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I had to start again to due applying the patch to P&MTW 1.5. Consider the Scots crushed:
http://ourworld.cs.com/Carledwards15/pmtw2.JPG
Hi everyone, reading some of the entries on this thread encouraged me to have go myself, I doubt that i'll be as good as some, but here goes...
First though, some background info. I love playing the Danes in Early but I find that my games take on the same rhythm, i.e. Within 100 turns (if that) i've crushed the HRE, gained all the Northern ports, got a full treasury and the game is essentially over. This time I decided to be completely isolationsit (with limits which I hope are explained) and only accept alliances when they come with a pretty new Princess for heirs to play with. Also, I'm playing on expert/GA/early which I've never consistently done before, which could make some later battles very interesting...
I hope everyone enjoys this, all comments are welcome (but be gentle. Also I'm having Screenshot difficulties but I'm working on it)
***
The Isolationist Danes
Olaf the Nation Builder
21 years, 21 long years had passed since the last great Viking king, the Hardrada, had died as Stanford Bridge. Since then, what? Nothing but anarchy. That was the only way to describe it. Without Hardrada the kingdom had simply fallen apart as innumerable claimants to his throne fought, killed and fought again in a seemingly endless round of blood-letting. For years it seemed that the Gods would only be sated once every Viking had passed on to paradise.
King Olaf shuddered at the memories; how many sons had lost a father? How many mothers were without a son? All that blood spilt, and for what? Nothing. What had once been a might empire, spanning the North Sea had been decimated. Olaf‘s kingdom now occupied little more than the Jutland archipelago, a wind-swept rock surrounded by hostile enemies. His authority barely passed beyond the walls of Copenhagen town.
‘Is that what comes from war and destruction?’ he thought as he stared across the bleak, inhospitable North Sea. ‘Do you truly reap what you sow? Little more than death, destruction and poverty…’ He let the thought drift off into nothingness.
“My friends,” he announced suddenly, startling the assembled landowners who were gathered around his cramped chamber, “The cost of conquering others is too great, our nation, my nation cannot withstand it. Let my decree go across the land, never again will a Dane conquer another, never will he attempt to bend another to his will. We will ignore the outside world and defend our homeland only. This is our home, and we will defend it to the death, beyond that, the world with all its death and warmongering can carry on without us. No more Danish men will needlessly die on foreign fields. This is my will, this is my decree.”
As the startled landowners left with this news to enjoy the feast the new King had provided, Olaf smiled at the irony. One of his first acts as King was to disobey his own decree. Still, he thought, ‘there are some scores that must be settled…’
His mother was a Swede, the cousin of the King of Sweden to be precise, and it was from her he derived his tenuous claim to the throne. Truth be told, it wasn’t much of a claim, but, his skill, and god’s providence, had granted him the throne. Finally, vengeance could be done.
He may have been young at the time but he still remembered the hurt and fear he had felt that night his mother had been killed. As a young male of royal blood, he had been but a pawn in the hands of others. And one day the others came for him. He remembered hiding, cold and wet in the evening rain, listening to the cries of the servants as they were cut down. He remembered the fear he felt at being taken by these strange, huge and hairy north men. He remembered the weird combination of anger and bloodlust on their faces as they trashed his home searching for his sanctuary. Most of all he remembered the screams of his proud, dignified mother as they took it in turns to rape her before killing her with a blow from their massive, blood-stained axes, laughing as they did so. He remembered the tears as well; he remembered the tears that never seemed to stop. Most importantly he also remembered the vow he took there and then to one day avenge this brutal act, to punish those Swedes who took it upon themselves to attack his home and kill his mother in front of his eyes. Those bastards must pay for what they did!
“Bring me Haengsson” he called.
***
Erik Haengsson, the new Earl of Denmark, was a big, imposing man, but even he was nervous when he saw the look on his King’s face. He had known him, and fought alongside him, for years, but the look in Olaf’s eyes still struck him as somehow inhuman.
“Erik, prepare my army, I have to claim a debt” said Olaf.
“My Lord?” replied Erik, confused by this statement.
“Are you deaf Erik? Or do I stutter? Prepare my army I said”
“What army my lord? Your mercenaries have been paid off and gone home; all that remains are my weary infantry. They have followed you for years and many battles, they have proven their loyalty, my friend, but they need a rest. If you would only wait 6 months I could train some more, but until then…”
“I’ve already waited 26 years Erik, I can wait no more” the King suddenly bellowed, filling the cramped room with his anger, “fetch me my guard. I leave first thing tomorrow.”
The cool wind felt good on his face as he paced the deck of the small ship carrying his personal guard across the Skaggerak to Sweden, to home. In his more rational moments he realised that he was being impetuous, it made more sense to wait, stabilise his new kingdom and then settle his personal grievances. But it had already been too long; it nagged at his heart day and night. He couldn’t rest until his family was avenged and the tears of a ten-year old had been dammed,
The sleepy port of Stockholm was unsure of what to make of this new King, enough pretenders had passed through its gates in recent years for this new arrival to appear mundane. Consequently there was no great parade or even acknowledgement of him as king, no notables rushed down to pay homage; no animals were slaughtered in his honour. Experience had taught these people that chances were he wouldn’t be king for long, there was no point getting excited about every pretender who came to town.
In all he spent three days in Stockholm, resting and preparing his troops for battle. On the fourth morning he prepared to ride out to face his enemy, face the men who had killed his mother. His column had only made a short distance from Stockholm when a messenger, a squire to one of his bodyguards, hurried to the front of his meagre army
“Sire, I have a message for you, it’s from Lord Haengsson.”
Impatiently, Olaf snatched the message from the boy’s hand, roughly unfurling the scroll he read the correspondence from his friend; My Lord, it will take more than bravery alone to win your battle! I have taken the liberty of rounding up the local convicts and shipping them across to you. Rest assured your kingdom is safe in my hands. Your eternal servant, Eric.
“What does this damn message mean?” Olaf demanded of the now terrified squire who physically took a step back from his intimidating monarch.
“I’m unsure sire” he stammered, “But I think it’s connected to the unit of spearmen who arrived in town just after you left.”
Olaf smiled, ‘Well, well Erik my old friend’ he thought, ‘you’ve surpassed yourself this time’.
”Philip!” he commanded one of his guards, “ride down to the docks and bring those scummy convicts back with you. We’ll need all the men we can muster. Quickly now! We’ll celebrate victory by nightfall”
As Philip rode off, Olaf marched his column slowly up the road into the wild northern forest, but he did so with a spring in his step, and renewed determination in his soul.
“Two years! Two stinking years!” the King bellowed, “We’ve been here two years to the day and what have we found? Nothing! Not one stinking rebel.” The King was talking with Sir Sweyn Jarl, the new Earl of Sweden, he had arrived with a unit of elite landsmen a year earlier, but they had yet to be tested in battle.
“Sire, we are doing our best. We have searched every scrap of forest, but whenever we get close they slip away. They’re probably over the border in Norway.”
“Norway?” The King paused. Norway was a very different proposition. “Are you sure?”
“In all likelihood Sire, my men stumbled across their camp the other day. It was completely deserted. All we found was this.”
In Sweyn’s hand was a necklace, a beautiful amber necklace shaped like a lion. It was Olaf’s family crest and proof that his mother’s killers were gone far over the border into nightmarish Norway where no laws and only the hardiest warrior could penetrate. In that moment Olaf’s fight left him. He could not avenge his mother’s death on this expedition. The tough men of Norway were too tough for his meagre band and no amount of courage could overcome this discrepancy. It made far better sense to return home to Denmark where Lord Haengsson had recently completed the border forts intended to seal Denmark off from the outside world. For the time being he had failed in his mission; it was time to give up on his personal quests. It was time to build a nation.
The next years were kind to Denmark, under the wise rule of King Olaf and his loyal lieutenants, the Danish kingdom flourished. The border forts erected years earlier had provided security against outside influences. While the acumen of Lords Haengsson and Jarl had encouraged trade to flourish and gradually Danish goods were penetrating mainland Europe. The taxes gathered from the burgeoning merchant class had provided the funds needed for Olaf to modernise the Danish army to his own specifications while providing enough left over to allow for an opulent Royal Palace. In short, King Olaf’s reign was proving itself to be one of stability and prosperity. Yet, the lack of justice still nagged at him.
At 58 the King was too old to lead a military expedition himself, the cold Northern wind had attacked his bones and given him arthritis. As good a commander as he was, he could not feasibly lead his men into battle. It was time for his heir to win his spurs. Prince Olaf had recently married a Sicilian Princess, strengthening the alliance between these two sea-faring peoples. He was patently ready for Kingship; it was time for him to gain the skills of war.
“Son,” the King addressed his heir, “My bones grow old, and every day I sense death that bit closer. It will not be long until all this is yours. But, until I can rest safely I need you to obey one last command from me.” With that, Olaf told his eldest son a story that only a select few knew and asked him to lead his troops into battle and avenge the blood-debt that still rankled with the otherwise impenetrable King.
Prince Olaf didn’t need a second invitation, boredom of court life had already forced him to take a secret mistress, and he yearned for the active campaigns that his father and his advisors often colourfully described. Without hesitation he bade goodbye to his bride and gathered the army from its barracks. Pausing in Sweden only to recruit Lord Jarl in his quest he marched bravely into wild and lawless Norway, he was ready to settle scores…
The rebellious bandits were quick to fight, their lack of civilisation meant they knew no other way and seeing the relative inexperience of Prince Olaf they were confident of their victory. Initially this confidence seemed misplaced, the skilled archers of the Prince inflicted massive casualties against two Viking units who were placed forward from the bandit leader, who had retreated behind a hill. Consequently when the lines closed the elite Viking landsmen managed to prevail in the bloody struggle which followed. However, the elite unit remained standing and without the supporting fire from the archers, the remaining rebels managed to strike as the landsmen were re-organising and re-gaining their breath. Charging down the hill they flung themselves at the nearest, and most depleted, landsmen. Chaos flashed through the relatively inexperienced Danes as the huge, battle-hardened men closed and inflicting their bloody work. These men were used to defending what they had with force of arms; they were unwilling to cede all they had to this young Prince who had yet to experience the bloody havoc that was Viking warfare. The cause soon became hopeless as man after man fled towards the Swedish border in a desperate attempt to save themselves from the deadly axes of the Norsemen. Despite the best efforts of the Prince who personally killed 5 rebels, the battle was lost and Norway remained rebel. Within two years King Olaf was dead. It was said he died of a broken heart.
Death of King Olaf I (The Nation-Builder) 1087-1113.
Prince Erik was always close to his older brother, and he knew the dreadful defeat he had suffered was a source of constant shame; the whispers of ‘runner’ at his coronation were deeply hurtful and untrue. His brother deserved a better epitaph than that. To that end he resolved, as heir to the Danish throne, to restore lustre to the family name. He had few troops, a single unit of archers was all he had with him, but that didn’t matter. He marched out that day. Courtiers smirked that he had inherited his father’s hot-headedness!
The battle was long. He was fully aware of the danger of the Norsemen in hand-to-hand combat and he was determined not to befall the same fate as his brother. Unwilling to risk direct combat he settled instead for a battle of movement. Bravely and repeatedly riding behind the enemy he distracted their attention long enough for his archers to pelt the undefended backs of the Vikings. Before long the field was a bloody mess as Norseman after Norseman fell with an arrow in his back. Consequently, when he finally allowed his guard to engage the enemy they were easily able to rout the Vikings and pursue them until, in the words of his Chronicler, Not one Norse remained alive for miles and miles and miles. The few prisoners that were taken, including the aging rebel leader and orchestrater of the attack on Olaf’s home so many years ago, were brutally slaughtered. Finally, his father could sleep easy in his grave and his grandmother had been avenged.
However, capturing Norway was one thing. Pacifying it was another. The Norse had grown used to independence and resented the imposition of a new sovereign. Within a year they had rebelled and quickly made progress from their heartlands among the impenetrable fjords. Prince Erik’s army was too small to effectively keep control over the entire country and until he could gain assistance from Lord Jarl in Sweden he was helpless. Eventually though, Sweyn Jarl, a hardy soldier arrived with his landsmen and Erik was finally ready to give battle. Taking advantage of his opponent’s military naivety, he skilfully manoeuvred his men into a strong defensive position, on a steep hill at the end of a valley. Predictably, the carnage was immense. On their approach the rebels’ Men-at-Arms were decimated by sustained arrow fire and when the Jarls’ landsmen and Erik’s few knights charged the tired, scared rebels panic soon set in, panic which quickly spread to the entire army. Soon the rebels were in full flight and made easy pickings for the now adrenaline-filled knights. Once again the prisoners were executed in the square of the capital, which seemed to bring peace to this fractious land. For the loss of only 14 men, Norway had been secured once more for the Danes.
With Scandinavia secured, Olaf I’s dream of a safe, secure, isolationist Danish kingdom could be pursued. Olaf II might have failed as a military leader; he was determined to succeed as a modern, European king.
Everyone agreed the bride looked beautiful, and if she was nervous she didn’t show it. As always in these times, a wedding involving royal blood was a political event. The Poles were eager to secure their place on the Baltic coast; a blood alliance with the Danes would secure this, while the Danes needed Polish support if the Holy Roman Empire ever turned its greedy eyes northward. Prince Sweyn, the eldest son of Olaf II, and therefore heir to the throne, stood at the altar in the recently finished Church, supposedly the finest in the North. To stave off the anxiety caused from an impending marriage to a woman he had never met, his let his mind wander to the state of the kingdom he would one day inherit.
Truth be told, the years since the pacification of Norway had been quiet. Aside from the sailing of the first Danish fleet into the Baltic, which provided security for traders to peddle their wares to the pagans in the East, little had occurred in the Danish kingdom. Continued trade had brought enough taxes to finance a permanent standing army in the Jutland peninsula which in turn allowed King Olaf II to continuously travel his realm with his brothers, constantly checking on the performance of his subordinates, secure in the knowledge that his homeland would be protected. However, not all was well in the Danish kingdom. The royal court had become bloated and overly extravagant, and complaints from the merchant class could not be suppressed for ever, while across the ocean the French were consolidating their control over mainland Britain. It surely couldn’t be long until they turned their attention east to Scandinavia.
Still, Sweyn thought, these problems could wait. Tonight he would have his new bride to ravish. All the perversions that he had attempted to bottle up would be finally allowed expression. This Polish whore would soon learn the duties inherent in being the wife of a true Dane; and one day he would be King!
