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lonewolf371
07-21-2004, 07:28
This is my feeble attempt to write some story or rather. I've been thinking about it for awhile, but I'm by nature very lazy and will probably not finish it.

Also note: major names (Henry III, Simon de Montfort, Edward I) are historical, minor names (baron Jeanne d'Erstan, Gayle of Bordeaux, George) are fictional, any relevance to real people is purely coincidental.


Zethnaeron
A Medieval Tale

Prologue
Freedom, rights of the many, wise rulers, these things are or were once held by every great nation of the present and past. As rulers struggled to find the best way to preserve these aspects, eventually it has been found today that government by the people is often believed to be the best way to rule.

But it was not always so.

746 years ago, His Majesty King Henry III of the Plantagenet Royal Family, King of England, signed the Provisions of Oxford. These were designed by the barons and nobles of England in opposition to many of Henry’s failed policies. The leader of the nobles was Simon de Montfort II, the 6th Earl of Leicaster. The nobles once again tried to control Henry with the Provisions of Westminster, yet in the end they were rejected based on Henry’s claim to divine right from God and support from the Pope.

At last, war was imminent. Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicaster assembled his forces and those of his ally barons and met Henry III at the town of Lewes, ready to fight for the freedoms and powers of those who were not king.

The king had on his side more heavy cavalry and the very effective but inexperienced Prince, the future king Edward I.


Chapter 1, the March
Rain. Rain was annoying, and wet. If you are ever doing hard work, most times you’d rather be sweating all over than have to put up with rain. Rain got down to your skin, giving you that nasty wet feeling. When it finally stops, you feel the cold of the water climbing up your back, giving you chills until you finally take your wet clothing off.

Within this miserable scene was sir Gayle of Bordeaux, knight to the baron Jeanne d’Erstan of Nomandie, slogging through the wed mud, urging his horse on, wondering why in the world did he have to get dragged all the way out here.

Sir Gayle, while he had an English name, was predominately French (or more accurately, Norman) as was his baron. Simply the act of being French or living in France put you in the admiration of many other men of war. France was a battleground in its purest form, wars between English (or rather, French nobles loyal to the English crown) nobles and French nobles, English and English nobles, French and French nobles, were possibly some of the most common in the world. If you lived more than a few years, you were ranked a veteran along side many of the best soldiers who lived in England itself.

Such was the amount of awe Gayle and his friends received from the other knights assembled by the English barons of the island.

In many of their opinions, the knights under Jeanne d’Erstan shouldn’t even be here. Their baron had only come to return an old favor by an old friend. A big favor, apparently. The knights had seen the way the islanders acted, often loosely or disorganized. Compared to them, Gayle and his friends were a marvel of professional soldiers.

Gayle himself, compared to the other French knights, wasn’t a bad soldier. But he wasn’t particularly superior either. He could use a sword, mace, and flail as well as many of the others, but the area of his combat skill that he truly prided himself in was with his lance. Gayle was one of the most renown jousters of Normandie, and was well regarded because of it.

Gayle watched as one of the English knights, George, began to approach him. The French knights tolerated him, although just barely. They had a fairly haughty view of themselves, an aspect of theirs that Gayle did not have. George had been a friend that Gayle had made on the first day that they had joined up with the island barons and from him had learned much of the English countryside around them. George pulled his horse up next to Gayle. Gayle turned to George and said, “How far to Lewes?”

George turned to his friend and smiled, “Not to worry It’s not much farther, about half a day’s march after we camp tonight. I hope we find a place to camp soon, this rain is driving me insane.”

Gayle nodded in consent. This would be one part of England that he would be content to leave behind when he traveled back to Normandie. All around, the soldiers gradually continued their march, dredging through the mud, bending over in fatigue, praying to God to stop the rain sometime soon. Almost abruptly, the column stopped. Gayle looked around at the woods on either side of the road. This would be one part of England that he would miss. He liked the trees, there were more here than in Normandie. They also looked nicer when the sun rose above the wet ground. He smiled at the thought. Looking out over the side of the column, he noticed some of the barons slowly making their way back.

