Bamff's Crusade - a Crusader States Campaign

[bamff]

Inspired by Glenn's suggestion of recounting the camaign by the life of each ruler, I have commenced a campaign as the Crusader States. consequently this first chapter records the lifespan of King Hugh I.

I will confess that I appear to have got a little carried away in this one - it seems to have taken an inordinate number of words to describe an extraordinarily small amount of activity. If you feel it is too long, please say the word, and I will endeavour to pare future contributions back a little.

Okay - enough waffling! Without further ado, here is the first chapter.....

The Chronicles of Bamff of The Crusader States
~ A Campaign in XL ver 3.0 – Hard – GA ~
Chapter 1 – The Reign of King Hugh I

The first three crusades, whilst not successful in their aim of securing all of the holy lands for Christendom, had at least secured a foothold in the Levant for the Christian faith. By 1205, three principalities remained in the hands of the Catholic invaders. Antioch, Tripoli, and Cyprus became collectively known as “The Crusader States”.

This small kingdom was ruled by King Hugh I. Hugh’s grandfather, Guy of Lusignan, had acquired Cyprus from Richard I in 1192, after having been driven from Jerusalem by Saladin. Guy of Lusignan had in turn been succeeded by his son, Amalric of Lusignan. Amalric had expanded the family’s holdings to include the Principality of Antioch, and the County of Tripoli. Hugh I had not increased the territories held by the Crusader States, but nor had he made any attempt to do so. The king had more than enough to contend with without sparing any thought of possible expansion. His kingdom was surrounded by the Muslim Ayyubid Empire to the east and south, and the Orthodox Christian Armenians to the north.

As if this did not already provide Hugh with sufficient challenge, the disastrous fourth Crusade served to further weaken his already precarious position. The poorly funded and provisioned Crusaders of that venture had turned upon the Byzantine Empire, sacking Constantinople in 1204. As a consequence, the Byzantines were now not at all kindly disposed to the Crusader States. It was guilt by association, but guilt nonetheless.

Hugh was also painfully aware that many Catholic rulers to the west regarded his kingdom with some degree of suspicion, and more than a little envy. Many would turn on his kingdom in a heartbeat, given the opportunity. Moreover, few would be likely to come to his aid should the Saracens descend upon his kingdom.

It was indeed a fine balance that was required to keep all parties happy, or at least at bay. He hoped that his sons would also be able to master these skills. Young Hugh at age 13 was already showing signs that he would be a good leader both on the field and off. The boy also had skills that his father did not. King Hugh I was most definitely a statesmen rather than a warrior, but Prince Hugh was already drawing high praise from all of his instructors. The King paused for a moment, absorbed in these thoughts as he watched his son, Prince Hugh, sparring with Sir Wolfram von Kaufungen. The sun beat down mercilessly from the eastern Mediterranean sky, glinting off the blades that flashed and whirled in the courtyard.

“Our young prince handles a sword most admirably.”

Hugh had not even noted the presence of Sir Walter of Montbeliard until his general had spoken. He nodded thoughtfully, for Montbeliard was quite right. Notwithstanding the obvious physical advantage enjoyed by his experienced adversary, Prince Hugh was pushing his instructor hard. It was indeed a curious thing to watch the stocky soldier struggling with the gangly youth. Both the Prince and Sir Wolfram were clearly sweating, the older man profusely so. His linen shirt clung to his back, and his face was by now quite florid. A series of strikes by the older man were parried with apparent ease by the prince. Each of the instructor’s successive blows grew weaker as he tired under the hot sun, but he continued to lunge forward regardless. Prince Hugh picked his moment, and his counterattack caught the older man completely by surprise. The Prince caught his instructor’s sword, and as the blades momentarily locked together, he pulled down hard. It was enough to throw the overstretched instructor off balance, and he crashed heavily onto the dusty ground. He rolled over and sat up, a rueful grin spreading across his craggy features.

“Well done my Lord,” he panted at the smiling prince. Prince Hugh lowered his blade and extended a hand to help his instructor to his feet. Sir Walter reiterated his earlier observation to King Hugh, and added “There are few able to best von Kaufungen with a sword.”

The King turned to Sir Walter. The proud smile of a father gave way to a far more pensive expression as Hugh noted grimly “I fear that it is just as well he is so skilled. Such abilities will indeed be needed, sadly even more so than diplomatic skills. Our Ayyubid neighbours grow ever less tolerant of our presence in these lands.”

The tensions in the region were somewhat exacerbated in 1208, when word reached the Holy Lands that Pope Innocent had called for a Crusade against the Ayyubids. Fortunately, none in Europe took up the cross with the exception of the Venitians, and that army progressed no further east than the lands of the Cumans, where it met an end that was as sudden as it was bloody.

The tenuous peace in the region was not complete, however. The Sicilians had also taken the cross and launched a Crusade. This venture had travelled via Greece, and its arrival in Constantinople had caused outrage among the Byzantines. The province was defended by the redoubtable John Argyrus, and he succeeded in crushing the invading force in 1210. Basking in the adoration of the Byzantine public, Argyrus denounced the Emperor, who had fled to Rhodes when the Sicilians had landed. The Byzantine Empire was plunged into Civil War, and Argyrus and his followers soon claimed the rich lands of Constantinople.

Prince Hugh had watched the unfolding Byzantine Civil War with great interest. By 1214, he was no longer the gangly youth that had sparred under his father’s watchful eye. Now some 22 years of age, he had blossomed into adulthood, a strongly built young man with a reputation about court as both a skilled swordsman and a great leader.

Why he should be regarded as a great leader was somewhat perplexing to the Prince. Certainly, he had learned much from his various tutors on the art of war, but Prince Hugh was painfully aware that he had never actually led men into battle. The Byzantine Civil War had opened an opportunity for him to rectify this situation. With this in mind, he approached his father to discuss his plan.

“The rebel Argyrus and his followers have driven the loyalist Byzantine army from Constantinople. Our fleet can deliver an army to those lands. Argyrus will be planning his assault on Nicaea, and will not be anticipating such an attack. Moreover, whilst Constantinople is not under the rule of the Byzantines, it is our chance to seize it without having to wage war on a mighty neighbour.”

King Hugh listened intently to his son’s arguments. There was truth in what he said, but the King was troubled all the same. Hugh I had spent a lifetime seeking to maintain the peace, and now here was his son proposing war. He turned to his most trusted advisor, Sir Walter of Montbeliard, the man charged with the responsibility of defending the Principality of Antioch.

“And what of the rebel fleet? Have not some units of the Byzantine Navy also rebelled?”

It was indeed a development that had caught many by surprise. Renowned Byzantine sea captain Stephen Melissenus and his crew had declared their allegiance to the pretender John Argyrus.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1213-RebelFleetsighted.jpg
Well, I know that I have never seen a rebel fleet before, so I just had to work this into the story!

“They had, my Lord, but our agents have advised that these vessels now lie upon the ocean floor after a recent engagement with the loyalist navy in the Aegean.”

The King turned to Sir Walter of Montbeliard. “Montbeliard, old friend, your thoughts would be most welcome.”

Montbeliard bowed graciously, then spoke.

“The risk would appear to be limited, your Highness. Prince Hugh’s plan does not appear likely to provoke war with any of our neighbours. The only issue I foresee is that the weakening of our garrisons in Antioch and Tripoli may result in both provinces becoming more attractive targets for the Ayyubids. That having been said, the fortifications in both are strong. I support Prince Hugh’s plan, and I believe that there is none more able to lead the invasion than the Prince.”

Prince Hugh smiled inwardly, but his mouth remained dry in a mixture of nervous anticipation and excitement. Would his father approve his proposed assault?

King Hugh I nodded, then turned to the remaining members of his council, most of whom had themselves been nodding vigorously as Sir Walter had spoken.

“And you concur with Montbeliard’s advice?”

All heads bowed, and the group pronounced as one “Aye, my Lord.”

King Hugh nodded again, then turned to his son. “Then so be it. We shall invade Constantinople, and our beloved Prince Hugh shall lead the expedition.”

Whilst the King was somewhat apprehensive about the dangers that his son would face, at the same time he was curiously relieved. The 10 years of military inactivity of his rule had, he hoped, been effectively masked by the flowery prose of the preceding paragraphs and the laboured descriptions of conversations and other apparently inconsequential events. He cursed as he realized that these very thoughts were now included in the AAR, and that the turtling nature of his rule was now open for all to see.

The Battle of Constantinople

The following year, Prince Hugh and his army waded ashore in Constantinople, there to be met by John Argyrus’ rebel army. Argyrus’ men, though rebels, were far from the rabble that such forces are oft times comprised of. All of his men had served, and many with distinction, in the recent campaigns against the Sicilians and the loyalist Byzantine forces. His army boasted such men as John Palaelogus and Isaac Stratiocus. The crossbowmen of the former, and the Genoese sailors of the latter would form the backbone of Argyrus’ missile forces. Also with him, of course, was his brother, Romanus Argyrus. The brothers Argyrus between them commanded 64 Kataphractoi, arguably the finest in all of the Byzantine Empire. Once the Crusaders were pinned against the spear wall, they would lead the charge at the enemy’s exposed flanks, while the lighter cavalry rode down the enemy archers.

His thoughts were interrupted by his brother Romanus “The Crusaders advance, my brother.”

“Good. It will be as well to finish this quickly.”

Argyrus viewed the invading army of the Crusader States as little more than a distraction in his ongoing campaign to remove Constantine XI from the Byzantine throne. They should present no real challenge, he had told his commanders the previous evening – after all, their army had not unsheathed their swords in the past decade, save to chase the odd bandit away from the roads travelled by pilgrims and traders in the holy lands. It was perhaps for this reason that Argyrus had paid so little attention to choosing his ground – or possibly he simply had not appreciated the range of the Crusaders’ arbalests.

