Battle reports thread for the King of the Franks game.
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Battle reports thread for the King of the Franks game.
The Assault on Metz, 1083
My lord Hugues de Champagne was content to wait out the rebels in Metz. Two more seasons, and a lack of supplies would have forced them to sally forth or surrender. However, news reached the Duc that a large German army was fording the Moselle to the south. Obviously we had beaten them to Metz, but now they were heading west into our own Duchy. Whether the Germans will prove to be hostile or not, a quick resolution of the siege was needed to free up the Duc's army.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
My lord wished to attack the front gate of the castle with his one ram and continue with a frontal assault on the garrison. I suggested, considering the parity of forces and the fact that ram could also batter in wooden walls, an attack on the south-eastern corner of the fort.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
This way our forces would only be in range of one watchtower. Also, some of the inner buildings of the castle would screen any company entering from direct arrow shot. My lord grudgingly acceded to this wisdom after prolonged encouragement.
A company of spearmen moved the ram to the wall, with archers in a loose formation nearby. The retinues of my lord and his vassals hung back.
Which was felicitious because Captain Evrart decided to sally.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
My lord and his vassals, Bertin de Montsault and Thomas de Saint-Amand, gathered their retinues to meet this threat. Captain Ervart compounded his folly by not reforming his men after coming through the small gate. They were still strung out and unorganized when my lord did what he does best, charge straight ahead.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Caught flat footed on three sides by horsemen at full gallop, Captain Evrart's company was destroyed within moments. Only two men escaped back to safety, the Captain was not one of them.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
As this slaughter was happening, the wall was breached.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Two companies of rebel spearmen had marched over to repel the assault, but they withdrew back to the main yard as my lord returned to enter the castle.
As my lord entered, the rebel archers, their line of sight blocked by buildings, moved to loose on him. The Duc took umbrage at this.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
A few managed to make it back to the spearmen in the yard. My lord wished to bag them all, but I reminded him that taking Metz would prove of little use if he fell victim to a well timed spear thrust.
Having removed the enemy's cavalry and archers, the Duc ordered our entire army into the fort. One company of spearmen worked their way along the eastern wall, while the other screened the archers who took position on the slope of the motte south of the keep. My lord gathered his retinue to the north of the keep. Bertin made his way along the northern wall, positioning himself behind the rebels. Thomas and his men were in reserve behind the archers, waiting to pounce.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
From the motte, our archers began to rain arrows down on the rebel spearmen. Now that the yard of the castle was no longer of any protection, the garrison charged their tormentors.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
This allowed Bertin from the north wall and the spearmen from the east wall to march into the yard, threatening the rebels' rear. Then my lord called a general advance, and the garrsion was beset from all sides.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
They were surrounded and destroyed.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Duc Hugues decided to occupy Metz on merciful terms in gratitude for the rank stupidity shown by the garrison. While my lord is all for winning first in battle, he is a merciful ruler afterwards. Though he has begun to call me his "veteran warrior", in response to my tactical suggestions no doubt. I believe he is being sarcastic, which is a less admirable trait of my lord.
A Song of Ice and Blood
Bruges, 1084
Prologue
The snow had fallen all day, leaving a white carpet above the landscape that muffled all sounds and glinted in the moonlight, casting an eerie radiance. Only under the horses’ hooves was it turned into a brown sludge.
Word had finally come today that van Donkkers and Fevre had together managed to have men in their employ manning the gates, allowing the French army of Philippe to enter the city almost unhindered. Artois still had his men patrolling the walls and streets of the city but surprise should work against them.
Philippe turned in his saddle and considered the men following him. Beside his own men drawn from the garrison of Paris, he had five knights of the Order of the Fleur de Lys with their retinues and two companies of mercenaries that he had recruited on the way and armed with crossbows. None of the nobles had fought under his command before and he thought he had to strengthen their resolve through a brief speech.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084010.jpg
“It is not my way to send men into needless peril when in battle. If I ask something, it is necessary. I do not expect more of you than I would ask of myself, mes bons vassaux. I expect only victory here if all of us do our parts when the time comes. I think you all know my quality, as I know yours, mes seigneurs. We are not here to dance a pavane … We are here for the grim business of war. It is never a pretty thing, but I will make sure it is our foes who do any dying that is needed. All I ask is that you fight… Like Frenchmen! Our foes are rebel and traitors, and deserve nothing but the edge of a blade upon their necks. And a sword is a merciful end to them, for they should face the gallows. And think on this: I am a well-read man. I have wrangled, conjugated, ciphered, accounted, studied and yet, yet… There is still simple enjoyment to be had from slaughtering the enemies of France. (OOC: quoted from the in-game pre-battle speech)
“Now, to our battle plans… Neufville, Montferrat you’ll go to the East Gate with the militia crossbowmen. Neufville, you’ll be in charge of that flank. … Le Sueur, Mauvoisin, you’ll both go the West Gate with the archers. Le Sueur, you’re in charge. Wait for the signal. Rethel, you’ll stay with me and the main body of the men. We’ll go in from the south.”
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084021.jpg
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084022.jpg
Once the other knights had walked enough distance to be out of earshot, Philippe led his horse towards Gaetan de Rethel. “You’ll act as reinforcements, de Rethel. I don’t want any heroics on your part… I know how you feel for the mess of the siege but I won’t have you sacrifice yourself to prove your valour… which you may still have a chance to prove today.”
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084020.jpg
Once everyone had taken up their positions, all that remained was for Aubry Fevre to send the signal.
The players:
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...uges-Siege.jpg
The Battle:
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...es1084024b.jpg
As soon as the signal was given, both Le Sueur and de Neufville kicked their horses into a fast pace racing for their respective gates, their respective deputies following in their wake. Seeing their generals’ advance, the archers and crossbowmen ran to the walls with their ladders.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084029.jpg
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084030.jpg
Le Sueur was the first in the city, quickly followed by de Neufville.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084025.jpg
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084026.jpg
The latter witnessing the retreating leader of the garrison gave chase up to the town square where he engaged the enemy general. Only the approach a large group of men with pointy sticks caused him to retreat.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084027.jpg
Taking profit of the fact that the rebel pikemen were retreating from the South Gate, Philippe gave his men the order to charge and cut them off from the main square, completely obliterating them.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084028.jpg
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084032.jpg
Crossbowmen ran after the king intent on saving their fellows only to be met by another royal charge…
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084038.jpg
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084050.jpg
… while their fellow crossbowmen ran out of the square, hoping to nail a few bolts into the French knights accompanying de Neufville.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084034.jpg
…but only to get skewered by French lances.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084035.jpg
Only a charge by the rebel general broke the impetus of de Neufville and his men who retreated towards the East Gate. The general spurred his mount after de Neufville….
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084040.jpg
…realizing only too late that he had been caught in an elaborate trap when Montferrat and his men closed on his back.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084041.jpg
The fight had by then gone out of him. Gaspard beheaded him with a swift stroke of his sword.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084046.jpg
The remaining pikemen ran to the rescue of their master, but arrived too late and were decimated by the bolts of the crossbow militia perched above the East Gate.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084045.jpg
At the same time, Le Sueur and Mauvoisin were busy evading another group of armoured sergeants, luring them away from the walls where the archers had taken place, thanks to their ladders. Fire arrows began to rain down on the unsuspecting sergeants.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084044.jpg
Under the deluge of fire they finally broke, in time to be overrun by Le Sueur, Mauvoisin and their men.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084051.jpg
The remaining rebel knights tried to make a break for it out of the South Gate but on reaching the gates, the forbidding presence of de Rethel and his knights turned them back and they tried to get back to the relative safety of the square, while the mercenary crossbowmen peppered them with bolts.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084042.jpg
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084043.jpg
Following the carnage that had raked the main square, de Neufville managed to reach it and try to defend it against the remnant of the rebel army, but the overpowering odor of blood and charred corpses forced him to retreat.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084054.jpg
The last few defenders tried to make a last stand on the square, while arrows went on raining upon them.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084059.jpg
As a last show of mercy, Philippe ordered a stop to the missile fire and charged, followed by all the Order knights but for de Rethel, too far to witness anything of the fight and too late to come and bloody his sword.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ges1084060.jpg
While the last defenders bit the dust, the French knights celebrated their victory and their King with cries of “Montjoie Saint-Denis!!” And “Vive le Roi!!”
The score
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...KotF/score.jpg
(OOC : Occupy is selected here...)
Epilogue
Comfortably installed in a well furbished room of the richest inn in Bruges, overlooking one of the many canals of the city, Philippe was alternatively watching people gliding on the ice on implements he had never seen before and reading a letter from van Donkkers requesting an audience when a soft knock on the door announced the entry of a servant in full royal livery.
“Le Sieur Arnaud de Vilaines would like to be granted an audience with Sa Majesté.”
“De Vilaines ?” Philippe was at a loss. The name meant nothing to him.
“Let him in”.
A man in his middle years walked in the room. He wore a rather common suit or armour, with several dents in it showing it had seen use recently.
He bowed low, one hand on his scabbard, where the sword was missing, an unnecessary precaution in Philippe’s mind but one on which his captain of the Guard was adamant.
“Stand and speak, de Vilaines.”
The man rose slowly and began speaking.
“Votre Majesté, you may think me presumptuous and I will admit that it may be so but I will humbly ask for your daughter Constance’s hand in marriage. I have served for many years in her bodyguard and being near her for so long, though it was arduous duty, nervously speaking, knowing how good she was at escaping our vigilance, I have to come to appreciate the Princess and think I could bring her everything she might want in a husband…”
Sensing the King about to object, Arnaud went on in a rush. “I know my station is not high enough but I have served Your Majesty faithfully and loyally for many years and expect to do so for many more years. I also know that an English lord has besotted himself with Your Majesty’s daughter and would like to remind him of propriety, as a husband should do for his espouse. As your son-in-law, you can expect me to fight for France like I did today, joining the fray wherever you lead, Mon Roi.”
Seemingly having reached the end of his tirade, Philippe considered the man before him.
“As you stated yourself, your station is not high enough for me to give you my daughter’s hand… And frankly, I may be doing you a service in refusing… Constance is sometimes so strong-willed that I fear that should you marry her, you’ll end up staying at home while she rides your charger into battle, wearing your armour.”
The man nodded dejectedly, having expected such an answer.
“Nevertheless, coming here and asking for her hand requires courage… The dents in your armour show that you were deeply involved in the last battle and can handle yourself in battle… Your loyalty is also unquestionable if you managed to remain in her bodyguard for so long… I have a few men of my retinue in the battle… How would you like a position in my bodyguard? As a shield-bearer ?”
The man dropped to one knee.
“You do me great honour, Mon Roi. I will gladly accept. And maybe, you’ll take notice of my service and would reconsider your position on the marriage…”
“Do not expect too much, De Vilaines… But who knows?”
“Thank you, Mon Roi” The man said, bowing his head.
“You may go, de Vilaines… Present yourself to the captain of my guard, he will assign you rooms and servants”
De Vilaines retreated from the room, leaving Philippe to contemplate the people having fun outside on the canals and thinking about the deal he had struck with van Donkkers.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ieldbearer.jpg
Zaragosa, 1084
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0013.jpg
"Hammer those all fired pegs in there you slack jawed morons! I'm not waiting another ******* night on your incompetence! You breakfast in Zaragosa or you'll eat nothing at all!"
Prince Louis was berating the weary mercenaries at the top of his lungs, 'encouraging' them to complete their labors on the second ram for the assault on Zaragosa. All the riding back and forth from France had taken it's toll on his mood, and in a fit of fair mindedness he had sent just enough of his stores of French wine south with Raynaud de Xaintrailles and Christophe de Peronne that he had a genuine worry about running out soon.
