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This thread is for V&V players to post their battle AARs. Please place screenshots in spoiler tags so the thread is easier to load.
Battle of Logum Abbey, Schleswig-Holstein, 1080
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Boleslaw Herman, a minor Polish noble entrusted with tax collection, just stood there, eyes bulging and jaw almost to the floor at the shocking news that an army of the Reich had crested the hill and moved into battle formation.
He remained in a state of surprise as his squire hurriedly prepared him for battle and as his equerry helped him atop his warhorse.
He was still reeling as his small force of levy spears and archers drew up into battle lines with the hill on their left flank and with the village of Breslau at their right.
What in the name of God were they doing here and what could they possibly want? Breslau was, even a proud nationalist such as he was willing to admit, the armpit of the Polish Kingdom. Why would the Reich send a force to capture the town? Were they suddenly short of goats? Was there a desperate need for turnips?
His state of confusion continued as he watched the archers of the Reich take position on the hill overlooking the plain and as the black and gold emblems carried by the German spearmen fluttered in the breeze as they advanced.
But the most surprising thing was at this point yet to come, as he reflected later at the point of the lance which skewered him through the middle, knocked him off his horse and spilled his surprisingly coloured entrails onto the ground in front of him.
The last thing, which utterly dumbfounded him in the moments before he died, was to see what looked like the Duke of Austria thundering past in full armour, looking for all the world like he was having the time of his life...
Later, when the Polish forces had been scattered, the stragglers captured and the village plundered, Leopold eagerly summoned his captains and asked them how much loot they had found.
The answer was nothing short of surprising.
King Wladyslaw of Poland was mightily pleased to hear that his quarry the whelp of Wien had deigned to return to the field to face him. As his army drew itself up into battle lines he chuckled to himself at the though of skewering the German Prinz on the point of his lance.
Arrayed in front of him was his invading army: three companies of mercenary crossbow, seven of spear (a combination of native Polish levies and mercenaries), one mob of Polish peasants native to Breslau and bent on revenge for the rape of their village by the Austrians and a group of mounted Polish nobles.
His scouts had not been able to determine precisely the makeup of Prinz Leopold's force, but given the reported poverty of the Reich and the meagre resources available to the then-Duke at their last meeting he did not expect to be challenged.
He waited, confident and eager, watching the tree line across the snowy field for any sign of movement. He did not have to wait long, for with a crash, out of the undergrowth sprang the Prinz himself and his bodyguard, in full armour and regalia, galloping across the field towards him.
His missiles readied their arms for firing as the knights of Austria approached but at the last moment, just as they were about to release their deadly load, the Prinz and his bodyguard wheeled to their right and began to dash away from the Polish army.
The front ranks, almost involuntarily, gave chase and soon the whole Polish force was dashing across the open ground in pursuit of the Prinz. Even Wladyslaw, in the heat of the moment, began to gallop in pursuit before he began to realise the trick.
As the Prinz and his mounted companions dodged and weaved in a circled around the field, the Polish King began to shout orders to his men in an attempt to stop them from wasting their energies in pursuit.
Unfortunately the noise and sheer mass of his army made communication difficult and he was forced to follow them, red faced and shouting in vain as they legged it three times around the field, trailing the cantering Austrian horses.
Finally the Prinz wheeled once more and headed back towards the treeline and up the steep slope into the forest.
The Polish army, overtaken by mob instinct and deaf to the entreaties of their general and King, gave hot pursuit, stumbling up the slope through the thick undergrowth to the crest of the hill under the dark green forest canopy.
Through the trees they could just make out the German Prinz and his company, some way off and partly silhouetted on the crest of a ridge. For some reason he and his bodyguard had halted there and the sight of their quarrey now stationary enthused the Poles still further to redouble their efforts to climb the hill.
It was at this point that Wladyslaw got the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was clearly a trap.
And indeed it was so, for out of the undergrowth sprang the German spear and crossbows to block the route to Leopold and confront the exhausted Poles.
The weight of numbers still favoured the Polish King by some distance, but with the advantage of the high ground, the element of surprise and his own troops having tired themselves in pursuit of the tricky Prinz, he could see that this was a battle he was most likely to lose.
He charged into the fray, hacking about him in an attempt to singlehandedly turn the tide of battle. Ahead on the ridge the German crossbows were firing repeatedly into the melee, cutting the Poles down like hay, while behind him his own crossbows were harried and driven off by the charges of two companies of German Mailed Knights.
