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x Margaery knew who her grandmother meant.
Lord Paxter Redwyne of the Arbor had commanded the Redwyne fleet during the siege of Storm’s End.
Now there was no room left for doubt.
“So Davos Seaworth did not pass by luck alone.
Lord Paxter looked the other way.” “That is the shape of it,” Olenna said.
“Storm’s End would not fall, and Randyll Tarly urged your father to leave a small force to maintain the siege while the main strength of the Reach marched north to join the royal army against the rebels.” Her tone sharpened.
“But your puffed-up father either trusted the royal army too much or did not care to put his own host in Robert’s path.
He stayed before that cursed castle and kept battering at stone.” Margaery said nothing.
“Not long after, word came that Prince Rhaegar had been slain by Robert’s hammer on the Trident.
The whole war turned on that blow.
And still your father did not wake.
Still he sat before Storm’s End.” Olenna tapped one finger against the arm of her chair.
“Randyll had no choice then but to send me that strange little letter.
Without it, Robert’s brothers might well have starved in the castle.” She gave a dry laugh.
“Tell me, if that had happened, do you think Robert Baratheon would have accepted the surrender of the Reach so easily after taking the Iron Throne?” Margaery nodded slowly.
“Lord Randyll did not want the matter pushed too far.
He wanted room left for terms.” “Yes.
Every lord in the Reach should thank Randyll Tarly.
He was one of the few men in that war who kept his head.
And you understand why he wrote to me instead of going to Paxter himself?” Margaery nodded again.
Randyll had been careful.
He could not leave proof that he had communicated with the rebels or deliberately weakened the siege.
He trusted Olenna to understand what his letter meant, and trusted her to see the shape of the war.
She was Paxter Redwyne’s aunt and his mother-in-law.
If anyone could persuade him to loosen the net, it was her.
“Do you still think Randyll Tarly is only a man with a sword?” Margaery stuck out the tip of her tongue, then caught herself.
“I did not know the siege of Storm’s End held such a secret.
He has more political sense than I thought.” “Be grateful Horn Hill is not a rich seat, and that House Tarly lacks the influence of greater houses in the Reach,” Olenna said.
“If Randyll had been born a Hightower or a Florent, I would have advised your father to remove him early.” Coldness flashed in the old woman’s eyes.
It was gone a moment later, replaced by the familiar look of a harmless grandmother.
Margaery steadied herself.
“If that is true, then why did Lord Randyll fail to see Samwell’s strengths?
Why strip him of the inheritance?” “That,” Olenna said, “is the part I do not understand.
Perhaps being cast out woke the boy.
Perhaps humiliation changed him.” It was rare to see her grandmother puzzled.
Margaery almost smiled.
Then she remembered the letter in her hand.
“You still have not told me what to do about Samwell.
Do we truly keep sending him coin?” “Why not?
House Tyrell has no shortage of gold.” Olenna’s answer came without hesitation.
“If Randyll does not value such a son, why should we not draw him closer?” Margaery thought of Carter’s death.
“Are you not worried he will slip out of our control?” Olenna laughed.
“A chartered knight without a single holdfast?
Let him kick as hard as he likes.
He cannot get beyond our reach.
Besides, learning how to guide vassals is part of ruling.
Since you invested him in your father’s name, he shall be your practice.” “I had no right to invest a knight.
I only acted for Father…” Margaery’s voice trailed off.
Then she shook her grandmother’s arm.
“Teach me, then.
If his extortion succeeds, what stops him from growing worse?
I cannot keep sending him purses forever.” “Then set rules instead of letting him lead you by the nose.” “What sort of rules?” “The simple kind: whatever he asks for, he receives only a fixed sum each month.
The more careful kind: reward progress.
If the settlement grows, if he brings in people, if buildings rise, send more coin.
If he fails, send less.
The point is that the hand holding the purse must be yours.” Margaery nodded.
“I understand.
What had you planned for him before?” “At first I thought him weak enough to be ruled by force.
That no longer seems wise.” Olenna’s smile thinned.
“But men grow toward profit as flowers grow toward the sun.
Align his interests properly, and you can lead almost anyone.
Especially a clever man with ambition.” Excitement brightened Margaery’s eyes, though unease remained.
“Grandmother, why did you send him there?
I guessed it was aimed at Dorne, but I do not understand the exact method.
I am afraid I might spoil your design.” “You have not thought through how to deal with Dorne?” Margaery shook her head.
Olenna’s voice turned patient.
“Then think.
How did the Iron Throne finally bring Dorne to heel?” “Marriage.” “Marriage was the result, not the cause.
If marrying one woman could conquer a kingdom, what use would anyone have for armies?
Without Daeron the Young Dragon taking Sunspear and breaking the dream of Dornish independence, why would House Martell ever have sent Princess Myriah to King’s Landing?” She leaned closer.
“Aegon the Conqueror rode three dragons and still failed to take Dorne.
Daeron had no dragons, yet he did what Aegon could not.
Why?” Margaery thought for a long while.
“Rivers?” “Just so.
The Red Mountains make Dorne nearly impossible to conquer by land.
Rivers are the keys that open its doors.” Margaery looked at the map in her mind.
“That is why you chose land near the mouth of the Torrentine for Samwell.
But what exactly is he meant to do?” “Do not be impatient.
A good gardener needs patience above all things.
Once the seed is buried in the right place, water it, feed it, and let time answer.” Olenna settled back.
“Besides, Todd tells me Samwell claims he can create a lawful business in that barren corner of the Red Mountains.
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheDevotedReader I hope you enjoyed this chapter.