"Bertrand. Bertrand! Where've you gone?"
A heavy lidded, thick bodied man with a mace dangling at his waist ducked out of the trees to the east and knuckled his forehead before the Prince,
"Here m'lord!"
"How long 'fore the sunrise do you figure?"
"We've time enough Lord, if they'll get that thing moving. Yvon and his boys won't have left the siegeworks just yet."
Louis nodded thoughtfully, and shouted again,
"Evrart! You stay on these lads. As soon as that bloody thing will roll without falling apart get them pushing it at that weak spot in the walls. No more delays! Zaragosa falls this day. I'm sick of this time wasting!"
Evrart, the slim, graceful veteran soldier, nods once and begins calling out calm sounding commands to the mercenaries, sorting out the mad scrambles the Prince's anger had sent them into and visibly improving their efforts as well.
The Prince takes no notice, he is already mounting his horse and motioning his guardsmen to come about and follow him along the dimly lit treeline. The men ride along until they come to the southern road leading to the gates of Zaragosa. The line turns smartly along the road, riding up to just out of bowshot of the main gate. The Prince waves his hand and two men withdraw hunting horns and blow them loudly in short bursts until a figure can be seen above the gate, waving his arms. Louis shouts,
"Bloody coming today Bernardo! Sure you don't want to just leave and give over? No more ******* warnings militiaman. If I have to break in there I'm not leaving without your head!"
The figure shouts back in broken French,
"Your mother lay with donkeys! Go back to Toulouse and chew rocks!"
As the first rays of light creep over the distant hills the Prince of the Franks laughs and draws his sword, catching the sun on it's tip. With a wordless roar he points it at the gates and the two guardsmen once more blow their horns, this time a single low blast. To the east Yvon Lacaze and his company of mercenaries can be seen pressing their ram foward towards the walls, while to the west the Prince's own men are struggling to push their own more hastily constructed engine.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0014.jpg
Bernardo screams something and vanishes from the wall. The Prince's company watches a moment as the rebel banners retreat towards the town square, and then at his command wheels neatly to ride back towards the spearmen.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0015.jpg
Bernardo makes no effort to defend the walls, perhaps realizing his men are ill equipped for the work and too few to hold both sides. Yvon's mercenaries break through first, and he leads his men through the breach at a run, moving around towards the south gate while the mercenaries pour through to block the east road. Behind them the sun is rising, shedding bright golden light across the field.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0016.jpg
Despite this, perhaps in a panic, Bernardo orders his company of crossbowmen down the eastern street to harry the mercenaries as they march. Seeing this Yvon changes his course, reversing and riding through the spearmen's formation to meet the crossbowmen head on. The enemy gets off a single ragged volley with the sun shining into their eyes before Yvon and his guardsmen are on them.
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0018.jpg
In the meanwhile the Prince's force has broken through as well, and the Prince has ridden around to the north end of town at a run before turning south down the main thoroughfare. His mercenary spearmen marched doubletime down the western street to meet the enemy's two companies of javelineers in the streets. The rebels don't get off a single volley before they are engaged at close range and hard pressed.
Behind them the Prince's men make their best charge down the narrow street at his urging. Captain Bernardo, having lost all control of the battle from the moment his crossbowmen began to melee, tries to turn his militia spearmen about to face the charge and fails. The Prince, bellowing wordlessly, leads the attack and rides among the milling town militia sowing slaughter at will. Behind him Bertrand and Evrart ride close, ignoring any openings in the battle while keeping the Prince's flanks and rear clear of enemies.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0019.jpg
The crossbowmen break first, moments after Yvon's mercenaries make contact with them, and Yvon's men ride them down casually as they flee. Yvon sends his spearmen to aid the Prince against the militia troops, while he himself rides around that melee to take the javelineers from behind. Already hard pressed and half dead they break instantly and try to flee to the square, only to be ridden down in their turn just as the crossbowmen were.
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0020.jpg
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0021.jpg
Surrounded, outnumbered, outclassed, and with no possibility of surrender the men of Captain Bernardo's town militia company fight to the last. Bernardo himself is felled when a mercenary cracks him across the back of his head with the butt of his spear. He falls to the ground and at a gesture from the Prince is dragged to one side as the last of the rebels are put down.
http://lh4.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0022.jpg
Louis delivers a quick salute to Yvon for a job well done. Without dismounting the Prince gestures for Bernardo to be picked up and brought over. Head bowed, with blood matting the back of his hair, Bernardo can barely be heard begging for his life. The Prince, his armor stained heavily with blood and his sword soaked in it, reaches down with it's tip to lift Bernardo's chin and look into his eyes. The mercenaries to either side shoulder him up a bit higher.
http://lh4.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0024.jpg
"You were warned Bernardo. Zaragosa has been claimed for France. Better for us all if you'd surrendered."
"... King Alfonso... said he'd come... We're Spaniards, not Franks..."
Prince Louis grins before replying,
"I took Alfonso's daughter for my wife, just as I've taken Zaragosa for my kingdom, just as I'll take whatever else I want here in Iberia. When you see God give him my thanks for this victory today, yes?"
Before the rebel captain can reply the Prince shoves his sword forward through the man's throat, showering blood down his tunic onto the paving stones. Raising his voice he says,
"Take what you will from this place, but don't kill to many, eh? They're to be my people now!"
With a gleam in their eyes the mercenaries move out into the streets.
Louis motions Yvon over to him,
"For the moment, until the King makes his fair dispensation and I can properly distribute the title, you'll have to govern here. I mean to ride out tomorrow to meet the lads to the south and lay siege to Valencia. I expect the spearmen will march along behind me at their own pace. Keep these people under control, do you hear? Whatever it takes."
"Now, where's that blasted page? I need a drink!"
http://lh4.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0025.jpg
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0026.jpg
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/So.../s800/0027.jpg
OOC: Louis got a veteran warrior and a shield bearer. I see Evrart as the former and Bertrand as the latter.
*placeholder*
The Word of God carries far
Champagne, St Thierry Abbey, 1087
Prologue
Philippe warmed his hands to the fire burning in the study the Abbot had put at his disposal for his meeting with Fra Matteo Invernizzi, Rome’s envoy. The meeting had been arranged in secrecy, for the matters that had been discussed this day were grave enough to warrant that much.
Rome was at war with the Reich. The Kaiser had claims upon the city, from which he claimed he should be ruling his empire, being the true heir of the Caesars of old, claiming to be the true Voice of God on Earth. Pope Gregory had stood defiant of the Kaiser, refusing to be formerly appointed by the Emperor but instituting a College of Cardinals, electing one of their numbers to be the representative of God on Earth, breaking a long tradition.
The Pope had sent Fra Matteo to ask for French help in fighting off the Kaiser’s claim, calling upon Philippe’s piety to come to the rescue.
Now, Philippe was considering his options, while Fra Matteo, a stick of a man in a monk robe, sat at the desk writing a proposal including all the safeguards Philippe had requested.
Suddenly, Arnaud, Philippe’s shield-bearer burst into the room.
“Majesté… Les Allemands… They’re marching on the abbey… We must have been betrayed…”
Philippe turned to face the monk, with death in his eyes.
“Is that one of your plots?” he demanded threateningly.
The monk visibly paled and began shaking.
“Non, Votre Majesté… We’ve as much to lose, more maybe, if our agreement were to be discovered…”
“Enough… Arnaud, how many are they?”
“Two companies of archers and two of spearmen from what our outlooks saw… There may be others hiding in the wood.”
“Gather everyone… We’ll ride and see what their business is in these parts…”
The players:
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/.../start1087.jpg
OOC : though this battle was initiated by Philippe, I considered it IC to have been started by the Imperials.
The Battle:
The score
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...y1087/vict.jpg
Epilogue
After the battle, all the prisoners were rounded up in the cloisters of the abbey, under the guard of Philippe retainers.
The monks were busy giving the last rites to those German knights that were too wounded and applying healing balms to those that had suffered cuts and bruises.
Philippe walked the cloisters with Fra Matteo in tow.
“Now it seems Sa Sainteté will have his wish granted… From today on, France is at war against the Reich… Heinrich will never forgive the killing of his men… It has been a well-laid trap” Philippe ended with a smirk. “It seems the Word of God carries far…”
“Votre Majesté, we have nothing to do with that… Pope Gregory would never force your hand, he needs you as an ally, and he would not take the risk of displeasing you.”
“So you say… But to whom does this whole business profit? Not to the Reich… The Kaiser has enough on his plate trying to convince the Catholic rulers of the world that Pope Gregory is a usurper… Not France… My Kingdom is torn in two by the English, my people die of hunger and now we are at war with the Empire, who can field five to ten times our men and professionals to boot… So I ask you: who does profit from this? I see no one but Sa Sainteté…”
Fra Matteo was taken aback by the King’s earnestness.
“You speak the truth, votre Majesté, but I can only assure you that the Church had no hand in what happened today…”
“To your knowledge, at least…”
“Yes, I will concede the point.”
The King and the monk were nearing the part of the cloisters where the captured captain of the Imperials was in custody.
“Fra Matteo, I wish to speak to that man alone…”
“Why, but of course… Votre Majesté.” The monk said, giving a slight bow, and going back hastily the way they had come, seeming to glide, his robes hiding his feet, casting a glance over his shoulder.
Philippe stopped in front of the captain who nursed a big bruise on his forehead.
The man stood and gave a military salute with a sonorous “Heil, König”.
Philippe gave him his salute back motioning him to sit down, the man being slightly dizzy. Standing watch over him, Philippe noticed the same knight that had jumped from his horse, keeping the captain from being trampled, allowing Philippe to be able to question him.
“Remind me your name, Chevalier?”
“Tancrède de Lamarck, mon Roi”
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...87/veteran.jpg
«Your name doesn’t sound too French… » said Philippe, puzzled.
“I was born at the border of the Reich… My father was a German knight and my mother, the daughter of a French baron. I have served in the Reich’s armies for some years until the death of my father when I came upon my heritage, a small castle in Alsace… Hence I have joined the Royal Army and I have been chosen to join your bodyguard, Votre Majesté.”
“So you speak German, I gather?”
“Ja, mein König”.
“Good, I may have need of you in the years to come… I’ll need you to translate for me and teach me enough German that I can negotiate their surrender…”
“Of course, mon Roi”
“Let’s start now… Ask the captain on whose orders he was acting… And tell him that for now I’m just asking… It could become less nice quickly…”
Tancrède began uttering questions to the captain in the harsh guttural vowels of the German tongue.
The man paled, gulped and began talking. Questions and answers were thrown back and forth between Tancrède and the man, Philippe catching a bit here and there from the few words of German he had kept from his courtly education. Finally, the man hung his head dejectedly and produced from beneath his padded leather vest a leather purse.
“So what did he say, Sieur de Lamarck ?”
“He said he’s been paid to ambush us, mon Roi… though he hadn’t been told your identity. He believed you to be some lesser noble and not the King of France. Here’s the pay he received for that” said Tancrède, handing the purse to the King.
Philippe took the proffered purse and emptied its content in his hand.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...087/ransom.jpg
“Spanish Reals… Does he want me to believe his employer worked for the Spanish?”
Tancrède asked a few other questions to the captain in German, the captain answering, nodding.
“Non, mon Roi… He says that the man who gave him the money was French… Or at least spoke in French… He had a servant translating for him. He says he seemed to be of noble birth, mon Roi.”