Death of King Olaf II (The Runner) 1113-1139
The death of King Olaf II was oddly appropriate, for a king whose reign was typified by peace and stability, passing away quietly in his sleep seemed apt. Since the wedding of Prince Sweyn ten years previously, little had changed in the sleepy Danish kingdom. The expansion of the royal fleet into the North Sea had relieved growing pressure on the treasury and quietened growing dissent among the trading classes. Aside from that though, the 12th century had been a quiet one for the Danish people. However, after the upheavals of the previous 50 years most viewed this as a blessing. Now though, Olaf’s son Sweyn was filling his deceased father’s crown and the wisest of Scandinavian society predicted a major upheaval…
***
Aragon suddenly seemed a long way away for Princess Urraca, the cold winds of Jutland were just not found in Navarre and her silken wedding dress provided little protection from the elements. Despite this though the shivers that passed through her were not brought about by the weather, instead they were caused by the nerves that coursed through her system. The alliance between Aragon and Denmark did not seem a natural one and certainly they possessed fundamentally different cultures, although the previous nights ribaldries had lessened the differences somewhat and both sovereigns had pledged eternal friendship and a potential second front if the increasingly expansionist French invaded either small, fiercely independent kingdom. This pledge was to be honoured through this marriage of Urraca to Prince Harald, Sweyn’s son and heir.
Harald was a fine figure of a man and he certainly cut an impressive figure as he entered the town square and towered above the crowds during his wedding procession. Despite this Urraca was nervous, it was rumoured that the Prince had inherited his father’s perversions, and certainly the haggard look on the Queen’s face was testimony to their extent. Her once youthful looks and been dulled and ruined. But, she thought, despite the fear which increasingly dominated her mindset, as looked around the fine, expensive furnishings and cloths which increasingly dominated the trading town of Copenhagen; this strange land was not without its benefits!
Death of King Sweyn (The Trader) 1139-1169
The coronation of King Harald I was a special occasion, one to live long in the memory of all who attended. The sun’s rays had finally supplanted the cold rains of winter and were finally warming the backs of the masses who thronged into Copenhagen hoping to catch a glimpse of the 42-year old King and his queen. While not beautiful in the traditional Nordic sense, there was little doubt that Queen Urraca had matured into a stunningly beautiful woman and attired in the finest Brittany linen and Cordoban silks she looked resplendent as she smiled benignly down on to her people from her palace balcony. Flanking her was her son Chrsitoffer who had inherited the good looks of both parents, and even at the age of 10 was a strikingly handsome young man.
Flanking her were the representatives from Denmark’s great alliances Aragon, Sicily and Poland. These families, joined to Denmark by blood, were more than just friends. They also helped secure Denmark’s place as the greatest trading power of the north; from the Norwegian Sea to the Gulf of Valencia Danish traders traversed the waves exchanging their goods and bringing in a healthy profit which helped make Stockholm the greatest trading city outside of Constantinople itself! On a yearly basis over 1000 gold coins from Sweden alone flowed into King Harald’s treasury and allowed extensive building work to be done in all the new Kings provinces.
Despite the large numbers which packed into the square to welcome their new King, the overall atmosphere was calm. Where once such numbers signified social unrest, the people were generally happy, happy enough to celebrate a party anyway! Besides which, the presence of fearsome Huscarles, their sheathed axes sparkling in the spring sun, helped maintain order and provided entertainment for young children who speculated upon, and aspired to be, these awesome, all-conquering ‘tin-men’ who followed in the fine tradition of their Viking raider forebears. Extensive agricultural development constantly provided a surplus of crops at harvest-time and maintained happiness among the populace. It short, the Danish kingdom was happy and secure. However, it was rumoured that not all was well, it was whispered that one day soon, these fighting men and the King’s gold might be needed for war which inevitably followed prosperity.
But those worries could be left for another day, right now was a time to celebrate; a new King, security at home with the prospect of seemingly unlimited gold from abroad and a sumptuous feast containing the finest foods Western Europe and Iberia had to offer provided later. Free of charge of course! What was there to worry about? Right now the Danish nation was confident in itself and secure in where it wanted to be. Let the other states worry about blood and slaughter, for the Danes there was money to be made!
This is all I have so far, I'll write more if people like it, if not I won't waste my time! If anybody has any questions/suggestions then I'd be more than glad to hear them. Enjoy!:2thumbsup:
Like it? CrazyGuy, you crazy guy, I love it! Great stuff - keep it coming! :2thumbsup:Quote:
Originally Posted by CrazyGuy
Indeed, great job, Crazy Guy! A very good job, I must say!.:yes:
Disaster strikes the Picts.....
The treacherous Mercians had turned on the armies of good King Angus II, but before the war could be decided, a new and perfidious foe emerged to threaten the entire populace of the British Isles - more deadly even than the great plague....
Yes, the spectre of Hard Drive Failure stalked the lands of the Picts and their Mercian foes alike, killing indiscriminately, and wreaking havoc on both nations, and on the Welsh and newly re-emerged Saxons.
Well, more a case of storm damage than Hard Drive failure, but the end result is the same....I am currently setting up a new PC and transferring those files that can be retrieved, but things are not looking good for my Pictish campaign...d'oh! Should have taken that "minor victory" when it was offered and wrapped it up there!:wall:
Bamff - I'm devastated. The two campaigns I was most enjoying (yours and YLAC's) derailed.~:mecry:Quote:
Originally Posted by bamff
Last post first. I agree with Bregil, two brilliant campaigns cut short. I will be looking foward to the next.
You know CrazyGuy, I have to admit when I saw that you were going to do a campaign based on Isolation, and of the Danes no less i went, yawn, looks like a set up for failure. Then I read it. Nicely done, some really great stuff in there. I definately look forward to hearing more about it, so on with the ravaging of foreign Princesses :whip: .
I'm not sure if I'll ever get around to taking screenies and recounting it like some people might, but on Saturday I started an Armenian/Hard/Early/GA/XL 3.0 campaign. :yes:
It's currently 1098/1099, and I think that the Seljuks have the desire to get wiped out early by my hand. I took several turns in the beginning to build up a nice army...King Reuben I, his heir, Prince Reuben, two Armenian Cavalry, six Armenian Infantry (if I remember correctly) and three or four Archer units. I invaded Rum, and the Seljuks gave it up without a fight. Quite hilarious. Especially when their Sultan, with 3 command, proceeds to invade Lesser Armenia, backed up by two of his sons and a unit of Turcoman Horse Archers.
Three words for you regarding that last part - forest and downhill equals horse as a delicacy. Well, actually, that's eight words...nevermind. Suffice it to say, I thought that a unit of Armenian Infantry, Urban Militia, Horse Archers, Armoured Spearmen and two normal Spearmen would be slaughtered, especially on the open field. Heh...those two Seljuk Princes didn't go back home that day. And the Seljuks learnt a hard lesson...
I'm allied with the Byzantines and Fatimids, a sort of...Triple Alliance, all of us fighting a common enemy, the Seljuks. However, the Fatimids have not faired all too well, and the Byzantines only border Armenia now. I'm playing piggy in the middle at the moment, and I'm the piggy in the middle. Suffice it to say, I am playing defensively at the moment. I figure I can wear the Seljuks down quite easily without leaving myself open to losing any land to them. Their own darn fault, I'm sort of a tactical distraction. Hopefully the Byzantines and Fatimids can get a swipe in edge ways. I just have to hold the line.
In fact, my armies are more than capable of enduring volleys of arrows off of Horse Archers and Turcoman Horse Archers, especially when on top of a hill. That happened to me in Rum recently, and is happening a second time in a battle I have to fight next (had to quick save it, auto-resolve and exit the game, didn't want to force the CTD on the battle deployment screen by alt-tabbing just in case it did anything to my saves). I won't go with the auto-resolve, because it was only to exit the game in a safer manner...but, I am confident my army will do well. Once the exchange of sharp, pointy, flying sticks is over, I shall dispose of the Seljuk army...
Prince Reuben is getting a very similar army right now, in fact. Just a number more units to recruit, and he's got his nice new army. I'm not bleeding money like there's no tomorrow. I don't have heaps of it, hovering around the 2000 florin mark with not too much income per turn. But what must be done will be done so Armenia can become a great power in the world.
Maybe I should remember that fortune favours the bold, and strike back at the Seljuks as soon as possible, perhaps at Armenia, the original homeland of the Armenian people. Sitting on my butt won't get anything done. And like I said before, the Byzantines and Fatimids are depending on me to hold the line against the Seljuks. I ought to really stab them where the sun don't shine, I guess. This Triple Alliance must survive, it must endure...it must prevail. Failure is not an option...
Part Seven of an Account of a VI 2.01 campaign as the Danes
The Legend of Prester John
Despite the utter failure of the Crusading movement – no Catholic army had threatened Egyptian dominance of the Holy Land – the legend of Prester John, a Frankish Knight ruling a Christian kingdom among the heathen, persisted. Some tales placed this realm in Africa, where the endurance of Christianity in Abyssinia fuelled such rumours. Others credited Prester John with the conversion of the Mongols and the establishment of a Catholic regime near Samarkand.
Whatever the truth of these tales, there was great excitement when stories reached Europe of a Christian uprising in Armenia, led by one William Redshanks, a descendant of Edgar the Atheling and a claimant to the throne of England. Rallying pilgrims, sailors and exiles to his flag, as well as native Armenian Christians, William declared himself King of England, Armenia and Edessa.
Knud of Denmark was fascinated by this development and sent emissaries to discover the truth. An English army in Edessa was unlikely to threaten Danish rule in Britain, but might well cause problems for his Egyptian enemies. Knud saw William as a potential ally rather than an enemy.
Sadly, by the time the emissaries reached Armenia, all they found was a country ravaged by war and piles of unburied corpses. William was dead. The region was ravaged by rebel forces rising against Sultan Ali, but they were Muslim rebels, not the knights of Prester John, and the outnumbered Christians had been overwhelmed and destroyed.
A Rising for the Pope
Another dramatic re-emergence was that of the Piast dynasty of Poland, last seen trying to re-establish an independent Dukedom of Silesia. The last scions of this house had fled to Italy in 1213, and Prince Wladislaw had become a protégé of the future Pope Clement. During the conflict between Clement (supported by Emperor Otto) and the Italian anti-Pope, Wladislaw raised support for Clement among the Polish exiles. Before long he had a sizeable force, and with Papal blessing he launched two attacks – one against the anti-Pope’s headquarters in Venice and one to reclaim his family seat in Poland. That this brought him into conflict with Denmark, Germany’s closest ally, did not concern Clement or Wladislaw. The Piasts wished to restore their ancient realm, and Clement was weary of being a German puppet.
Knud was unable to defend Poland against such a massive and popular rebellion. Instead he ordered his garrison to withdraw, taking with them as many Danish settlers and as much Danish property as could be salvaged. The result was the devastation of the land, with everything of value being looted or destroyed and even the ancient city of Krakow being put to the torch either by fleeing Danes or rioting Poles. Wladislaw gained his throne, but he was crowned in the roofless wreck of a church while the city burned around him.
The rebellion in Hungary was unable to secure Papal blessing or to identify a clear leader, and in the field it came up against Olaf Guddrodson, the Steppe Chieftain who had defeated and captured Ogodai in Kiev. Olaf faced the rebel army – crossbowmen and archers defended by urban militia with poleaxes - with a force of feudal sergeants and a large cavalry contingent. While his spears advanced against the massed rebels, Olaf used the terrain to mask the advance of his cavalry around the flanks of the enemy. The co-ordination of the pincer attack was close to perfection – for the loss of just twenty men Olaf Guddrodson captured nearly six hundred rebels and killed the rest.
The taxes levied by Knud caused ill feeling even in Denmark, where a group of influential landowners decided to invite Hardeknud, son of Harald, to claim his rightful inheritance. They plotted to seize control while Knud was still making his way back through Flanders and Friesland. But Hardeknud did not arrive. Instead, the armies released from Kiev by the collapse of the Golden Horde came back to Denmark to deal with the rebels. What followed was less a battle than a massacre, and the sparks of rebellion were extinguished under iron-shod heels.
A Year of Uprisings
The bloody decade came to a close, but there seemed no prospect of an end to war. More tumult awaited. In Champagne, a champion arose for those whose land hand been ravaged in fighting between Denmark and Spain – Henri of Rheims, soon to declare himself Henri II of France. Henri’s partisans, perceiving the Danes as the immediate threat, struck first at Champagne and southern England, and thousands rallied to his banner.
Meanwhile, the Hellenic League, having evicted the Byzantines and Danes from mainland Greece and the Mediterranean islands, was seeing itself as a spent force. Athens was now the seat of a proud German emperor. Asia Minor was in the hands of various Muslim factions. Danish troops occupied Cyprus and Rhodes and Danish ships controlled all trade. The League was no more than a group of disconnected rebel barons.
A bold stroke by a minor noble named Alexius Draconis changed this. By dint of superb diplomacy, he negotiated a deal with the steppe clans that would bring them under his banner against the perceived threat of Danish or Egyptian domination. With such impressive forces ready to take his side, Alexius found it easy to rally the Hellenic League to his cause. When Constantinople also declared for the new Emperor, there could be no doubt – this was a re-emergence of the Byzantines, albeit one made up of Muslim rebels and Mongol tribesmen as well as Greek partisans.
Knud responded by sending his nephew Sweyn to Wessex to encounter one half of the French threat. Sweyn, the only son of Olaf III, was the key to Knud’s popular support and everything the Danes admired: a tall, broad-shouldered youth never happy without sword and armour, and a hardheaded materialist who paid lip service to notions of piety or chivalry. Sweyn’s adoption by his uncle had made it clear he was the chosen heir, and now he set out to prove his credentials as warrior.
The French and their rebel allies assembled at Portsmouth and marched north towards London. Sweyn, arriving at Dover from Flanders, marched west to intercept them and join a force marching from the capital. The armies met at Bagshot Heath, Sweyn commanding a mixed force of 1396 while the French, under the dandyish Sir Foucher Clement, mustered 1860 men.
Sweyn fought a cautious battle behind the Danish shield-wall, letting his arbalests and crossbowmen do their work before the French infantry reached his lines. Then, with the forces engaged, he unleashed Scots clansmen and Irish gallowglasses from his flanks. As the French wavered, he himself led a charge from the centre while the main body of his knights rode around the French left and scattered their archers. The first wave was in tatters, with Sir Foucher already a prisoner. Sweyn let his men pursue a little way, where they destroyed the French war-engines, and then fell back on the same defensive line to await the French cavalry.