The day was indeed lost when the Mailed Knights turned and charged into the rear of his engaged infantry line, causing the men to rout and flee for their lives down the now-bloody hillside.
The last thing King Wladyslaw saw before he died was the crossbowman who would kill him, levelling his weapon and sighting him with a single eye down the barrel.
1114 AD - The Battle of Lorsch Abbey
Vaclav struggled to wakefulness as he heard shouts all around the camp, just as an aide rushed into his tent.
“What is going on?” The old Duke grumbled.
“My Lord, the Poles are attacking!”
“What of the siege?”
“Polish flags fly on the ramparts of Frankfurt, we noticed just now as dawn arrived.” The aide hurriedly explained.
“WHAT?!” Vaclav nearly dropped the chest plate he was strapping on.
“I'm sorry my Lord, but it seems we were camped too far away from the city to realize anything was amiss...” The younger man's voice trailed off as the Duke of Bohemia waved him off and heard some grumbling about missing out on the winter game because no one else could be bothered to defend Frankfurt.
Moments later, the aide was helping the old Duke unto his horse. He was soon joined by his retinue and noticed, with some pride, that even his militia had formed into ordered ranks. Vaclav also spotted the approaching army, consisting of two spear regiments, two crossbow regiments, six mounted crossbow regiments and the Polish general. It seemed as if the Poles had taken Frankfurt with minimal losses as their army was mostly intact. Vaclav positioned his small army in a hilly forest near Lorsch Abbey, placing his regiment of mercenary crossbowmen and his regiment of archers at the front. Behind them, forming a line, he placed his regiment of mercenary spearmen on the left with his two regiments of spear militia forming the center and town militia taking up the right. Behind the mercenaries, Vaclav and his retinue observed the advance of the Polish army.
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The Duke of Bohemia's ranged regiments spread out and soon opened fire on an approaching Polish spear regiment. After a few volleys, they were bombarded by the eight ranged regiments of the Poles and hastily retreated behind their lines. The two Polish spear regiments marched up the hill under cover from a hail of bolts from their army and quickly found themselves in a heated battle against all of Vaclav's militia. Meanwhile, Vaclav noticed some of the mounted assailants had come to close and initiated a charge at them. When the two mounted units made contact, the crossbowmen didn't far well, but the Polish general then charged at the back of Duke of Bohemia, obviously thinking to end this battle early. As such, the Pole was quite surprised to find that he was suddenly in a pincer between Vaclav and reinforcing mercenary spearmen, held in reserve for just this eventuality.
With more luck than skill, the Polish general somehow managed to extract himself and half of his retinue from the deadly melee, leaving his mounted crossbowmen to fend for themselves. The mercenary spearmen then charged at another regiment of mounted crossbowmen, but after a short melee it got away. On the left, the battle remained a stalemate and everywhere Polish bolts where thick in the air.
Then, the Polish general, still feeling bold, lead the remainder of his bodyguard in between the two concentrations of the Duke of Bohemia's troops and began to slaughter corssbowmen and archers alike. As if this turn of events wasn't bad enough for the Reich, in the heat of the melee with the mounted crossbowmen, Vaclav was dismounted by an errant bolt. As he fell to the ground, he barely had time to recover before being trampled to death by a number of horses involved in confused melee. As his pennant went down, nearly all of his wavering troops lost all of their countenance at once and fled the field in disorder, a number of found themselves captured, the others escaped towards Madgeburg. Yet, the mercenary spearmen who had fought at the side of the Duke during the battle held their ground as other regiments collapsed. Seeing the situation was hopeless, they managed to grab the Duke of Behomia's smashed corpses as they effectuated an orderly withdrawal.
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In the forest northeast of Magdeburg, 1116 AD
(Engelbrekt is Theodericus’ military advisor and second-in-command.)
Theodericus: Are you sure you read the map correctly? The scouts should surely have met them and reported back by now.
Engelbrekt: Yes, of course I am. They must be hiding here somewhere. It's these bloody trees... but they are all good men, our scouts, and I'm convinced they will get their job done. No need to worry - though I still wouldn’t mind it at all if someone just cut them all down.
Theodericus: Just you wait until we reach the Poles – with their superiority in missiles and cavalry you might think differently about them before this battle is over.
Engelbrekt: Yeah, well, we’d have to find the enemy first before that becomes a problem…
As Theodericus laughs, his scouts return, and the commander rides up to him and salutes.