“So a French noble would either seek to have his King killed or bring about a war with the Reich? That’s want he wants me to believe?”
The king’s words were translated to the Imperial who could only nod, making the sign of the cross to give weight to his word.
“Any name?” asked Philippe.
“Non, mon Roi…” answered Tancrède after having asked the captive. “But he says the man had him believe it was a feud between two local lords and that being German, they would never had been suspected of the deed… He implores your forgiveness, mon Roi.”
“My forgiveness…” Philippe considered “Tell him I grant him my pardon, to him and all of his men still alive… But it will come at a price: he will have to go back to Imperial lands as swiftly as he can and turn himself in to the justice of the Reich, tell Heinrich what happened truly here… I do not want to see hordes of German soldiers invading our lands… There may still be time to bring this war to an end before it’s too late… Does he understand?”
After Tancrède’ translation, the man nodded vigorously, going down on his knees in front of Philippe.
“One last thing: before we let them go, he and all of his men will be branded so that they cannot hide what they’ve done here today…”
Philippe made a sign to the two knights that had stood behind him, guarding him, who caught the captains between themselves and carried him towards the large brazier burning in the middle of the cloisters… The man screaming all the way…
Taking save to end turn.
The Battle of Staufen, 1087
My lord Hugues de Champagne, when faced with difficulty, usually charges straight ahead at the problem. This time was no different. Faced with encroaching Germans, the Duc attacked their closest settlement, Staufen. It was lightly garrisoned, only the German Prince Henry and his retinue, and my lord hoped that this would grab the attention of our foe, so they would react to our thrust rather than march into our own lands.
Or at least that is what the Duc told me afterwards. I cannot vouch for his thoughts when the rather large relief force arrived.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Fortunately, the Duc had chosen a defensible site from which to conduct his siege. The enemy would have to cross the Rhine to reach us. We were still heavily outnumbered. Additionally the Germans had a marked advantage in horsemen, heavy infantry and bowmen.
To negate this advantage my lord placed our spears at the foot of the bridge in a U. Only so many of the enemy could fight at once. Our bowmen were deployed on a slope facing the bridge, allowing them to loose arrows into the flank of the enemy as they crossed. My lord positioned himself behind the spearmen, close enough to inspire, but far enough away not to be drawn into combat until needed.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Dieter von Magdeburg sent his dismounted knights over the bridge first. A good choice, his best infantry. They were met with a storm of arrows as they crossed.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
It was because of the presence of such heavily armored knights that my lord had requested permisision to recruit the mercenary crossbowmen from the Seneschal. Bolts punch through steel better than arrows. A fifth of their number perished before they made it across. The rest of the German foot, even the archers, followed on the heels of the vanguard, with only a company of spears staying behind with von Magdeburg and the horsemen.
The two armies met with a crash.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Our spearmen gave little ground, the Germans had numbers but were confined to a small patch at the foot of the bridge.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
After the battle we found Germans who had not perished from blade or arrow but who had been trampled by their fellows in the crush.
Impatient at the lack of progress, Dieter von Magdeburg charged in with the rest of his men. My lord ordered the bowmen, who had been sending missiles into the scrum at the base of the bridge, to loose on the new arrivals.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
It was hardly the ideal use for cavalry, the congestion at the foot of the bridge became even worse. The Germans had little room for maneuver in what was becoming a charnel pit.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
However, despite such inelegance, sheer weight of numbers pushed our men back. The German salient expanded. The Duc could see that von Magdeburg was trying to break out and charge our bowmen. He brought his own men around to stop this.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Dieter and a few of his guard managed to break free despite my lord's efforts.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
But faced with concentrated volleys from the bowmen, for my lord had yelled at them to focus on the enemy commander and his men, Dieter was forced back. He was surrounded and killed by my lord's retinue.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Seeing their commander dead, the Germans broke.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
My lord would have gladly pursued, but Prince Henry was approaching. Forty two of the Empire's best warriors, fresh, if a bit late to the battle, were bearing down on us. Our own men were tired and bloodied.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
My lord ordered the spearmen to reform a line and prepare for a charge. The bowmen began to loose on Henry, but he was on us in a flash, trampling his fleeing countrymen who obstructed his path.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
He fell on the spear militia on our right, inflicting grievious harm. However, this allowed the other two depleted companies to fall on his flank and rear.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
With Henry's momentum stalled and his men bogged down, my lord charged in as our bowmen continued to loose into the melee.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The Prince was brave and only ran when he and just three of his men were left alive.
With the enemy fleeing, the Duc turned to pursue the only remaining company left on the field, a company of bowmen running west. Our remaining spearmen paused to take in the carnage they had inflicted.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Bereft of men, Staufen was easily taken and sacked. My lord was grieved to hear that Prince Henry had died of his wounds taken in the battle. He had fought valiantly. In another world, perhaps, they would have been friends.
The day was ours.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
1087 Valencia
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The tent was spacious and well lit, the food and wine were excellent, the serving girls bouncy and pleasant, and the mood was cordial despite the noisy hammering and sawing that could be heard continuing into the evening outside. At the far end of the table was a Moorish delegate representing al-Qadir listening to a ceaseless stream of translated words from the rat faced fellow beside him but adding not a word to the discussion. To the right of the table sat Christophe de Perrone and Raynaud de Xaintrailles, both observing the polite dictates of conversation but, as instructed, speaking nothing of consequence.
At the head of the table sat Prince Louis, and to his left the might Castillian general El Cid, lately known as the Chivalrous. The discussion was entirely in French, which El Cid spoke with clarity but a rough accent.
"My good man, you can't hold it. These are France's finest I've brought with me. Even if that lot of jumped up desert savages were willing to help, and they aren't," the Prince sneers in the direction of the far end of the table, "your forces are mainly cavalry and we'll carve them to chunks in the streets. Just withdraw back to Madrid and Alfonso will welcome you home with open arms. He needs all the help he can get against Cordoba."
El Cid nods slowly and patiently, but his reply does not match his movement,
"I cannot. The circumstances, they are not what you think. The King," El Cid pauses to cross himself, "he is not what you think. There I would be in more danger than here."
Louis' face hardens, "No mercy sir. I won't have my men risking their lives to preserve yours. If you fight you will be killed."
El Cid issues another slow, contemplative nod, "That is possible. We will not pursue if yours should happen to flee. I've no one here I can trust to turn my back on."
With a faint look of disbelief Prince Louis pushes back his chair and stands. de Perrone and de Xaintrailles also stand instantly, and the Moor and his translator at the end of the table rise quickly afterward. Only El Cid and his second remain sitting.
"Dine until you are content, El Cid the Chivalrous. It may be your last feast." Louis gestures to his men and begins to leave, walking past his opponent's seat.
As he passes El Cid reaches out to take the Prince by the forearm. de Perrone lurches forward, perhaps suspecting treachery, but Louis halts him with a gesture and leans low to listen to El Cid's whispered words as the general's eyes cut to the departing Muslims,
"They put Alfonso on the throne because they know he is weak, and his heart is as deeply heathen as their own. Do not trust your new father..." turning his gaze on the Frenchman he continues, in a lower tone, "I have a family here, Louis Capet. A wife. She is a soldier's wife, she will seek no revenge, but I ask fair conduct for her and my children."
A troubled look crosses Louis' face, but he delivers one sharp nod and replies, "Granted. God preserve you and yours El Cid of Castille."
With that the dinner party breaks up and the emissaries from the besieged city are escorted back to the walls. Three days later the assault begins.
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Louis understands very well what El Cid will fear of his forces, so he arranges his spearmen and their ladders to be visible preparing to charge the walls to the east, drawing the enemy to defend those walls, while to the south his archers bring their ram forward almost unmolested.
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0005.jpg
The battle opens well, with the ram reaching the gate intact and only a few peasants falling while it does it's work. After the gates are cracked all three generals storm through into the castle and spread apart, while the archers and crossbowmen are ordered to take positions on the walls. On the west side of the castle Louis is immediately drawn into a running battle with El Cid's companies of jinettes. Eventually, with de Perrone's help, they are pinned down in the streets and slaughtered.
While that was distracting him, however, the archers became engaged in a struggle for control of the walls west of the gate with enemy javelineers. Louis sent a runner to command that his spearmen abandon their ladders and run to reinforce the gates, while de Xaintraillies tries to clear the javelineers that are wandering in the streets below the battle with the French archers.
The mercenary crossbowmen, altogether too wise to get caught in a melee, hustle themselves into position to start picking off El Cid's mounted sergeants. El Cid and his guardsmen previously decamped the square to try to reinforce the jinettes in the west, but being slowed by the narrow roads, had only arrived in time to see them slaughtered. As he retreated to the square the rebel general lost control of the battle, and half his army was dead before he could regain it.
Ordering his remaining mounted men to attack the crossbowmen, El Cid joined them in surging forward. Behind him Louis and his remaining guardsmen, having followed El Cid on his retreat through the back streets, caught the enemy's archers and annihilated them to capture the square. El Cid seeing this, attempts to organize a withdrawal while he still has some companies of infantry retreating from the eastern walls, but only his own guardsmen make it. Still, Louis has no desire to face them in the square, and surrenders it to them for the moment.
The square is now surrounded from the north and south, with the western region blocked, and the two remaining companies of infantry attempting to rally to their general from the east. Crossbow bolts fall among them as they march, and de Perrone's guardsmen threaten to harry their advance. As the French spearmen begin pouring into the streets El Cid can surely see the end coming, and so he turns about and rides north out of the square to seek battle with the Prince's guardsmen.
The assault on the remaining rebel infantry is a forgone conclusion, with their complete destruction coming to pass long before they could reinforce their commander. To the north of the square de Perrone and de Xaintraillies can hear the sounds of fierce fighting. It concludes almost simultaneously with their own slaughter of Valencia's infantry, and from the edge of the square they wait to see who will emerge.
Prince Louis, his helm dented and his sword notched, rides out into the square with his eight remaining guardsmen still on horseback. He is leading a horse with the body of El Cid laid across it, bloody dripping out of his gauntleted hands as they flopped against the animal's flank. A proud woman in an elegant dress strides out of the manor abutting the square to take the reins from Louis. Without a word she leads the horse east out of the square.
Valencia was taken, though many Frenchmen had fallen to secure it.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0006.jpg
(OOC: Louis got 'fierce in battle,' probably for his duel with El Cid's guards. That was poor planning on my part, I didn't have anyone in position to surround them and didn't have enough of Louis' guardsmen left to retreat safely.)
:egypt:
Placeholder for the "siege" of Antwerp
Howling wind, howling wolf
Northern Flanders, 1090
Prologue
The wolf had been looking for food for days on end now. Enough food to feed the pack. Now luck had made his path cross that of the humans on the four-legged ones. He almost missed the scent, so fierce was the wind howling on the plains, carrying with it the promise of a snowfall.
The wolf was old, old enough to know that man was a threat to wolves most times but a boon also sometimes. Mostly when man was covered in those shiny pelts and carrying those sticks that pierced entrails better than the biggest and sharpest fangs.
So now he was trailing the horde of men, two score of them, through the snow. Instinct telling him that, soon, his pack would feed on human flesh.
The players:
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...1090/start.jpg
The Battle:
The score
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...p1090/vict.jpg
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...090/ransom.jpg
Epilogue
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...rp1090-037.jpg
Philippe sat his horse, watching the defeated and disarmed men of the Reich, walk away from the battle, to carry back to their homeland the tales of French Knights’ valour.