The French horsemen, supported by crossbowmen, advanced boldly, but hardly seemed likely to be able to break the Danish lines. Sweyn had replaced his Scots with English fyrdmen, a legacy of the Danelaw established by King Christoffer, and these worthy men did good work with their spears. With the cavalry broken and fled, the French crossbows did not stay to face a Danish counter-attack. Urged to pursue, Sweyn laughed and shook his head. With Danish ships controlling the channel, he doubted the fleeing French would ever find their way out of England. He was in no hurry. On the battlefield he had killed more than a third of the French army and captured almost as many, for the loss of 123 men, but without risking another man he had obliterated the French presence in England.
Champagne was not seen as vital to the campaign in France, so rather than fight Henri the Danes withdrew to Flanders and Lorraine. Like his Polish counterpart, Henri found himself celebrating his coronation in the ruins of a province plundered and ravaged by the fleeing Danes.
Against Alexius, no resistance was offered. A rising on the island of Rhodes was not opposed, Knud allowing his peasant garrison to disband without a fight. But once again the Danish withdrawal resulted in plunder and destruction. Alexius ordered his ports closed to Danish shipping – a brief revival in Mediterranean trade came to a crashing end.
Wladislaw of Poland continued his siege of Venice and saw off a pro-Byzantine rising in Poland, while simultaneously mounting an attack on Carpathia. The defenders, outnumbered and ill-equipped, succeeded in denying Wladislaw a way across the river, and his humiliating defeat was compounded by his own cowardice, having fled the field in the early stages leaving more than a thousand of his men to be killed or captured.
Battle in La Mancha
Meanwhile in Spain, Valdemar’s campaign of destruction continued. The city of Leon fell to assault, allowing the Danes to plunder the province. A raiding party overwhelmed the garrison of Portugal. But these were mere sideshows to the long awaited confrontation of the Spanish and Danish armies in La Mancha, to determine the outcome of the siege of Cordoba. The main forces of the opposing armies met in a great bridge battle, recalling Valdemar’s successes against the Golden Horde in Kiev. However, the Prince understood that the army of Spain presented a different threat, with heavy infantry, cavalry and pavise arbalesters all available. His own army was a mixed bag, comprising Danish knights, Norwegian Vikings, German and Livonian crossbowmen and arbalesters, Scots and Irish warriors, English and German spearmen and even some steppe horsemen. It had marched under the ancient Raven banner as well as the Danish Lion, recalling The Army of pagan times that had ravaged the Frankish and English kingdoms. Valdemar’s army was just as savage and rapacious.
The battle was hard fought and cost the Danes dearly, not least in terms of knights lost. Having seen off the first wave, Valdemar led a reckless counter-attack against newly arriving forces that eventually saw him fleeing back across the bridge with half his knights slain, barely escaping with his life. This was not, however, an impetuous escapade on his part. Valdemar had realised early on that he could not win any exchange of shot across the bridge with the Spanish having so many more crossbowmen, and many of them with pavises. His surprise counter-attack also cost the Spanish dearly, killing or capturing hundreds of crossbowmen in the hills on the far side. The defenders could withstand the attack of this reduced army on more even terms, could hold their ground and exchange loss for loss, until ready to counter-attack again. This time there was no doubt, and the Spanish broke. Weighed down by pavises, the Spanish arbalesters were easy prey, and after some difficult early moments Valdemar was able to report a total victory. He took a careful count of the dead and captured: for 403 men lost, he had slain 2325 and captured 599, and effectively destroyed the army defending Spain.
What was to surprise his brother, King Knud, was not the extent of the victory but the messenger chosen to deliver the report. He arrived in Hamburg on a misty October night, and met the King’s men as they took ship to Denmark. Though cloaked and hooded, they could see he was a young man, slight of figure, though he walked with a confident bearing and, rather than bowing to the King, he held his head high. As Knud approached he drew back the hood and smiled.
“You seem familiar, boy,” growled the King.
“I should, uncle,” came the reply. “I am Hardeknud, son of Harald, King of the Two Sicilies and heir to the thrones of Denmark and Aragon.”
The King’s men loosened the daggers in their scabbards. It was only a year since blood had been spilled in the name of Hardeknud’s claim to the throne. But Knud waved them back.
“The King of Sicily is an Italian brigand by the name of William Sinibaldi,” said Knud levelly. “The Kingdom of Aragon has lived under Spanish rule for almost a century. And the heir to the throne of Denmark is your cousin Sweyn. I am surprised to see you alive, my boy. Your mother’s ambitions nearly cost you your life before, and they may yet.”
“My mother is dead.”
“May she rest in peace. You left Denmark, remember, as a boy of seven clinging to his mother’s skirts. How can we know what manner of man you have become? Your cousin has served his country and won honour and glory. He has proved his fitness to eat bread and jam at my table, and be called a Prince of Denmark. As for you – you will not even leave this dock alive unless you are prepared to call me sire!”
The boy’s blue eyes glittered in the torchlight: “Give me a task and I will show my fitness – sire!”
Knud smiled back: “You are your father’s son. I sail for Denmark on the tide, or sooner if I can persuade the sea to do my bidding. Your ship however, has another destination…”
I feel quite intimidated posting straight after Bregil. Please don't make any unfavourable comparisons!
As we left the isolationist Danes, King Harald had just been crowned and the Danish people looked forward to a prosperous future. However, some tragic news soon hit...
***
Death of King Harald 1169-1179
The sudden death of King Harald sent shockwaves throughout the Danish kingdom. The manner of his death, a sudden illness which swiftly carried him off as he was hurried to medical help in Oslo, seemed apt, as if the old world with its old ways had passed with it. Danish society now looked with trepidation at a future which no longer guaranteed security and prosperity.
They looked forward to this potentially hazardous future under a new leader. At 20, the new king Christoffer was by far the youngest monarch to rule Denmark and its provinces since his illustrious forefather had brought stability to the kingdom 100 years previously. There was no doubting his talent, but the nagging question remained; how could this person, more boy than man, sail the kingdom through the choppy waters which surely lay ahead?
King Christoffer knew of these concerns and they did little to settle his growing anxiety. Almost out of habit he reached for the jug of ale that was always kept nearby. In the six short months of his reign he had already developed a pronounced drinking habit as he sought to cope with the pressures of Kingship. What was more he had more reason than usual to drink today. The North Lords were coming.
The outside world had changed; geo-political pressures increasingly commanded the Danes to move to their whim. No longer could the Danes retreat to their homeland and expect to be ignored. Increasingly action had to be taken. Hence, the arrival of the North Lords. King Christoffer may have been young, but he was no fool. He knew that if the Danes were to reverse the policy of many lifetimes he would require the consent of his nobles; his position was too weak to command them to his will.
In the distance Danish hunting horns signified the arrival of a noble with his private guard. Christoffer ignored it and marched into the Grand Council Chamber. This small room was dominated by a large circular oak table, stolen; it was said, from a Saxon Parliament during a Viking raid. Now though it was an anachronism, a relic from the past. Silently he prepared himself for the meeting ahead. Walking around the room he pictured where people would sit, and the arguments they would make. They were not arguments which promised easy consensus. Immediately to his left would sit Sir Toke Masson the Earl of Sweden. A huge man, full of fire and anger, he scared Christoffer and was the biggest threat to his throne. Although he openly professed loyalty, Sir Toke was full of royal blood and ambition. Despite this though, he remained in a position of power. As the Danes’ leading military strategist, his cunning would be vital to any military actions decided upon today.
Next to Sir Toke would sit Antonio Ferrer, Ambassador of Aragon. He had arrived two weeks ago, ostensibly to visit the King’s mother, Queen Urraca but also to bring news, news which had necessitated the calling of this meeting.
Further round, and directly opposite the King would be Lord Svertinggson, Earl of Denmark. Severtingsson had many faults, his temper was increasingly a problem but he was still immensely valuable to the Danish crown. As a humanist, a man of numbers he had transformed Copenhagen from a sleepy capital to a vast trading metropolis and under his guidance the Danish capital had become a magnificent city indeed! More importantly, he was also respected by the important trader class who increasingly clamoured for representation. His opinion and consent will be vital, perhaps decisive.
Further round still, opposite the Ambassador was a space to be filled by the Earl of Norway, Lord Skotkonung. He was the youngest, and perhaps least important of the nobles who would fill this room, he lacked the military stature of Sir Toke or the acumen of the Danish lord. Despite this, he would still play a role. If military action were decided upon the tough fighting men of Norway would form the foundations upon which the army would be based.
Finally, and in a privileged position to the right of the King would sit Bishop Sweynsson, head of the church in Denmark and the king’s chief advisor. With his fathers’ regular trips around the kingdom necessitating his absence for large periods of time, the elderly Sweynsson had taken on the role of Christoffer’s guardian. It was a role to which he was well adapted. Sweynsson was a wise man in many ways, a theologist, philosopher and mathematician. He was wisely considered to be the wisest man in Christendom, and his presence brought great credit to the Danish throne. Christoffer was relying on his advice more and more.
Eventually, after what seemed to Christoffer to be an age, the pomp and ceremony was completed and the meeting could finally begin. Ambassador Ferrer, who had brought the news that has led to this meeting, spoke first, his elegant voice reverberating around the cramped chamber;
“My friends, I do not know you by name but now we are united as comrades against oppression. Every day the French expand their power and soon they will turn their greedy eyes towards the proud Aragon kingdom. We will not be able to withstand this threat alone. We are peoples who are joined by blood and marriage and now we come to you ad friends who need your help. Please, in the name of comradeship, stand with us and fight the French monster that will not stop until the world is his. Remember my brothers; this monster will surely one day turn its eyes to you.” The passion of the short speech was so great that immediately after speaking the Ambassador collapsed into his seat under the weight of his emotions.
“Sire,” Svertinggson spoke up, “I can confirm that description, every year our traders report that more and more ports are in French hands. Increasingly a French hand controls to the coasts, from Scotland in the North, to Navarre in the South and Pomerania to the East. The French kingdom is certainly growing and I do not know where it will stop. However, I must counsel against open warfare, our people depend on goods from the outside world to maintain their lifestyles; a war with France would surely hinder our access to foreign ports and foreign goods. I assure you that the people of Denmark would not live comfortably with such measures.”
Skotkonung was the next to speak, although the junior member of the council, it was his people, the sturdy Norsemen who would provide the backbone of any Danish army, therefore his opinion mattered;
“My Lord, I assure you that the Norse are still true fighters. We are tough men certainly, more than a match for any Frenchman ---“
“A match for any 10 Frenchmen!” Toke Masson interjected, “Sire, my men are the finest in the world; I assure you that if a war with France is called for then all of France will fall under our axes. At the slightest command we will march and we will be in Paris in a month!”
It was clear to Christoffer that the meeting was going nowhere, while to declare war with France might be folly; he owed it to Aragon to do something, didn’t he? Almost in desperation he turned to his closest friend the Archbishop;
“Sire, while Sir Toke might be correct that our armies could destroy any French army, it would still be foolish to declare war. We will certainly win the opening exchanges, but gradually their superior numbers will win the day. We know little about this kingdom, about its ways, all we know is that it’s larger than us. Remember the old saying my child, ‘it is the tallest tree which first falls in a storm’. Gradually such a large kingdom will collapse under its own weight and will cease to be a problem. Until then it would be better to stay as we are. Our navy will protect us from sea-borne invasion, and I’m sure that Sir Toke can protect the land routes into Denmark. Sire, my advice to you is that you build up our defences, behind our walls, and challenge the French to defeat us. Do not commit the mistake of fighting a larger man on his own terms. Our sympathies must go to the Kingdom of Aragon, but our concern must rest with ourselves.”
Bishop Sweynssson’s wise words won the day, much to the consternation of Ambassador Ferrer, and the humanist Svertingsson who distrusted the religious background of the King’s advisor. But the group did not depart happily. No overall conclusion had been reached, and the Danes could not ignore the change in the outside world for ever. Yes, at the moment it was possible to hide behind high walls and get rich from trade. But sooner or later hungry eyes would turn to this peaceful, rich kingdom and then what? What would happen when the Danes could hide no more?
“So where are we going?”
“I’ve told you before, we’re going to Finland.”
“Why?”
“’Cos the King says he needs it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know something about the French and an invasion, or something. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. Just settle down, do your job and we’ll be home soon.”
Conversations such as these rung around the Danish navy as it transported the small army across the Baltic Sea to Finland. Finally, after 95 years of complete isolation the Danes were marching to battle once more. The Finnish force was just a small one, it was all that was needed to deal with the small population of Finland, but it carried an important role. One day, the French would come, and while the small, but fierce, Danish army would fight well, and kill many, eventually sheer numbers would overwhelm the small kingdom. In that event cold, bleak, inhospitable Finland would be a safe haven for resistance fighters and a place of refuge from French rule. Also, from a trade perspective, Finland possessed much in the way of natural resources and an opening into the Russian markets, away from prying French hands. The occupation of Finland was therefore an important step in the long-term safety of the Danish kingdom.
Inge Thorrodson knew all this and while he was acutely aware of the importance of this mission, he felt no fear. He was confident in the ability of his men to do the job asked of them. He was also confident in his own ability to lead them and then rule as Lagman in the King’s name. He had seen the power that had accrued to men such as Skotkonung from their control of a province, and he longed for a share of the spoils and a seat at the Council Chamber. Time would prove this prediction right, the rebels, largely unskilled in the art of war, were all too eager to give battle. A decision they regretted as they were decimated by a hail of arrows and routed by a sharp cavalry charge. Finland was secure and the first tentative steps that the Danes had taken in breaking their long isolation had been successful ones.
King Christoffer heard the joyous news in the company of his attractive new bride, the German princess, Jutta, who was all too eager to please her new King. Christoffer’s habit of drinking heavily and late had so far prevented the actual consummation of this marriage, but with the wind in his sails he was now sure that this would be a glorious day indeed!
Wow, all these great posts, and then I come along and ruin it, well hopefully I'll be able to start a new campaign in early/normal/GA as the Volgar-Bulgarians.
