The Ironborn's camp had been some five or so miles southwest of the small port town the Glovers used to trade with Bear Island and any merchants from further South. Ned could't be sure, but he suspected the reavers had put ashore here, out of sight of the town, so that they could take the town by surprise; the poor smallfolk likely hadn't even known about the attack until the squids were already at the wooden palisade.
Of course, that same choice of landing spot also worked to help Ned and his men approach without being detected. His outriders had subdued a small patrol, but aside from that, the only fighting had been when his cavalry had charged into the camp. The Northern army's surprise attack had been quick, and their victory total.
"I can only wish the road had been completed," Ned replied. Changing the subject, he asked, "Were there any prisoners of note?"
"A few ships' captains, and nearly a hundred reavers," Lord Cerwyn replied. "Most importantly, not a single ship managed to push off the beach.
"Not for lack of trying," the Warden of the North replied. "But the cavalry saw to that. Excellent work on your part, Medger."
"It was your plan that saw to my success, my lord."
"Yet you performed your role flawlessly," Ned countered. "And for that you have my thanks. Now, who was in command?"
"Quenton Greyjoy, a distant cousin of Lord Balon," Cerwyn replied. "Though he seems to have died in the attack."
"A pity," Ned said with no inflection. "Assign a rearguard to watch the ships and the prisoners; we need to ride back to the rest of the army."
"As you command, my lord."
Ned scowled to himself. A few Greyjoy scouts, likely riding captured draft horses stolen from farms and small holdfasts in the area, had spotted his army's approach to Deepwood Motte. As any sensible scout or outrider would have done, they fled back to their main forces. With the element of surprise lost, Ned ordered his army to approach slowly and in formation, with small cavalry detachments exploring ahead and to the side for any potential ambushes. None had been found. Instead, the nearly four thousand strong Greyjoy army had formed up in shieldwalls just outside of arrow range of the walls in the cleared lands surrounding the castle.
"Steady! Steady!" he called from horseback. He watched as his own tightly packed blocks of men slowly advanced, shields at the ready. Over the years of the Team Battle tournaments, nobles and men-at-arms had slowly perfected shieldwalls, spearwalls, and even pike blocks. Small tricks that had been learned through the tournaments had been drilled into the troops of nearly every house; how to march in sync, how to guard the flanks, how to turn and face the enemy, and so on.
'It certainly has improved the quality of our infantry,' he thought to himself. 'The North has always had good infantry, but now…'
Despite trees, boulders, and uneven ground, the formations flowed around them and came back together with barely a hitch in their marching pace. Despite how green many of his troops were, they marched as well as his veteran troops from near the end of the Rebellion. 'Now, we shall see if they can fight like veterans, too.'
"Halt!" he called out near the edge of arrow range. "Archers! To the front!"
It was a little rough in some places, but the formations opened just enough to allow archers to stream through to the front of the army. The good longbows the Northern archers carried would certainly outrange anything the Ironborn had, and Ned planned to take advantage of that.
"Captains! Fire in volleys, on my mark!"
"Yes, milord!" the nearest archer captains called back. Word was spread down the line to other captains and the archers there readied themselves.
"Make ready!" Ned called.
"Archers!" the nearest captain shouted. "Nock!"
Nearly two thousand archers fitted arrows to bowstrings and prepared.
"Now!" he ordered.
"Loose!" the captain called. The entire block heaved against the heavy pull of the bows, aimed high into the sky, and let fly.
Arrows soared in graceful arcs across the mostly open ground between Ned's troops and the enemy until they dropped down in withering sheets on the reavers. Faint screams and cries carried across the open grounds as a few men fell, but the majority of the enemy had huddled under their shields.
"Keep at it!" Ned commanded. "Infantry! Slow march! Close with the enemy!"
The shieldwalls started forward, slowly eating up the ground between themselves and the enemy, flowing around the blocks of archers almost as if they weren't there. Ironborn archers tried forming up in a loose formation, hoping to rain arrows down on the approaching infantry, but the withering fire from Ned's longbowmen quickly disabused them of that notion; they only managed to get two volleys off before they retreated to the safety of the Ironborns' shieldwalls.
Ned nodded to himself. 'When the formations get close, the infantry will charge in and engage them. We'll see whose shieldwalls are better then; theirs, or the North's.'
As the Northern infantry closed, the Northern infantry blocks came together and formed one large shieldwall. Two smaller blocks, near the left and right edges of the front line, waited just behind the main line in reserve, either to close gaps or to turn and cover the flanks. Ned had about five hundred cavalry with him behind the archers as an additional reserve, just in case something went wrong. 'It's enough,' he thought to himself. 'It'll have to be enough.'
Finally, with a fierce war cry, the Northern line sprinted the final fifty yards or so and clashed with the Ironborn. With practice born from many smaller matches of Team Battle fought between the men-at-arms outside of the tourneys, the infantry formations quickly reformed despite the initial clash and began slowly pushing into their opponents' shieldwalls. Men screamed, fell, and died as the two sides tried to break the other's wall, but men quickly stepped forward to fill the sudden gaps. It would have been a stalemate, if the Northern infantry weren't physically pushing the Ironborn back step by step.
'Any minute now…' Ned thought to himself. He watched in anticipation, waiting for the moment to arrive, the harbinger of ultimate victory. Ned's hands were shaking with nerves, so he gripped the reins of his horse tightly, so as not to show it. 'Did something happen? Where are…!'
Cavalry suddenly thundered out of the woods to either side of the infantry battle. More than half a thousand on either flank, led by Lord Cerwyn on his left and Robett Glover on his right. The horsemen wheeled around the flanks, formed up in a wedge, and slammed into the flanks and rear of the Ironborn's shieldwalls. Screams of dying men and the whinnying of injured horses rose up, but for a long, tense moment, the lines held.
Until suddenly they didn't. The flanks seemed to dissolve before Ned's eyes like spun sugar dropped into a bowl of water. His infantry reserves swung around, enveloping the still standing Ironborn on the left and the right, while his cavalry withdrew and gathered into a single group between the castle and the battle. A few minutes later, the cavalry thundered home, slamming into the exposed rear of the last of the Ironborn's infantry.
"That should do it," Ned nodded. Turning to his cavalry, he shouted, "With me! Let's not let any stragglers escape!"
"Lord Stark," Galbert Glover met him in Deepwood Motte's courtyard. There were signs of battle damage all over the castle, a remnant of the Ironborn's first assault. Still, for the most part things seemed to be orderly; the siege was only a moon's turn long or so, and the defenders had more than enough stores to withstand that short of a siege. "Welcome to Deepwood Motte."
"Thank you, Lord Glover," Ned replied after dismounting and handing the reins to a waiting stable boy. "I trust all is well within the castle?"
"It is, my lord," he replied. "You have my thanks for breaking the siege."
"It was my duty to do so," Ned replied, accepting the thanks. "However, I must know; how many sailors can you gather at short notice?"
"Sailors, my lord?" Galbert asked, confused by the tangent. "I'm not sure; most were likely killed or driven off by the Ironborn. Why do you ask?"
"Before we broke the siege, I led the cavalry to the shore and defeated the Ironborn rearguard there," he replied. "We defeated that force and managed to capture their ships."
"Their ships?" the lord asked, eyes wide. "How many?"