The army of the Crusader States came to a halt on the lower slopes of the opposite side of the shallow valley that separated the two forces.

“Hmmph! Just out of range…” noted Argyrus with some measure of frustration. He shifted in his saddle, curious as to why the Crusaders’ “crossbowmen” appeared to be raising their weapons. The answer came crashing through the Byzantine ranks soon after. Screams of pain from both men and horses merged with shouts of surprise and alarm. Argyrus scanned the holes in his ranks incredulously. A second volley tore those holes still wider.

“Romanus! Take your men around the right flank! Bowmen! Advance! Close the gap so that you can return fire!”

The Byzantine force moved unsteadily forward, archers shielded by those swordsmen and armoured spearmen that survived. Both units were already sorely depleted as they had entered the field, and the rain of arbalest bolts was quickly thinning their ranks ever further. John Argyrus signaled his own Kataphractoi to advance on the left flank of the Crusaders. He could see his brother’s force drawing heavy fire. A knot formed in his stomach when he saw how few were still mounted. His own men, too, were paying a heavy price in blood for every metre they made towards the Crusaders’ line. With a scream, Argyrus’ own mount went down, an arbalest bolt protruding from the beast’s chest, and a second from its throat. The surviving Kataphractoi, some still mounted, some on foot, were soon met by a wall of steel in the form of the Order Foot of Sir Ralph Swynford and Sir John Fitzalan. It was the end of their charge. The Crusaders’ spearmen swept on down the slope, crashing into the flanks of the central Byzantine force, as Sir Jasper Uhtred’s feudal men at arms cut a swathe through the remnants of the armoured spearmen at their centre. Prince Hugh and his knights delivered the coup de gras, riding down the enemy archers. It was a crushing first victory for the young prince. 181 rebels lay dead, alongside 33 Crusaders. 63 Byzantine rebels were taken captive, including a grievously wounded John Argyrus.

Constantinople was now a part to the Crusader States, but Prince Hugh little time to savour his triumph. Fresh from their recent victory over the Venitian Crusaders, an army of the Cumans now marched south, intent on claiming the jewel of the east for themselves. Their desire for conquest wavered considerably in the face of Prince Hugh’s reinforced army, however. The Cuman army retreated from the province without so much as unsheathing a sword.

Closer to Home

Sir Walter of Montbeliard’s fears were realized in 1216, as an Ayyubid army marched on Antioch, but the wily Montbeliard was well prepared for this very eventuality. Though dreadfully outnumbered (760 defenders faced an Ayyubid army of 1264 men), Antioch’s defender knew his ground well, and had placed his men to gain the maximum advantage of the terrain. He had chosen to face the Ayyubid army to the east of Urum es Sughra, a location that would force the attacking army to advance up the gentle slope towards his line.

Prince al Adil surveyed the enemy positions with contempt.

“I estimate their number to be just over half of our own,” He sniffed “Once we wipe these Franks from our path, the road to Antioch itself is open.” He signaled his Berber camels to advance on the Crusaders. In almost comical fashion, the grunting beasts loped forwards. As they advanced on Montbeliard’s flanks, al Adil’s main force also moved forwards, into the teeth of the Crusaders’ defence. The impatience of their leader was to cost the Ayyubids dearly. The field soon resembled a charnel house, as the Ayyubid corpses piled high across the gentle slope. In the midst of this dreadful carnage, Prince al Adil’s nerve failed, and he fled the field unceremoniously. As word of his hasty and inglorious retreat spread, so did panic in the Ayyubid ranks. The entire army was soon in full flight. Over 600 men perished on that dreadful day – 475 Ayyubids and 168 Crusaders – but Antioch was saved.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1217-defenceofAntioch.jpg
Note the pile of camel meat at the lower left...a thousand pardons, Lords Mithrandir and Martok - I would never delight in the slaying of a noble camel!

The magnitude of the defeat was such that the chastened Ayyubids sued for peace the following year. A magnanimous King Hugh accepted the olive branch, but issued orders that the army was to remain in a state of readiness.

News of the Crusader States recent victories spread throughout Europe, reaching as far afield as Novgorod. Mstislav V was sufficiently impressed as to offer the hand of his daughter, Princess Elena, to Prince Hugh. Whilst the girl was not Catholic, King Hugh saw at once the strategic importance of the union, cementing as it would an ally in the north, and accepted on behalf of his son.

Ayyubid Treachery reaps a Just Reward

King Hugh’s mistrust of the Ayyubids was soon proven to be well founded. The old Khalifah had died in mysterious circumstances in 1218, and Prince al Adil had been crowned Khalifah al Adil I. His first action as Khalifah was to launch a series of attacks on the lands of the Armenians in the north. Victory in Lesser Armenia emboldened Khalifah al Adil I. He still nursed the wounds to his pride suffered in the dreadful defeat at Urum es Sughra, and in 1219, he breached the treaty with the Crusader States, launching a second attack on the principality of Antioch.

This army fared poorly from the outset. Their path marred by sandstorms, many did not even reach their target province. Those that did were few in number, and they beat a hasty retreat when they discovered that the garrison of Antioch now outnumbered their own force by a considerable margin.

The Khalifah flew into a rage upon hearing this news, and in 1220 he marched on Tripoli, determined to avenge his defeat in Antioch 4 years earlier. The battle could not have had higher stakes. The Crusaders army was led by King Hugh himself. King Hugh wished to meet the invader before they drew too close to Tripoli itself, and he marched south east to the small township of Bsharri.

Khalifah al Adil I soon proved that he had learned little from his earlier mistakes. With scant regard for his men, he launched a series of foolhardy frontal attacks. As each wave of Ayyubid troops was swept away into martyrdom by the massed Crusader crossbows, the Khalifah’s desperation grew. He soon realized that once again, his situation was hopeless, and for the second time in 5 years, he had no choice but to flee the field. Ayyubid losses on that parched field were almost seven times those of the Crusaders. 382 Ayyubids lay dead, alongside 56 of King Hugh’s men. A further 171 Ayyubids were captured, preferring the certainty of this life over the intangible promise of paradise eternal in the hereafter.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1220-Tripoli.jpg

The defeat at Bsharri was not destined to be the last suffered by Khalifah al Adil. His forces in the north had been driven from Lesser Armenia, and then in 1222 Egypt also fell to the Armenians, who had boldly landed west of Matruh. The province was subsequently retaken in 1223 by Sir Ma’mun al Faiz, but this news was almost immediately overshadowed by Armenian victory in Mesopotamia and that of the Crusader States in Palestine. The Crusader army in Palestine was led by the youthful Prince John. Only 12 months after coming of age, the young Prince had shown himself to be every bit as able a commander as his elder brother, and he was to add further to his laurels in 1225 with the successful defence of Palestine against an Ayyubid army led by Amir Muzaffa ad Din. The battle of Jericho was the heaviest defeat suffered to date by the Ayyubids, with 890 men killed and a further 220 captured for the loss of only 249 of Prince John’s own men.

News of the victory brought a smile to King Hugh’s face as he lay in his bed in Tripoli. The King had fallen ill the previous year, and had been confined to bed for almost 6 months now. Perspiration swathed his pallid face, now pale as parchment. It was clearly an effort for him to speak, but speak he must. His right hand feebly motioned for his son to come closer, to catch the words that left his lips as little more than a whisper.

“The surgeons can do no more now, my son. Your time….” A fit of coughing racked his body, his gaunt features contorting in pain “Your time has come. Leading men in battle is one thing, my boy, but it does not alone make a king. Look no further than Richard of England from whom your great grandfather acquired Cyprus. A great warrior indeed, a great leader of men, but….”

His hand lightly squeezed his son’s hand “Courage, diplomacy, determination, fairness, and ruthlessness. You have them all – and now you must show that you know how – and when - to use them.”

Prince Hugh bowed his head as his father’s eyes fluttered then closed, a final sigh hissing from the king’s lips.

With that ludicrously melodramatic finale, the reign of Hugh I had drawn to a close. The reign of Hugh II would now begin.

[I of the Storm]

Yesyesyes, excellent! Please don't hesitate to continue!

[seireikhaan]

:yes:

Another excellent beginning to what seems on pace to become an excellent tale, Bamff!

If I might be selfish for a moment, could we get mapshots in the future? I rather do enjoy seeing a .matteosartori. version of the global map; one thing about MTW is that it can be almost as interesting to see how the rest of the world is shaping up while attempting to carve out one's own legacy. Plus, it can help easily define the gains and losses by each ruler. :bow:

[bamff]

Chapter 2 – The Reign of King Hugh II

King Hugh II was in many respects a very different ruler to his father. Most notably, Hugh II was a ruler who was determined to expand his kingdom’s boundaries rather than wishing to simply maintain those that he had inherited.

As a consequence, it should have come as little surprise that less than twelve months after ascending to the throne, the armies of the Crusader States were on the march.

King Hugh II’s first target was the Ayyubid province of Lesser Armenia. This territory had in recent years been fiercely contested, and control had passed from Armenia to the Ayyubids and back again with alarming regularity. The Ayyubid garrison, though battle hardened, was somewhat depleted by the ongoing battles against Armenian troops. Disease, too had taken a toll over recent years. By the year 1227, the Ayyubid army in Lesser Armenia numbered approximately 2/3 of the force that had reclaimed the province just four short years ago. That having been said, this army was still very much a force to be reckoned with. The Ayyubid General in command of the garrison of Lesser Armenia was Lord Abu Muhsin, a man of legendary ability. His mere presence on the field was enough to inspire great things from his men.

Lord Fitzwalter was the man chosen to lead the assault on Lesser Armenia. His army was supported by a token force of 100 of Armenia’s finest infantry.