Scout Commander: Sir, they’re up there on the hill to your right. They were hoping to ambush us, but by the goodwill of God we caught them. Unfortunately, I’m sure they saw us as well, and they know we spotted them.
Theodericus: Don’t worry about that, soldier. You and your men have done great work just spotting them over there. We’d be lost without your effort, and I shall remember to reward you for this when this battle is over. Now return to formation!
Theodericus formed up his army thus: his archers and crossbowmen placed at the front in loose formation, behind his Seargent spearmen flanked by militia spearmen, and behind followed Theodericus and his bodyguard, together with some of the mercenaries who survived Vaclav Premyslid’s defeat.
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The Polish formation:
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The battle itself was over very quickly. Theodericus’ crossbowmen and archers got the first shots on the Polish mounted crossbowmen, but at first their missiles had very little effect. The polish bolts and arrows, on the other hand, were a little more effective, and caused some deaths mostly to the archers, but also amongst the spearmen.
With the second volley, however, the Polish cavalry started taking higher losses, and began forming Cantabrian circles; trying to catch them off guard, Theodericus rushed up together with his spearmen, trying to instigate a melee. Unfortunately, the Poles were quicker, and retreated off the battlefield before being caught.
All in all, there was only few losses on either side, with a negligible preponderance on Theodericus’ side.
The Battle of Wien, 1117
In the winter of 1117 Prinz Leopold of Osterreich met a mixed force of Magyar horse, missile and spear led by Petri of Nagyszombat about two days' march out of Wien.
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The Prinz was in a foul mood, having been forced by the Hungarians to delay his plans for the long-awaited confrontation with the Milanese at Innsbruck and retrace his steps to defend his Ducal seat. He determined to inflict as much pain, suffering and misery on this Magyar horde as possible, the better to teach them and their fellows a lesson about trifling with the Duke of Osterreich and Prinz of the Romans!
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He had advance intelligence of the makeup of the enemy force, being heavy in mounted archers, and knew that his infantry-heavy force would come under sustained missile attack. Accordingly, he ordered his spear and slavic levies into loose formation and spread them across a wide front of the battle field, the better to soak up the enemy fire while minimising casualties. Behind this screen he placed his crossbows and archers, also in loose formation, and on each wing he declined the flank in order to protect his missiles further from enemy cavalry. An essentially defensive formation, Leopold knew that this was his best chance against the mobile and dangerous Magyar invasion force.
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The enemy advanced in loose order and, as expected, sent their horse archers forward to pepper the soldiers of the Reich with arrows.
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The Prinz ordered his missiles to concentrate their fire on one unit of Magyar horse at a time, until each was depleted and presented little danger.
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After a while, when he judged that the mounted archers on the left flank of the Magyar force were sufficiently weakened by this tactic, the Prinz and his bodyguard moved into position....
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...and charged at the enemy!
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Smashing into their huddled formation with a terrible impact, the Prinz and his men quickly routed the Hungarian flank...
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...while back in front of the German lines, the centre of the Magyar formation also began to give way under the concentrated fire of the Reich's sharpshooters.
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Soon enough the chase was on...
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..and all that was left was to run down the routers as they tried to flee.
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It was a great victory for Osterreich and for the Reich.
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But in his fury, the Prinz left no prisoners alive, spurning the opportunity for ransom in order to ensure that none of these men would trouble him again.
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Placeholder for the Battle of the Mont Blanc
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The Diary of Kaiser Heinrich
Frankfurt, 1119
The siege engines had been constructed for some time now. Theodericus der Bartige and his army had arrived from Magdeburg roughly a fortnight ago and they had long since made themselves comfortable. And yet the siege still dragged on, without me ordering an assault on the former capital of the Reich. Why? It's not like I wanted to. Every day I knew that more and more good Germans were suffering under the atrocities of their Polish occupiers. Every day also brought me one day closer to my own final judgment and the termination of my earthly affairs, of which there was so much yet to accomplish. So why did I hold off for as long as I did? Because the time was not right.
Finally, one day, when I woke up, I heard the patter of water ceaselessly drumming against my tent. The feeling in my bones confirmed it: The time was finally right. I immediately sent messengers to both the officers in mine and Duke der Bartige's army to prepare for an assault.
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So why today? I certainly heard that question enough, whether being muttered from the annoyed lips of my soldiers, or being more questioningly asked of me by my trusted lieutenants. The answer, I told my men in the traditional pre-battle speech, was exactly the reason why they were so miserable: the weather.