A feeling in his gut made him scan the wood-line, feeling somewhat or something watching him. A dark shape moving through the trees on the edge of his vision. Squinting against the brightness of the snow under the moonlight and against the biting and howling wind, Philippe watched the shape become a large wolf, one of the largest he had ever seen.
Seemingly unafraid the beast came out of the woods, advancing cautiously towards Philippe and his retainers. Now the men had also seen the beast and were drawing their swords and lances from their scabbards, intent on bloodying them further. A single gesture from Philippe stopped them in mid-stance.
Philippe felt a kinship to the lone wolf. Walking his horse forward, he stopped a few meters away. The wolf stopped in his tracks, watching Philippe, its yellow eyes unblinking, seeming to penetrate Philippe’s soul to its depths.
Then, sitting back on its haunches, oblivious to the man who could kill him in a stroke, the wolf let out a howl.
A howl that surpassed that of the wind, a howl that spoke of doom, a howl that spoke of liberation.
1092 Mucking towards Marseille
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0010.jpg
The mud was everywhere. Coating every horse's hooves, splattered across every rider's saddle and boots. It even seemed to creep up onto the men's breastplates and helms. There was no point trying to scrape it away, that just spread the mess further. Worst of all it stank. The rain had pushed the river past it's banks, and the water settled into the nearby marshlands, flooding them gently and sweeping every bit of filth in them out across the land to rot slowly.
Today the sun had crept out at least, but even with the absence of rain the ground was still soaked and the freshly cut road from Toulouse was only just passable. Despite this Prince Louis was giving his fresh recruits a vigorous dressing down as they rode down the riverbank towards Marseille.
"By God you clumsy fools ride like women! Are we going to town to buy you dresses today, or are we going to give that German idiot terms for his surrender? Pick up the pace like you've got a pair!"
Bertran nudged the Prince and pointed down the road towards a scout returning from the city. Louis brought his horse around and with one final shout of encouragement launched himself towards the scout at full speed.
"What news! Did those bloody peasants make the walls?"
The scout is trembling with exhaustion, clearly holding himself in his saddle by sheer force of will, but he sketches a rough salute for his Prince while answering,
"No m'lord, they broke tha wagon's axle tryin' ta get it out a tha mud. They sent somebody on ahead to ask fer orders or somethin, but they're nah movin. Barrels on tha wagon. Might be wine?"
Louis smacked the young man a mighty blow across his back, nearly knocking him from his saddle, and roars back to Bertran,
"Get those bloody idiots moving! They're waiting for us like fat, juicy pheasants!"
Turning back to the scout he continues, "Well done, go draw yourself a draught of wine before you head back out boy."
A few miles, and an astonishing quantity of cursing and roaring from Louis, further down the road the Prince's little army at last crests a hill and spots the company of peasant archers. They're all standing rather casually around a motionless wagon, their bows slung and sealed against the rain and not a spear or sword in sight. A quarter of a mile further east the army of Jobst Plittersdorf, Count of Marseille, can be seen picking it's way through the mud west of the city gates. The peasants are halfway between the two proper armies. Louis bellows in delight at the sight, waving for the horns to be sounded and bellowing orders for his fresh faced mounted sergeants to make their charge.
"Go on, go get them! Wet your swords and lances lads, this day you become blooded warriors! True sons and soldiers of France!"
The ground was poor and Louis' army was tired, but with the enemy unable to make even a token reply the Mounted Sergeants rushed headlong down upon them. The bowmen, in a move of staggering stupidity, actually drew their knives and rushed towards the cavalry before realizing their mistake and turning to flee. The impact on the unarmored men was horrific. In less than a minute not a single archer remained alive.
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0011.jpg
Prince Louis and Yvon Lacaze, meanwhile, had ridden casually over to intercept the Germans marching out from Marseille. While the peasants were screaming in the distance Louis shouted towards the great German banner behind the mass of infantry,
"Where are you headed then? Leaving the city for it's proper owners?"
Not a word came from the German formation, but their crossbowmen ran ahead of the spears doubletime to make the range, and began removing the wax from their strings and winding their weapons. Yvon Lacaze rode away north, but Prince Louis and his guardsmen stood their ground. Louis continued to taunt the Germans,
"Did you lot lose something? A wagon? Some barrels of beer? A company of archers? We might've found that last... but worry not, you'll catch up soon enough."
Behind the rapidly working crossbowmen the formation of infantry halted and a company of German heavy cavalry began to push through the spearmen in the center. Before they could reach the front Louis' fast riding mounted sergeant cut across the face of the formation and smashed into the peasant crossbowmen without them getting off a single shot. Louis laughed loudly and turned to ride away as his sergeants withdrew, leaving few crossbowmen still standing.
http://lh4.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0013.jpg
The Germans, still possessing an overwhelming advantage of numbers, simply close ranks and begin to advance once more. Their formation turns towards Yvon's position, isolated away to the north. The paired mounted sergeants have withdrawn to the German's rear, while Louis is away to their left watching carefully and issuing orders with hand signals. At a gesture the sergeants split, half moving to join Louis. Moments later Louis rides away hard towards Yvon while the sergeants hold his position. The Germans take no note of the men behind them, simply marching straight ahead towards Yvon.
Just as the Prince reaches Yvon's position the mounted sergeant make their charge from behind and before. The German footknights on the formation's left wing are the target this time, and they are effectively annihilated.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0014.jpg
The German response is to send out their remaining ranged units... who are massacred.
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0015.jpg
With no ability to strike back at range the German commander at last loses his patience. He turns to chase the mounted sergeants who are behind his formation while his Feudal Knights move out to attack Yvon Lacaze and his three companies of spearmen run towards Prince Louis' guardsmen.
The French response is predictable; the isolated mounted sergeants flee from Jobst while Yvon moves to meet the mounted Knights with the support of the second company of mounted sergeants. Prince Louis merely rides away ahead of the spearmen, hurling French insults behind him.
http://lh4.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0016.jpg
In short order there are no Feudal knights remaining, while Louis has found a nice position on a hill to watch the battle and the quantity of spearmen struggling to reach him. With a visible laugh he gestures for his mounted sergeants to break up the formation of spearmen with a feint, and a company of spear militia on the right flank seperates slightly in their line of march. It is enough. The horn sounds again, and the spears are crushed between two roaring companies of French heavy cavalry.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0017.jpg
Half the German army is dead, not even counting the peasant archers slaughtered in the opening seconds. French casualties are light, a circumstance created by the German failure to guard their ranged units and inability to maintain discipline in the face of a faster, more mobile force. Jobst rides back to the main battle, but Yvon splits off to draw him away while Louis returns to his hill and draws the enemy's armoured sergeants, their heaviest infantry, towards his guardsmen. Precisely the same ambush is performed, though the enemy's discipline is slightly superior. (OOC: In the second shot in the center you can see a French BG who has been thrown from his horse to his death. This happened because the charge from behind didn't break open the formation until the charge from the front had already struck home against seated spears. You can see Louis 'wrapping' the far end of the spears, keeping him safe.)
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0019.jpg
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0020.jpg
Yvon's guardsmen were tiring, so they made a wide arc back towards the Prince's position, where the remnants of the German army were in flight. All that remained was Jobst, their commander, his horses thundering along remorselessly in pursuit of Yvon. As soon as he saw his Prince on the way Yvon swung his men about neatly and engaged the German commander near a large rock. Louis's own men, roaring 'For Wood!' rushed in immediately to relieve the pressure. Jobst was outnumbered 2 to 1 and taken from behind. It took less than a minute for the Prince to find him in the melee and stab him through his back as the German atttacked Yvon viciously. He fell wordlessly, and all that remained of his army fled.
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0022.jpg
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0024.jpg
Louis laughed and saluted Yvon casually, slinging German blood through the dank air. Between gasps of air he joked,
"Think that piker was mute! Couldn't get a word out of 'em. Wonder if they're all that way? Remind me to toy with the next one, eh?"
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0025.jpg
An hour later the prisoners had been assembled. A representative from the city had come out with a couple of unarmed militia types to negotiate their ransom. Fortunately he spoke French. Louis treated with him roughly as two hundred and forty German soldiers, their hands bound and armor stripped off, knelt in the crusty mud under what was becoming a brutally hot noon sun.
"Can you pay for their lives?"
"Err, no m'lord, we must await word from the Emperor."
Louis takes a long drink from his wineglass and looks slowly down the line of soldiers. At the front were the five minor nobles from Jobst's guard.
"******* hot out here you peasant. How long's the wait?"
"I... I cannot be sure, I am only a minor official Lord. I was a gate warden when the Germans took the city."
"You say you're a Frank then? One of ours?"
Louis watches the man carefully as he stiffenes his back with pride and makes his reply in perfect French,
"I am my Prince! A loyal son of France who has suffered under the occupation of these eastern brutes."
Louis smiles widely and gestures to Evrart behind him while slipping his arm around the little administrator's shoulder,
"Excellent! So you'll know who needs rooting out to keep order in Marseille. I think I'm going to like you. No more worries about ransom, let's talk about my victory parade!"
Evrart grimaces to the Prince's back and shakes his head while issuing orders to have the enemy soldiers executed. He thinks, 'It will be grim work and by the end they'll know it's coming, but at least our men will have a proper barracks to sleep in tonight. Well, after we sack Marseille and put a load of those Germans to the sword anyway. By God the Prince drives us hard, but the men love him all the more for it. Wonder how long we'll be able to stay in the city..."
http://lh4.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0026.jpg
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sq.../s800/0027.jpg
:egypt:
1093 Hunting Mandorf
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0000.jpg
Bitter cold swept through the forest with every stiff, swirling breeze. Nothing moved, nothing could be heard but the soft susurration of the wind moving across the dry branches. Fog clung tightly to the hillsides, dampening the men's padded jackets beneath their armor and making the surface of the snow piled on the ground break open noiselessly. It was perfect ground for an ambush.
Unfortunately for Maximillian Mandorf and his guardsmen they had been caught by a French force of unknown size and composition before they could break their camp that morning. They escaped into the woods on horseback while the enemy was still recovering from the shock of stumbling on them, but with no chance to put away their camp. For the last two hours they'd been riding from hilltop to ridge line seeking a decent sightline and a chance to recover their supplies. The rise of the sun had done nothing to improve conditions, actually seeming to create more fog and increase the dampness in the air.
At last they'd come to the conclusion that the French must have passed them by, and now the thirty German knights and their general were at rest beneath some trees on the hill above their former camp, watching it intently for any sign of it being watched by the French. His breath fogging the air in front of his helm Mandorf shook his head and muttered,
"Well, they aren't down there."
http://lh4.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0003.jpg
Even before he could raise his sword to motion his men forward the French burst out of the trees behind him, pouring down the hillside at a reckless full charge despite the dense woods. The first Frenchman rode right past him, striking his pauldron a glancing blow before turning about to engage with his sword. Max muttered a prayer and began trading strokes, unable to even offer his men any orders in the abrupt melee.
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0006.jpg
Moments later the Frenchman was unhorsed when Max forced him back into an overhanging branch. Someone nearby roared 'Bertran!' Max's horse was shoved forward, away from the enemy who had been thrown into the snow, and that's when the battle really got ugly. Light horse, riding hard up the hill from the German camp, attacked the embattled knights and enveloped their formation. Max found himself completely surrounded and fighting for space while using a tree to guard his back.
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0007.jpg
Some fool cried out something in French, and the light horse drew back respectfully. Max turned his horse to face his opponent, finding a Frenchman dressed in armor equal to his own and sitting astride a rather silly looking and heavily ornamented saddle bearing the royal seal of France. The French fool actually saluted him before advancing to engage, slanting to break Max away from the tree and leave his flank exposed.