“Enough men to lay claim to a share of any victory, but nowhere near enough to influence the final outcome,” Fitzwalter had mused to his assembled commanders as the Armenian force had arrived at his encampment. “Still, they will be useful in drawing the fire of the Ayyubid archers…and far cheaper than the mercenaries that accompany us.” Fitzwalter's force included regiments of italian Infantry, Spanish Javelinmen, and Arab Heavy Infantry, all of which had cost a pretty florin.

The battle, when it was joined on the hills surrounding the town of Diyabakir, proved a bloody affair indeed. Lord Abu Muhsin’s men sold their lives dearly indeed, and at one point it did indeed seem that they would prevail. The death of their beloved commander served to sap their will to fight on, however, and Lord Fitzwalter was left to survey the gory scene as a victor. Before him lay the corpses of 281 Ayyubids, 326 of his own men, and, he guessed, probably 70 of the Armenian infantry. It was a victory, but a pyhrric one.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1227-BloodyvictoryinLesserArmenia.jpg

With his army so ravaged by this battle, reinforcements would be needed, and soon. Fitzwalter sent his request for more men to Antioch with post haste. He did not relish the prospect of defending these new gains with only those who had survived the carnage at Diyabakir.

Even as the corpses of Diyabakir were still warm, calls echoed throughout Syria for a jihad against the infidel Crusader States. Muhammed abu Ma’mun had made it his own holy mission to reclaim the lands of Palestine. The ranks of the avenging army swelled throughout the remainder of 1227, before crashing across the border into Palestine in 1228.

The task of defending Palestine fell upon the shoulders of Prince John. This task was not a new one for Prince John, having routed the army of Amir Muzaffa ad Din at Jericho in 1225. He had no intention of allowing the province to fall to the heathen hordes that now threatened, and marched north to Ramallah to meet the Ayyubids.

As it transpired, Muhammed abu Ma’mun, whilst exceptionally able in inspiring the men of Syria to join the jihad, was far less capable of leading them on the field. Many of his followers soon learnt to their cost that religious conviction was a poor substitute to strong armour in the crucible of battle. Prince John’s arbalesters, crossbows, and Dejma exacted a heavy toll on the Ayyubid force. The Crusaders line held firm throughout the day, and as the Ayyubids withdrew, they left behind over 400 of their comrades. 366 Ayyubids paid the ultimate price, alongside 59 Crusaders. A further 70 Ayyubids chose surrender over martyrdom.

News of the failure of the jihad was seen as a sign that Khalifah al Adil was unworthy to sit upon the Ayyubid throne, and rebellion boiled over throughout the remaing states of the Ayyubid Khalifate. Weakened independent garrisons in Egypt, Sinai, Syria, and Arabia fell in swift succession to the Crusader armies throughout 1229 and 1230, with not so much as an arrow being fired. Indeed, a number of provinces passed to the control of the Crusader States via the power of its Treasury rather than the power of its Military, with Sir Ma’mun al Faiz delivering Egypt to King Hugh, and Sir Sharaf ad Din presenting the province of Arabia. The fact that two Muslim generals should be so prepared to renounce their faith, take the cross, and swear loyalty to a Christian King sent shock waves throughout North Africa. For his part, King Hugh took it all in his stride, noting “Far easier to convert from one virtual faith to another than it is in the real world! Ah, the joys of our virtual reality, where such amazing things may indeed transpire!”

The Armenian Wars

King Hugh II could scarcely believe his own good fortune. His kingdom had expanded dramatically, and at relatively little cost, and now he stood poised on the cusp of peace and prosperity. Or so he thought. Envious eyes looked upon the Crusader States - the envious eyes of Phillip I of Armenia. Though nominally an ally of the Crusader States, King Phillip was not such a man as would allow a trivial thing like an alliance to mar his chances of expansion. He issued his orders, and in 1233, the Armenians marched on the province of Lesser Armenia. The invasion proved to be short-lived. No sooner had Prince Oshin and his men arrived in the province, than they turned about and marched back to Mesopotamia. Lord Fitzwalter’s reinforcements had arrived, and the province was nothing like the soft target that the Armenians had expected to find.

King Hugh’s retribution was swift and decisive. As the New Year of 1234 dawned, the army of the Crusader States was on the march. One force, under the leadership of the redoubtable Lord of Montbeliard (William, the son of Walter, but no less capable a commander than his famous father had been) marched on Anatolia. A second army under the banner of Prince Richard marched on Rum, and a third force under Prince William marched on Mesopotamia.

A brief battle ensued in Rum before King Phillip’s nerve failed him. The battle itself was nothing more than a prolonged exchange between the missile forces of the two armies. 96 Armenians and 4 Crusaders died before the Armenian force fled.

In Anatolia, the Armenian defence was led by Prince Hetum, and a further heavy defeat was to befall the Armenians. 400 of Prince Hetum’s men perished, and a further 67 were captured. Only 34 of Lord William of Montbeliard’s men were lost.

The Crusader States were to enjoy a third victory in Mespotamia, crushing the small force led by the Armenian Princes Thoros and Phillip. Armenia was now no more than three isolated fortress garrisons, and all three would fall over the course of the ensuing year. Iconium Castle in Rum was the first to fall, with all 74 of its defenders slain. The strong fortifications had allowed the defenders to exact a heavy toll, with the assault costing the lives of 246 Crusaders. It was a different story at Antalya in Anatolia. The wooden walls of this enclosure offered scant protection to its occupants. All 39 defenders died, as did 14 attacking troops. The newly crowned King of Armenia, Phillip II, perished at Mosul in Mesopotamia, alongside 20 of his men. 41 of Prince William’s men died storming the battlements.

The celebrations of victory over the Armenians had barely abated as Prince Alfred came of age in 1235, sparking renewed feasting and celebration throughout the Crusader States.

The Coming of the Horde

As peace settled across the holy lands, word arrived of a potential new threat looming in the north. An unholy host had arrived from parts unknown in the far east. The “Golden Horde”, as they called themselves, were said to be more numerous than a swarm of locusts, and far more damaging to any province that they entered. They had wrested the provinces of Georgia and Armenia from the former Armenian Empire, and had claimed Trebizond from the mighty Byzantines. King Hugh II set about strengthening his northern defences, but at the same time dispatched emissaries to the Great Khan, offering a treaty of peace.

Some of his council had been less than pleased at this development, arguing that the pagan horde should be immediately brought to heel. Some argued that offering a treaty to a pagan empire was sacrilegious. With great calmness, King Hugh offered his rebuke.

“At this time, we know nothing of this Golden Horde, save that their force may number anywhere from 20 to 50 thousand men. Pagan or not, well armed or poorly equipped, such numbers make them a force to be reckoned with. Better to bide our time – and, if necessary, to strike when it suits us rather than when it suits our adversary. We will continue to strengthen our northern armies, ready to protect our territories, and we will begin to assemble an army in the south, ready to sail when needed, and needed they shall be. It is only a matter of time before the AI sends the horde against us, and we will be prepared when that time comes, or alternately we will be ready to strike if an opportunity presents itself.”

The Battle of Kemaliye Pass

The pervading peace proved to be an uneasy one, but it lasted for some eleven years. It was 1246 when the long threatened storm broke, and Lord Kuyuk’s army marched from Trebizond, intent on claiming the province of Rum. Lord Filangieri was the man charged with the responsibility of holding the province. His force numbered 1,913 men – a mighty force indeed, though far from enough to alone be a decisive factor. Lord Kuyuk brought 1,783 men with him, and these were men who were no strangers to battle.

The battle that followed was unusual to say the least. The Golden Horde appeared to be intent on engaging in nothing more than a large scale archery duel. This was to be very much to their detriment, as their horse archers and mongol warriors both lacked the range, accuracy, and armour piercing capability of the arbalests that they faced. Whether Lord Kuyuk sought to inspire his men with a display of fearlessness, or whether he simply made a monumental miscalculation is now impossible to divine. If it was the former, it was sadly misguided, for as it transpired, his actions would have the complete opposite effect. With his men dying under a hail of arbalest bolts, he rode to the van of his army, well within range of the Crusader’s fire. He raised his sword, and prepared to commence a great inspirational oratory, but no words came from his lips – only a strange and tortured gurgling noise. Two bolts had struck him as one, piercing his chest. Those of his men looked on in horror as his sword slipped from his already lifeless fingers and clattered to the ground. As his lifeless body tumbled from the saddle, the Mongol troops looked to one another, and then as one turned and left the field. The field was littered with 298 Mongol and 61 Crusader corpses, but Rum had been saved.

Lord Filangieri immediately dispatched a rider to Antioch bearing the news of victory for King Hugh II. As it transpired, the news was never destined to reach King Hugh. The two days taken by the messenger to reach Antioch had been 1 day too many. King Hugh II had passed peacefully in his sleep, and far less dramatically than his father had done.

His last decree, at the suggestion of Lord Sereikhaan, had been an order to the well known mapmaker Matteo Sartori, instructing him to prepare a map of all of Europe in the year 1246. This document is reproduced below.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1246-TheStateofEurope.jpg

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1246-KingHughII.jpg

King Hugh II was dead. King Edmund was the new ruler of the Crusader States, and he was as different a man from Hugh II as Hugh had been from his own father.

[seireikhaan]

Bamff, your skill at crashing the fourth wall is unrivaled. :laugh4:

[bamff]

Many thanks, sereikhaan!

I hope that the near future presents you with the time to lead the Honda clan on the last big push. I am looking forward to that instalment!

[PershsNhpios]

Grand, Bamff!

I do like to see a personality given to each ruler!
Stand by for a new, hopefully well-fated AAR from myself, set in the Napoleonic era.
I will be using the same format of reporting - and I thank you for your constant dedication to the thread Bamff!