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"I do not like this Biblical deluge any more than the rest of you, men!" I roared to them over the howling winds and crashing thunder. "But I guar - *BOOM!* - I guarantee you that the Poles over there like it even less than us! Their strength lies in their cavalry, their horse archers! Should they try anything in this weather they will find that their horses will quickly become bogged down in the mud and they will not be able to see what to fire at, and even if they do their arrows will almost certainly not hit their target! Besides!" I continued. "This is our home city over there! There is a man in there that led his troops onto German lands and told them to start killing German men and raping German women! There is a man in there that is personally responsible for the death of a Duke of the Reich, Vaclav Premyslid! Do you mean to say that you - soldiers of the Reich all - are going to let a little rain get in the way of our long-coming revenge?! I think not, men! Bartige's men are behind you! Together there is no stopping us! Now: forwarrrrrrrrd... MARCH!!!"
The regiments tasked with carrying my siege engines took ten steps forward and disappeared into the mist. I had been frugal with my construction, ordering only two sets of ladders and one battering ram. Really, it was only the ram that mattered: Once the gates were down, my men would be able to swarm into the city and our superior infantry would make quick work of the Polish defenders in the narrow streets. The men manning the ladders would be bait, bait to draw the Polish infantry away from the gateway.
While they were tasked to be bait and draw the attention of the Poles, however, I did not nearly imagine - or hope - that they would be this successful. The Poles' next move proved to be a shock: the city gates swung open and the same horse archers that had so menaced poor Premyslid's army now stormed out of the city and into the open ground, ready to menace my ladder carriers and the rest of my stationary army.
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"Damn to the depths of Hell!" I swore out loud. The rest of my bodyguard gave me a confused look. "Our crossbow troops are the ones carrying the battering ram!" I yelled at one of my couriers to ride as fast as he could towards the Duke's advancing army and order him to send me his foot archers as fast as they could. If we didn't get some counterfire on those horse archers, the day would get a lot miserable for the rest of us, even in spite of the weather.
The horse archers would not be the only pressure on the ladder troops, however. The gates of Frankfurt swung open a second time, this time bringing out the Polish general and his escort. Przebor Zdeb, conqueror of Frankfurt and killer of Premyslid, came out, heading right for my out-of-position spears.
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"That's it," I muttered, stirring my horse up into action. "My bodyguard, charge! He does not deserve to die in Frankfurt!"
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However, upon seeing a cadre of 60 heavily-armed horsemen headed straight for him, Zdeb and his escort abruptly turned around and headed back into the confines of the city. Evidently he had just wanted a better look at our men's placement, and due to the weather/low visibility he had to get up quite close.
Bartige's archers had arrived and I immediately ordered them to concentrate fire on the horse archers which were proving to be moderately effective against us despite the weather. With no further sallies from the city, I ordered the ladders to the walls, in addition to sending the battering ram forward. The bait was set, and the Poles were taking it quite well.
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At this point I had little to do in the battle, as I was simply waiting for the rammers to do their work. I could barely see anything in front of me, with the occasional flashes of lightning providing the only illumination as to how the fight on the walls was progressing. I started drumming my fingers on the saddle impatiently. Here, finally, the waiting got to me. Now that things were finally in motion again, the realization of my age and all the things I still had yet to accomplish was finally catching up to me, and it was doing so all at once.
I have held the Imperial throne since I was six, I thought to myself. A veritable lifetime with so much power should be nearly enough to shape the world to my liking. And yet now, only as the final sands begin to trickle away, do I really understand this and make up for lost time. Will it be enough?
Will it be enough?
After a wet and soggy eternity, I heard a loud crack that didn't sound quite like lightning. I told all of my men to be ready. As soon as I could make out the silhouette of a lone soldier, running for us and waving frantically, I leaped into action.
"The gate is down!!" I screamed. "All regiments forward! My spears in the front, the Duke's right behind! Into the city! Go go go go go!!!"
In the excitement, I took the stirrups of my own mount and urged it forward, almost as if it was on instinct. The rest of my escort had no choice but to follow, and just like that, the Kaiser had officially returned to Frankfurt.
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What I could make out of the city in the rain showed me that it looked about the same after some years under Polish occupation. It was everything I could do not to jump off my horse and run into every single building there to personally assure my good subjects that their Kaiser was here to save them.