Jeanne d’Erstan went before his knights. He noted George with no small amount of displeasure. He turned to his own knights, “We are to camp several hundred yards further down the road, there is a large clearing there. Montfort has seen to it that you are to camp with the English (he almost spat as he said English) knights. The nobility will be camping off in the woods, near a water supply.”

The knights hardly said anything in return and filed out alongside the rapidly scattering column, heading for their camp. George said, “I don’t think your friends like me very much…”

“None sense, you shall set your tent up next to mine You shall tell me more of the English countryside so I have some idea of where we are”

George brightened up at that thought and followed Gayle. He still drooped his soldiers a little bit, but Gayle had noticed that that was probably a habit of his, he did it often, even when not around the French knights.

“I shall have to show you something, it’s not far from here.”

“Very well, what is it?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

Gayle almost snapped back, but he held his temper in check. Despite his friendly attitude towards George, he still had some of the haughtiness of the other French knights. Once arriving at the clearing, they dismounted. They took off the heavier parts of their armor, gave instructions to their squires, and then headed off into the woods.

“It’s a little bit off this way, you’ll like it, one of England’s more secret spots if you know what I mean.”

Gayle smiled. They trekked through the woods, the downpour of rain slackened by the leaves. This went on for sometime, about 20 minutes. Gayle hardly noticed it while admiring the scenery. He had a special place in his heart for forests and was always pleased at the sight of them.

“It’s just up here.”

Gayle noticed a change in the sounds of the surrounding forest. He thought he heard running water. At last they came to it, a running stream. The stream wound up a small incline, at last ending in a small pool over which was a water fall. The trees stopped a short distance from the pool of water, almost seemingly in a perfect circle around it. Off to the side was a cave. Gayle took pleasure in the sights and sounds from the place, smiling at its pleasant nature. George turned back, noticing that Gayle had stopped:

“Come on, the thing I wanted to show you was inside the cave.”

Gayle shook himself out of his daydream and followed George up to the cave itself. Inside it seemed dark, yet there was still enough light to see the insides. It was warm inside and felt wonderful. What really amazed Gayle though was the sheer mass of the size as the mouth opened up into the first chamber. Gayle immediately lost sight of the ceiling. He stared up at where it had been for several minutes, before at last saying, “What is this place?”

The loudness and the amount of echoes from that simple question made Gayle jump. It scared him to the point of reaching to his sword to draw it in surprise, but he quickly checked himself.

“This place is my favorite spot in England.”

George’s voice almost became completely in-decipherable after the word is, Gayle was surprised at the fact that he could tell anything about what George was saying.

“It’s nice.”

skullbone
07-21-2004, 09:28
Not a bad attempt it's quite good keep up the good work.I am looking forward to the next Chapter. But the ending for this chapter feels a little strange.... https://forums.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/rolleyes.gif

Ludens
07-21-2004, 12:36
It's a nice story, although it ends rather abruptly. What does Zethnaeron mean, actually?

Here is a bit of friendly advice: you shouldn't use brackets, especially not in the middle of a speech. It works rather confusing. I am afraid I was not always able to understand what you meant.

lonewolf371
07-21-2004, 14:04
You'll find all that out eventually... If I ever finish it. In addition, if any mods are passing by now, could they please change the topic back to Zethnaeron? In Word I was using the phreaky ae symbol but apparently that doesn't work in HTML.

Well anyhow, for all parties interested here's chapter 2.

To those of you who are more vigilant in criticism, you may notice the words It was slaughter used rather often in this part. https://forums.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/biggrin.gif


Chapter 2, the Battle of Lewes
It was morning. The sun flew above the grassy areas around the town of Lewes. Animals awoke within the forest and began their daily activities. People awoke too, but to perform a much different purpose.

They had a task to kill.

The camp was vibrant and hasty with the light of day. Men everywhere could be seen equipping themselves with weapons, donning armor, checking belts and leather straps, rubbing down their horses, whispering prayers, and meeting friends possibly for the last time before the battle.

Gayle was not particularly different in these aspects, but he had his squire to aid him. He had sent the squire to rub down the horse. After that, he was to prepare himself for battle; he was to fight with the infantry. Gayle admired the boy in some ways. He had served very well in France; he would hate to lose him now.