You have a very interesting political map there.. Indeed, when reading I will always go to the bottom World Map, study it, and then read the story of how it became so.

May the heavily armed Arbalest survive the Horde! (You would not survive without Arbalests and Crossbows, Bamff!)

As for the Honda campaign.. I lament the fate of the West! Japan is painted with very ugry corra!! (Excuse me..)



MORE STORIES FROM MORE PLAYERS! PLEASE!

[bamff]

Chapter 3 – The Reign of King Edmund I

Edmund of Lusignan. King Edmund I, ruler of the Crusader States. He regarded his reflection in the mirror as these titles swam through his head, turning to examine both his left and right profiles. He sucked in his stomach, squaring his shoulders to strike what he regarded as the appropriately regal pose. The titles were one thing, he reasoned, but he needed action, bold and decisive action, in order to cement his position and emblazon his name across the pages of the history books.

The reign of his father, Hugh II, had seen a remarkable increase in the territories under the control of the House of Lusignan. This in turn had earned his father the title of “Hugh the Conqueror”. He would be remembered, that was certain. Edmund pondered this point. Was it the expansion of the Crusader States, or was it that Hugh had driven the Muslim Ayyubids and Orthodox Christian Armenians from the holy lands?

The titles ran through his mind once more: Edmund of Lusignan, King Edmund I of the Crusader States, Knight of God….Though not an unusually religious man, the thought of being so closely and inextricably linked to the greatest of powers was quite an intoxicating prospect indeed….God’s own general on Earth….a smile flicked across his face. Edmund the Righteous, expander of the faith…..now THAT title had a certain something to it….

His mind was set. His path to glory and everlasting fame lay in driving the non-believers from these lands – the pagans, the muslims, and also those who worshipped the false cross of the so-called Orthodox Church. Yes, they were nominally Christians, but Edmund was all too well aware that in Medieval Europe, not all Christians were equal - and that fact could certainly be used to his advantage. King Edmund called for his council to assemble, and issued his orders. It would be the pagans in the north that would be first to feel the brunt of his holy war. His father’s preparations had placed in his hands an army that stood ready to strike, and the pagans had sealed their own fate by daring to strike against Rum the preceding year. Having already shown themselves to be hostile, they had played right into Edmund’s hands by giving him the perfect justification for his strike.

So it was that in 1247, the second year of King Edmund’s reign, Lord Plantagenet’s army marched on Trebizond. At the same time, Plantagenet’s younger brother, Sir William, led a second army into Armenia. Sir Geoffrey of Sargines and his army had set sail from Tripoli and Palestine the preceding week, bound for Georgia.

After the disastrous Battle of Kemaliye Pass, many of the mongol forces in Trebizond had deserted. Still more had travelled west to Georgia. As such, the garrison remaining in Trebizond was pitifully small. Moreover, these men had little stomach for a fight. As news reached them of the approach of Lord Planagenet’s army, they attempted to flee to Georgia. The resistance offered in Armenia and Georgia was little stronger.

In Georgia, Lord Irindhuk led his men into the field to face the invader, but as the Crusaders arbalests started to exact their toll, the Mongols withdrew with indecent haste. 26 of their number lay dead on the field. Not a single one of Sir Geoffrey’s men suffered even so much as an injury.

Berke’s defence of Armenia was even more farcical. Only one man died in that battle – Berke himself. The death of their general saw the will of the Golden Horde wilt, and they quickly withdrew.

Peace settled again over the region. Edmund had not abandoned his mission. He simply needed time to regroup and prepare for the next phase of his holy war.

As the preparations continued, King Edmund rejoiced in the news of the victories in the north. Others in Europe had also taken note of the series of triumphs. King Alexander III of Scotland offered the hand of his daughter, Princess Rossana, to Prince Stephen. The following year the entire kingdom was celebrating the royal wedding. Local ladies’ parchments clamoured over the rights to exclusive portraits and lithographs of the happy event. News of the Royal Wedding was to be printed alongside details of the “amazing” new venison and mead diet, and stories of the latest scandalous carryings-on of various minstrels and the young heiress to the largest chain of inns in Medieval Europe.

Meanwhile, Edmund was already looking to his next goal in the west. His aim was to drive the Almoravids from Africa, and claim Morocco itself. To this end, he dispatched emissaries to Rome to seek the Pope’s indulgence in launching a crusade against these reprobates. Once more it appeared that heaven itself was smiling on King Edmund, for Almoravid forces had for some time now been staging cross border raids on Egypt. As such, Edmund was simply retaliating, protecting his people and their property and territories.

Once Papal approval was received, it would be at least a further four years before the Crusade could be assembled, equipped, and on the march, so time was of the essence. As it transpired, despite a hasty approval from Rome, the campaign against the Almoravid menace was to be significantly delayed. There were, it transpired, other threats on the very doorstep of Edmund’s Kingdom. Emperor Constantine XII of the Byzantine Empire had his own plans for expansion, and in 1255 he ordered his navy into action.

Constantine’s plan was simple. He already held Greece, Rhodes, and Nicaea. If he could cut off the possibility of reinforcement from the sea, Constantinople would be surrounded, and, he reasoned, vulnerable. This would allow his substantial garrisons in Greece and Nicaea to close in for the kill.

It was a plan with some merit, but with one fatal flaw. The Crusader States also possessed a powerful navy. Indeed, a more powerful navy than that of the Byzantines. The ensuing naval battles of 1255 resulted in a series of seaborne defeats for the Byzantine Empire, and it was Emperor Constantine’s forces that were now cut off from one another….and vulnerable to attack.

King Edmund saw his opportunity and grabbed it with both hands. Sir Richard Plantagenet landed in Rhodes, and Sir Geoffey of Sargines, the conqueror of Georgia, marched on Nicaea.

Rhodes was defended by Constantine Dalassena. He was a brave and determined man, if not a particularly able general. 158 of his men were to pay the ultimate price for his poor generalship and stubborn nature. Only 66 of Sir Richard’s men fell as another province found itself under King Edmund’s rule.

The Battle of Troy

Emperor Constantine himself led the Byzantine army in Nicaea. His army in Nicaea was a formidable force – 900 men, all well trained and equipped. The Emperor had every confidence that they would see off their attackers.

He had chosen to face the Crusaders in a valley less than a day’s ride from the ancient city of Troy. Constantine found something strangely appealing about the prospect of recording an historic victory so near to the site of that famous battle from so many years ago. His victory would be the greater, for he would not rely on the construction of any oversized wooden animals.

On the other side of the field, Sir Geoffrey of Sargines’ surveyed the Byzantine positions. He judged – quite rightly – that his army enjoyed a slight numerical advantage, but that the size of the two opposing forces was close. The army of the Crusader States was 1,060 strong. Sir Geoffrey had formed his army up on the opposing slope, carefully hiding the majority of his force among the small forest that covered the upper slopes. He ordered his Teutonic Sergeants to advance. Their mission was simple: to harass the Byzantines until the enemy gave chase, then lure them into the teeth of the awaiting Crusader defences.

In this endeavour they were to be spectacularly successful, with the entire Byzantine force launching itself after the Crusader States horsemen. As the enemy drew near, Sir Geoffrey sprang his trap. His men marched out of the treeline to meet the Byzantines. Arrows from the Dejma, arbalest bolts hissed through the air, soon followed by the screams of men and horses as they were struck down.

The surviving Kataphractoi were the first to reach the spear wall. They were closely followed by the Byzantine armoured spearmen and swordmen, but this only served to cut off any attempts by the Kataphractoi to manouvere or to retreat and charge again. The Byzantine troops, stuck as they now were, now found themselves under attack from several troops of chivalric foot knights. These royal knights, having elected to go into battle on foot rather than astride their mounts, cut a swathe through the Byzantine ranks.

Emperor Constantine XII frantically tried to turn his mount, to find some space in the midst of the swirling melee. His fellow Kataphractoi were dying all around him, and they too had started hacking wildly at their own foot soldiers in their desperation to break free of the deadly throng. As a result, some of the Byzantine spearmen were now more concerned about defending themselves from the Kataphractoi, and set about bringing down the riders before the horsemen could kill any more of their own comrades. The phrase “kill or be killed” had taken on a grim new meaning for the Byzantines, and all the while more men fell to Crusader axes and spears as the knights and feudal sergeants relentlessly pressed home their attack.

The Byzantine Emperor’s ears rang with a terrifying scream. As the shock abated, he realized with some surprise that the voice had been his own. He looked down to see the bloody shaft of a Crusader spear protruding from under his breastplate. His right arm hung limply at his side, and curiously it appeared to be bent in two separate places. The pain, curiously absent at first, was indescribable. His sword had fallen from his right hand, which was now liberally covered in blood. His own royal blood! The Crusader sergeant holding the spear wrenched it back towards himself, pulling the Emperor from his saddle, as the unseen axe struck him again below his right shoulder blade. Waves of pain crashed over him as his body landed roughly amid the swirling mass of fighting men. He blinked, trying to clear the mist that swam before his eyes, and focused on an advancing Crusader knight with a raised two handed axe. The blade glinted evilly in the midday sun as it swung towards him, growing ever larger. It would be the last thing that Emperor Constantine XII would ever see.

Constantine’s death sparked a rout of his entire army. 308 Byzantines perished that day at Troy, with a further 387 captured. 121 Crusaders had been lost in the battle.

The End of the Byzantines

Constantine XII was succeeded by his son Manuel, and the new Byzantine Emperor wasted little time in attempting to exact his revenge on the Crusader States. In 1258, Emperor Manuel II rode at the head of a large army as it travelled north from Greece to Constantinople.

Emperor Manuel’s army was soon enough confronted by that of Sir Alfred Plantagenet. The identification of his Crusader counterpart caused the Byzantine Emperor to ask his adjutant “By the stars, are there any commanders of the Crusader States who are not members of that accursed family?”