Instead, I nearly screamed myself hoarse urging the infantry forward. With me off to the side, my spearmen surged forward, an unstoppable mass that would hack their way right to the city center. At least, that's what I was hoping for. As it turned out, the Polish general Zdeb had tapped a very important unit to halt the wave of spears: himself.
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Here is where the bait strategy from before came to fruition. Yes, the units that were tasked to take the walls failed to do so, and were all but annihilated in attempting to do so, but they had whittled down the Polish infantry and more importantly kept them occupied. Several good regiments that could have turned my glorious reconquest of Frankfurt into a bloody house-by-house fight were instead up on the walls, mopping up, and finding themselves terrifyingly out of position. And now, the only thing to stem the tide for the Poles was Zdeb himself and a regiment of foot crossbows that he kept in the city center as a last resort. The rest of the infantry and the horse archers - currently galloping as fast as they could in the mud back to the city proper - would be late.
My blood already up, I saw my boys going to work against Zdeb's escort and couldn't take it anymore. As Kaiser of the Reich, I could not idly stand by any longer while the conqueror of my (second) capital and murderer of one of my Dukes stood right in front of me, alive and breathing.
"Go in, boys! We kill them ourselves! We can't let the mercenaries have all the fun!"
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It was a cycle of blood for my sword. As soon as the object claimed a new victim and got a red glint signifying its conquest, the rain would wash it off, leaving me to kill another horseman and once again give the sword a red glint, which would again be washed off, etc. Eventually, I was hoping that the game would end with the blood being washed off for good, because that would mean that there were no more Poles to kill.
We soon had more to worry about, though - the Polish soldiers on the walls and outside the city had caught up, and were heading straight for us.
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As the rest of my bodyguard turned to deal with the new threat, I ordered der Bartige's spearmen to come up and sandwich the second wave, and personally turned my attention back to the rapidly-diminishing Polish escort. Though the mass of spears was simply too dense to allow me through, I was able to watch with grim satisfaction as Przebor Zdeb's men was whittled down to only him. Utterly silent as Zdeb finally fell, I only pointed to the heavens, signifying that Vaclav Premyslid had been partially avenged.
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The rest of the battle was fairly unremarkable. Our soldiers grinded our way up the streets of Frankfurt as well as back towards the city's gates, slowly overcoming the Polish soldiers in our way. Eventually, Duke der Bartige personally joined the fray, adding his escort's significant weight against the Poles.
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Eventually, I found myself in the city center, armor dented and bloodied in more than one area. It took four soldiers to hold me back from fighting any longer, one of them my trusted lieutenant Captain Ludwig, but I finally acquiesced to abstaining from personally causing further bloodshed. It was all I could do to watch as a combination of mine and Theodericus's spearmen slowly eliminated the last pockets of Polish resistance. My thoughts were drumming through my head as relentlessly as the rain was coming down as I was calculating the day's casualties and what it would mean for later on.
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All in all it was a good victory today, if more costly than I was hoping for. Frankfurt was back in the Reich's hands - all of the Electors would be happy about that, at least. My army had taken the brunt of casualties, and while the Duke's force lost several spearmen, the losses were nothing he would not be able to replace. He would most definitely be happy about that.
I, on the other hand, while happy for him, was already worrying to the work lying ahead of me. The surgeon came up to me some time after the battlefield and said that a great proportion of my soldiers' wounds were not mortal and that they would be back in action sooner or later. They would make a recovery, then. Good. After all, they would be needed for the battles ahead. But the amount of men who recovered, will it be enough?
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Will it be enough?
The Second Battle of Magdeburg, 1122 CE
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It was a foggy day near the city of Magdeburg as Theodericus der Bartige moved his army into formation to break the siege that the Poles had put his own capital Magdeburg under. Even though he felt cold and had problems seeing things properly, he still felt happy and confident about the upcoming battle, though one would hardly guess it just by looking at him. Nevertheless, these were his true feelings, as he knew that his enemy faced the very same problems, and the fog would grant him and his men much needed concealment that would lessen the effectiveness of the enemy's missiles. Conveniently enough, it also made offensive movements easier to conceal.
This time he had decided to order his Bohemian infantry to hold the center of his line while letting his own Brandenburgians take to the flanks a little hung back, almost the exact opposite to what he had done in the first battle of Magdeburg. Behind this line he had placed his newly-hired mercenaries, and in front of both were the few archers and crossbowmen that he still had at his disposal. All of them were in a loose formation, anticipating the arrowstorm they'd come under during the advance. As for Theodericus himself and his famous Brandenburgian light cavalry, he stayed a little back. He did not wish to loose any of these if he could avoid it, as they were vital to the success of this battle.
