forces were split into three.

The Red Keep, the square before the Sept of Baelor, and the Dragonpit. These three points became their anchors, allowing them to encircle a quarter of the city that held the greatest concentration of undesirable elements. Soldiers moved into position and the ring closed. At the appointed hour, the raids began. To minimize losses, a curfew was imposed for the next three days under a fabricated pretext.

He made Varys assign a leader to each group so that the more hot-blooded soldiers would not begin robbing and killing ordinary people. The leaders selected for each group were disciplined commanders, men who could hold their soldiers in check. They were authorized to execute on the spot if they encountered anyone particularly unhinged. But to prevent disputes, the groups were composed of men from the same region, meaning his commanders worked with his own men and had authority over them and the Gold Cloaks assigned to reinforce them. Officers would answer for the misconduct of those under their command, which sharpened the quality of leadership considerably.

Anyone suspicious, anyone who surrendered, and any stray witnesses were sent to the upper floors of the Red Keep's dungeons. Investigations, trials, and sentences would follow in due course. If a witness happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was his own fault. There was a curfew. Later, using Varys's informants, the leaders and lieutenants of the criminal organizations would be identified.

Then the hammer fell on every person found in the known headquarters of gangs dealing in the worst offenses. The captives were freed, the bandits who had not surrendered in time were killed, property was seized, and documents of value were delivered. Among the soldiers there were a few greedy enough to pocket jewelry, but such men were either beaten and thrown in the dungeons or killed outright.

They could not strike everywhere simultaneously, given the constraints of manpower and speed of movement. Every engagement had its cost, but in the end the majority of leaders and core members of the criminal groups were taken. The truth was beaten out of them, and depending on the severity of their crimes, they were sentenced accordingly and offered cooperation: their own life in exchange for bringing in three criminals of equivalent rank.

How easily the rabble loosened their tongues. Criminals crammed into an overcrowded cell, listening to the loud screaming coming from the torture chamber. An hour passes. Two. Three. The screaming goes on without any sign of stopping. The number of neighbors around you keeps shrinking, and so do your chances of not being next. You pray to every god you know that the brutal jailers will not drag you into that terrible place.

The weak of spirit fear the sounds of pain. The strong fear the unknown. There are two levers that can unlock a man's tongue: fear and self-interest. Combine them, and the rabble breaks very quickly. They are terrified of ending up in the torture room, and they are promised their lives in exchange for giving up their associates. It always works, and that is how they continuously refreshed their intelligence and moved immediately on each new target.