The battle in Constantinople turned out to be almost a carbon copy of that which had taken place in Nicaea just two years earlier. As the dust and smoke of battle cleared, another Byzantine Emperor’s broken body lay still and lifeless upon the field. 524 of his subjects and 177 of his enemies lay scattered around him. 421 Byzantine soldiers had been captured. Manuel’s brother Romanus had somehow escaped the carnage, fleeing south to Athens with a handful of survivors. He was crowned Emperor Romanus V soon after his arrival.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1258-BattlejoinedinConstantinople.jpg

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1258-DefenceofConstantinople.jpg

The new Emperor would have little time in which to grow accustomed to his new title. At King Edmund’s order, Sir Charles Gascoigne led a mighty south into Greece. Romanus and his followers withdrew behind the temporary safety of the wooden palisades of Athens Castle. With little food and no fresh water, many within the castle soon fell ill with dysentery and other diseases, and the fortress was surrendered the following year after the ignominious death by disease of the Emperor.

The Byzantine Empire was now no more than a chapter in the history books, and Edmund was now free to focus on his original goals. Edmund’s Crusade had by now been trained and equipped, and Edmund unleashed it upon the Almoravids. It was to be but one prong of Edmund’s concerted drive against the Muslim kingdom. The year 1266 saw numerous vessels sail west from the Crusader States. Sir Alfred Plantagenet landed his army in Cyrenaica, and further west, Lord Filangieri’s men waded ashore in Tunisia, alongside the men of Edmund’s Crusade.

The Almoravids were completely unprepared for this turn of events. The bulk of their forces were engaged in the war in Iberia, where the vicious and protracted struggle with the Aragonese continued unabated. The garrisons of both Tunisia and Cyrenaica were overwhelmed and hastily surrendered.

Algeria would be the next to feel the steel of Edmund’s crusade, as the Crusading army swept westwards in the spring. This province would not fall so easily and cheaply as had Tunisia and Cyrenaica. A mighty army under Abu Sharaf ibn Hamud stood ready to defend the province. Even with this formidable obstacle still to be overcome, the crusade was now ever so close to its ultimate goal of Morocco.

With King Edmund’s ultimate triumph so close that he could almost taste it, the cruel hand of fate intervened. As Edmund travelled from Antioch to Cyprus, a journey that he had undertaken so many times before, his ship was lost in a freak storm. The King’s body was one of but a handful that washed ashore several days later with the flotsam and detritus of the wreck.

The tragic death of King Edmund I in 1268 saw the ascension of King Stephen I to the throne of the Crusader States.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1268-CoronationofKingEdmund.jpg

[bamff]

For those of you who enjoy a good tale - or those simply interested in looking at how others run their virtual Kingdoms and campaigns - check out

Pics and History of your Empire (https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showthread.php?t=47087)

[Drunk-Monk]

I remember I started a similar campaign but was brought to my knees buy a cruel, camel conspiracy:drama3:

[bamff]

Unfortunate indeed, Drunk-Monk. Hopefully my strategy of seizing control of all camel producing provinces will protect me from suffering a similar fate!

[naut]

Edmund's stats were rather lacking, hopefully Stephen has some more acumen/command, not that you need the money or valour though.

[bamff]

Chapter 4 – The Reign of King Stephen I

Stephen of Lusignan had been crowned King Stephen I in his 30th year. For almost all of his adult life, he had been married to Rossana of Teviot. True, it had been an arranged union, but the Scottish princess and the heir to the throne of the Crusader States (as he was then) had grown to love one another. Rossana had introduced happiness into Stephen’s until then uneventful and unsatisfying existence. She had introduced him to art and literature, opening new worlds to the Prince. He wanted no more than to spend time with his beloved wife. No more that is, until the children had arrived. Their marriage had produced three children by the time that Stephen was crowned – two boys and a girl. Alongside his beloved bride, they were the centre of Stephen’s universe. Hugh, the eldest at 13, was confident and assured beyond his tender years – though easily distracted. Charlotte was a quiet, demure girl. Only 11 years old but already quite the little lady, she reminded Stephen of a miniature version of her mother, his adored Rossana. Young Henry, only 7 years old, was a sickly boy. Throughout his short life he had been afflicted with a bewildering array of ills and ailments. He seemed to be always in the care of one of the court physicians.

Stephen paced the hall yet again, his concern apparent to all in the room. It was not, however, young Henry’s latest infirmary, nor was it the weight of the crown, nor the latest news of the Crusading army far to the west that was the cause of his concern. The level of his agitation had in turn caused a number of those present to furrow their own brows.

The King had been almost completely disinterested in the news of victory in Algiers. Almost 1,000 men had died on that sun baked battlefield far to the west – 729 Almoravid warriors, including Abu Sharaf ibn Hamud himself, and some 246 Crusaders.

Stephen had not even paused to read Sir Alfred Plantagenet’s account of the action, which had described how the Crusaders had held their line against repeated attacks that loomed ghostlike through the swirling desert sand. Nor did the King read the estimate of the ransom expected for the 226 Almoravid prisoners. He did, however, react with some shock and disgust that Plantagenet had sent Abu Sharaf ibn Hamud’s severed head north to the Almoravid Khalifah, though his thoughts quickly turned back to matters at hand, and he thrust the sheaf of papers aside to resume his pacing.

Then, the sound that he had been listening for reached his ears. That cry that only a newborn can render. Stephen whirled around and rushed through the door to Rossana’s bedside. It had been a lengthy labour, and Queen Rossana, her face glistening with perspiration was clearly exhausted. She smiled weakly as he squeezed her hand.

“A son your majesty!” exclaimed the surgeon “A healthy size, too – and with strong lungs indeed!” The surgeon winced at the volume of the babe’s cry before continuing “May I congratulate your highness?” He bowed to his monarch.

Stephen smiled. “You may indeed.” His expression showed more concern as he turned to his wife “And what of our Queen?”

“Our lady Queen needs rest, majesty. She will recover. The delivery was lengthy, but both parties are well.”

So it was that Prince John came into this world, third son of King Stephen I of the Crusader States. In so doing, the infant Prince was to demonstrate to the Kingdom a great deal about the coming reign of his father, and about the man who now wore the crown.

Stephen was as different from his father Edmund as day from night. Stephen cared not at all for conquest or battle, and had never shown the slightest interest in swordsmanship. Edmund had been obsessed with the thought of expansion and burning his name into the pages of history. So much so that he had spared little time for any of his sons – particularly Stephen. How ironic then, that Edmund should have inadvertently given Stephen the greatest of all gifts, by arranging the union of Scotland and The Crusader States through the wedding of Stephen with the Scottish Princess. For Edmund, the matter had simply been a diplomatic transaction. For Stephen, it had been a life transforming event.

Far away to the west, Sir Alfred Plantagenet’s crusading army had marched across the desert sands, arriving in Morocco the following year. It was as well that the defending Almoravid garrison had been so depleted by the earlier battles in Algeria and on the Iberian Peninsula. As a consequence, Sir Alfred did not require any reinforcements, and it mattered little that his dispatches to Antioch were largely ignored by King Stephen.

The King of the Crusader States was far more interested at that time in organizing a lavish celebration of the coming of age of Prince Hugh, the eldest of his three sons, and heir to the throne.

King Stephen took no interest whatsoever in military matters, often describing them as a distraction from his “true” goals. Demonstrating how different a man he was from his warlike father, Stephen was busily pursuing a number of ambitious public works programs, in addition to focusing increasing attention to a number of artistic and cultural endeavours.

Curiously enough, King Stephen’s apparent disinterest in all matters of state and his devotion to the arts was to prove to be an unexpected advantage in the year 1274. The Kingdom of Genoa was by that time crumbling and decaying. The Consul had been excommunicated for repeated acts of aggression against France and the mercantile fleets of both that nation and Hungary. A number of provincial governors had already asserted their independence from the Consul, preferring not to remain part of the godless kingdom of Genoa. Those that remained loyal to the Consul were hard pressed by the armies of Hungary and France.

It was against this background that Giordano Crivelli, Governor of Sardinia, made the decision to renounce the Consul and swear allegiance to King Stephen of The Crusader States. Not all in Sardinia shared Crivelli’s view that this was in the best interests of the province, and some took up arms against their Governor. After a brief battle between the two opposing factions, it was those who rallied under the banner of Giordano Crivelli who prevailed. Crivelli’s victory delivered Sardinia to The Crusader States.

In typical fashion, King Stephen declined an invitation to visit his newest province, preferring instead to stay at Queen Rossana’s bedside as she delivered a fourth son to the royal household. The new arrival was christened Richard in honour of the English King from whom Guy de Luisignan had acquired Cyprus in 1192.

Notwithstanding the behaviour of their monarch, the people of the Crusader States remained content. It mattered little to them that their king eschewed a great many of the duties of his office. Indeed, when it came to matters of arts, entertainment, and building programs – in fact any matter within his borders, Stephen did appear quite capable.

It was by now becoming apparent that King Stephen was not so much an unwilling monarch. Perhaps his gentle nature did not stand him in good stead for the role, and it was certainly true that he despised violence and bloodshed in all their forms, in particular the largest scale form found upon the battlefield. His aversion to warfare did have some positive outcomes. The populace enjoyed the peace that prevailed, and all prospered on the back of the booming economy.

Whilst the people were happy, the same could not be said of all of the nobility. Warfare provided the prospect of conquest, glory, riches, and new lands and titles. Peace brought no such possibilities.

Prince Henry came of age in 1277, and the celebrations were indeed splendid. Neither Stephen nor Rossana had been at all sure that the boy would live to even reach that tender age.