He himself had all his personal equipment on by now, his armor fastened and secure. As a sidearm he preferred the sword. Many knights used other weapons, preferring to use brute force to disarm their enemies rather than skill. Weapons of this category included more blunt tools of warfare, such as maces, clubs, and the like. The sword was noble, but the club truly supported those with muscle and brute force.

Once his horse was likewise ready and armored, Gayle at last mounted. This was probably another one of those things he was always afraid of losing before battle. His squire handed him his lance. Gayle nodded him off and the squire rushed off to join the infantry. Gayle himself maneuvered his horse to join his fellow Norman brethren.

The other Normans were grim and as always seemed barely on the point of tolerating the English. At last, when it appeared that their number had been gathered, baron d’Erstan led them off down the road. The other English knights soon joined them, and were followed thereafter by the infantry.

Aside from men-at-arms, Gayle had a fairly low view of these men. He often wondered what the point was of having foot soldiers; heavy cavalry and knights always decided the course of battle. He reasoned that they looked impressive in large numbers. They also provided some measure of expendability. Yet he still saw very little point in levying the farmers from their land to fight far-off wars. However, for the moment he had to push that from his mind.

They were to be mounted on a hill overlooking the town of Lewes. The Earl of Leicester planned to await battle on this hill. Both members of the royal family, Henry III and Edward I, were judged by many to be impetuous and the rebel forces hoped to draw them out onto the field of battle in a position which was not advantageous to them. The royal forces had more soldiers, but the position of Montfort and his barons opted to provide for them a counter to that factor.



After marching for about another 3 hours, at last they reached the object of their fancy. The soldiers gradually and grudgingly ascended the hill, deploying the banners of their forces on top. They looked down on the town of Lewes. It was of moderate size, having the standard church, mill, and bakery. Up on a hill overlooking the town was a stone castle, apparently still unfinished.

The royal army could be seen approaching the hill already. It was obvious that they had their own scouts and spies. But it was already too late for the king to dislodge them from their position before they could deploy. The royal armies approached and among the cavalry he noticed a particularly large banner. George had accompanied him in the march and now Gayle once again turned to him with a question in mind.

“Is that Edward?”

“Yes.”

The royal armies continued to approach, and at last the heavy cavalry, the battle-winning, war-winning aspect of Feudal armies, detached themselves from the rest of the infantry. They began a brisk trot; it was soon obvious that they were headed for the rebel left flank. George started.

“Shouldn’t we help them?”

“Not unless you wish to sacrifice the advantage of them routing our left flank.”

“What advantage is there in losing a third of our forces?”

“You’ll see, the Earl knows, he hasn’t ordered us to charge.”

George was silenced at that. The heavy cavalry began up the hill, briskly covering the hill side just as they had the plain before it. They at last urged the horses into a gallop, a broken gallop due to the incline, but a gallop nonetheless. Gayle almost flinched as they collided with the infantry. Immediately chaos enveloped the left flank, Gayle hardly bothered even looking. He knew that those peasants who weren’t dead were probably already running. After the carnage from the flank at last ended, Gayle looked again and smiled with grim satisfaction.

“See that?”

George nodded. Edward pursued the peasants down the other side of the hill intent on hunting them down. Many would lose him in the forest, making the pursuit long and hardy, yet Edward never once glanced back to attack the rest of Montfort’s army. At last the Earl was ready. He leveled his sword at the rest of the royal forces on the plain and barked the order.

“Charge”

The air was immediately filled with battle cries. The peasants wanted to at last let all their anger, tension, and fear loose itself on the king. The knights performed similarly, beginning a brisk trot down the hill just as Edward had done moments before in the opposite direction.

They headed for the center of the enemy line, the focal point for all his efforts. It was mainly manned by peasants, armed with only short spears and tridents. Expendable soldiers in the finest. The trot gradually increased in speed, the knights urged their horses onward with ever greater intensity.

A slow gallop, the lances were still raised, but moments later they would be lowered for the final part of the charge.