Other then that I'd like to tell of an old Polish campaign on normal, domination, that sadly went bye bye, after I got my gold edition. From what I remember of it, going from 1087 to 1100, I did a blitz across the steppes which led to me holding 13 provinces by 1100, basically I nearly conquered 1 province per turn. I then turned on the Russians, taking Novgorod(sp?) around 1105-1115, quickly followed by Finland, where they defeated for good. starting in 1125 I started on the Hungarians and by 1135 had beaten them, but I was excommunicated for this, luckily the pope died within a few years, can't remember which. I then rested for a while, to one let my army get healed, and to bring up my revenues, which despite all of the conquests, was nearing the red, had only about 300-500 florins by 1140. After that I turned my armies and went after Asia Minor, and took the northern half from the Eggies. It's now around 1165-1175. By 1200 I had taken the rest of Asia Minor, wiped out the Eggies, left the Byzantines on the isles of Rhodes, Cyprus, and Crete, and left the Turks with a minimal force in Edessa. Again a rest period, then in 1210-1213 the HRE attacked, I lost Silesia for a decade, for the fact most of my forces were in the mid east, and some German bouts either sank mine, got away before I sank them, or just blocked me from bringing my men home. And as usual, the HRE got excommed, which led me to Polish Blitz them, wiping them out by 1240. Now by that time the GH appeared, which led me to think I was screwed when I counted about 13,000 men in Khazar, only province they attacked, to my garrison of 400, which was just 4 spearmen. I was able to bolster my numbers with some of the Mid-East vets, which made it 13,000 on 2200 or so. I lost Khazar, but the GH lost something more important, as some missile units were shooting at some of the MHC they managed to get the Khan, but I wasn't paying attention, and missed that. So despite losing some 1400 men before retreating, the KH was dead before they could even hold any land. After that... well I got bored with the campaign, and moved onto a Russian one.
Sorry for no pics tho, for one I never took any, and if i did, they'd be on my old hard drive, which since has died. Tho I do hope my recount wasn't to sub-standard.
Oh and one question, does anyone know of an image converter I could get? I'd like to start taking screen shots, and I know I need a converter. I had one before, but it left a water mark, which I found annoying. Anyway thanks in advance to anyone that can help me.
Part Eight of an Account of a VI 2.01 campaign as the Danes
The Era of the Three Popes
There were at this point three Popes – Clement in Rome having the superior claim, Innocent in Milan having inherited the role of anti-Pope, and Pius in Toulouse convincing no-one but the Spanish king who paid his bills and made his policy. Small wonder Europe was aflame with war.
Revenue from raiding and ransom boosted the flagging Danish economy, but the collapse of European trade remained a primary concern. Sadly, Knud’s attempts to promote peace fell on deaf ears. A mission led by Bishop Thorstein made overtures to Sultan Ali with the aim of ending hostilities, but with Danish forces besieging Ryazan there was little chance of peace. Alexius V, now successfully established as Emperor of Byzantium, was unmoved by the tun of greengage preserve sent by the Danish king, and promptly invaded Muscovy. Felipe of Spain, though married to Knud’s sister Birgitta, was unlikely to forget that the Danish king had killed his father, and in any case Knud’s brother Valdemar was still ravaging the Iberian peninsular. Even the Emperor Otto IV, whose nephew Sweyn was heir to the Danish throne, decided to break with his former allies in the hope of retaining some control over the increasingly independent Pope Clement and his Polish adherents.
Otto’s treason cost him dearly. Danish raiders attacked him in Greece and he was cut down in battle – though his son, Hermann, escaped to Italy where he was crowned Holy Roman Emperor at Ravenna.
The assassination of a number of their bishops led the Danish church down a more militant line, supporting the aggressive reforms of Innocent over the political accommodations of Clement. The Danish church – or more specifically, the Celtic element within the Danish sphere – followed this lead by providing an Inquisition of Faith. Fearing the impact on his own people, Knud encouraged the Inquisition to pursue targets in France and Poland, where the scions of Clement and the suspect Pope Pius held sway. The impact in Poland was minimal, and when a minor Spanish general was burned for heresy in Britanny, it seemed little more than an annoyance, a sign of diminishing faith in the Spanish leadership. But when the influential Lord Caris was executed in Normandy in 1243, the Lords of Europe began to take note of the Inquisition’s power. Wladislaw, though a protégé of Pope Clement, had never exhibited much piety or understanding of doctrine, and to correct this omission and ensure that no taint of heresy could be attached to his name, he contracted the services of a simple Friar to school him in the True Faith.
In a remote forest hermitage, this Friar delivered extreme unction to the monarch, and while this tale cannot say for certain whether Wladislaw entered the Kingdom of Heaven, he was at least conducted to the afterlife – sooner than he had planned. By the time his body was discovered, the Friar and his companions were well on their way to Denmark.
However, the rebel warlords who succeeded Wladislaw in control of Poland and Venice proved no less troublesome. In 1244 a war-band invaded Brandenburg and, for the time being, Knud had nothing to offer by way of resistance. They took the castle by storm the following year, before a reliving army could arrive. For the last few years Danish forces had been thoroughly occupied elsewhere…
A Date among the Palms
Despite the almost universal state of war, some individuals found time for more peaceful pursuits. Beneath the shady palm trees of a Moroccan oasis, Prince Hardeknud of Denmark found time to eat dates and drink coffee with camel-riding Berber merchants while their Catholic Spanish overlords humbly filled his coffers with silver. If the City Fathers of Marrakech did their work with little complaint, perhaps it was because the money was not their own, but their king’s. This was the ransom for the men captured in the battle at La Mancha last year. No doubt it would be spent on Danish armies that would wreak more havoc in Spain – but that was of little concern to the folk of Marrakech.
Hardeknud sipped his coffee and looked around thoughtfully. Despite his typically Nordic complexion – fair skin, light brown hair - he liked the hot desert climate. He had much preferred the years he had spent in Sicily to his early childhood in gloomy Denmark, notwithstanding the danger posed to his life by the rebels who ruled the island he had been taught to consider his birthright. Since his mother Valeria had died, he had learned to adopt a more realistic approach to his royal ambitions, but he hoped that his uncle Knud would continue to assign him to duties in warm places, and not make him the garrison commander of somewhere like Novgorod or Ireland. The sweet, strong coffee, which stimulated but never intoxicated, felt good in his stomach. He made a gracious gesture to the Spanish burghers, who indicated that they had completed their work.
“I like this country,” he said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “So much so – I believe I may even choose to stay here.”
Don Fernando Perez, the knight in command of the Morocco garrison, regarded the strange youth curiously: “Stay here? Your Highness, is of course, welcome as our guest for as long as – ah – but surely other duties..? Your Royal Uncle…”
“I do not mean as a guest,” smiled Hardeknud, swatting a fly that threatened his coffee. “I was thinking more as a conqueror.”
“A conqueror?” asked the dumbfounded Don Fernando. “But Your Highness – you arrived under a flag of truce!”
“That truce applied to the prisoners I was escorting, and is not withdrawn,” replied the Prince, his voice rising in pitch. “They are free to seek out their homes, their families, providing they make no war on me. But as for you – you arrogant, overstuffed Spanish peasants – don’t bandy words with a Danish warrior, a son of kings, descended from the very gods themselves! I say I will take this place! In a moment, I could call on armies that will make you tremble behind the walls of your city. Choose either to fight me or to let me have my will.”
“You – you mean to fight us?”
“Of course, I intend to finish my coffee first,” replied Hardeknud, his voice calm again. “Then, I will send this treasure back to my ships. Then, I will disembark my men. If you have the stomach for it, meet us on the field of battle. If not, consider yourselves conquered.”
Don Fernando did not have the stomach for it. The walls of the citadel were strong, only hunger would breach them. But the prisoners returned from Spain would make short work of the supplies. He could pray this mad youth would get bored and leave them alone, or that King Felipe would send help from Spain or Tunisia. But the boy did not seem like one who would give up easily what he had taken, and Felipe had problems of his own. The people of Morocco would doubtless know famine and great loss before this conflict was resolved. With one last, horrified look at Prince Hardeknud, Don Fernando ordered the townsmen back to the walls, and then called for his swiftest horse to be brought. Meanwhile, Hardeknud finished his refreshments, mounted a camel and allowed himself to be led back to his ships.
Ghenghis Khan and Jebu Bator
The siege of Ryazan was interrupted by the arrival of the Byzantines under Lord Romanus, a largely Greek force well-equipped with crossbows and arbalests but, surprisingly, not supported by the formidable Mongol Heavy Cavalry who had chosen to join forces with the new Emperor. The besiegers, now defenders, were led by the formidable Haflidhi Forkbeard. Using his infantry and cavalry to best advantage, Forkbeard drew the attack onto his centre and then, before the better-armed Byzantines could get the better of an exchange of fire, he attacked with cavalry spreading out on his wings. The Byzantines were rolled up in minutes and routed. Losses were trivial on both sides –25 Danes, 161 Byzantines – but Forkbeard took over 700 prisoners. It was a stern warning to the new Emperor.
Ghenghis Khan was the alleged founder of the Golden Horde, a legendary hero or monster who had conquered all of Asia and whose descendants still ruled in India, China, Persia and much in between. Ogodai, his successor the west, had intended to add Europe to that empire, but had failed, and now another Ghenghis Khan, a scion of that great dynasty, served as a commanding officer under the Byzantines. It was a paltry position for a man whose bloodline might have made him master of the world. The Danish captain who opposed him in Pereyaslavl, Sir Ulf Skottkonung, made much of this in the exchange of words before the battle, provoking Ghenghis to furious anger. Sir Ulf knew he had little chance of defeating an army twice the size of his own tiny force, but that any losses taken in the field would prolong the survival of the garrison under siege. So he set out to fight and to kill as many Mongols as he could. His bowmen took a deadly toll of the Mongol horse archers, and his Viking warriors, ambushing Ghenghis’s Mongol nobility in a wood, did deadly work. But his Slavic allies fared less well against disciplined Byzantine infantry, and then Sir Ulf himself was struck and wounded with an arrow. As the Mongol cavalry slammed into the flank of his spearwall, Sir Ulf fell dying from a dozen wounds. His disheartened men fled back to the castle, save the Vikings who found themselves surrounded and died to the last man.
Another scion of the Golden Horde was Jebu, the conqueror of the Crimea and former Khan of the Alans. Like Ghenghis, he now served as an officer in the Byzantine army – “A Greek lackey where you were once a king,” as his opponent, Lord Haengsson put it. Haengsson, commanding the defence of Kiev, was a Swedish huscarle of the old school, a dour-handed fighting dog best pleased when he held an axe in his hands. “Many times have your countrymen come to grief on this crossing,” he warned. “If you wish your turn, I am happy to oblige.”
Jebu’s response was to muster his men for an attack across the Dneiper when the first snows fell. He was confident in his numbers – 2074 against 1246 – and the quality of his troops, a mix of Mongol warriors and Byzantine regulars. He also reasoned that despite his bravado, Lord Haengsson was not the commander Prince Valdemar had been.
As it turned out, Jebu had underestimated the sturdy Swede. His assault on the bridge went disastrously but predictably wrong as his horsemen, having weathered an arrow storm to cross the river, were struck by a volley from a Chinese organ gun placed on a sand-spit beside the bridge. Hardly a man made it across to the shield-wall that awaited them – English-born chivalric sergeants, ordered in unfaltering ranks. Within minutes the bridge was littered with dead and dying men and horses, and Jebu and the survivors were flying in panic. Some managed to rally for a second run, and they met the same fate. The Mongol infantry and horse archers came next, and they too found only death and disaster waiting.
As the attack faltered, Lord Haengsson unleashed his cavalry to chase the enemy infantry from the field. These proud companies of Rus nobles, Khazars and Avars unleashed their fury on the fleeing men, until Jebu’s cavalry reserves arrived to save them from complete massacre. Haengsson’s men fell back, and not without loss, but they fell back to a strongly defended position, and all that awaited the attacking force was more death. As heavy snow began to fall, the Mongols found it only blinded their archers, while Lord Haengsson’s arbalesters kept shooting and shooting – even amid the swirling snow, they knew where the bridge was and therefore where the enemy must be.
For the loss of 66 men, Lord Haengsson killed 853 and captured 21. Jebu’s losses would surely have been higher had his men been less willing to flee. Ten years earlier, the myth of Mongol invincibility had been a weapon of terror in his hand, but now it was the Danish defenders of Kiev who had that reputation.
The following year the Mongol nobility, still under the Byzantine banner, attempted one last hurrah, an assault on Chernigov. The lessons of previous bridge battles not being learned, they suffered as heavily as before, and once broken they found themselves pursued. If they had learned anything at all from their experiences, it was not to launch a second wave, but to quit the field.
By 1243, the Danes were able to take the offensive, moving to the relief of Pereyaslavl. Ghenghis and his men were outmanoeuvred by the armies arriving from Ryazan and Kiev, and after getting the worst of the early exchanges he fled the field. Meanwhile, Jebu Bator met an unexpected end, perishing in his cups after a wedding feast much as Attilla the Hun was said to have done. The presence of a Danish agent, Godfred Gille, in Sebastapol at this time suggests that the death was not necessarily of natural causes.
With their most capable leader dead and their armies broken into pieces, the threat of the Golden Horde had finally passed; and without his Mongol subjects the new Emperor Alexius V found himself in an awkward position on the steppe. He was driven from Volga-Bulgaria by Grand Duke of Lithuania, and captured the following year when he counter-attacked. The Grand Duke pressed his advantage, and by 1246 Khazar was taken, leaving Alexius and his weakened army penned up in the Crimean peninsular.
And I remember Spain…
Valdemar’s cruel campaign continued apace. The ravaging Danish army plundered and stripped Leon, Portugal and Cordoba in turn, the great citadel of Cordoba finally surrendering in 1242. While Valdemar offered the honours of war to the defenders – for a consideration, allowing them to march away with their weapons, armour and horses – he showed no such mercy to the defenceless citizens. Indeed, by this time Valdemar had left Spain, sailing round the Cape of Gibraltar to launch a surprise attack on Aquitaine. Other strands of his army had won comprehensive victories in Valencia and Granada, but with a small Valencian garrison firmly entrenched in the castle this attack was abandoned. Instead, the great Moorish citadel of Granada became the focus of another siege.
King Felipe could offer no relief to the suffering of his people. His strongest armies were concentrated in the north, where the Danish threat was no less. He encouraged uprisings against the ravaging invader, but where these occurred the Danes had long gone. Instead, local uprisings usually degenerated into skirmishes between loyalists and nationalists who had had their fill of Dane and Spaniard alike. Felipe’s plight became acute in 1243 when a strong Danish army landed in southern France and threatened to trap him in the citadel of Toulouse. He fled south, but the Danish armies pursued him into Aragon, while in Toulouse an apocalyptic battle in 1244 finished in favour of the Danes, two thousand Spaniards casting away their lives to try to relieve the citadel.