As it transpired, Prince Henry did not live far beyond his 16th birthday, becoming the most high profile of many victims of an outbreak of Malaria that swept through Palestine in the summer of 1278. His body, already weakened by the relentless attack of countless ailments throughout his early life, had little strength with which to resist the fever. The Crusader States mourned the tragic loss of the young prince.

Prince John came of age in the year 1284. John was everything that his elder brother Hugh was not. Hugh had a reputation for engaging in bouts of heavy drinking, and would arrange feasts and gatherings on a whim. Conversely, John was a serious young man, who devoted a great deal of his time to the study of swordsmanship, strategy, and warfare. John was also anxious to learn as much as he could about engineering and architecture. Even at this young age he had mastered several languages. He had provided a shining light for the disaffected members of court, who grew ever more tired of the King’s unwillingness to act as a King. More than that, he had provided another option.

In 1288, news arrived at court that a crusade had marched from France. This army was led by Sir Phillipe Couer, and its mission was to take the province of Khazar from the heathen Golden Horde. Prince John immediately petitioned his father to send armies north.

“Khazar and Lesser Khazar both should be ours. For too long now our armies have remained encamped in Georgia, awaiting your order. Father – Majesty – let us take these lands before the French claim them.”

Stephen pondered his son’s words, before responding in a strangely detached voice “We are at peace and shall remain so. I will hear no further talk of this barbarism of which my own father was so guilty. I will not die with blood on my hands as he did. My reign shall be known for arts and architecture, not death and destruction.”

A further protest formed on the Prince’s lips, but he was silenced by his father’s imperiously raised hand. Prince John’s face flushed crimson with a mixture of anger and embarrassment as he bowed, and made his leave of the hall. Clashes of opinion between this father and son pair had been frequent, and were growing more so of late. Prince John, as young men so often are, was anxious for action, anxious for a chance to prove himself. He was far more like his grandfather and great grandfather than he was his father.

As he exited, Sir Thomas Herbert approached him.

“I sometimes despair of my father,” the Prince blurted. “Can he not see that the time is right? The armies of the horde are weak. Our own forces are strong. Not only strong, but ready…”

“Indeed, my Lord. The King is anxious to maintain our trading links…”

Prince John cut him off impatiently “You know full well that the horde have no capacity to interfere with our trade routes!” He sighed, and raised a hand in apology “I am sorry to speak so harshly, friend. Please, forgive my tone.”

“I take no offence, my Lord. There are many who share your thoughts on this matter of the Mongols. Perhaps one day, when you are king…”

Prince John laughed bitterly.

“You forget, friend – I am second in line for the throne, and notwithstanding my dear brother’s affinity for strong drink and fondness for young boys, I do fear that the crown may never rest on my head….”

Again his shoulders slumped and he shook his head sadly. With an air of resignation he turned and walked towards the stables, aiming to clear his thoughts with a ride.

As Herbert watched the Prince walk to the stables, he muttered to nobody in particular “Chance is indeed a fine thing, my Lord Prince. Do not despair.”

Almost a year had passed, and Sir Phillipe Couer’s French crusade drew ever closer to Khazar. King Stephen and Prince Hugh were in attendance at the demonstration of a new weapon outside the walls of Antioch Castle.

Lord Becket addressed them “My Lords, this weapon presents as much terror by its very noise as by the projectile it hurls.”

The King and Prince Hugh were entranced with the fine lines of this great weapon, both moving in for a closer inspection. King Stephen sniffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the acrid aroma of burnt powder that permeated the air. Prince Hugh paled and looked more than a little unsteady on his feet. Another night of heavy carousing had left him ill placed to cope with such overpowering odours. He suddenly lurched forward, and with one arm draped across the huge barrel of the bombard, he launched a stream of vomit on the ground at its side.

His fathers disgust was apparent as he hissed “Collect yourself, Sir! Here, stand by my side. Stand, damn you! For heaven’s sake, wipe your chin!”

Lord Becket approached. “Your Majesty, if I may suggest that you stand further from the weapon. For safety’s sake.”

“Nonsense Becket! How would it look to the men if we give them weapons that the King himself is afraid of?”

*****

Meanwhile, inside the castle walls, Prince John had decided to again press the issue of the Horde with his father. As he entered the great hall, he was greeted by Sir Edward Bourchier.

“Greetings my Prince.”

“And you, Sir Edward.” Prince John’s eyes fell upon the empty throne “Pray, where is my father, the King?”

“The King and Prince Hugh are attending the demonstration of a possible new weapon for our arsenal, my Lord.”

“New weapon? My father? But he takes no interest in such things!”

“Indeed my Lord, but this is a weapon that may discourage would be invaders. A bombard.”

Now the Prince was truly incredulous. “A bombard? But our foundaries in Egypt are producing demi culverins – a far more reliable and useful weapon. I had heard that bombards were as dangerous to their users as they were to their targets.”

“Quite so my Lord. You must allow that your father and brother are not so familiar with such reports.”

The Prince sighed and nodded his head “Yes, of course. Why was I not invited to attend this demonstration?”

“Lord Becket felt that you would gain nothing from it, my Lord. You are already well acquainted with such weaponry.”

The Prince considered this to be a most plausible explanation, nodding again “Yes. Of course.”

From the distance came the rumbling sound, similar to thunder, but Prince John knew that it was not.

“I trust that they knew to stand well clear.” He muttered as he left the hall.


*****

The bombard had exploded, taking with it the lives of the crew and all those within several metres. Prince Henry had been torn in two by the blast. At least his pounding headache troubled him no further. King Stephen’s shattered body had been hurled quite some distance away. The remains of the gun crew were similarly strewn across the blackened area around the smoking remains of the gun. Lord Becket, visibly shaken, picked up the crown, which now lay empty on the scorched earth. He knelt by the body of King Stephen, bowed his head and crossed himself.

Sir Tostig Maitland approached “ My Lord, Prince Hugh is dead.”

“As is our King. I warned them …...”

Sir Tostig Maitland replied “You did, my Lord. There was nothing more you could have done.”

With an effort, Lord Becket hauled himself to his feet. He raised a hand to his head as he did so, noting that his gauntlet came away smeared in blood. “You men! Collect the bodies! Bring them within the walls. Come Tostig, we must convey this sad news to our new King.”

The chronicles recall that the reign of King Stephen I ended in 1292 with an unfortunate accident outside Antioch. The nobles rejoiced in the coronation of King John I. Here was a King who would surely lead them where they wished to go….

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1291Europe.jpg

Notes

Given that this was a bit of an odd instalment, I feel that I should explain a little about the reign of King Stephen. The way that King Stephen's reign played out was a bit, well....peculiar......

For whatever reason, Stephen struck me as being a far gentler character than had any of his predecessors, and I suppose given that mindset, the campaign itself wound up being something of a self fulfilling prophecy.

Almost nothing happened during his reign. It was a time of consolidation and retraining, a time of building.

I did manage to bribe a rebel garrison on Sardinia, scoring a sweet bunch of Italian Light Infantry regiments at a reasonable price.

Weidest part of Stephen's reign was the end. When Stephen died, his third son John succeeded him. His first and second born just vanished. I take notes as I go, and I am positive that Hugh and Henry (sons 1 & 2) were not introduced with birth notices as sons of Edmund (the preceding King), nor did they ever appear on his "heir list". Their first appearance here was AFTER Stephen became king. On this basis I am sure that they were Stephen's sons.

John was Stephen's third son, but the first born after he became king.

So why did the first two fail to become King, and where did they go to? Who knows - but it left me having to come up with explanations for the recounting. Hopefully these are plausible enough. As always - feedback welcome (whether you think it worked or not!).

I would be interested to know whether anyone else has encountered anything similar....but maybe that's for another thread (don't want to go "off topic" on my own thread - that could be seen as poor form!)

[I of the Storm]

Wonderful, many thanks for this update!

[PershsNhpios]

I for one would have enjoyed a report with King Henry just as much!

Imagine! The king in his poor-taste and folly, letting the states fall to minor factions and all the while, young prince John plotting Henry's death and attempting to fight a defensive campaign alone!

But I suppose the Kingdom will only grow larger and more oppressive in the next report!

You will have us praying for it's downfall!

Absolutely top-hat!

[caravel]

Absolutely superb stuff.

:bow:

[PershsNhpios]

How is anyone to see this when it is twelfth on the list?
Outrageous!

I noticed, Bamff, that you have not posted scenes of battle since the first issue.
Could I suggest that you continue that old fashion? Certainly, it is not necessary to post battle results in a photo, but perhaps a scene with the Crusader standard flying high - that would be fine! Just fine!

I for one will look for a good screenshot program now, that I might take more than one with my, "PRINTSCRN" button..
Wait.. I reminded myself - MTW takes screenshots with a certain key - doesn't it?

Well - in my next installment there shall be an old painting of the battle for Lithuania or some eastern province!

I await the reign of King John I, calculating militarist.. and conqueror no doubt.

[caravel]

Wait.. I reminded myself - MTW takes screenshots with a certain key - doesn't it?
"F2"

Then have a look in the \TGAs\ subdirectory in your MTW directory. You'll need to convert them to .jpg format. A program like Irfanview or the gimp can do that (both free).

:bow:

-Edit: PrintScreen is a pain to use. You will find the above much easier.

[bamff]

Chapter 5 – The Reign of King John I

The year was 1294. King John I surveyed the vast column of men that snaked past on the dusty road below. A mighty army. His mighty army. The army that would bring Christianity to the lands of Khazar, and the lands of Khazar to his dominion.

It should have marched north from Georgia years before, but had it done so, it would not have been as his army. His mind drifted momentarily to thoughts of his father Stephen. A good man, a good father, but not a good king. At least not with regard to military matters. Or was he? Even now, King John was beginning to have a whole new appreciation of his father’s views on wars and warfare. He watched the long column of men passing by, now very aware that each of their lives rested in his hands.