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0009.jpg
With a mental shrug Max thought, 'It worked once...' and cut swiftly and low at his opponent, attempting to drive the man back into the same branch that had dismounted his former attacker. With a grace Max found difficult to believe the Frank blocked across his body with his sword while pushing the branch back forcefully with his other hand as the French horse walked backwards. The result was that Max found himself badly off balance from his quick strike when the Frenchman let go the branch. It sprang forward with brutal power, striking Max's faceguard with the force of a lance, slamming him back in his saddle, and sending his sword flying away into the snow.
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http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0011.jpg
Swords now encroached on his space from all sides, and he could only raise his hands in a universally recognized gesture in response. Most of the rest of his guardsmen were already dead, but the few still fighting joined their lord in surrender after his capture. Max watched impassively as several badly wounded men had their throats cut to stop them screaming. The French then forced him and his three remaining guards off their horses, checked them for weapons, and marched them down to sit in their own camp while it was looted. Speaking was rewarded by kicks to the head, and so the Germans refrained.
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0012.jpg
Later that day, as the French made a crude feast from the German's supplies, a teen page came around to ask them questions in passable German, discovering Max's name and station. He was then brought before the man he had fought in the trees, and through the translator a brief conversation passed between them.
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0013.jpg
"Your name is Mandorf you say? Maximillian Mandorf? And will your Emperor pay to ransom you? No point lying, ought to get word from Bern anytime."
"He will."
"Hope so. Rather have the cash than have to have my sword cleaned again. Bloody bad day to be out and about, eh Mandorf?"
"Jah."
"Don't talk much, hey? Fine by me. Charlemagne's true heirs send their regards to his bastards."
"We will meet again."
"Looks like your deliverance just arrived. Godspeed you Holy Roman pig. Bring some men with the sense not to ambush themselves next time. Max the miniscule, mucking about in the snow, murdered his own men, and couldn't handle himself in the row!"
The Frenchman was actually singing that last bit in a mocking lilt as the translator struggled to keep up. It was intolerable! Worse yet, there was no sign the French would be releasing their horses to them. It would be a long walk to Bern...
http://lh3.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0014.jpg
http://lh5.ggpht.com/_OVSGmv5sLg4/Sp.../s800/0015.jpg
:egypt:
The Relief of Metz, 1095
After leaving the Conseil, my lord was quite enraged and inebriated. He immediately set out to relieve Metz.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The Duc deployed his army on the high ground. The Metz garrison arrived from the Northwest. The French were to the east. My lord was alarmed. They had almost negated our advantage in height and they were uncomfortably close to our lines.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
However, Captain Athalwolf made a curious decision. He turned his army to face the Metz garrison. His knights even began to trot west.
Duc Hugues ordered a cavalry advance upon seeing this. Baron Bertin de Montsault and Thomas de Saint-Amand joined him. I assumed this was to take advantage of German disorganization and to keep the peasants from being ridden down. However, the Duke's orders were slurred, laced with profanity and the key phrase was, "Let's go kill those bastards!" This makes analysis difficult.
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The Nobles of Lorraine charged at the Germans. Duc Hugues and Thomas at archers, while Bertin focused on dismounted knights.
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They relied on the strength of their charge and withdrew afterwards, never staying to fight for long. As one Noble left, another would sweep in.
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The enemy knights, who had stopped their advance on the peasants, were curiously passive about the savaging of their foot.
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As time passed the Germans were able to form a somewhat cohesive formation. Our Nobles had taken losses: Spearmen were sometimes able to come to their brethren's assistance or archers had enough time to loose. Charges occasionally were not pulled back quickly enough. The Duc signalled a withdrawal back to our infantry line. By this time the Germans had lost 40% of their strength.
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They responded to the withdrawal by advancing on us. They were still disorganized however, a company of archers got too far ahead.
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This proved far too appealing for my lord.
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The Germans agained formed up.
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Their approach was now more cautious. By this time the cavalry had rejoined our infantry line, Bertin to the left and Duc Hugues and Thomas to the right.
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Unfortunately, my lord again attempted to charge a company of archers ahead of their advance. This time, he was counter-charged by knights and spearmen. The Duc attempted to retreat, but was caught. The rest of the Germans leaped forward to meet our line.
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Thomas charged in to save our lord but the situation was alarming. Despite their losses, the Germans still had an advantage in foot. Our own advantage in cavalry was now negated.
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But then the spearmen on the German right broke. They had started the day vainly chasing our cavalry to and fro, then they had marched up a steep hill to fight well rested opponents during which they had been loosed on by archers. Finally, they could tell Bertin was about to charge their flank and rear. They could take no more and fled.
Our infantry converged on the remaining German foot. The Metz garrison, after a long journey, fell on their archers. Thomas and Duc Hugues managed to fight off Athalwolf and his knights. They all broke.
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The rout was on. We captured nearly all those who fled.
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Victory was ours. The German survivors were ransomed for 2056 florins. They fled to Staufen.
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The Battle of Gorze Abbey
My lord was not done. He was still drunk and belligerent. Thomas and the militia were left behind, as they had come all the way from Reims, and our army fell on a force of Germans east of Metz.
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The enemy was near Gorze Abbey.
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The Duc was content to wait for them on a hill west of the Abbey, for without archers of their own they would be forced to come to grips.
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They closed, and the German knights appeared to form up for a charge. Our crossbowmen were making this difficult to accomplish.
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Their infantry charged forward. Bertin and my lord charged in from the flanks to envelop them. However the German knights counter-charged Duc Hugues.
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My lord took losses, however the Germans were crushed.
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This time a ransom was refused. There were now no Germans left betweem the Moselle and the Rhine.
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Placeholder for the sally from Dijon.
The Battle of the Moselle, 1096
My lord Hugues was. . .indisposed after returning to his army. The election for Seneschal had sapped his strength and wine cellar. He proved difficult to rouse when Captain Hans decided to attack. He muttered something about being left alone, and that the stupid Germans should try something different, but eventually mounted his horse after having some fortified wine.
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We were outnumbered again and had little foot, but we were defending a ford. My lord was concerned that he did not have enough spearmen to hold it. He was quite put out that he had to use peasants in the front line.
The bowmen were put on a small hillock to the left, and my lord, Thomas de Saint-Amand and Bertin de Montsault were behind the infantry.
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All the German foot crossed at once.
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The lines met. Our infantry held and perfomed well against the water logged and bottled in enemy.
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But sheer numbers began to tell. Seeing that the German Captain and the rest of the cavalry was crossing, the Duc decided to act. While Bertin chased down some archers who had already routed, My lord and Thomas charged into the fray to hold the line.
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It was a close fought scrum at this time. German Mounted Sergeants managed to turn our right flank. Disaster loomed.
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But thankfully, Bertin decided to break off his pursuit of the bowmen and counter-charge the flankers.
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Their light cavalry broke almost instantly. Captain Hans fell in the crush as Bertin continued his charge into the melee.
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German morale collapsed and they ran for their lives.
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Victory was ours. (OOC: Despite the obvious sun in the sky, this played like a night battle. My peasant archers defaulted to flame arrows and Hugues picked up the nightfighter trait. Plus the game auto-released the prisoner without giving me a choice.)
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Are you man enough to take on Mandorf ?
East of Frankfurt, 1098
Prologue
The camp had been laid for a week under the walls of Frankfurt before Philippe took notice of it. There were lots of campfires and from the city walls Philippe could hear raucous laughter and the cat-calls of camp-followers… The language used by the men was guttural and he would almost have believed these men to be part of the Imperial army if not for the lack of order and the absence of a siege.
Inquiries made through Tancrède informed him that the men were soldiers of fortune, without employers and spending their hard-earned money in the taverns and brothels of the city…They had not yet become trouble but they would soon when their stipends ran out…
“Fetch their captain or whoever claims to have some power over these men, Tancrède…” Philippe told his aide de camp one evening “A few words with him could profit both parties…”
“Oui, mon Roi” Tancrède said with a bow, leaving the room, the noise of his armour echoing down the corridors as he went looking for the mercenary leader.
The next day, Philippe was just finishing breakfast when Tancrède ushered in the room a tall and gaunt man in a padded leather jerkin of good quality, a boiled leather cap on his head and a helmet under his arm.
“Mon Roi, I hope I’m not disturbing you” Tancrède said “But you wanted to see the captain as soon as possible…”
“Yes…” Philippe answered, wiping his hands with a piece of linen.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...rc-retinue.jpg
Looking at the man, gauging him, Philippe liked what he saw. The man was proud yet respectful of who he was facing though not afraid like so many others.
“Tell me you name, captain.”
“Ich bin Urs Graf, mein König…” The man’s speech faltered at that point, seeing the look on Philippe’s face…”Forgive me, Mon Roi… German is my mother’s tongue… I revert to it sometimes…”
“And where do you hail from, Urs Graf?” Philippe asked
“From Switzerland, mon Roi… I am what we call a Reislaüf… A soldier of fortune… Un mercenaire…”
“Have you some authority over the men camping under the walls, Graf?”
“Yes” Urs nodded “though only two companies are under my orders… Both are companies of spearmen and some of the finest to be found this far north… The remainder of the men is Italian crossbowmen and they have their own captain… I believe they may be responsible for most of the diseases spreading among the city’s whores.”
“Spearmen, you say?” Philippe inquired, interested.
“Yes, Swiss mountain men, the hardiest men you can find…” Urs said proudly. “We were until a few weeks ago in the employ of an Imperial Duke but with the turmoil you’ve sent the Reich into, he wouldn’t give us our pay for the next months so… We thought it was time to leave and seek employment elsewhere.”
“You may have to seek no further, Herr Graf… With the newly elected Kaiser running through Franconia, terrorizing the peasantry, seizing the crops and cattle or burning them, I may have soon need of some soldats professionnels. My scouts have reported that a lot of mounted knights ride with Maximilian’s army and I may have need of your men to tilt the balance in our favour… But are you man enough to take on Mandorf ?”
“Pfah… He’s nothing… Your own son has already taught him a lesson, he should have learned not to cross again into Your Majesty’s lands.”
“On this we already have an agreement, Herr Graf… One last thing you should know before you accept my offer of employment : if ever we ride against Maximilian, we will be clearly outnumbered and we will have to marshal our strength and our valour if we wish to succeed…”
“Expect no less from your Swiss spearmen, mon Roi…” Urs claimed, his eyes already glittering, whether from the lust for battle or the lust for gold was a question left unanswered to Philippe.
The Players :
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...deploy1098.jpg
The Battle :
The Score
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/.../score1098.jpg
Of all the Order knights, Eloi de Montferrat had proven the most valiant that day. Nearly 500 men were captured and release upon payment of 3232 florins to the King’s coffers.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ransom1098.jpg
Epilogue
In the wake of the battle, Philippe’s reputation among his men had grown.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...ilippe4cmd.jpg
News of the election of a new Emperor reached the camp.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...8/Election.jpg
Letters received by the King told him of the Polish King’s discontent over the latest developments. More confusing to Philippe was the letter from His Holiness in Rome, asking him to stop warring on the Reich or steps might be taken against France.
https://i231.photobucket.com/albums/...iploreport.jpg
1096, Battle of Bern
It was a fiendishly cold day. The mercenaries in Prince Louis' camp woke up early, and set to work stomping out their night fires and knocking the snow off their shields. They were just getting organized into squads when the morning scouting detail returned to camp, riding hard down the north road. Fifteen veteran mounted sergeants came to a stop just outside the Prince's tent. Two dismounted and ducked inside to deliver their report.