In Africa, the Spanish army gathered from Tunisia and Algeria marched to the relief of Marrakech, only to break itself into pieces against Prince Hardeknud’s besiegers. In the arid terrain Hardeknud’s Irish and Scottish swordsmen performed well against the spears and polearms of the Spaniards, clearing the way for his steppe horsemen to deliver the coup de grace. Confident of his plan (and wary of Spanish missiles) Hardeknud and his knights stayed dismounted at the top of a hill throughout the battle, Hardeknud sat on a rug eating dates even as the armies clashed a few yards away. His victory was complete, Marrakech surrendering the next day and Algeria lying open to the invaders. Hardeknud wasted no time in pressing his advantage. By 1245 Algiers was in his hands.
On the Flemish and Burgundian frontiers, Spanish armies declined further battle with the Danes for fear of coming into conflict with the French armies in the region. The French nobility had invested much in the resurgence of Henri of Rheims, many forfeiting lands elsewhere to come to his aid, and he had an impressively strong force in terms of both manpower and equipment. Perhaps Felipe could rely on Henri to succeed where he had failed?
Henri Deux, ce roi vaillant
Henri of Rheims, styled Henri II of France, commanded the largest and most modern field army to be found in any province of Europe. His first excursion had been to seize the province of Champagne from the Danes, and he had been unopposed. Thus encouraged – and not dismayed by the failure of his supporters in southern England – he mounted several more attacks on Danish territory.
The first of these was against Lorraine, where Sir Haakon Thorrodson led a defensive force less than half the size of the French army. Nonetheless, the Danes fought valiantly, and inflicted a humiliating defeat on Henri. The King only escaped the battlefield by hiding in a wood and stripping off his insignia of rank – the Danes had killed a decoy wearing the royal armour and had thought him dead. So did the French army, who fled, surrendered or died. Out of 3400 followers, Henri lost 515 killed and 1255 captured. Just 127 Danes were killed. Thorrodson’s use of ambush and manoeuvre throughout the battle were crucial to the extent of the victory.
His second attempt on Lorraine was with a larger, better equipped army, and was still more disastrous. Thorrodson had employed two organ guns in the first battle, but neither had fired. This time he had a chance to see their worth, shattering the fragile morale of the advancing French just before the point of impact. Henri was not seen during the battle, and is thought to have fled under cover of bad weather as the battle turned against him. The only saving grace for the French was that casualties were lower since their men fled earlier.
A third battle was fought in Flanders in 1243, Henri despairing of beating his nemesis and instead turning his forces on the young Prince Sweyn. As fate would have it, Sweyn had decided to relieve Thorrodson, transferring him to Flanders as a prelude to a furlough in Denmark. Thus the two opponents met for a third time in as many years, with Thorrodson commanding a substantially weaker and less experienced garrison in Flanders (some of its strength being needed to help suppress rebellion in Wessex). But the difference in the commanders was crucial. Thorrodson inspired his men to a crushing victory over the demoralised French, taking nearly a thousand prisoners despite a suggestion from Prince Sweyn that it would be better to offer no quarter. Henri, seeing the battle turn against him, fled the field with some alacrity. Prince Charles attempted to rally the second battle of the French – who might still outnumber the defenders – but his French nobles came out second best against a band of Swedish knights and with their demise the army was lost. Henri refused to ransom the prisoners. Some commoners were sent back to their homes, with the instruction never to serve the treacherous House of Rheims again. Some nobles also persuaded their captors to release them into peaceful retirement. But many throats were cut in the aftermath of that battle, and still more prisoners were cast into dungeons to waste away, waiting for ransoms that would never be paid. The fate of Charles, the King’s cousin and heir, remains unknown.
The reward for Sir Haakon Thorrodson would be the Dukedom of Pereyaslavl and marriage to the king’s niece, Princess Regitze. All Henri would earn from the experience was the chance of a re-match against a new and inexperienced opponent – the sixteen year old Prince Christoffer. But with his reputation as a king and warrior in tatters, the French king needed a resounding victory to restore his claim. Instead, his men barely stayed on the field long enough for the Danes to kill or capture them in any numbers.
The House of Aragon restored
As Felipe of Spain and his retainers fled across Spain before the rampaging army of Prince Valdemar, the people of Barcelona contemplated the return of the House of Aragon for the first time in almost a hundred years – for as a descendant of King Fernando through his daughter Violante, Valdemar might have restored to his kinsmen the throne wrested from them by Enrique of Castile in1150 .
Any Prince but Valdemar might have done so, but his reputation for brutal rapacity was further served by his treatment of the abandoned Barcelona. He turned it over to his soldiers, his ragged collection of Danes, English, Germans, Balts and steppe warriors, and once they had stripped it bare they burned it to the ground. Conquest was not his aim, but the destruction of his enemies and their cities. Abandoning Aragon, he chased King Felipe through Castile and finally saw him trapped in Navarre by an army including the Danish knight Sir Ulf Huntjofson. Hopelessly outnumbered, Felipe made a bold stand and died as his father had done, wielding a sword until Sir Ulf and his companions cut him down. He was 27 years old.
Felipe’s 30 year-old cousin, Alfonso, had the closest claim to the Spanish throne, and hastened to Valencia to stake his claim. He was crowned in December 1246, but his reign was to be short, since Valencia was ringed with Danish armies. Alfonso IX became the third Spanish king in succession to die in battle. Having fled the field when his armies were defeat ed in open battle, he acquitted himself better when the city fell to assault in March 1248, making the Danes pay dearly for the conquest and dying as well as his kinsmen had done.
The Emperor Hermann had barely escaped from Greece with his life after his father Otto had initiated war with Denmark, but he had lost no territory and showed no inclination to end hostilities. Rome and its puppet Pope remained within his grasp. But surely he must have recognised that the destruction of his mid-European realm was an inevitability if he did not come to terms with Denmark, while in Italy the power of the Doge Merino I and the struggle of the Catholic Church for independence was a threat to his precarious foothold in the Roman states. Nonetheless, he had a father to avenge and half an Empire to be won back.
Thus within a few years were the enemies of Denmark vanquished; but with warlords and maverick inquisitors continuing to light flames across every province, the prospect of peace seemed no closer.
Honestly Crazy Guy you have nothing to worry about - I have nothing but admiration for your storytelling. I just hope its not too confusing having two Danish accounts so close together, with similar names and situations.:dizzy2:Quote:
Originally Posted by CrazyGuy
Having posted part eight of my account, I'm not sure there is much more to say with it. The Danes are clearly going to win eventually, though the Europe they will dominate will be a somewhat damaged one.:viking: Unless anything really interesting hapens I may just let it lie.
If I get the hang of posting pictures I may just finish off with a few screenshots, for completeness... :lam:
Actually Crazy Guy and Bregil, I have really enjoyed reading the two accounts in parallel. It is amazing how campaigns with the same faction have unfolded so differently. Sort of highlights one of the major attractions of this game, really.
That aside, both have been retold with great skill.
Well done both of you, I say! :2thumbsup:
Ah, if only I could get my nvidia problem sorted....:wall:
Light on the horizon, or false dawn?
I managed to get my old PC up and running....well, mostly...over the weekend.
Yes, I have had quite a bit of data loss, yes the on board clock seems to be really struggling, and yes, things keep hanging/crashing.....BUT....I did manage to get MTW fired up...and started a new campaign in XL 3.0 as the Serbs in early.
No promises that the PC will get me all the way to the end, but I will write up what I have done thus far....stay tuned, Serbs in early is a bit of a roller coaster (well it has been for me anyway!).
Cheers
First an apology - I have been away from this thread for quite some time - a mixture of real life not giving me enough time coupled with the time pressures of running a japanese Shogunate and holding back the Soviet hordes from Istanbul in 1963 (for more details see the Chapter House!!!) has meant no time to write up my MTW meanderings. However for all my fans.... well at least Martok!! I felt I should return with a quick update on my current campaign because I am finding it so interesting. Spurred on by the MTW challenge thread, I thought I would try something different. Most of my campaigns have gone the same way - rapid expansion, push on despite money problems, reach critical mass before anybody else. So I decided to look for a challenge where I could not follow my normal path.
I came up with Hard Byzantines in Late XL - outmoded troops, surrounded by potentialy more powerful enemies, lots of diplomatic challenges. Add the problems of low trade income with XL and I thought this could be fun.
So - what has happened so far? First you need to sort out your troops as your generals are rubbish. Being Byzantine you have a pile of titles to put in place. Careful useage gives you a 4 star and some 2 star generals. Troops are OK - Varagians, Katanks and Byz infantry and you can make them straight away. However you need to cut your cloth accordingly. Money is the issue so begin the build up of the economic side of things - trade, mines, farms etc. Inns are a top priority - you will need mercs ASAP. Finally I got busy diplomatically - the Bulgarians and Horde are top priority as you must secure things to the north and west.
The early years were dominated by a naval war with the Hospitalliers - they started it!! - and the build up described above. My only expansion was into Tresibond. The real pleasure is the inn in Nicaea - it is a honeypot for a host of mercs - I felt like a child in a sweet shop - longbows, bills, Chiv knights, CMAA, organ guns, pikes, gallowglasses - with gold armour!!, even lancers. Soon I had a powerful defence force - but no cash. My provinces were like the highway for a pile of Crusades off to the Middle east. All were allowed through so they could fight the Turks and Marmeluks for me. My war with the Hospitalliers ended when I had sunk his fleets and peace broke out. I stood back as the English, French and Armenians slugged it out with the forces of Islam. Once the Turks were weakened, I took out their last province - Anatolia.
So - a rollercoaster ride - after the first few years I was getting the insufficient funds message most moves. On the plus side, I have never had so many allies and my princess is married into the Horde. I concentrated on the diplomacy more than normal which has been fun. So the mix is diplomacy, money, mercs and watching and waiting for opportunities. I will post again soon with another exciting episode.:2thumbsup:
The Chronicles of Bamff of the Serbs
~ A Campaign in XL ver 3.0 – Hard – GA ~
Chapter 1 – A Place to Live
The year is 1080. Tzar Vukan I had assumed sovereignty over the Serbian people, and now faced the onerous task of ensuring a future for his people. This in itself would be no small task. To the north, the might of the Hungarian ruler Laszlo, sat poised like a hungry wolf ready to sweep south and swallow Serbia. To the east was the empire of the Byzantines. If Hungary was to be likened to a wolf, the Byzantines represented an entire pack, such were their numbers.
Vukan knew that either of these two neighbours would be more than able of crushing Serbia on a whim, and that he could ill afford to raise the ire of either. He also knew that in order to survive, his people needed more territory, and access to more resources. The answer to his dilemma lay to the west. Croatia had recently attained its own independence, and boasted ample mineral deposits. Unlike Serbia’s northern and eastern neighbours, Croatia was, like Serbia, something of a military minnow. Yes, mused Vukan, it was indeed the time for bold and decisive action. Troops would have to be raised, and raised quickly, so that he may strike before any other laid claim to the rich lands that he so coveted.
Ever the pragmatist, Vukan also took steps to ensure (as best he could) the security of his northern and eastern borders. Emissaries were duly despatched north to an audience with the Hungarian court, and east to the Byzantine capital of Constantinople.
As the spring thaw of 1082 warmed the lands on the Adriatic coastline, Vukan’s army had at last reached a state of readiness, and with their Tzar himself at the head of the column, the Serbians marched on the Croatians. This was not to be the first conflict between Serb and Croat, nor, sadly, would it be the last.
News of the approaching Serbian army spread quickly, and the Croatians hastily gathered a force to meet the invader. At the head of the Croatian army was Nicephorus Stratiocus. As his name betrayed, Stratiocus was originally a Byzantine, and had served the armies of his homeland with distinction before deciding to sell his sword in foreign lands. Stratiocus chose to face the Serbs in the rolling hills east of the old village of Prnjavor.
The Battle of Prnjavor
The Croatian army was comprised of spearmen and horse archers. The Serbian army was comprised solely of horse archers. The Serbs did, however, enjoy a numerical superiority. Including the Tzar’s own Carska Garda, the Serbian horse archers outnumbered the Croatians by just over 2 to 1, and the resulting advantage in weight of fire would prove decisive in the coming battle.
Stratiocus was painfully aware of this fact, and in a vain attempt to reduce the Serbian advantage, he chose to split his force, taking the fight to the enemy with his horse archers, whilst leaving his spearmen to hold a small hillock. It was to prove a disastrous miscalculation. The Serbians horse archers rained death upon the Croats. As the sole surviving Croatian horse archer fled the carnage in panic, the Serbs turned their attention to the Croatian spearmen. Tzar Vukan knew full well that he did not have to engage the Croats. He simply surrounded them, and watched as volley after volley of arrows depleted the Croatian ranks. Finally, with all arrows expended, the Serbs charged in from all sides to rout the devastated survivors.
As the battle drew to a close, 66 Croats lay dead on the field. 73 sat as sullen faced captives. Only 2 Serbs perished in the battle.
This battle, though not the last of the campaign, was indeed decisive. Another Byzantine, Romulus Angelus, attempted to rally a Croatian army in 1083. He marched to meet Vukan’s force near the township of Kostajnica.
The “Battle” of Kostajnica
The engagement at Kostajnica was perhaps one of the most unusual “battles” of this era. With the magnitude and manner of the Serbian victory at Prnjavor still fresh in the minds of his troops, and with a number of unresolved questions about the mental stability of Angelus, his army quietly dissolved on the very eve of the battle. When Angelus awoke, he found not another soul still in camp. A lesser man would have quietly ridden away, but not Angelus. While his actions that day may indeed have confirmed the rumours regarding his sanity, they would also speak volumes of the bravery and determination of Romulus Angelus, as he rode alone to meet the armies of Serbia, and died alone in a hail of Serbian arrows.
Croatia was now under the rule of Vukan I.
The Conquest of Venice
Word of the Serbian victories in Croatia travelled far and wide, and in 1086 came the welcome news that King Sancho of Aragon wished to cement an alliance with Serbia. To this end, he offered the hand in marriage of his daughter, Princess Isobel to Prince Vukan. Tzar Vukan I was delighted to accept on behalf of his eldest son.
The young Prince had always been pleased to help his father to secure the future of their fledgling kingdom – and in this case, particularly so. The beauty of Isobel was legend throughout the Mediterranean nations, and upon meeting his betrothed, Vukan discovered that not only was the Princess every bit as radiant as she had been rumoured to be, but she was also “of a most pleasing demeanour and disposition”. To his great joy, Isobel also found his company to be every bit as pleasing to her. Whilst their marriage had indeed been arranged, the two soon found themselves very much in love.
