Galbart hurried back and forth along the battlements, directing the soldiers to repel the climbing Ironborn with stones and arrows.
The edge of Galbart's own longsword had been battered blunt, and an Ironborn battle-axe had cut his wrist. Blood ran down his arm, but he gritted his teeth and refused to retreat, continuing to hack at the enemy with his sword in his other hand.
The bodies of seven or eight Ironborn who had climbed up lay around him, but more than a dozen soldiers of House Glover had fallen as well. Worse still, the Ironborn already outnumbered them. The walls had been breached in several places, and the defenders were steadily falling back.
"Hold the line!" he shouted himself hoarse, trying to rally their spirits. "Ser Robett's reinforcements will be here any moment! For the North!"
He had barely finished speaking when a disturbance broke out behind the Ironborn. Ser Robett Glover charged into their flank with fifty soldiers.
Their spears flashed coldly in the sunlight as they drove them deep into the Ironborn's backs, sending screams erupting all around. Ser Robett led the charge, swinging his longsword and cutting down several Ironborn.
Now attacked from both front and rear, most of the Ironborn began to panic, and their formation fell apart. Their commander, Victarion, roared and hacked down two soldiers from Deepwood Motte who had attacked him from behind.
But Ser Robett soon seized an opening and thrust his sword into Victarion's arm from the side. Victarion grunted, nearly losing his grip on his battle-axe. He staggered back several steps, his face dark with fury.
"Retreat!" an Ironborn shouted hastily when he saw their commander wounded, his voice tinged with panic. "Back to the ships! Hurry!"
The Ironborn abandoned their assault on Deepwood Motte and began to flee.