"I remember when Redbeard Raymun tried it, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was Jack Musgood—'Happy Jack.'"
Mance thought for a second and added, "After he let Redbeard march straight into the North, people started calling him 'Sleepy Jack.' That name stuck."
"Raymun's army was crushed on the shore of Long Lake. Lord Willam Stark of Winterfell and Hother 'the Whoresbane' Umber caught them in a pincer. Redbeard himself was killed by Willam's brother, Artos the Implacable. The Night's Watch showed up too late. Artos Stark was holding his brother's headless corpse, furious, and ordered the crows to clean up the battlefield."
After the grim tale, Mance asked quietly, "Son of the Stars, Lynn—any more questions?"
Lynn chose his words carefully. "The part about actually taking the Wall is yours. You were a crow once, and I've never even seen the Wall, so I'll defer to you on that."
"But I want to know what happens after we take it."
Mance actually grinned.
"I can see your worry, Son of the Stars. You're kinder than I expected—more civilized than most of those so-called civilized southern lords."
He added silently, And softer.
Maybe he really is from another world.
"You're afraid too many people will die because of you—including the ones on the other side of the Wall. You think they're more innocent than the free folk?"
Lynn wasn't surprised Mance had read him so easily. The man was sharp, and two weeks ago Lynn had still been a soft, civilized kid who just wanted to lie flat and coast through life.
This was the classic trolley problem, the kind that tested what a person was really made of. If it came down to him making the call, he had to be damn sure.
Resources south of the Wall were limited. Once the wildlings crossed, unless someone had a horn that could knock down stone walls, a lot of people were going to starve. In wartime the lords would squeeze the peasants harder for taxes and hoard every scrap of grain.
When Lynn stayed silent, Mance went on slowly.
"In the Age of Heroes, the First Men and the children of the forest fought together in the Battle for the Dawn. Brandon the Builder used the children's magic to raise the Wall. But some of the First Men were left outside. That's where the free folk come from."
"We were just the ones trapped on the wrong side. The blood of the First Men runs on both sides of the Wall. Nobody's more noble than anybody else."
Lynn's face stayed blank. "I agree with you completely on that."
"But I still want to hear what you plan to do after we cross."
Mance sighed. "My original plan was to cross the Wall, use the Thenns as the spearhead, and meet the lords' armies in the open field. Beat them, maybe even take one or two castles. That would show the highborn that hiding behind stone won't save them—they'd have to hand over food to feed the hungry free folk."
"The free folk are too many. The North can't feed all of us."
Lynn pointed out the obvious—he was genuinely curious how many wildlings there actually were.
"However many survive, that's how many survive," Mance said with a helpless shrug.
Nymo wasn't having it. "I knew you couldn't be trusted. You want the Thenns to do all the dying while you and your sheep sit back and enjoy the spoils. We could do everything you just said ourselves."
"You don't know where to cross the Wall, you don't know the Night's Watch patrol routes, and you sure as hell don't know how to fight armored knights on warhorses in open country," Mance replied patiently. Normally this kind of talk came easy to him, but today he looked unusually tired.
"If you fight alongside the rest of the free folk, your people get first pick of the loot. The other clans will support you in battle and share their food so your own don't go hungry. Not every Thenn is a warrior, right?"
When Nymo fell quiet, Mance kept going.
"Once we're south of the Wall, the real danger is still the lords' armies."
"Redbeard Raymun, the Bard Bael, Joramun and Gendel, the Horned Lord, Joramun—they all failed. History proves it: free folk without discipline can't beat lords with iron mail and steel swords."
"I already told you about Redbeard Raymun. He was King-Beyond-the-Wall in your great-great-grandfather's time and led the biggest host of free folk anyone has ever seen. Yet just the Starks and the Umbers crushed him. The North has several more lords like that, and dozens of smaller ones I could count on my fingers."
Nymo looked shaken, but Lynn spotted the hole. "You told the free folk the Northern armies all marched south with the Starks."
"True and not true," Mance said shrewdly. "If the Starks hadn't taken most of their strength south to fight for the throne, the free folk would have no choice but to kneel if they wanted to live. That gave us our chance. But every lord still leaves men to guard his castle and his wealth. Those are the ones we'll have to deal with."
Dalla refilled their cups. This time she poured a horn for Nymo too. He drained it in one gulp.
"Either way, a lot of people are going to die," Lynn said.
"Better than all of us dying," Mance replied. "When Redbeard crossed, the North was strong and the Watch was at full strength. Right now both are hollowed out."
"And don't forget—we have the Son of the Stars and a dragon. If you don't want to raise the Targaryen banner, paint your own. Tell them a new conqueror has come."
"The highborn only need one house to kneel and the rest will scramble over each other like dogs at a butcher's block, terrified of being left out. I've heard that story a thousand times."
Mance's assessment was brutally sharp. Lynn thought about it and realized the man was right. Nobles always preached family honor while doing whatever it took to grab more power for themselves.
"How many free folk are there exactly?" Lynn finally asked the question that had been bothering him. "How are this many people even eating while they're crammed in the gorge?"
"If you want the total, only the gods know the real number," Mance said after a moment. "From everything I've seen wandering the clans, villages, and tribes these past years, I'd say about a hundred thousand are willing to come. Total population is probably twelve thousand more than that, but no more than fifteen thousand."
"Right now about fifty thousand are gathered in the valley. Almost every fighting-age man from every clan has arrived. Plenty more are still on the march—mostly the old and slow. The Others only know how many of them will make it here alive."