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Initially he had planned to attack already the day before, but the garrison from Brandenburg had been delayed for unknown reasons, and he did not want to begin this battle before they arrived. They were still not there, but as the weather had changed from clear to being this foggy, he felt that it was worth taking that risk. The concealment was more important than the men were, and there was still a chance that they might turn up in time to contribute something before the battle was over.
On the other side of the battlefield there was a church standing on a small hill, and Theodericus's scouts had earlier reported that the Poles had chosen to make their stand there. Indeed, even from the distance that Theodericus viewed it from, you could, despite of the fog, still see tiny silhouettes moving against the sky. In his speech before the battle, Theodericus had pointed this out to his men and derided them for being cowards, as they hid in the Church and prayed to God for mercy for as long as they could, even down to the very last minute. "But their prayers will go unanswered", he had said, "for they go up against the might of Brandenburg-Bohemia, whose Margrave is a well-known servant of the Lord; and for by their cowardice, they are forcing us to spill blood on Holy and Sacred ground, for which God will know no forgivess for our foes!"
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Just as he had ordered his men to move on towards the church, he heard is second-in-command Engelbrekt cry out: "Look! There comes captain Wenceslaus to reinforce us, and just at the right moment! God truly is on our side!" As he said this, he himself shone up, and the men who heard it had their morale gain a visible boost, as if they had completely forgotten and forgiven the cold weather. "Of course", they thought, "God made the good Captain late so we would fight under this favourable weather. There's no way we can lose now!" This turn of events made Theodericus' words echo even louder in their minds, and their confidence grew exponentially.
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As Theodericus approached the church, the Polish missile cavalry, by themselves called "Strzelcy", rode out in front of the church and welcomed Theodericus and his men with a hail of bolts from their crossbows. Despite their clear advantage in numbers and height, the first casualty of this battle was still a Pole, who was hit by a bolt from one of Theodericus' mercenary crossbowmen. Indeed, the Poles' inefficiency with their crossbows surprised even Theodericus, as it took until around their third volley to take out even a single German soldier. Thanking God for this divine protection, he still knew that it wouldn't last, so he moved to his right wing and together charged at the left flank of the Poles, who retreated. Instead of chasing after them, he swung around, reorganized and charged at the Polish cavalry who had stayed. When they tried to flee the only way they could go, they were caught by surprise as captain Wenceslaus had crept up a bit to the left of Theodericus' men, and thanks to fog and a slight hill, had managed to trap the Polish cavalry. Despite this, the Poles still fought strongly, but were eventually routed.
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Chasing after the Polish cavalry, Theodericus was immediately engaged by the remaining Polish cavalry as he passed the church, and this included the Polish general himself. They had been unable to come to aid the rest of their cavalry because they had retreated on their left side of the church, while the rest had tried to do so on their right. As this had happened and Theodericus had chased after the trapped Poles, his spearmen had moved up to prevent the first group to attack him in his back. Thus they weren't able to engage him until now, but at this point they had already lost so many of their men that Theodericus was in a clear advantage. Still many Brandenburgian cavalrymen fell to the arrows of the Polish foot archers, who were firing straight into the melee, but Theodericus remained unharmed and kept the advantage.
Even the Polish general realized the futility of his resistance, and so he turned to flee as well. However, his engagement had at least given the cavalry that was routing first to reorganize and come back, and this forced Theodericus to chase after them instead of turning around and taking care of the enemy archers. This was instead taken care of by his infantry, who had just cought up with them. By this time the battle was already decided, but they still tried to take as many Imperial soldiers with them as they could, but their courage wavered quickly. The last few Strzelcy fled from the battlefield, while the enemy that was on foot were either killed or taken as prisoners of war.
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The price for the ransom was set at 1456, but it was refused and the prisoners were executed. The Poles who got away scattered in the countryside, never to be seen again.
Because of this magnificent battle, the Poles feel humiliated and as a result our relationship with them has worsened.
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The Battle of Tyrol, 1123
In the bitter cold of the winter of 1123 Prinz Leopold von Osterreich and his mercenary army are crossing the Alps south of Nuremburg in a forced march to relieve the garrison of Castle Innsbruck, who are under siege from the Milanese.
While descending on the Tyrolian side of the range they are set upon by a small army of Venetians, apparently themselves headed for Bavaria.
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The Prinz has some time to arrange his troops on the higher ground.