Love, though, however strong, cannot stand in the way of duty – particularly when one is heir to the throne. Prince Vukan was soon enough to be wrenched away from his bride to commence training a new army. Barely 5 years after the bells had peeled the joyous news of the wedding of Vukan and Isobel, they now tolled news of war with the Venitians, following attacks on Serbian shipping in the Adriatic. Fortunately for Serbia, Prince Vukan’s army was by now ready to meet the threat of Venitian aggression. In 1091, they marched on Venice itself. The Venitians surrendered both their dignity and their home province, fleeing in disarray before Prince Vukan’s army. A decisive victory in the Adriatic followed in 1092, and with his forces on both land and sea now embarrassed by the Serbs, the Venitian Doge appealed for a ceasefire in 1094. Tzar Vukan magnanimously accepted.
Barely three years later, relations between Serbia and Venice had further improved to the point that a treaty of alliance was signed in 1097.
Tzar Vukan’s diplomatic skills had won him friends both near and far. King Olaf I of Denmark was so impressed with the Serbians military power and diplomatic skills that he too sought an alliance with Vukan. In 1098 his emissaries arrived to offer the hand of the Princess Ulfhild to Prince Stefan. Vukan accepted on behalf of his second son, and once again Serbia rejoiced to news of a royal wedding.
Sadly, whilst the union of Vukan and Isobel had proved a happy one, the marriage of Stefan and Ulfhild was not so. Stefan soon turned to the bottle for solace, and rumours were to emerge of a number of adulterous affairs.
In 1102, a number of provinces of the Holy Roman Empire rose up in rebellion, and it was not long before both the Tyrolians and the Austrians had won their independence. This provided an opportunity too good to resist, and in 1104, at the tender age of just 20 years, Prince Uros, third in line to the Serbian throne, led a Serbian army north to seize Austria from the Schaunbergs.
Battle joined at Gmund
Uros caught the army led by Ludwig Karolinger near the township of Gmund. The Austrians attempted to flee into the nearby mountains, but Uros’ men, with a significant advantage in speed due to their horse archers, raced ahead to cut off their retreat. With the horse archers of Zivota Chavic in the van, the Serbian force then ruthlessly rode the Schaunbergs down. 41 Austrians were killed for the loss of just one Serb.
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Austria now joined Venice and Croatia as Serbian conquests.
With this victory fresh in his mind, Tzar Vukan now felt that the time was right to challenge the might of Hungary. The Hungarian army had been worn down through the long running war with the Cumans in the east, and could not field anything like the numbers that they would have boasted in days gone by.
“The Cumans have pulled a great many of the Hungarian Wolf’s teeth,” noted Vukan to his generals, clearly intending to stick with his favourite metaphor for his northern adversaries. “Now is the time for us to strike.”
The Battle of Maribor Bridge
Tzar Vukan assembled a substantial army, and marched north in 1108. His army met the Hungarians at Maribor Bridge on the River Drava. With only the one crossing available, his trusted advisor, Vasa Jimovic, pleaded with the Tzar to reconsider. “My Lord, please reconsider. We can face the Hungarians on another day, on a field more conducive to victory.”
Vukan would have done well to heed the counsel of his general. After many hours of bloody combat, 465 Hungarians and 614 Serbs lay dead, and the bridge remained firmly in Hungarian hands. The waters of the Drava ran red for many leagues upstream, and the wailings of widows and mothers on both sides of the Drava were to rent the air for weeks to come.
This defeat did not deter Vukan, however, and in 1109 he launched a second invasion of Hungary. This time the Serb army marched east from Austria, under the leadership of Prince Uros.
The dissatisfaction and depression of Prince Stefan reached new depths with news of this appointment. Not only was his elder brother, Vukan, the next in line to the throne and in perfect health, but now he had been overlooked for his younger brother! He retreated further into the bottle.
The Battle of Szombathely
The Hungarians chose to make their stand at Szombathely, in the western region of the province. Uros enjoyed an advantage that had been denied his father the preceding year – open ground. The Hungarians were no longer protected from his horse archers and mounted crossbowmen by the natural barrier of a river, and he meant to take full advantage of this opportunity.
He directed a troop of horse archers and one of mounted crossbows to skirt around either flank of the Hungarian force. The remnants of a troop of Hungarian horse archers tried in vain to fend off one such pairing, but the simple mathematics of 40 horse archers and 40 crossbows against 24 horse archers dictated that the Hungarians were soon eliminated from the battle. On the opposing flank, the Hungarians had but 18 archers to call upon for support, and these men too, were soon dead or fleeing.
The Hungarians now faced 155 archers and crossbowmen to their rear, and 120 archers and 40 horse archers to their front. Knights, javelin men, Slav Warriors, Urban Militia, and Spearmen alike died under the hail of arrows that rained down upon their position, before the Serbs charged their depleted foes. Again Vasa Jimovic and his Voynuk swordsmen led the way, eager to avenge their fallen comrades from Maribor. Uros and his army had won the day! 471 Hungarian dead littered the field, alongside 243 sons of Serbia. 86 Hungarian prisoners gloomily awaited their fate. With the Cumans on the march in the east, it was unlikely that the Hungarian King would be able to spare a ransom for their release, even if he were able to hold Carpathia.
Those Hungarians that survived the battle at Szombathely retreated to the sanctuary of Esztergom Castle. It was to provide them with precious little respite, falling to Prince Uros after the briefest of sieges. Hungary had fallen! While it was true that a state of war still existed between Hungary and Serbia, the sole remaining Hungarian loyalists were now under siege in Carpathia, with that province, together with neighbouring Wallachia under Cuman control. As a consequence, Tzar Vukan was secure in the knowledge that the Hungarians posed little (if any) real threat. Fortunately for those at court, his Chamberlain successfully advised against yet another tedious "Hungarian Wolf" analogy.
In 1113 came the news of the death of the Hungarian king at the hands of the Cumans. With his demise, along with the last of his line, the Hungarians were no more. Tzar Vukan I ordered a great celebratory feast. The 34 years of his rule had seen Serbia grow from a single province nestled precariously between two mighty empires to five provinces – Serbia, Croatia, Venice, Austria, and Hungary. Vukan knew that if he could hold these territorial gains, his empire was in a very healthy position indeed. Sadly, the now elderly Tzar had precious little time in which to enjoy the fruits of his labours. In 1114, he passed away peacefully in his sleep, and his eldest son ascended the throne as Tzar Vukan II.
The reign of Tzar Vukan II would start in a healthier position than had that of his father, but threats and potential enemies and rivals still surrounded Serbia. Only time would tell if Vukan could live up to the exploits of his great father. Could he guide his people to prosperity? Would he be able to fend off enemy armies? Would the old computer hold together long enough to complete this campaign?
Perhaps the next 45 years would hold the answer….
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Welcome back Bamff, may your hard drive prosper.
This is my attempt at writing a history of me Empire, I don't go whole hog and bother trying to win through domination. I play with the pomp and ignorance of the faction at that time, plus i'm lazy. Cheers to Ja mata TosaInu who fixed my account for me.
I am trying the Napoleonic Total War as a change for a while. I'm not a great writer and a worse MTW/NTW gamer.
Faction: English
Mod: Napoleonic Total War
King George II
King George II of Great Britain, Ireland and Hanover is an autocrat king who rules a small power Empire; a small badly equipped army and an incapable economy burden this Empire. The English realising that the French could quickly become a threat and with a weak economy and an unready army decide that an ally on the continent is best. The Dutch seem ideal, a country that England has had links with in the past that posses a strong navy and good army. An emissary is hired to negotiate an alliance with the Dutch against the French, failing this he instructed to propose a treaty of mutual support for each other should one be attack by the French. A Dutch fishing ship seeing a Royal navy ship sailing to Holland docks gets the wrong impression and instead of the alliance the Dutch king declares war. The initial battle along the English Channel saw an English 6-rate ship lost for 1 Dutch 5-rate ship; neither side gains an advantage.
The naval battle the next year however results in a very different outcome, the English fleet is caught deploying and all but one ship is destroyed, the Dutch people rejoice and the British panic. The same year the French join the war by invading (Dutch) Flanders, King George seeing them as a good short term ally offers his daughter in marriage. The French Emperor Louis I officially rejoices but both sides see this only as a temporary truce, although King George still thinks a permanent negotiation can be made. The French persuade the English that an attack on land would win the war quicker and cheaper than a navel fight. The English loosing most of their ships in a previous battle do not make an attempt to argue and the British Kings German Legion Army (BKGLA) is ordered to prepare an attack. The BKGLA’ general replies that he will not win if he does not get any artillery, the King and his advisors agree but decide not just to send two regiments of four-pounder artillery but the 1st British army which was based in the East Midlands at the time. The new allied force, now joined by the Swedish who are at war with the Danes, Know it’s only a matter of time before they are victorious and the Dutch realise that time is not on their side. In the year 1753 the Danish whilst struggling in the war with the Swedish receive a message from their Dutch ally requesting help in their struggles against the allies. Suggesting an immediate attack of the British in Hanover reasoning that their navy is tied up and economy is weak could only resist for so long. The Danish King bound by his alliance and short of troops himself he decides to attack Hanover the same year. The Danish army comprises of no artillery, cavalry of a lot of fighting spirit but little fighting value and infantry, which is average in everything. The BKGLA and the 1st BA British armies are multi-cultural forces, comprising of Germans, Englishman and Scotsman they have adequate artillery, cavalry that is good but only light Hussars and some of the best infantry in the Europe. The Danish King attacks in April 1753 and meets the British army at a river crossing where battle shall commence.
The Defence of Hanover
The battle stumbled into action early, the English held three bridges across the river, two of these bridges are close to each other because there’s a small town either side of the bank. The engagement begins with Danish hussars perhaps more than 3 regiments strong charging across one of the pair of bridges and engages British Highland Infantry. This regiment was chosen purposely by the British armies General Robin Neville as he knew BHI would be best in a melee engagement, which the battle might come to. The Hussars proved their fighting spirit but also their lack of fighting worth;the attack was a terrible failure taking nearly 100% killed.
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On the right side of the battlefield the Danish king marched across the bridge to see how well it was defended seeing 200 of the Kings German Legion he marched back across. The Danish king soon attacked again this time supported by 200 Danish line infantry. The king charged into the KGL taking no account of how much slower infantry is to cavalry, the Last Danish king was killed with all his bodyguards before the 200 Danish infantry could catch up to support him. The Danish infantry attacked, the KGL took this onslaught in their stride pushing the Danish back onto the bridge. By this point the Four-pounder artillery had been given enough time to position itself on the high ground, set up and had been long pounding the Danish infantry and those Danish Hussars that hadn’t attacked on the left.
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The near by houses took their fair share of the shells which damaged many houses and shielded some of the Danish army. On the right the KGL was fighting fiercely and the remaining 34 Danes ran from the field in determination to save their own necks chased by the remaining 189 KGL. With an improvised council now commanding the battle for the late king, it is decided with the right flank unprotected and as the king is dead the Danish are defeated a withdrawal is planned to end useless bloodshed unknown to the English General. The Danish council for war sent a regiment of Danish infantry to engage the Highland Infantry on the other side of the bridge to give the rest of the army time to withdraw, the Danish regiment ran away in no time but the British did not pursue the Danish. The figures released by neutral observers seem to be the best, the British killed 580 mostly by artillery and lost 40 themselves. The Danish faction was eliminated although Denmark remains independent, ruled under the council of war retitled Government, Robin Neville is praised for providing a decisive English victory and the Dutch loose their ally and face the war alone.
King George II
The Dutch took their new-found solitary stance in their stride when in 1754 a fleet that consisted of both French and British ships was almost entirely defeated by the outnumbered Dutch fleet. The entire English Navy was sunk and all but one French naval ship in the English Channel was sunk, however the Dutch took losses of their own and unlike the British of French didn’t have the finances or the resources to replace their losses. The British Government questioned the slow advance of the army and the army blamed the poor state of the economy and failings of the navy. General Neville realising he needed to provide a victory, made even more so by the recent delivery of two regiments of eight-pounder artillery and the kings son Prince Alfred to command one of the armies under Neville. While the British bickered one of her allies Prussia was locked in a war with Poland, being pushed out of Prussia itself in summer 1755. Although not apart of the allies, the Prussians are naturally close to Britain because of the British involvement in Hanover. By the end of 1755 Neville had come up with a plan to invade the province of Holland and in early 1756 a re-born allied fleet destroyed the Dutch navy. The beginning of the end has come, the Dutch have no means of replacing their losses at sea and it becomes obvious it’s simply a matter of time. Such time comes in the spring of 1759 when two British armies commanded by Prince Alfred and supreme commander Robin Neville attack the small but potent Dutch army.
The battle starts with two regiments, ten eight-pounder guns being ordered to bombard the Dutch line principally to kill the large amount of Dutch cavalry employed. Over the course of the bombardment the artillery regiments are ordered to fire at different Hussar regiments and thin out their numbers effectively. As the English line Infantry and KGL line up the bombardment is support by two regiments of Four-pounder artillery tasked with attacking the Dutch line infantry. Two regiments of Kings German Legion Hussars march towards some trees near the Dutch left flank, as the thin red wall of infantry begins to advance. As this wall passes the artillery, each artillery regiment is ordered to cease-fire respectively finishing with the four-pounders.
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Each British Line regiment is tasked with Dutch or Belgian line regiment in front of them they must head for, the engagement of infantry is short but decisive. General Neville avoids capturing as many men as possible in order to keep the Dutch garrison large enough to starve out rather than having to try and storm the fort, he realises he doesn’t have siege artillery at all and would take huge casualties trying to break in. Instead he uses his Hussars to intimidate the Dutch to carry on running. The Dutch are in a siege and although the Dutch king was killed in the bombardment, he was replaced by his son and has no reason to call for peace as it is likely that Holland could rebel against the English. The war isn’t over an MP in the commons is heard saying and true it might be.
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Napoleonic Total War looks great, I really should get back to rebuilding my Medieval Empires. :2thumbsup:
Alright, a bit of news. Due to some mod-hopping(and my bad case of restart-itis, I will no longer be continuing my French campaign. However, I have detirmined to try and narrate the entire tale of the line of the Grand Princes of Kiev next, courtesy of VikingHorde's XL v. 3.0 mod.