"It's just as you expected m'lord, they've cut us off from the northeast with a blocking force, the company at Bern has marched out from the east, and that noble has the bulk of the troops away to the north."
Louis nods in de Perrone's direction before speaking, "They're trying to protect the approach to Bern and execute an ambush against us at the same time, but now we can spring it against them instead. We're much more mobile than they realize, and we've no reason to defend this spot. We'll ride out and collect the scattered blocking forces first, then confront their general and his men. He'll be in a rush once he realizes we've cleared the way to his castle."
Christophe de Perrone grins at his Prince, following the line of his thoughts.
Louis continues, "Never wise to rush through the snow, eh? We'll scatter them, break them company by company, and ransom the prisoners. Little enough gold in sacking a German castle, I'd like to send more home to father before the weather turns too ugly to campaign, and Emperor Mandorf has every reason to pay having been ransomed himself once."
"Call in all the scouts, Hawk, and let's make ready to clear the road. I don't expect any more Germans today."
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As de Perrone departs the tent Prince Louis returns to his contemplation of the map, and takes a long drink from his wine cup. His brow furrows for a moment before he mutters to himself,
"We'll have to draw them past our camp to keep their infantry from holding the high ground. I should've planned for that... camped further east perhaps, but we'd risk a night sally from the castle... Well, once they've surrendered we'll simply retake it. There won't be time for any casual destruction and I'll remember it for the next campaign."
Pulling on his helm Louis exits the tent, already dreading having to mount his horse and endure that rediculous saddle once more.
Riding south out of camp de Perrone leads the infantry into position against the German spearmen who were sent to block the northeast approach to Bern. With no archers and no cavalry they pose no challenge, and de Perrone personally spits the company captain within moments of launching the engagement. None escape, although a significant number surrender.
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Per orders de Perrone doesn't sound his horns until after the battle has concluded. Within minutes the sound of marching men can be heard to the east and northwest, with the enemy to the east having been established by the scouts as just beyond a hillside. Prince Louis rides east over the hilltop to deal with them personally. With no spears and no support the company of foot knights is overrun in moments. Their captain throws down his sword in surrender, and disgust, as quickly as he is able. Louis sounds his horns as soon as the surrender is effected.
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The greater German force, under their noble general, marches onto the field from the north, emerging from a copse of trees to see French cavalry lounging around a field scattered with German dead, and French spearmen hustling a crowd of German prisoners into the woods to the east. Immediately they double their pace, attempting to close the gap with the French infantry. They make it about halfway across the field, just far enough for the lightly armored archers to open a wide gap between themselves and the slower spearmen, before Prince Louis leads his cavalry up and over the hill to their left. German archers flee across the face of their advancing allies in horror as French knights fall upon them.
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The German formation does not pause, their infantry abandon the archers, most of whom surrender to Prince Louis and de Perrone, to continue the pursuit of the French infantry towards the eastern trees. The German noble commands his cavalry to engage the French cavalry while attempting to organize his personal guardsmen to prevent charges to his infantry's rear. The light German cavalry routs immediately and is pursued off the field. Many of them surrender and are taken prisoner, but ten escape into the woods after the French mounted sergeants break off pursuit.
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Louis forms up his own guardsmen just up the slope from where the German knight is taking position. Christophe de Perrone stands to the Prince's left while the remaining cavalry move to reinforce the French infantry. There is a brief exchange of shouts in French, which the German noble speaks with a slight accent.
"I am Karl Courcy, Count of Bern and Lord of the lands which you now assail! Withdraw in peace and I pledge my observance of the Holy Father's demands for truce!"
"I am Prince Louis, Duke of Aquitaine and heir to the throne of Charlemagne. I ransomed your current Emperor to your last one, whom my father slew, and I have read the Pope's proclamation. He does not say we must avoid fighting, only that we must avoid sieges that place hardship on his flock. So, here we are, no need for a siege, yes?"
Louis issues a laugh which the wind sucks away before the German can hear it. He replies in a serious tone,
"The Emperor will set the Pope to right soon enough on this matter, but for today you are outnumbered, outclassed, your camp is taken, and you are unprepared for the winter. I say again, withdraw with honor! Go back to your father and tell him we wish to treat with him fairly for the return of our lands. No more good men need die today!"
Prince Louis mutters, 'enough talk' and draws his sword in answer before shouting,
"I piss on your dead, as I mean to piss on the flood of cowards who surrendered at the first taste of my steel! Tell your Emperor to shove his florins up his behind! I'm not done yet repaying the insult done to my father! You want me to leave? Come and make me if you've got a pair!"
The German bannerman doesn't wait for their general to respond, he leaps forward while Louis is still roaring out his challenge, taking the Frenchmen somewhat by surprise. The remaining enemy knights follow quickly.
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Almost immediately, however, de Perrone and his guardsmen ride in from the flank opposite the Prince. Louis presses forward, around to the rear of the German formation, and begins slaughtering his way through the densely packed melee as Evrart and Bertran guard his back. Five times Louis strikes down his foe, pressing himself heedlessly into groups of Germans and fighting two and three of the enemy knights at a time.
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At last the Germans attempt to withdraw and regroup, their numbers having been halved. Prince Louis strikes down one more foe as they pull away and leads the charge in pursuit, roaring out challenges and waving his sword menacingly.
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Soon the Germans are caught once more, and Louis wades in again, attempting to find Karl Courcy in the battle to engage him personally. Alas, Louis' guard are abruptly struck by one of their own tricks, as the small force of German light cavalry which was thought to have routed from the field returns and takes the Prince's men from behind.
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de Perrone shifts his own guard to confront them, and they are driven off quickly, but several of Louis' guardsmen are struck from behind and killed. One of the enemy's light cavalry survives to flee once again.
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Karl Courcy uses the distraction to withdraw his men from the melee once more, and gathers himself. Louis calls de Perrone over to speak with him for a moment before the engagement begins again,
"That last bastard slipped my guard and put a decent nick into one of my ribs before I gutted him. Bertran's mount was killed again too, so he's back there walking this way. This Courcy chap's a clever one, keeps drawing us into positions that let his smaller force hold a line. Let me and the lads hit 'em head on, break 'em open, and you come around behind," seeing de Perrone glance at the blood seeping from his armor Louis speaks sharply,
"No backtalk, I've had worse hunting boar and the lads are still hungry. Go on now!"
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As de Perrone rides away Courcy and his men turn in some haste and attempt to form up for a charge against the Prince's battered bodyguard. Karl has stood aside from most of the fighting, so his armor is whole and his sword arm still fresh. There's no question of his desire, he aims to kill the French Prince. The two companies of guardsmen are nearly equal in number, but Louis' men have been fighting all morning, and Louis himself is wounded. As the engagement begins Louis thrusts himself through the center of the German formation, killing one man and hacking the arm from a second, with Evrart desperately blocking blows meant for the Prince's back.
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Nearby the German infantry have come to grips with the French mercenaries. Though they have a substantial advantage of numbers, they utterly lack cavalry support. Moments after the mounted sergeant's charge crashes home the enemy infantry are in flight. Hundreds are captured.
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In the battle of the generals Louis has locked eyes on Karl Courcy and, ignoring all blows directed against him, is riding through the melee directly for the man. From behind Karl hears de Perrone's men begin their charge. With an audible quaver the German waves his sword at the Prince and screams,
"Gott in Himmel, kill him!"
Before turning to run.
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His guardsmen fight on for a few moments before turning to flee as well. Four of them escape.
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Louis is exhausted as he rides back to the copse of woods where the mercenaries have gathered the Germans who surrendered. Blood can be seen dripping down his left leg and leaving a faint trail in the snow. Remounts have been brought up for the wounded who can ride, and a detatchment is being organized to return to the camp, but all the men are weary of struggling through the snow. It takes two hours just to get the prisoners organized into nobles, soldiers, and peasants. A messenger is dispatched to Bern to treat with Karl Courcy. At last Louis permits his armor to be opened and his wound bound. During the binding he becomes light headed and fears to pass out, but maintains his demeanor in front of the men.
The soldiers are starting to relax, the remaining mounted sergeants are walking their horses north, towards the camp, when the messenger comes riding back in like a madman, screaming about something.
"They're coming! They're coming! My Prince, more Germans have marched down the north road! They've already overrun the camp, and that noble from Bern is at their head!"
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Louis' face is ashen as he assess his remaining strength. A grim look comes over his face,
"How many men? Infantry or cavalry? de Perrone get those bloody mercenaries on their feet!"
The messenger, a simple pageboy, shouts his reply,
"It's an army m'lord, I couldn't begin to count them all, hundreds and hundreds! They're just over the hill lord! We must away now!"
A muttering can be heard amongst the prisoners. They've not lost sight of the fact that they outnumber their captors three to one, and most of them barely fought. Louis can calculate how many of them understand French by how fast the rumors are spreading through the crowd. It's an idle distraction that turns his thoughts momentarily away from the grim matter at hand. A glance shows the mercenaries guarding the prisoners are hefting their spears with nasty looks on their faces.
"My Prince please! Let us away from this cursed place, the Germans spring from the ground like fairies! I don't want to die, oh Gods I don't want to die!"
The sound of a brutal slap carries across the camp. Even the muttering among the prisoners ceases for a moment. The page, lying on the ground, coughs weakly and spits blood into the snow. Louis' voice is merciless,
"Pick the fool up Bertran. You'll have to carry him across your horse for a bit I imagine."
Louis shakes his head,
"No use sending scouts now, somebody told them what to see already. Blood and fire!" Louis turns his head to the sky and screams his anger into it. It is a cry of boiling fury unleashed, and the mutters amongst the German prisoners cease at the sound of it. Evrart, standing behind his master, reaches out and touches his shoulder, causing Louis to jerk away and turn on his guardsmen, hand at sword hilt. Evrart lowers his eyes and shakes his head gently. Just as quickly as it came the rage drains out of Louis, and the Prince begins issuing orders,
"The camp will be abandoned, nothing we need there anyway. Get the sergeants out scouting to the south now. We withdraw."
Louis shakes his head before turning to speak quietly to de Perrone,
"My Hawk, the prisoners will have to be released. That's not going to please these mercenaries any, but there's nothing for it. March 'em up the hill over there and send them running away down it. They'll not turn back and run uphill to attack us barehanded, and it'll take Courcy a day to group them back up at least. Nor will he pursue too closely without their numbers at his back."
Raising his voice the Prince continues so all his men can hear,
"You won a great victory here today! None can take that from you. Walk from this field with your heads high knowing you are the finest fighting force in France today men! There are more battles waiting, more enemies ready for the slaughter, but for today we depart!"
:egypt:
Placeholder for the battle near Rambouillet, 1102
The Second Battle of Staufen, 1102
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Placeholder.
Placeholder for the first battle on English soil
*Steinbach-Hallenberg Mountain pass – Spring 1104*
Andreas sat on his horse and looked up at the mountain in front of them. Following reports that the Imperial army had formed up, with ballista support, at the very summit directly blocking the road Henri had ordered the Kings army to climb down the steep hill to the very bottom. Above them to the left the mountain’s ominous rocky outcrop blocked their view of the other army. On their right flank was dense forest.
“I don’t like this much my lord. We have refused any high ground and the easy travel of the road to the enemy. I am not sure either your father or your elder brother would have decided to take battle here.”
Henri ordered a crossbow unit forward on the right before answering his mentor.