King John gently dug his heels into his mount’s flanks to move from the small escarpment to rejoin the column. Sir Robert Talbot rode to his right.

“A fine body of men, my Lord”

“Indeed, Sir Robert, the numbers are impressive. They are, however, untested in battle.”

“And they may remain so. Khan Chagatai’s army, such as they are, will not dare stand against such a force.”

King John smiled, well aware that Sir Robert was simply voicing the sycophantic words he thought should be spoken to his King.

“I hope you are right, Sir Robert.”

Sir Robert’s smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion. This was not at all the response that he had expected. “You do Sire? But I thought that you hungered for glory? For battle?”

Again the king smiled. He liked to keep his generals on their toes. “Were I able to take these lands without spilling a drop of my men’s blood, that would be a most glorious victory, would it not? Remember, Sir Robert – this campaign does not end at just Khazar.”

As it transpired, Sir Robert’s prediction that the Horde would flee rather than stand proved correct. Khan Chagatai rode north to rally his forces in Volga Bulgaria. A small army took refuge in Atil Castle, defiantly vowing to hold out until the Khan returned to reclaim the province. Their determination resulted only in their deaths, for Khan Chagatai did not return to rescue them. When King John’s army stormed the fortress, every defender was put to the sword, in a clear message for those who dared to challenge the power of the Crusader States.

Khazar had been subdued, but the mighty army of the Crusader States did not stop marching.

The Battle of the Plains of Svoboda

King John returned to Antioch in 1295. The army now divided, with half of the force remaining in Khazar, and the other half driving north into Volga-Bulgaria. The northern army was led by Sir Richard Plantagenet, and it now set about chasing down Khan Chagatai.

The Khan turned to face his pursuers to the south east of the village of Svoboda. The sweeping plains in that region were dotted with small thickets of forest. Such terrain suited the Khan’s needs. His army could remain concealed by the trees before unleashing his cavalry across the plain to strike.

Sir Richard Plantagenet also knew this Surveyed the field intently. The Khan had placed his men at a point where the flanking forests narrowed. The Crusader States general wondered grimly how many Mongols were concealed in the two forests. He directed the halberdiers of Aelfghar Uhtred and George Mowbray to advance through the woods. The centre of his line was to be comprised of the Order Foot of Sir Michael Curthose and the Feudal Sergeants of Lord Neville, with these regents flanked by the dismounted Royal Knights of Sir Lancelot de Chabannes and Sir Baldwin de Breze. Given the flat terrain, a line of four regiments of arbalests would fan out ahead of these troops, with a line of two regiments of Dejma to the rear of the main line. A troop of Turcopoles under Walter Eadwulf was given the unenviable task of goading the Horde into action.

Eadwulf and his men were startlingly successful in this task, and soon the Khan’s army was advancing with great rapidity but scant discipline, right into the teeth of the arbalests. Screams of horses and men rang out as the first bolts struck home, but still they pressed on. Those who survived the first two volleys now found arrows from the Dejma raining down upon them. Bravely they still charged on. The arbalests melted back behind the shield wall of Feudal Sergeants and Order Foot. These spearmen in turn gritted their teeth, knowing the fury that was about to crash into their line in the form of the heavily armoured heavy cavalry of the Golden Horde.

The wall of shield and spear held firm. So intent on breaking the line were the Mongols, that none even noted as Sir Lancelot de Chabannes and Sir Baldwin be Breze advanced on either flank. By the time that the Mongol troops became awarer of the danger closing in on their flanks, it was all too late. The great two handed axes wielded by the knights cleaved man and horse alike as they fell upon the exposed flanks of Chagatai’s army.

There was still a window of possible escape open to the mongol force, but it was closing quickly. Uhtred and Mowbray’s halberdiers had by now cleared the forests of the horse archers that had lain in wait for Sir Richard Plantagenet, and having emerged from the far end of the woods, these men now closed in to surround the survivors of Chagatai’s beleagured army. With the bulk of the enemy force completely encircled and slowly but steadily being hacked to pieces, Sir Richard Plantagenet could now turn his attention to the only Mongols not caught in his deadly trap, and his knights rode down the hapless band of archers and Mongol warriors. Scant mercy was shown to the pagan army that day, with 387 of their number slain, including the Khan himself. A paltry 19 prisoners were taken, and those only because Sir Richard wished there to be survivors who would tell the tale of the fate that awaited those who dared stand against the Crusader States. 124 of Sir Richard’s own men also perished in the battle, most of those being among the heroic feudal sergeants and order foot, who had so valiantly held their ground.

A Royal Wedding

King John’s drive to the north was halted at Volga-Bulgaria. The lands immediately to the north were held by Sweden, and those to the west by France, and King John did not wish to wage war on fellow Christians.

Elsewhere a similar dilemma faced King John. To the north of Constantinople, Bulgaria was held by Sicily, and to the north of Greece was Serbia, southernmost of the Hungarian territories. Iberia was held in its entirety by the French, having by now crushed the Aragonese armies.

The would-be Warrior King of the Crusader States was left with nowhere to lead his troops.

The Swedes proposed an alliance in 1297, and this agreement was cemented the following spring with the marriage of King John to Princess Ebba. The King had initially been somewhat anxious with regard to the union, and this was perhaps reasonable as he knew little of either the Swedish or of the girl herself. Ebba was no classical beauty, that was certain, but her golden hair, clear pale skin, and radiant smile were captivating, and King John consented to the wedding. The two would never share the bond that King John’s own parents had enjoyed, but it was to prove an amicable enough union, and in the short term at least, it provided a welcome distraction to the King with no enemies on his doorstep.

Unrest in Italy Opens a Door

The long simmering tensions between the young Venitian Doge and the Papacy exploded into war in 1300. Doge Vitale V demonstrated the impetuosity of youth by directing his army to march on Tuscany. The Venitian force was destined to suffer defeat in that endeavour, and this was compounded in 1301 in a disastrous battle in Venice itself, which saw Doge Vitale defeated by the Papal army for the second time in as many years. The holdings of the Doge were now reduced to Milan and Crete.

Pope Alberto I had decreed the excommunication of the unfortunate Doge upon the outbreak of hostilities, and in 1301, he called for Crusades against Venice. King John was only too willing to answer the call to arms. An emissary was dispatched to Rome, seeking leave to crusade against the Venitian reprobates who had offended the Pope so. Papal approval was readily extended, and King John set about recruiting troops for his holy mission.

It would be four long years before the army was ready to sail, and it was not until 1306 that King John and his men waded ashore to the east of Ierapetra.

King John had been far from idle during the intervening years. In the year 1304, King John and Queen Ebba celebrated the birth of their first child. The infant Prince was christened Alfred. The King called upon every clergyman in the kingdom to pray for the boy, so as to ensure that God would protect Alfred in the event of John’s own untimely demise.

“We must be ever vigilant, father.” He noted to Cardinal Henry Bolingbroke “This very file in which we live our virtual lives may well be corrupted from the time of my grandfather Edmund. The devil’s own bugs may seek to do their vile work again at the time of the succession.”

Cardinal Bolingbroke eyed his monarch warily, desperately attempting to think of an appropriate vice which may describe such strange words. That he could not was of no great import, for the King had calmed by the time that the Crusading fleet had sailed for Crete.

The Battle of Messeleri

The Venitian garrison of Crete rallied under the banner of Don Giovanni Pierleoni, eager to repel the invaders and defend their territory. The two armies came face to face near the village of Messeleri. King John had brought with him a battery of two Demi-Culverin crews, in preparation for a possible siege of Candia Castle. These guns were presently positioned overlooking the village, which nestled in the valley below.

Don Giovanni Pierleoni was not at all familiar with such weapons. He sniffed derisively as he noted the men scurrying around the two weapons.

“Seige weapons to take a mere village! What foolishness!”

He set about positioning his defensive line, blissfully unaware that he and his men were well within range of the Demi-Culverins, and in the clear light of mid-morning, his army presented inviting targets to the gunners.

Meanwhile, King John and Sir Edmund Plantagenet, the nominal commander of the Crusade, set about positioning the rest of their men for the coming battle.

With preparations complete, the King nodded to Plantagenet “I leave you to your work now, Sir Edmund. Take your signal from the Demi-Culverins.”

With that, the King wheeled his horse about to canter back to the Demi-Culverin crews. The moment of truth drew near. King John raised his right hand, then dropped it, and the Demi-Culverins roared.

Murmurs of shock rippled through the Venitian line. Don Giovanni reigned in his mount, muttering “What manner of devilment…”

The remainder of his question was drowned out by the screams of his men as solid metal shot ripped through their ranks. 5 men lay dead, and a score more had suffered grievous injury. There was no time for the Venitians to compose themselves or settle their nerves, for by now Sir Edmund Plantagenet was ordering his arbalests and crossbowmen to fire. The bolts ripped through the Venitian ranks, causing a dreadful slaughter. Edward Despenser’s Turcopoles rained their own form of death on the Venitians as the Demi-Culverins roared again.

Despite his losses, Don Giovanni Pierleoni ordered his men to stand firm. More and more men fell to shot, arrow, or bolt, as the Crusader States cavalry prepared to deliver the final blow. The death of the Venitian general was the trigger. As the mortally wounded Pierleoni slumped sideways from his saddle, Sir Edmund gave the order to charge. Teutonic Knights, Teutonic Sergeants, Turcopoles, and King John’s Royal Knights descended from all sides. Their thundering hooves drove fear into the hearts of the surviving Venitians, who tried in vain to flee. Those who had waited until this point to flee found no safe haven that day. Any Venitian that was not cut down by the horsemen was trapped and forced to lay down their arms. 187 men of Venice lay dead across the valley, with a further 96 captured. King John congratulated his general heartily “A great victory, Sir Edmund, and achieved for the loss of but 16 men. Come, let us ride to Candia to complete our victory.”