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As the Venetians struggle up the slope in the heavy snow, the German archers and crossbowment find their range.
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The first Italians to crest the verge are a depleted band of Knights. Their steeds stumbling over the rocky ridge they muster a half-hearted charge, steam pouring from their nostrils in the chill morning air.
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Almost the instant their lances clash against German shields they are shaken and looking to retreat.
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In a similar demoralized state are the Italian Spear Militia who follow them into the serried ranks of the Reich's spear.
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Soon the Venetian foot are routing, falling over themselves in a vain attempt to escape as they fall head over heels down the icy slope.
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Seeing the day all but lost, Benasuto Selvo, the Venetian commander, orders his personal bodyguard into the melee.
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But it is not long before they too are put to flight, their general slain and his head atop a German spear.
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The prisoners are herded into a nearby pine wood and several freeze to death while the Prinz awaits the response to his ransom demand of 1200 florins. It is refused and the Italians are left to die on the mountain top. Hands and feet bound and mouths gagged, they thrash about in the snow until they starve or die of exposure to the elements.
The Prinz and his army continue their march.
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The Third Battle of Innsbruck, 1123
After their Venetian appetiser the Prinz and his men were eager to taste the main Milanese course. As they approached Innsbruck their scouts returned and advised that the Milanese had broken off the siege and were awaiting in a nearby forest, on the steep slope of a mountain.
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At the edge of the forest Leopold ordered his men into battle formation. Knowing that his enemy outnumbered him in terms of spear, he stretched his lines somewhat but retained the basic array that had served him so well in the recent battle.
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The outriders spotted some of the Italians lurking amid the pines.
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Before the enemy had a chance to react to his presence, the Prinz moved to seize the higher ground on the Milanese flank.
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At risk of their lines being turned there was, for the Milanese, nothing for it but to advance up the hillside to meet the Germans' lines.
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The Reich's archers began their deadly sport.
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Leopold ordered his cavalry and his own bodyguard onto the right flank.
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The Milanese commander, although only a Captain with the unfortunately feminine name of Maria, was evidently a keen student of the classics. In response to the Prinz' manouevre he declined his left flank, instead ordering his men to advance in eschelon after the Thebans at Leuctra.
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The right-most Milanese spear clashed with the hardy men of the Reich, opening the melee - but they were clearly uninspired by their captain's tactical awareness (or perhaps unsure of his manhood) and became quickly demoralised as they fought alone.
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On the left flank Captain Maria ordered a detachment of spear to screen the Prinz' cavalry.
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Never was a suicide mission so bravely conducted.
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As his plans fell apart, so did the good Captain's mail shirt and he fell under his horse, melting the Alpine snow with his final hot breath.
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Carnage ensued as the Prinz and his knights rounded the Milanese flank and drove their lances home.
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All that remained was the chase.
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Like the Venetians before them, the Milanese refused the Prinz' reasonable ransom demands and a terrible series of ice sculptures was left to grace the slopes.
The Battle of Lombardy 1125
In the Spring of 1125 when the alpine meadows were thick with wildflowers Prinz Leopold and his army marched into Lombardy and there on the border met a large Italian force led by Catelano Rossi which was determined to halt his advance.
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The Prinz knew there would be a missile duel and drew his army up around the base of a large church which was raised up on a hill overlooking the battle field, the better for his crossbows and archers to concentrate a massed fire on the approaching Italians.
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In the trees on his right flank he hid a unit of Frankish Knights.
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The enemy soon came into view.
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As they approached the German lines and the hum of bows was beginning to be heard, the hidden Franks spurred their mounts into action. They ran across the face of the approaching Italian army, causing their crossbows to scurry back into the safety of the infantry line and depriving them of the valuable ability to fire on the Reich's troops.
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The Italians sent their light cavalry ahead of the main force and it was quickly driven back and routed by troops hidden in the trees.
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With an almighty cruch the two lines met. The Italians, their numbers already whittled down my the hail of bolts and arrows, began to waver at the first contact with the hard bitten Germans.
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The Prinz, wishing to press the issue to a swift resolution, hove into view on the Italian flank and charged home into the engaged enemy's rear.
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Soon many of the Italians were routing.
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A final charge from the Prinz' bodyguard settled the day in favour of the Reich.
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A hefty ransom was set for the many captured troops.
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But the cold hearted enemy refused to pay and the Prinz dispatched their souls to heaven.