“The enemy leave us little choice my friend. Even if we stayed on the road they have the ultimate summit of the mountain and still height over our men…besides we cannot manuveor or men effectively in such a narrow path. No better we stay here and work to our benefit.”
“..but how do you propose to..”
Andreas’ comment was cut off by Henri spurring his horse forward up the mountain. Andreas and the Royal Guard had to follow.
“My lord, what are we doing precisely?”
Henri smiled and turned to his old friend.
“This is as good as we’re going to get. We now have position. See to our right? That outcrop is impassable and the Germans will have to funnel down around it and between the forest on our left. I have positioned all our ranged units just around the corner from the outcropping meaning the enemy will only see our spearmen at the bottom of the hill until after they pass the outcrop…meaning?”
Henri paused for Andreas to catch up. Andreas continued as he understood.
“…meaning all our crossbows and bowmen will have a crossfire into the sides of anyone coming past!”
“Exactly, and the enemy has to walk a long way to get to us ultimately. If they want us not to just go around them, they have to take the fight to us.”
“So, my lord, what are we doing out of position?”
Henri and his body guard reached the summit
“We are the bait…see the Germans move, we shall disappear now..”
With that Henri reigned in his horse and turned about, trotting down the hill apace before turning deep into the forest. With urgency and quiet he address his men.
“We wait here until all the Germans have passed before we move or act…silence now”
The German army marched passed oblivious to Henri’s placement. As the bulk of them moved down the hill and passed the mountains outcrop the combined bolt and arrow force unleashed a deadly fusillade into the sides of the spearmen, archers and horsemen. Everytime they tried to reposition to face the incoming rain of death with their shields Henri’s spearmen at the bottom of the hill would also reposition to threaten their flank….they could not engage and were being cut down by deadly fire rapidly.
Henri saw his chance and signalled his men forward, now the entire enemy army was below them and some units had already started to break back up towards his now very elevated position. With a below Henri gave the order.
“For France, for King Phillip! Make this count my brothers! CHARRRGGGEEE!!”
They levelled lances and charged down the steep incline into the mass of fleeing men and crashed into the rear of unsuspecting horsemen, spearmen and archers.
At the bottom of the mountain two enemy militia spear units had managed to engage Henri’s mercenary spearmen.
……..
“English look out!”
The Englishman didn’t hesitate and dodged a clumsy blow from the militiaman before driving the ridge of his own shield up and into his assailants nose. He gave a cursory nod to his German captain before ploughing back into the fray.
The militiamen didn’t last long, outclassed by spear to the front and still being struck by bolt and arrow from behind. They started to run back up the hill.
“Hold the line! Hold the line!” the mercenary captain made sure his men redressed “Werez not been told ta be running up dat hill huh? We stay put ya!”
……………
The fleeing Germans struggled up the hill, rapidly getting exhausted but as the sun crested the mountain they were hit again by Henri’s own cavalry…full gallop, lances braced.
The final results were by then known. Henri spent the rest of the battle mopping up. His was the only cavalry unit and it was his duty to capture as many as possible. He returned with some 300 prisoners but by this time the mercenaries had rested arms and several even had braziers lit.
……………
*That same evening*
The messenger arrived, a dour look on his face, before handing the missive to Henri in his tent. Henri took the note, handing a silver coin to the courier before dismissing him and sitting at his camp table to read it.
He sighed.
“What say they my lord?”
“hmmm? Oh, sorry Andreas…they say no”
“Oh..”
“Indeed. I had hoped not only for some coin for our campaign but for the safety of all those men but it is not to be.”
He looked at Andreas…Andreas responded
“Leave this to me my Prince”
With that Andreas left the tent, he knew a certain German Mercenary Captain he could rely on for such a grim task…..
(OOC: due to no pictures I’ve tried to make this as descriptive as possible)
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
The thunder cracked in the skies of Champagne as a pouring rain beat down upon the earth. Thomas de Saint-Amand along with two spear militia companies had been marching for many miles to the southwest in order to track down the empire’s troops commanded by a Captain Hugo that were reported to be in the area.
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As they reached the vicinity where the enemy was to be found, Thomas discovered them high upon a hill, while his own men faced the prospect of a tiring upwards climb. Thomas was undaunted. This was to be his first test at fighting at the head of his troops and he would not be denied. He ordered his men to move to the left and begin the ascent. It was not an easy climb, and the driving rain only served to make the challenge more difficult.
After a considerable time had passed, the men of the royaume had accomplished the feat, but were not only soaked to the skin, but were extremely tired, almost to the point of exhaustion. Proceeding then towards the enemy, Thomas found two sergeant spear companies deployed to the front with a company of mounted sergeants behind them.
Thomas looked back at his spearmen. After such a march, what condition would they be in to fight when the time came? We must improve our chances, Thomas thought to himself. He ordered his bodyguard forward, slowly to the left now, in order to work his way around the enemy. Would they charge as soon as Thomas had distanced himself from his two militia companies? For a few tense minutes the adversaries eyed each other warily, yet the men of the Reich made no move. Most fortunate that these people make no move upon us, Thomas thought, as he soon found himself on the right flank of the mounted sergeants.
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Now was the moment, to the attack.
For France, for glory, charge!
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With that command, Thomas’ men tore into the mounted sergeants and for a fateful moment the German spearmen stood standing, watching the melee and not knowing quite what to do. If they turned to face Thomas, would they then be counter-charged from behind by the French spearmen? The left spear company acted first, beginning to take several steps towards Thomas. He adroitly maneuvered his guard back for a moment, and with that the German spears again hesitated, then returned back to where they stood before. Now was the time to finish off the mounted sergeants. Once again to the attack, and with a second charge, the mounted sergeants broke and began to run for safety.
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The remaining infantry companies were now on their own, facing the unsettling and imminent prospect of attack from opposite sides. The first company on the left finally decided to act. The Germans marched forward. Thomas’ spear militia companies responded immediately by charging head-on with one company and the other slightly to the left. The engagement was brief as the outnumbered men of the Reich began to falter. Sensing this, Thomas decided it was time to finish this fight. He charged his bodyguard into the back of the second company which staggered under the blows of the swords now raining down death upon them.
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The morale of the enemy was broken in short order, and they turned to flee. Thomas drove his men on, to finish the task they had set out to do. When it was over, the count was 144 prisoners, and word was sent out that a ransom would be offered to the Reich.
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When it was learned that no payment would be forthcoming, the prisoners were dispatched to God’s care.
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After the battle was over, it was acknowledged by many that Thomas had performed well indeed and had proven himself a promising general when on the attack.
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*Battle at Klingenthal – Summer 1104*
“They refuse to move my Lord”
The scout returned breathless from the forest ahead of them. Henri had positioned his men carefully a top a small hill outside the forest with a near perfectly clear killing ground between his spears and the forest edge for his archers and crossbowmen to cover.
“Curse this coward! He sits there and waits for me to err. It will not be so I say.”
“Erm..my Lord. The army carries the standard of the Kaiser.”
“What? Another one? You’d think these Germans would learn to leave their leaders safe behind castle walls tall and thick, than take the field against brave Frenchmen…ha!”
“Orders my lord?” Andreas watched Henri carefully.
“Keep my men here, lets see if we can spur this man into some action”
With that Henri marched his horse around the outer right edge of the forest. Much time passed, all the while Henri made sure his scout was in the edge of the forest watching for the enemy as they turned the circumference of the forest.
“He moves my lord but not much, seems he has spotted us but keeps his main forces still within the forest.”
Henri regarded the scout
“So, what forces does he move?”
“A troop of mailed horsemen my lord, seems they protect his left flank. They have moved to present to us.”
“Very well, we will have at them and see if we can stir the hornets nest no?”
They came round behind the Kaisers army, sure enough, a company of mailed knights had presented themselves directly to Henri but also refused to advance too far from the rear of the German army.
Henri raised his arm, and dropped it swiftly. No glorious chant to France or chivalry this time for he knew he faced great odds…alone…perhaps nearly a mile from his own forces and behind enemy lines.
The German knights refused to counter charge and stood firm to receive the French lances. However, outnumbered 2:1 Henri would not engage in a long melee.
“Retreat away, move South!”
With the command his men turned and fled, mailed knights in pursuit.
“They are catching us my lord!” Andreas was urgent in his voice
“WHEELLL!!”
Henri’s men turned and caught the German knights again briefly
“Withdraw!”
Again Henri disengaged but this time the Germans refused to chase them further.
“Pull up! Pull up!”
Henri’s men stopped and turned.
“Well scout, have we got them to move?” With that the scout rode into the forest again but returned swiftly.
“Nay my Lord, they still refuse to move. They have merely redressed their lines.”
“Bah!” Henri turns his horse and they march back to his army.
Henri approached his lines.
“My friends, my brothers. Before us stands the Kaiser himself! Yet he cowers, hiding in the woods. Do we let this stand!? Nay I say, let us flush this viper from his hiding place and crush him under hoof and boot!”
Cheers come from the gathered troops. Henri orders his men left around the forest, the opposite direction from where he came previously.
A small hill, over looking the rear of the German forces…Henri advances his troops after their long walk atop this hill. His archers and crossbowmen move over the crest and start loosing on the Germans.
“Steady men, steady”. Henri’s main force waits just beyond the crest of the hill.
The Germans advance in force…there is a very great number of them and five times more cavalry. Henri bellows out.
“We must hold! HOLD!!” His own horses he knows need rest, exhausted already by trying to tempt the Kaiser from the forest…he waits his time whilst the clash of steel echoes about.
One of the crossbow units, Frenchmen not mercenaries, flees the field after being caught by a unit of light cavalry. Henri manages to free up a unit of spears to intercept the cavalry though and they break off the pursuit.
Henri spots his chance. The main lines have engaged but the Germans hold back two units of horse, the mailed knights and the Kaisers own self…Henri charges down hill into a unit of German archers. They break immediately and though Henri pursues them he breaks this off swiftly to charge the rear of one of the German spear units already engaged with his own on the hill.
They too break and start running, Henri does not chase them though this time.
“The rest, the others!”
Spurring his horse on he now flanks and rear charges the next engaged German spears. They too flee and again, tired Henri does not give chase.
Instead he runs in front of his own spears to halt them.
“Hold my men! Hold! Archers?!”
His men keep their lofty location as the remaining archers and crossbow unit march forward again. Both have been engaged in hand to hand combat but their numbers are still high.
The remaining Germans, three companies of spears, a depleted archer company and the two remaining cavalry units return to their original positions at the bottom of the small hill.
“LOOSE!” Bolts and arrows fly. A lengthy duel starts which the German archery company sorely lose and again flee..Henri again catches them on his left flank as they flee and returns to his own lines bloodied again.
Unopposed the crossbowmen and archers take a terrible toll on the Germans below. The Kaiser however, refuses to leave the field and refuses to expose his flank to the French by withdrawing. Instead they stand, shoulder to shoulder and take the fusillade.
Eventually the supply of bolts and arrows has been completely expended but there is no German forces to speak of.
Henri looks saddened.
“Andreas, he should have retired or at least surrendered.”
“My lord, hindsight would have it so but when he saw all was lost perhaps his pride was too great?”
“A sad day perhaps. It has cost us much…” Henri looks back at his depleted forces “…but not so much as we cannot continue. Sound the advance!”
The French advance down hill and finish the day. The Kaiser himself was found after the battle with many crossbow bolts in his body…along with his whole body guard who had all stood there on their steeds and taken everything thrown at them…they never ran but nor did they actually fight. They died a sorry death indeed.