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/Crusader%20States%20Campaign/1306-CreteVictory.jpg

A small number of the doomed Venitian garrison of Crete still held Candia Castle, but they would only do so for a matter of months. Crete was now part of King John’s kingdom.

Trouble in England

King John celebrated the taking of Crete as long and as hard as any in the Crusader States. His thirst for conquest and glory appeared to have been slaked by the victories over the Golden Horde and heretic Venice. There were other matters in his kingdom that now required his attention, and he busied himself forging alliances with various Catholic factions across Europe.

The victory celebrations of 1307 were to lead to further rejoicing throughout the Crusader States, as almost nine months later Queen Ebba delivered a second son to her King, Prince Stephen, named for John’s father.

A new Pope had ascended in Rome in 1308, and Doge Vitale V demonstrated that he too had matured by taking advantage of the ascension to beg the Pope’s forgiveness. He was duly welcomed back to the Church, and the following year agreed to a ceasefire with the Crusader States.

Whilst it may have appeared that all was well in the world of King John, sadly that was not the case. In 1310 some disturbing news arrived from far off Mercia. King John’s emissary in those lands, the Catholic Bishop Steven Bourchier had been murdered. The French authorities were at a loss as to who might be responsible for such an outrage. The consensus view at court was that Bishop Bourchier’s somewhat unorthodox but very “hands on” approach to tending the female members of his congregation may well have led to his undoing, with a jealous husband the most likely culprit. Privately though, King was concerned, worried that something more sinister may be afoot. To raise a hand against one of his clergy was, after all to raise a hand against King John himself.

His worst fears appeared to be confirmed the following year, with the news that Bishop Hugh Despenser had been stabbed to death in Scotland. Clearly England would need to be closely watched, just to be sure.

The Channel coast was a hotbed of activity indeed. One one side of the Channel, the clergy of the Crusader States were now forced to keep looking over their respective shoulders lest they too fall victim to the still unidentified assailants that appeared to be stalking England and Scotland. On the other, the Danish army stirred, striking at Flanders, which fell to them in 1316. Flanders was to change hands again in 1319, 1320, and 1322, as the French and Danish armies wrestled back and forth in a true “David and Goliath” battle.

Further south, Doge Vitale V of Venice was excommunicated for a second time in 1317, after another exceedingly ill advised attempt to invade Tuscany.

Meanwhile, the Crusader States basked in peace and prosperity. King John and Queen Ebba welcomed a third son into the world in 1318, with the birth of Prince Hugh. This celebration was quickly followed by the celebration of Prince Alfred’s coming of age in 1319. Many likened the young Alfred to the great King Hugh II. It was a heavy burden to place on his young shoulders, but one which Alfred appeared more than capable to wear.

It was as well that Alfred was both able and confidant, for four years later, at the tender age of only 19 years, the crown was to be placed on his head, when King John succumbed to a mystery ailment. Many across Europe watched intently as the year 1323 drew top a close. Could such a youthful monarch effectively rule such an expansive kingdom? Time would tell…..

[PershsNhpios]

Thank you Bamff! I came in immediately to read the entire piece!

I am glad to see that the empire has chosen not to roll over all of Europe.

There must be some provinces yet in the world where the people heed nothing of God's word!

[Martok]

Marvelous as always, bamff! This is the first campaign of yours I've been able to follow on a (more or less) consistent basis in a while, and I've enjoyed every bit of it so far. May Alfred rule long and well. :medievalcheers:



“We must be ever vigilant, father.” He noted to Cardinal Henry Bolingbroke “This very file in which we live our virtual lives may well be corrupted from the time of my grandfather Edmund. The devil’s own bugs may seek to do their vile work again at the time of the succession.”

I couldn't stop giggling for a full minute after reading that.... :laugh4:

[I of the Storm]

Excellent update, and an excellent bamff-line(TM) indeed!

[PershsNhpios]

Och, my! Cobwebs!

Ah could swear tis place was never in such a state only a kurt while ago..

Why, Ah remember a time when ya ol' Bardff'd cam in 'ere an' spin tales of yon days when th' world was jus' a bub an' Crusades were led into th' East..

[bamff]

:oops:

Anyone got one of those cobweb brushes handy?

Apologies all - a combination of "non-virtual" stuff getting in the way, and the fact that the campaign has reached that point where there is now just the human faction, 2 bloated AI super-powers, and only 3 (or so) other AI powers has meant that I have not managed to get very far through the reign of good king Alfred.

I may break with the tradition of this thread and split the write-up of his reign into two instalments, just to keep the ball rolling so to speak....

Stay tuned....

[bamff]

Chapter 6 – The Reign of King Alfred I (Parte the Firste)

1323 saw the youngest king yet sitting on the throne of the Crusader States. The young monarch was acutely aware that all eyes were on him, and that all were wondering whether this youth was likely to prove a capable ruler. In his own mind, there were no doubts, but he knew that there were those who would be anxious to test his mettle.

The reign of King John I had seen a return to prominence of the Holy Orders. The Templars, Hospitallers, and even the Teutonic Knights had not only re-established themselves but had begun to flourish. Alfred saw these groups as important allies, and he set about strengthening their ties to the house of Lusignan and the Crusader States. He allowed each to establish holdings in Antioch, Constantinople, and Palestine, and each had in turn used these bases to undertake the vigorous recruitment of both knights and other ranks.

The Grand Master of the Knights of the Hospital of St John at this time was one Fulkes de Villaret. His predecessor, Guillaume de Villaret, had long harboured the dream of establishing a permanent base for the Order on the island of Rhodes. Fulkes de Villaret now petitioned the young King for leave to establish such a stronghold, and Alfred warmed to the idea immediately. Loyalty on the island province had ever been an issue, and he felt that the strong presence of the Hospitallers would serve to quell such unrest. There was also the issue of the “region bonus” for Hospitaller footknights trained and equipped in Rhodes, a bonus that King Alfred was keen to use to his own advantage (no matter how unfair an advantage such bonuses often gave human players). The young King reasoned that he would need to capitalize on any such advantage that should come his way, at least until such time as he had suitably modded the game.

Whilst King Alfred knew that a challenge would indeed arise from one of his Catholic neighbours, there was no way of determining which faction it would be. Alfred suspected that it would be France, and in this view he was joined by a great many of his generals. The French had been steadily increasing their stranglehold on Europe for some time now, and boasted a total number of men under arms that none could hope to rival (a fact which had caused dark mutterings at court about “unfair AI economic bonuses”, “AI unit spamming”, and the like). The factor which most identified the French as the faction most likely to turn hostile, however, was the complete disregard that the French King had shown in relation to Papal pronouncements. Here was a king who had readily accepted excommunication several times over. Yes, if any Catholic nation were to turn on another, surely it would be France.

War Declared

As it transpired, it was not the French who would attempt to wrest territories from the Crusader States Grasp. To the great surprise of many at court, it was to be Hungary that struck at the Kingdom. Spurred perhaps by defeat in Carpathia at the hands of the Sicilian army in 1327, a Hungarian force marched south into Greece. In an embarrassing turn of events for the Hungarian crown, the army immediately turned about and marched back to Serbia when it became apparent that the Crusaders garrison in Greece was far more than the promised “handful of old men and boys”.

King Alfred was furious at the Hungarian attack, but at the same time elated, for it presented him with the opportunity to silence all of Europe. It was that excitement which perhaps saved the head of King Alfred’s spy network. The poor man had reported that the Hungarians were massing for an attack, and would probably strike the following year. He was suitably mortified when his young king roared with laughter before telling him that they had already attacked and withdrawn, and that he should perhaps invest in some faster carrier pigeons.

Alfred’s response to the Hungarian aggression was overwhelming. In 1330 Lord Audley landed in Croatia with one army, a second marched from Greece into Serbia under the banner of Sir Richard Montfort, and Sir Henry Holland landed a third army on the island of Corsica. The Hungarian forces in Serbia retreated, ceding that province to the Crusader States. Those in Croatia retreated to Zara Castle. Only Sir Denes Kovacs on Corsica chose to fight the invaders.

The battle on Corsica was brief and brutally decisive. 68 Hungarians perished, with the remaining 52 choosing to surrender. Crusader losses numbered a mere 10 men, but one of those, sadly, was the Crusaders’ commander Sir Henry Holland. The battle was noteworthy in that both of the opposing generals were killed during the contest.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/1330-Corsicavictory.jpg

Pope Innocent V was appalled that two Catholic factions should be spilling each other’s blood in such a fashion. He called for an immediate cessation of hostilities; threatening King Alfred with the spectre of excommunication should he refuse these entreaties. The young King was confident that he had already proven his point, and he dared not risk eternal damnation. He immediately despatched orders to his commanders. Most received orders to halt their respective advances into Hungarian territory. Lord Audley, however, was instructed to ensure that Zara Castle fell and fell quickly.

Audley’s assault on Zara was brutally efficient. With no fewer than 5 deadly demi-culverins at his disposal, he pounded the fortress mercilessly. Lord Audley marvelled at how the sturdy stone walls seemed to disintegrate before his eyes.

A cheer arose as great sections of the wall came crashing down. Lord Audley waved his men forwards. Lord Curthose and Sir Edmund Plantagenet led the charge through the remnants of Zara’s shattered walls. The surviving defenders could not resist for long, and the castle fell. 120 defenders were killed in the battle, for the loss of but 41 attackers.

https://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r32/bamffofbrissie/1331-Zarafalls.jpg

So ended the first Crusader-Hungarian War….but the Hungarian King remained determined that this young pup from the East would not better him. His rage and resentment slowly simmered, but for now he knew that he must bide his time and wait.