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Placeholder - Third Battle of Magdeburg 1125
The Battle of Prague, 1129
The Battle of Prague is a story that begins a couple of years before it took place. The Poles, defended only by the Catholic church's threat of excommunication if attacked, had sneaked in a small army to scavenge and pillage Bohemia under a captain by the name of Miron. This had not gone unnoticed in Magdeburg. Lord Theodericus der Bartige, margrave of Brandenburg-Bohemia, had sent a messenger to his general Harold Merode, who was then travelling through Bohemia, to take the garrison of Prague and chase out the Poles. It was thus a surprise when he instead, in the closing of the season, showed up at the gates of Magdeburg. Apparently, the message never got to him - the messenger presumably dead, either by bandits or intercepted by Poles.
As a result, the Polish captain Miron was able to get reinforcements and lay siege to Prague.
This time margrave Theodericus der Bartige went with the wisdom of "if you want something done right, you will have to do it yourself", and so leaving a small garrison for Harold Merode to command in defence of Magdeburg, he set out with the majority of his army to take care of this threat. However, realizing that he could not get his infantry to Prague quick enough to avoid any risk of an assault, he took his cavalry regiments and moved out ahead of them and forced captain Miron to battle.
The battle itself was mostly memorable to the soldiers themselves. Theodericus immediately saw that he had the ability not only to get the high ground, but by doing so also come at the Poles from two opposing sides. With superior numbers, this battle was thus over before it began. Still, it took some good and brave fighting by his cavalry to win the day.
In the end, captain Miron was dead, his men either scattered or captured (and later executed) and Prague was saved.
The Battle of Milan, 1134
In the summer of 1134, as his army laid siege to the city of Milan, Prinz Leopold received word that the Venetians, whose forces were trapped inside the city, were planning to relieve the siege with a large force which was but one days' march away.
It was clear that the small force of defenders readied themselves for battle. Clearly aware of the Prinz' martial prowess, the Venetians intended to throw everything at the army of Osterreich in a desperate attempt to break the deadlock.
The Prinz was well pleased with this outcome: the Pope had disbarred him from making an aggressive move and his father the Kaiser had not yet ruled on whether it was permissible to court excommunication by defying the Papal Bull, so in their eagerness to join in battle the Venetians were resolving a difficult decision for him.
It wasn't long before the Venetians were visible on the horizon. It was a sizable force, split into two parts, with a third expected when the garrison of the city joined the battle. Leopold could see that he was outnumbered at least three to one. He grinned at the thought of neutralising such a large part of the enemy forces in one fell swoop.
The army of the Reich drew itself up into formation and waited until the last possible minute before withdrawing up the nearby mountainside to a defensive position, the missiles placed high up on a vantage point and the Prinz and his cavalry detachments safe behind a wall of spear.
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After a few moments pause to assess the situation, the Venetian captain, clearly inexperienced in the tactics of assault on a defensive position, ordered his men to advance up the steep slope.
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The German crossbowmen and archers, given an huge advantage by their elevated position, began to wreak merry havoc on the advancing Italians, who paused short of the battle line and gave a vain attempt to return fire.
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Already Leopold had the feeling that this battle was all but won. The enemy archers were cut down and routed. As they fled, a detachment of Frankish Knights was sent behind the Italian lines to see them off. This attracted the attention of the Venetian cavalry, who attempted to charge the Knights. Too cunning to receive the full force of the Italian charge, the Franks withdrew behind the spear line and the enemy horses were impaled on the sharp points.
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Watching their comrades tricked and slain in this way seemed to enrage the Italian infantry, who dashed up the mountainside and made contact with the Austrian spear. They were tired, arrived in too few numbers and were quickly routed.
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Now, with the main Venetian army in disarray, the Prinz sought to capitalise on the confusion by engaging the exhausted enemy infantry with his own bodyguard unit.
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He left the safety of the spear line and with a thunderous crunch his charge was received in the front of the oncoming Venetians, who scattered like frightened rabbits in the face of his blade.
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All that was left was to mop up the two smaller forces including the Milanese garrison. A mighty victory was had by the army of Osterreich and the city was sacked.
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With Milan recaptured and the Venetians bruised and bloodied the Prinz considered his next move. He had intended to take the high Alpine road back to Osterreich via Innsbruck in order to assist with the defence of his realm against the Magyar. But this was not the quickest route...perhaps with the Venetians now largely defenseless he should instead march on Venice itself and in doing so capture that rich city and its treasures for the Reich?