The Tale of the Grand Princes of Kiev.
Chapter One- The tale of Ysevolod the Great
The Rise of Eastern Orthodoxy.
In the year 1080 of our Lord, Ysevolod I ascended to the rank of Grand Prince of Kiev. His subjects at the time consisted of a few ranks of loyal soldiers, and the provinces of Kiev and Pereyslavl. To his north and south, Pagans ruled in the forms of the Lithuanians and Cumans, respectively. Several less powerful kingdoms ruled over several of the nearby provinces. Likewise, all were Pagan. Ysevolod was determined to expand his rule, to ensure the continuity of his blood, and to convert the savage pagans. However, he needed to prioritize first. Immediately upon his coronation to the rank of Grand Prince, he sent diplomats to the southern pagans, the Cumans, to persuade them to an alliance. Efforts proved successful, with the Cuman Khan vowing his support for Ysevolod. Meanwhile, he raised what troops he could in Kiev, in preparation for an invasion of Lithuania. He would need the rich areas for income, in addition to destroying a potential rival. His opportunity occured just two years after his coronation. The Lithuanian king sent many of his best troops to subdue the native people of Cherginov, leaving his home province with little defense. Pouncing on the opportunity, Ysevolod led an invasion of Lithuania himself. The Lithuanian troops, outnumbered and out commanded, retreated back to the keep. However, it would not be long before the garrison soon began running out of supplies. Lithuania was unable to counter attack the larger force, and after two years of seige, Ysevolod captured Lithuania. After two years of consolidation his rule in Lithuania, Ysevolod gathered his army, and with reinforcements from Kiev, invaded Cherginov, and destroyed the outnumbered Lithuanian army absolutely.
With Lithuania no longer a threat, Ysevolod could focus on consolidating his territory. He sent diplomats to the independant peoples of Smolensk, and, with a monetary incentive, convinced the troops in the region to declare their loyalty to Ysevolod. Now with a sizable economic base, Ysevolod began looking elsewhere for further conquest. To the north were his allies and fellow Orthodoxy followers, the Princes of Novgorod. He was still allied to the pagan Cumans to the south. However, to the west, conflict opened the door. In 1093, the Cumans launched their first invasion of the Polish kingdom. Poland was not one of the kingdoms that Ysevolod counted in his favor. Gathering a great army, he prepared to help his allies, by assisting in destroying Poland. He put his son, Ysevolod II, in charge of the army. Ysevolod II was, like his father, a sound military mind. He was at once considered to be a skilled warrior, but the luxuries of courtly life took their tolls on his physique. By the time of the planned invasion, he was grossly overweight, reducing his battlefield activity to that of a supervisor.
However, it would turn out that Ysevolod II would not need to fight much in the coming battles. In 1096, Ysevolod II led a large invasion of Volhynia. The Polish army, despite having comparable numbers, could not match Ysevolod II's army, and knew it. While the Kievan army was composed of many heavy Rus Spears and mounted crossbowmen and horse archers, the Polish army consisted mostly of slavic conscripts and fragile militia troops. The Polish army retreated, and surrendered the province without a fight. Two years later, Ysevolod II was once again on the move. This time, his target was Prussia. The native Prussians were attempting to withstand a Polish seige at that moment. Once again, despite having comparable numbers, the Polish retreated from the province, which soon fell to Kievan forces, as the garrison had already been stretched to the limit. In the south, Poland was just holding off Cuman forces in lesser Poland, exchanging the province back and forth before finally expelling Cuman forces for good. However, during the battles, the Polish king fell ill, and his son, Wladyslaw, took over. It seemd Wladyslaw did not have his father's caution, as he immediately ordered forces stationed in greater Poland to retake Prussia, despite having a slight numerical disadvantage, and a great disadvantage in the professionality of his army. And it would be at the battle of Prussia that the Polish army would be broken.
Battle of Prussia
Ysevolod II, still in command of the grand army, was much surprised when he learned from his scouts that Wladyslaw had sent a force to attack him. He arranged his troops in a straight line, with his heavy Rus spears dominating the middle of the formation, and woodsmen levied from Lithuania hedging the flanks. In front were mounted crossbowmen and horse archers, and at the very edge of the formation wee his elite cavarly, the Druzhinas. The Polish army, seeing a straight formation matched against them, attempted to copy it for their attack. Polish troops, most of whom were levied slavs and militias, had little resolve in comparison to the stalwart heavy infantry of the Kievans. Furthermore, the few Polish troops which could have matched up on the Kievan troop had to walk through a hail of arrow and crossbow fire. The battle became a slaughter. The heavy Rus spearmen easily repelled the light Polish infantry, many of whom routed quickly in the face of such professional soldiers. The effect became near instantaneous. The Polish formation crumbled as troops ran off wholesale, so much so that soon, even the Polish general fled. Seing his fleeing enemy, Ysevolod II ordered all of his cavalry to run the enemy down, with his infantry advancing behind them. In all, over 500 Polish soldiers were captured, all of whom were summarily executed.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The Polish army would never truly recover from Wladyslaw's disastrous decision. However, Ysevolod cared not for the territories of Greater and Lesser Poland. He was of the opinion that it would unnecessarily open him to more potential enemies and give more territories to defend. So, he offered Wladyslaw the opportunity for peace. However, Wladyslaw would decline Ysevolod's offer three times. Upon the third denial, Ysevolod threw a fit of rage, and sent orders to his son to march his army through both Greater and Lesser Poland, and destroy anything and everything. Ysevolod II took the opportunity, and marched his force south from Prussia, into Greater Poland. Nearly all Polish resistance in the region was still shattered from the disastrous invasion of Prussia. Polish troops retreated, and Ysevolod II yet another province without a fight. Once there, Ysevolod II gave the orders to his troops to destroy, pillage, and burn everything of value. In all, over 2,000 Florins would be added to the Kievan coffers, florins which were badly needed due to the economic strain caused by constant warfare. With everything in Greater Poland razed, Ysevolod II continued his march south, into Lesser Poland. Lesser Poland was the last bastion of Polish strength, and offered the only hope of resistance against Ysevolod II and the Kievan army. It would be here that Wladyslaw would make his stand.
Battle of Krakow.
Despite Wladyslaw's numerical superiority, Ysevolod II was once again confident that the battle would be a short one. The Polish army consisted of yet more slavic conscripts, although this army would field more cavalry than previous ones, with a fair number of mounted crossbows and regular horsemen, in addion to Wladyslaw's royal guard. It should be noted that the Polish army finally had fielded a few professional soldiers, in the form of two units of armoured spears. However, the heavy Rus spears offered good counted to Wladyslaw's cavalry, as well as being superior in both numbers and quality to the armoured spears.
The Polish army had gathered itself at a natural enclave, a grassy pasture surrounded on two sides by forest, which offered good cover. However, Ysevolod II instead marched through the grassy opening, to give his horse archers and mounted crossbows adequate room to fire. He set the crossbows in front, with the horse archers behind them. The battle would open with many bloody volleys from the Kievan forces, as the Polish simply couldn't match up volley for volley. After nearly emptying his ranged troops ammunition, Ysevolod II marched his forces towards the enclave, in tight ranks and formation, forming a wall of spears, with cavalry, woodsmen, and tribal voi swordsmen coming behind. The Polish troops finally attempted a charge at the Kievan frontline, offering stiff resistance to the Kievan march As Ysevolod II's forces continued onwards, an ambush of Polish mounted crossbows and horsemen suddenly materialized on the flank of his army. The Polish cavalry inflicted severe damage before they were finally repelled back into the forests. Meanwhile, the few professional soldiers of the Polish army had long been defeated, and the slavic conscripts were offering little resistance. Wladyslaw, with defeat seeming near inevitable, managed to pick a moment at which the Kievan troops were least organized, and made a last charge into Kievan ranks. Wladyslaw would turn out to be a valourous foe, slaying many Kievans and fighting continously for nearly 15 minutes, despite being surrounded on all sides. In the end, Wladyslaw would meet his end at the hand of a tribal voi soldier, just as Polish reinforcements were coming to the field. By this time, the battle was all but over, but the Polish troops, with no province to retreat to, offered as fierce a resistance as possible, before finally fleeing the field for good.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Following the battle of Krakow, Ysevolod heard word that his ally, the Cumans, were faltering under the pressure of Hungarian invasion. The Hungarians had invaded Moldavia, and put in under their rule. While his sone was besieging the survivors in Lesser Poland, Ysevolod sent his his daughter, Svetlana, to the Hungarain court of King Bela. As the keep near Krakow fell to Kievan rule, Svetlana was officially wed to Bela's son, Bela II. Ysevolod II sent a messenger to his father, sending word that he was saddened to miss the beatiful wedding(and the bounteous feast that was bound to ensue). And as per the marriage agreement, Ysevolod agreed to cancel his alliance with the Cumans, in favor of Bela. Meanwhile, bandits had risen up in Greater Poland, and taken the province for themselves. Once again, Ysevolod II razed the infrastructure of yet another province, pulling in yet more income to aid the strained Kievan coffers. Ysevolod II pulled his army out of Lesser Poland, into Volhynia, and once again left it to any rebels who might take the opportunity. Unfortunately, as luck would have it for the now aging Ysevolod, Polish loyalist instead took control of Lesser Poland, and also convinced the bandit troops in Greater Poland to convert to the Polish Banner as well. However, it mattered little, as Poland was still effectively rendered impetent, with little infrastructure, and few troops.
With Poland effectively out of the picture, and with little reason to not do so, Ysevolod, now in his 60's, took advantage of the situation with the Cumans. The Cumans, under intense pressure from Hungary, suffered a bitter civil war, with their troops in Leser Khazar rebelling. With his coffers now somewhat less strained, Ysevolod felt confident in convincing the rebels to join the Kievan banner, with a little incentive, of course. The next year, he heard good word that the rebels had joined his ranks, netting him Leswer Khazar a well, once the transition was complete. Meanwhile, he gathered a small army in Kiev to invade Levidia, which consisted mostly of Rus spearmen and Druzhina cavalry. He sent them, along with few units of woodsmen from Volhynia, to take Levidia. However, this battle would not be under the leadership of either Ysevolod or Ysevolod II, and instead were under the leadership of the promising but raw commander, Mikhail Shchukin. Furthermore, the Cumans were an entirely different threat than the Poles.
Battle of Levidia
The Cuman forces had chosen a vast, grassy plain on which to fight the battle. Concerened about the Cuman cavarly's mobility and ferocity, Shchukin attempted to keep his spearmen close together, and prevent holes from opening up. However, he hadn't taken into account the few units of Cuman warriors, armed with the fearsome recurve bow. The warriors, at the far front of the Cuman army, began inflicting severe casualties. Shchuking sent a unit of Druzhinas to charge the warriors, and break them. The warriors began to fall back in the face of the charge, but failed to retreat orderly. The unit fell into chaos, and routed. However, as the Druzhinas were attempting to run them down, a unit of Cuman Heavy Cavalry charged towards them. Shchukin sent the signal for the feigned retreat. He ordered the Druzhinas to pretend to panick, running away from the Cuman cavalry, leading the cavalry straight to the Kievan main body. The Cuman cavalry abliged, chasing the Druzhinas into a wall of spears. The Rus spears were shocked by the ferocity in which the Cuman cavalry slammed into them, and suffered casualties despite their inherent advantage. However, not Shchukin ordered a unit woodsmen to wheel around, and the woodsmen let loose a terrible charge into the Cuman's ranks, tearing through the Cuman armor with their axes. With one of the Cuman heavy cavalry routed, Shchukin felt confident, and sent roughly half of his force, including the Druzhinas, towardst the rest of the Cuman cavarlymen, and another unit of Cuman warriors. The rest were to guard against a flank attack from the Cuman warriors who had recovered from being routed earlier. However, half the force prooved insufficient, as the Druzhina's were routed, and many spearmen died. Not until the woodsmen were once again able to hit the Cuman flank with their charge were the Cuman cavalry all defeated. With their cavalry gone, the Cumans were left with few troops, only standard archers, the unit of warriors, and no more. With so little in their favor, and their general perished under the strike of an axe, the remaining Cumans fled the field. In all, the Kievans won, but never had a win been so bloody, relatively, for them.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
However, Ysevolod would not hear the results of Shchukin's efforts. During the winter of 1118, he fell ill, and at the venerable age of 67, died. Although he did not lead many of the battles that would make him legend, the scope of his conquests, as well as the leadership he provided, gave the territories under the Kievan princes an astounding start to secure their future as serious players in world conflicts. At the beginnin of his reign, in 1080, he held only Kiev and Pereyaslavl. At the time of his death, in 1118, he had expanded his realm into the Baltics, put Levidia under siege and taken Lesser Khazar, secured many small independant realms for Kiev, rendered the Poland impetent, and nearly completely vanquished Paganism, with the aid of his allies, the Princes of Novgorod. Now his son, the war hero, Ysevolod II, would take the throne. Could he mimick his father's success, despite taking the throne at a much older age? Only time would tell.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The year 1760 to 1765
General Neville, after his victory, wanted to command the forces in Holland for the siege but was ordered by King George to return him and his army to England and prepare his forces to attack Iberia. Prince Alfred was given command of the BKGLA in Holland, he was instructed to prevent rebellions in Holland, this task he succeed with a combination of pardons and capital punishments. Neville arrived back in England in 1762 and in the same year Christian III of Denmark returned to his Kingdom of Denmark to try and remove the evil `democratic` government that had become a dictatorship. With a combination of numerical and better forces Christian III sent the Rebel army, which was equipped with old muskets and rationed gunpowder, reeling back into Copenhagen national fort. Here a waiting game ensued. England’s spell of isolationism is quickly disappearing as, in the year 1763 King George hosts a banquet for an emissary employed by the Austria Emperor in the hope that an alliance can be struck. This news initially came as a surprise to George not expecting such a great empire to acknowledge such a small power, perhaps the war with the Dutch has, however slightly, put England on the map and the King accepts gracefully. During the celebrations of the new friendship news is brought to the King’s attention that his son has successfully starved the garrison of Holland to surrender whilst avoiding rebellion. The English proudly announces the news while the Austrians confirm with themselves that England was the better nation to ally with. King George however is still concerned by the poor state of his navy, even though it has recently beaten a Dutch fleet it was allied with the French and realises that isolationism has resulted in an old-fashioned and badly lead navy that could become a liability in a coming war. At the next parliament, that year, the King announces his plans to rebuild and improve the navy with new technology, with better and in the short term more ships. Not all of parliament wants to expand the navy, seeing it as a form of aggression but these are mainly old school MPs of the isolationist period and the bill is passed.