At last the knights went into a full gallop rapidly closing the space between them and the levied farmers. Lances all around were lowered, each one pointing at a peasant, ready to take his life. The fear on the peasant’s faces was obvious, they did not want to die, they were only here because they had no choice. Some balked and began to turn to run away, but the vast majority was frozen in fear. At last the knights collided with the peasants.

It was slaughter.

Gayle instantly found his mark right before the two forces hit each other, a rather large man in his thirties. Gayle drove the lance right through his heart, instantly letting it go so as not to break it with the forward momentum. The knights, quickly discarding their lances immediately drew side arms, close range weapons for use after the charge. Gayle drew his sword, his horse still going at full gallop. He soon found another victim, the energy from the charge still flowed through him and he aimed a blow at the peasants neck, hoping merely to slit it. His arm, fed up without work in the excitement, did much more than that. The energy from his blow forced the sword all the way through the peasant’s neck, through skin, muscle, and bone, and exploded on the other side.

Gayle grimaced at the sight, but quickly pushed it from his mind. The peasants were already fleeing. The knights stopped, knowing there was no need to pursue. Those who had not already drawn their side arms did so, and made them loose in their hands. Maces, morning stars, flails, and swords of all sizes abound among the knight’s weaponry. They turned to the next victims of their deadly practice.

The battle raged on all sides, Montfort’s foot soldiers had collided with the king’s and now fought fiercely, driving the royal forces before them. The king, in anticipation of the knight’s ability to take the rest of the battle, had deployed a large group of soldiers, predominately armed with spears, do stop them. Overall their training and style of warfare feebly resembled that of the ancient Greek’s, but they did not have the same discipline.

The knights knew this too well.

The spearmen were backed up by some of the few professional soldiers on the battlefield, men-at-arms. They would be more difficult to deal with. Nonetheless the knights grunted as they turned their horses and once again resumed the brisk trot.

The spearmen noted the oncoming knights with wide-eyed fear. They had the ability to decimate the heavy cavalry, yet they still feared it greatly. The trot gradually increased in pace. The knights knew this as well, the ability to route these soldiers they knew rested almost entirely on their intimidation, if that failed, then these very masters of war could easily be the ones slaughtered. The trot increased to a slow gallop. The spearmen started to show major signs of doubt that was a giveaway. They would flee.

At last the knights once again entered into a full gallop, their horses thundering across the field, the spearmen leveled their spears, determined to make a stand. It would not be so. The banners of the knights flew in the breeze; their armor glinted from the sun, their mighty war cries carried across the battlefield. The simple peasants making up the spearmen at last began to balk, just as the previous farmers had. Their spear angles became jumbled distorted, no longer able to suit their purpose. The front ranks turned and fled, sensing death in its purest form coming from the shining guardians of nobility. The knights yelled their final war cries, their horses bayed, and they collided with the spearmen.

It was slaughter.

The formation had become so distorted that it had no more effect than the very air before them on the knights’ onward rush. Gayle charged through them, his sword dancing left and right, splitting throat after throat. The impact of maces and morning stars could be heard as their wielders slammed them into the peasant’s bodies so hard crunches could be heard, bones cracking and screams of terror as the men were hurled upward and then let to fall back down.

The men-at-arms behind the spearmen charged, hoping to stay the knights advance. These soldiers actually had some real armor on their person, Gayle’s sword would not be as effective, but he still knew how to slip the blade between the shirt and the helmet. Here was where the blunt weapons of some of the more brute knights were in their finest. They made short work of the men-at-arms, just as they had the peasants before. Gurgles from blood, broken bones, and screams of abject terror accompanied the fight just as they had the two before. Those who had not fled were soon slaughtered, the knights once again standing victorious.

They went around the field, behind the rear of the royal forces, repeating the scene again and again. Before long a general route throughout all of Henry III’s army was underway. Henry himself was soon captured, and stood before Simon de Montfort, 6th Earl of Leicester, to be judged.

Axeknight
07-21-2004, 20:07
I like your battle description, very good https://forums.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif . Though the phrase It was slaughter should only really have been used once.

I like this, I await the next part https://forums.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/gc-2thumbsup.gif