The King sees expanding the navy as a way of contributing to the allied course, the British high command see it as a way of putting the French off attacking. While the King believes the French will keep their side of the treaty, the British still remember the many times either side failed to keep to the terms of agreements. The Kings beliefs lie in a simple belief that Europe will be divided between the three allies. The Swedish will hold the smallest slice mainly Scandinavia and northern Russia, the British will hold the next biggest slice roughly 40:60 to the French slice which will be the biggest. The British argue this is ridicules but all they have to back it up with is history which the King dismisses, the debate is briefly forgotten by the announcement by the Prussians that the Polish have been defeated on the date 1764. In the same year the Danes take Denmark from the rebels thus returning Denmark back to autocratic Danish rule. Early into 1765 aren’t good to Neville who is planning the invasion of Spanish Iberia because the Spanish announce the defeat of the Portuguese who Neville was hoping to ally with in Iberia. This is a blow to Neville realising that if the Portuguese can be defeated and the French aren’t taking any ground the British army might struggle, for the first time Neville is siding against the war, it is officially recognised that he is `very honest`. However despite these reservations by more and more people England still prepares for war, cannon foundries are founded, barracks set up and farms raised. At a formal meeting of the three allies the King announces unofficially that he could attack in two years, the British look to see how the French react and the French aren‘t sure what to make of it naturally weary of British plans as the British high command expected.
Wars and alliances
In 1765 an emissary employed by the Russian tsar appeared at court to propose an alliance of `our two great nations`. The King is made aware by his advisors that the Russians are allied with the Spanish, the king believes the Russians would remain allied with him in any war with Spain and accepts the alliance after much thought. Britain prepares for war building, training its troops and improving its infrastructure. After the depravity, slumping economy and backward infrastructure of the isolationism England, since the war with the Dutch, is enjoying an economic boom. This is not halted even is 1766 when the Danish fleet attack a single English ship in the North Sea, the result is far different to the naval battles of old however a Danish ship is sunk for no English losses. The King was ready to attack the Spanish and had scheduled a date in 1767 for the attack, this why there was only one ship in the North Sea. Another of the king’s sons is about to emerge onto the military scene, Prince Rowland is a four star General appointed to take control of Prince Alfred’s BKGLA in 1769. Neville, unable to travel by sea to Hanover, is ordered to garrison Holland to release Prince Alfred’s BKGLA to protect Hanover. In 1767 the single British ship takes on the remaining Danish navy and sinks their entire fleet, this is a massive boost with the newspapers announcing the Navy is ready to right. This has a much more substantial effect on the British war effort as this means an old plan to invade Denmark can be revised. On 17 May 1768 with some light mist in the air a Danish light house catches a glimpse of a British convoy of ships carrying the Kings Own British Army, commanded by King George II and the BKGLA marches from Hanover to meet up with it. The Danish King with a small army of estimated 700 withdraws completely from Denmark and Christian III flees the country, a massive victory for the English more psychological more than anything as it proves the British can fight alone and win. Britain economy booms by the increase in jobs and work and the English discover the reason of the attack. It appears that King Christian III determined to remain on his throne authorised a war in the hope that if its successful it’ll unite the nation around him and win him allies. At the time the country had high unemployment and was suffering economically since the deposition of the Government and little recognition from the world with no allies. King George II celebrates and milks this victory for all he can but there are troubles ahead.
The French after great advance into Iberia, bringing justification to the Kings desire to attack, have fallen back and lost many troops and even briefly loosing Aquitaine to the Spanish. The British opposition to the Spanish war gains popularity and the King, impressed by the Spanish advance, questions his advisors if now is the time to break from the treaty with France and declare war against the French allied with the Spanish. His advisors come back with an interesting document just written it’s a proposed treaty of alliance between the Russian Tsar Alexander IV, Spanish King Ferdinand VII and Great Britain’s King George II, new allies and a new allied course. Britain would generally be closer to the Russians who share allies while the Spanish atm fight alone except for the Russians. The year 1770 is celebrated in Britain by the coming of age of another of the Kings sons, Prince Stephen is another four star General who wants to take after his father and so joins his fathers army as a under general. Also the Spanish offer an alliance with England however after long and deep thought the King, still confident about his victory against the Danes, declines the offer although he implies it may not be permanent. For the next two years the labours labour away making guns, wheat and beer while the King and officials debate about the coming war. Many people propose no war at all but the King insists while others, generally young MPs say England must keep her word with France and France shall keep hers in return. The last is those who are pro Spanish and pro war with the French, traditionalist who still believe England has an ancient right to control France and try to persuade with fantasies of a new `French Empire` like the old Plantagenet Empire stretching from Normandy to Aquitaine via Anjou. The Kings advisors insist he has two options, if he still wants to attack he must decide whom and do it before 1774. Failing this he must wait and see what comes from the two fighting nations, perhaps Ferdinand’s luck will come to an end and the French regain their losses. Britain confidentially prepares for war.
Chapter Two-The Tale of Ysevolod the Unfortunate
Ysevolod II, War Hero in the Kievan-Polish War, son of Ysevolod the Great, was coronated in Kiev in 1118 A.D. With his strong legacy as a great field commander, many of the nobles of the court expected great things in his reign as Grand Prince, even if it was shortened by the age at which he aquired the throne. With the Polish and Cumans no longer a threat, and the Byzantines and Turks locked with one another in a fierce war, Ysevolod II found he had little place to turn for conquests. He doubted the nobles would approve of an invasion of Novgorod, as they were brothers in faith, and on top of that, allies. A similar situation occured with the Byzantine province of Crimea, which Ysevolod II badly wanted, to reduce the potential threat against the underbelly of the Empire. For much of his first year, the only actions were the continued efforts to subdue the garrison of Levidia, through bribery, and the consolidation of Lesser Khazar. In the end, Ysevolod II would never reach a plan of conquests. As circumstances would have it, Ysevolod II's years of binging on the finer delicasies of the world, would catch up to him. In 1119, merely one year after his coronation, his body, broken from years of warfare and indulgence, could take no more, and Ysevolod II, son of Ysevolod the Great, War Hero of the Kievan-Polish War, died of of illness. It seemed that his heart, strained from his gross gluttony and stress of warfare, simply could go no more. The nobles of the court weeped, as they had lost a great mind, one that they had thought would take them to greater heights.
Ysevolod II died with no living heirs, partly due to his constant military campaigning, and also due to the fact that his horribly overweight body disgusted his wife, Catherine, who was orinally of the court of Aragon. Thus, the Empire was left to his younger brother, Yuri. Yuri, in comparison to his brother, was of average stock. He had not particated in any military campaigns, as Ysevolod the Great had assigned him to the defense of Cherginov, which was never invaded. He was not especially bright, known more for his steely gaze than his mathematics. Furthermore, although few knew it, he had long been involved in affairs with women of the courts of Novgorod. Having spent as much time as he did near the borders of the two kingdoms, it is little wonder that he was only involved with a single Novgoridian, by the name of Svetlana. This relationship would prove to be a major impetus in future events...
Tales of the Kievan Kingdom
Chapter One- Ysevolod the Great
Great Bohemia, a home of the most famous valour, and the middle of the Earth!
There are many hundreds of accounts portraying the historical ventures of the Bohemian Kingdom,
but these are all falsified, written with biased and drunken views.
Some of them scorn and bear too harshly of the central Royalty, others praise too liberally - to the eclipse of sycophancy!
This construction, anonymously scribed so that the observer may view only the words I digress,
(And not the foretellings and assumations of their own mind), writes a history of the Bohemian Kingdom's greatest achievements.
It reports the Battle for Munich, preaches the true events that occurred on the crossing of Franconia, my file honours the name Vratislav with the virtuous tales it has served,
and censures it for the grave misfortunes it represented in Bohemia.
I have even translated here, the battles within Bohemia itself, (Otherwise known as the War of the Compass, for the numerous directions from which Bohemia was attacked),
and the fine ability and tact that gave the Kingdom notice in courts as distant as Sicilia.
Before my prologue ends, and I allow you to devour my notes, I wish that my reader would put out of his mind, all the previous and dishonourable fiction he has believed on the reign of King Vratislav I.
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In the very first years of it's ascent in the political scale, Bohemia was a Kingdom it is generally agreed, smaller than the Italian Provence & Genoa.
When Vratislav I came to Feudal power during the Polish Reign of King Wladyslaw I, he had many feuds outside and amongst the borders of his rule.
His son, and future ruler, Vratislav II, was an ignoble, ignorant, and ignored young man who was so ill-spoken and so incapable of all arts he was considered by most of the Bohemian nobility to be inbred.
This pressured the King, his father, into the decision of demoting him to a captain in the Royal Lancers.
Almost disowned, yet by his life, entitled to his fathers possessions - Vratislav II hated his father, and his many young brothers who aspired in talents numerous and awesome.
Yet dissent in the Royal family was only a minor flaw in comparison to the reality of the Bohemian Kingdoms' situation.
Though Vratislav himself had no intent or ambition internationally, and was incessantly occupied with domestic affairs, the Kingdom of Bohemia was surrounded on all sides by young leaders, militaristic and willful.
The King was not ignorant of this, but he was intimidated by the very discussion, or shaded possibility of warfare so early in his reign.
Nonetheless, under constant advice and guidance, he leant his power upon the lower class Bohemians, and succeeded in forcing them into permanent military service.
Within two years there was a standing garrison of approximately 550 men stationed in the Kingdom, trained well and weekly, some in skirmishing and use of the javelin.
Others in the use of the spear and tactics against cavalry, some of the nobility were persuaded to recruit themselves to the Royal Lancers, and the Middle class contributed to the addition of an Armoured Spears regiment.
Yet all these things were still being accomplished, and the land south of the Bohemian Keep being cleared in hope of farming, when the Polish King Waldyslaw I invaded with 600 men in the late autumn of 1088.
This was the first battle in what was to be style the, "War of the Compass", a title still used to describe an overwhelming diffculty or situation.
The Polish ruler came with his own selected cavalry, three regiments of spears, two being armoured well, a company of archers and in addition,
a new levy of town Militia and local horse archers.
King Vratislav I was overcome, for the Hungarian Kingdom south of Bohemia was in alliance with Poland, and was equally optimistic in the acquisition of new claims.
If the Bohemian divisions survived the Polish offensive, Hungary would control an army of between 800 and 900 men capable of uprooting the very Keep Vratislav dwelt within.
This was overshadowed by the standind army idling within Lesser Poland, and the great hordes of Militia that bored themselves in the West - amongst the Holy Roman Empire!
The War of the Compass began in the middle of a great storm, and Vratislav possessed himself of an eminence that gentled and then dropped into a great valley which braced itself against the Polish advance.
Confidence however, gripped the Eastern invader, and Wladyslaw shouted his spears over the rise opposite Vratislav, before climbing it himself.
Here, with a thin, but greatly steep valley between, and in the assault of the weather the two militaries were allowed to view each other.
Vratislav I had experienced himself as deeply in war as he had in management of a Kingdom, and the disobedience of his son aided no one.
He positioned the three spears in one great line of five ranks in front of all, with the Armoured regiment holding a slightly larger ground on the left.
The rest, the lower class gathered behind the spears with their javelins in a cluster, and Vratislav himself took the Royal Lancers, with young Vratislav, and formed a line seperate from the army on the left flank.
The Polish formation was thus;
The Spears were sent forward in ranks six deep, with the Militia circling far on the Polish right flank, and the archers forming up on the left due to their despise of the Bohemian Lancers.
Wladyslaw himself followed neatly behind with his personal guard of vassals, as they advanced the horse archers attempted to find an easier route on the far right Polish flank.
When both men had surveyed the valley and their foes readily enough, the Bohemians raised a shouted and Wladyslaw,
in his heaviest tone, pushed his infantry into the valley and followed once they had begun to climb the other side.
It was as this happened, the spears lowered themselves and the javelinmen cast their weapons down into the valley with great effect on the Polish advance.
King Wladyslaw I was forced to repair to one of his willing vassals' horses, when a javelin felled his own and pinned the steed against the bank.
With the Royal guard itself losing half it's number by the weight of a single volley, the lower class spearmen fled immediately and began to spread far from each other in search of the easiest retreat to the side wherefore they came.
The Armoured regiments, though suffering as greatly, pressed up the hill as Wladyslaw summoned on the routing spearmen and another rank of javelins loosed upon the attackers.
The Militia, who, due to their lightness and also the small value of their shields preventing them from forming a phalanx similar to the spears,
were the more anxious to advance upon the Bohemians, and on the Polish right took themselves with great speed up the steeples.
The Lancers, induced by Vratislav's demeanour against the Polish, and by the havoc wrought upon the phalanx in the valley, began to almost chant a request to charge from the King.
Vratislav, quite willing to allow anything that would put him in the favour of his men, saw nothing but weakness in the exhausted Militia, and his horse sprung ahead of all.
The Javelins were now exhausted, yet the phalanx formed below the Bohemian line was reduced by more than half, and the spearmen, though recovered from their rout, now were spread across the entire valley,
and hard pressed to navigate and find formation again.
Wladyslaw, seeing the danger of his Militia at the sudden charge, and spurred by emotions - fear and anger - called his entire infantry to the banner of the Bohemian king.
As the Polish spears became a loose herd in a rush to seek revenge on calamity, the Bohemian spears and lesser men, despising their enemy, flung themselves into the valley, some against the archers, (Who were no use to the Poles),
yet most ran amongst the Polish colours and ripped apart the tired, encumbered spearmen.
The Horse Archers, seeing this, and their King surrounded on all sides by cavalry and spears, routed into the Eastern forests.
Wladyslaw, seeing his vassals fighting upon foot and many heaped in the cupped pit of the valley, the Bohemians covering the hills and the purple banners dominating the sky, found it above his predetermined virtue to allow his death to occur in this place.
The Polish King impaled the rider of a Bohemian horse, mounted, and fled after the remainder of his cavalry.
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It was testimonial to Wladyslaw's true destiny, and rewarding to the Bohemian valour, that the Polish King contracted a disease in that battle, and died within a month.
The Polish honour was in ruin, Vratislav I entertained guests from kingdoms all over Europe pleading alliance with the rogue and daring Kingdom of Bohemia.
This War of the Compass was won upon the Eastern point, yet there were two leaders who did not beg alliance and treaty with King Vratislav.