1104, Maurading Moors near Marseille
Mud again. Louis shook his head and watched the recruits picking their way through it. What was it about approaching Marseille with raw soldiers that invited God to open the heavens and send forth such floods? No matter, thought Louis, the infidels will fall anyway.
Prince Louis and his army had been in pursuit of the Moors since spotting them in Iberia, and yet the enemy had marched like their God had given them wings! Despite leading a force of all cavalry at the demanding pace he always set Louis and his men had barely caught the infidels before they could reach Marseille, and only that by riding all night. Unfortunately they had caught up to the enemy just as they crossed the Rhône. In the dim light of early morning Louis could just see their supply train mired in the mud of the uphill bank across the river.
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Nothing for it, he thought, we'll have to cut our way across. Best case we sound the horns and they send something to try to hold this side, but it'll still come down to an assault. Hope these fresh faced lads are up for it, hate to have to fight my way through alone.
Gesturing at his page Louis grunted, "Sound the horns. Let 'em know we're coming. Bannerman! Heft that sun nice and high, let them know a Prince of the Franks has come to answer their affront!"
Even as the last echo of the horn blasts rolled back across the river the enemy's fast horsebowmen raced back across the bridge. Louis calmly directed his cavalry to encircle the bridgehead. The Moors rushed forward to fire their bows at the Prince's personal guards beneath the sun banner, neglecting all common sense. They were crushed between dual shattering charges as Toulouse's latest companies of mounted sergeants tasted first blood.
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Behind the evaporating screen of the Moorish light horse their infantry were crossing the bridge. Louis commanded his Mounted Sergeants to withdraw back into the encirclement formation and resume waiting. The heathen infantry was badly organized and crossing in a messy jumble. The Prince joked with his entourage while the enemy sorted themselves out, picking out targets and calling jibes to his newest replacement guardsmen. When the Moorish archers finally pressed forward and began to draw their bows silence fell among the French ranks.
At a gesture lances were lowered and visors flipped into place.
At the first twang of the enemy bows the French cavalry leapt forward, hundreds of horse descending on the hapless foe from all side, with Louis at their head.
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Not one foot soldier made it back across the bridge. Most of them surrended within sight of their Sultan as he hesitated halfway across the bridge.
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Louis rapidly drew up his guardsmen and called out a challenge. No answer came back, as the two Moorish generals and their guardsmen were still dressing their lines, so the Prince's men began to walk slowly onto the bridge. Louis issued orders in a relaxed, confident tone as they approached the center of the bridge,
"Stay close to me. This fool considers himself a King, I assure you he will not wish to die today. I will carve a path straight to him. Either he will fall or he will flee, and the bridge will be ours!"
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Roaring their battle cries the Franks tore forward into the ranks of the enemy, who still stood in some disarray. The Sultan's guard abandoned their allies as the weight of French cavalry behind Louis' men began to press.
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Immediately the Moors still in the fight began to surrender. Seeing this the Sultan turned his men about and began to form them up for a charge, which caused Louis to withdraw his men from the melee. As soon as the Sultan's men made their charge the Prince's guard made another behind them.
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Louis pressed hard, shouldering aside Moorish soldiers with his steed and bellowing out challenges to the Sultan.
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Nearly surrounded by the enemy the Prince laid about himself freely, his back guarded as always by Evrart and Bertin, and soon cleared enough space to spot his foe edging away from the furious Frankish attack. Levelling his sword at the Sultan Louis' voice burst forth with the volume of an angry angel,
"Face me! Come to me! For France my brothers, cast the invader down!"
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Terror rippled across the features of the Sultan of the Moors, and with his remaining guardsmen at his side he turned to flee the battle. Sergeants soon ran him down and brought him to heel.
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It took weeks to negotiate the ransom during which Louis, camped near the Marseille docks, frequently brought the Sultan to visit him in his tent. The man would be brought in, pushed to his knees on the ground, and made to watch as Louis spoke with various minor functionaries from Marseilles or Toulouse. Nothing was translated for him, and at no time was he addressed, it simply amused the Prince to have a foreign king at his disposal. The enemy's weapons and armor we left piled by the riverside to rust in the rain and mud. When the Sultan's ransom was finally paid and he sailed away on a ship the Franks stood at the dock and jeered.
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Placeholder for the battle of Mercia, 1105
EDIT : Promise I'll be doing a bit of pic editing and writing, lest I be called King of Placeholders :clown:
Placeholder for the Battle of Pamplona Fields
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On the Brandenburg Bridge over the Elbe, they waited. The enemy was now on the move in two groups. Captain Gottfried with over 800 men planned to storm across and route the smaller force of militia and some four dozen crossbows. Should he encounter any more than slight resistance, Captain Michael with nearly 400 more soldiers would be behind them and ultimately serve to break their foe.
But Thomas was no ordinary foe. His men were nervous at the prospect of facing so many well armed soldiers, but their commander while relatively young was still a veteran of several battles and so there was reason for confidence. Besides, if they were to withdraw, was there a better position from which to defend? It seemed hardly likely.
And so they braced themselves for the bitter fighting they knew lay ahead. The spearmen were packed in front of their side of the bridge. Here they would hold for dear life while crossbows laid into the Germans from the flank.
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The enemy vanguard approached the far side of the bridge. And with their approach the Frankish militia made ready.
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Gottfried challenged his men to seize the day and smash the rabble before him. The bridge began to shake as the clatter of boots grew ever louder.
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Hundreds of men were now upon the bridge, groaning under the weight of the well armed German infantry.
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Sheer weight of numbers caused the Frankish soldiers to yield some, but for every foot forward, more of Gottfried’s men fell to earth. Now is the time to test our mettle once more, thought Thomas.
To the attack! Now charge!
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Hacking and slashing at their foe, Thomas and his men began to turn the tide of the enemy’s advance.
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The German archers were the first to panic as their better armed spears fell in greater numbers. In a matter of moments, three of their companies were in mortal fear for their lives. Then within sight of all, Captain Gottfried was unhorsed, and quickly grabbed by the neck. A prisoner now was he.
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But for how long? For now the second wave approached under Captain Michel.
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Thomas was undeterred. “This new enemy is only half the strength of our first opponent, this one will be twice as easy to rout!” cried Thomas.
He drove his men on. “Now break them!” And as if by those words alone, terror now came upon the bloodied Germans, facing spear, arrow and horse. They quickly lost heart for fighting.
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The day was fairly won and the fighting done now, but not the pursuit.
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Prisoners fell by dozens, the enemy archers in full flight running for the imagined safety of their rear.
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In the waning moments of battle, the last few pitiful archers were run down by Thomas
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And when it was over, the heroism and valor of these warriors could scarce be denied.
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As for Thomas, he and his men counted over four hundred killed or captured. A fine day’s work.
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Placeholder for the battle of Sherwood Forest, 1107
Placeholder for the battle of Nottingham, 1108
1108: Shrewsburry-upon-Tyne:
Llewellyn spat through a gap in his teeth, a dark glint in his eyes: "That's some bloody fine English blokes you got there, M'lord. Some bloody fine English blokes. They're more than you, they're better armed than you, they're better armed than my lads for sure. It's gonna be a bloody battle I tell you that."
"Don't worry Mister Bowen. Just stand your ground." Turning away from the Welsh Mercenary Captain Simon speaks to an Armoured Frenchman. "Ludovic, I'm counting on you to hold the line. Your Sergeants will be the main line. Use the Welsh as you see fit, but remember that you have to hold the line at all costs. I will take our Knights and try to meet with Prince John."
Ludovic nods with a precies movement of his head. He was a veteran of many battles and had fought under the Kings command throughout the recent campaign in England. He had seen the men of the Order fight alongside the King, but this was the first time they were actually in charge. And if it weren't for their heavily armoured bodyguards the fight would be very hard indeed.
"Oh I'm not worried" Llewellyn put in. "The more that come, the more will die on our spears!"
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The snow covered the countryside like a blanket, only broken by the trees of the forest ahead of him and of course the banners flying from the English lines. They had set up with their backs to one of the forest. Sighing to himself Simon spurs his horse onward. As one the company of Order Knights begins to move. They are all beside him, Hermant Mauvoisin to his right and Alexandre le Sueur with Robert Bouchart behind him.
Simon was riding to the right of his men, which had formed up a staggered line. The front was made up of Spearmen in Shiltron formation while the men behind stood ready for a countercharge.
"Prince John! Prince Henry! Show yourself to battle!" Shouting at the top of his lung Simon rode on, his cavalry slowly passing the English battle line behind which Prince John and his Cavalry were assembled. "Show yourself to battle!" A loud cracking noise broke the silence as a hail of crossbow bolts smashed into Simons bodyguard. Luckily most flew too short but the whinnying of horses told of the hits and one of the Knights was holding his side were blood was pouring through his mail. "Return to the baggage train Brother Jean. It looks like Prince John is hiding behind his soldiers. Let's see if we can bring him out. For Victory, for France!"
Digging in his heels Simon started his charge towards the English line. After the second charge against the Feudal Foot Knights making up their left flank, Prince John finally ordered his cavalry to intercede.
Along with his cousin Henry and half of his Feudal Knights close to a hundred armoured cavalry bore down on the Order company. Forming up their ranks from the last charge they rode against the English. While the English infantry moved towards the French main line, supported by the rest of their Feudal Knights, it was clear that the battle would be decided here.
Patches of snow and dirt flew up as the heavy horses ploughed through the hard ground. Soon the air was filled with the ringing of steel against steel and the shouts of men and horses alike. Simon turned his horse around wildly trying to get the room for one charge, then another, and another, before he was finally bogged down in hand to hand combat, completely cut off from the rest of his retinue.
He turned to his first foe but soon saw himself beset by two Englishmen, his sword arm already tiring. Suddenly the sound of hooves was all around him and he could make out the screams of "Saint Denis!" and "Fleur de Lys!" Several French crashed into the English driving them off decisively. Looking around for his saviour Simon spots Robert Bouchart who has led three of his followers in the charge. "Well done Brother Robert! It's time to find Prince John, who knows how long the Infantry will hold." "I have seen him that way Brother Simon, follow me." Spurring their horses along Simon and Robert made their way back into the thick of battle where Prince John was surrounded by his closest followers.
As he sees the French approaching he raises his lance and points it directly at Robert, readying for a charge. Recognizing the challenge Robert readies his horse and rides forward to meet with Prince John in a deadly clash of steel between the two parties. The impact is brutal and for a second both parties seem stopped dead in their track. Only slowly Simon realizes what happened. Boucharts lance while ripping into the left arm of Prince John was caught between Johns shield and armour, while the Princes lance had neatly slipped in the crack between breastplate and helmet, frontally impaling Robert who slumped dead from his horse.
Without hesitation Simon points his lance at the Prince and charges forward. The acknowledgement from the Prince comes hesitant and with his left arm crippled his defense is too low and can not prevent him from sharing the same fate as Robert Bouchart!
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The English General is defeated and the news spreads through the ranks just as the two main lines clash on the horizon.
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The countercharge is swift and brutal. Bogged down and disorganized by the Shiltrons the enemy is easy picking for the Welsh and French Spearmen. And once the outcome of the cavalry clash becomes clear the English quickly throw down their arms in surrender.
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Wiping the blood from his face where the splinters of a lance had penetrated his visor and scorched his left cheek Simon turns to his infantry commanders. "Mister Bowen, Ludovic you did your job forimdably. You held true until Prince John was defeated. I hear his brother escaped but he refuses to pay ransom for his men. Ludovic release those of noble blood, Mister Bowen take care of the rest!"
Llewellyn spat through a gap in his teeth, a dark gleam in his eyes.
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At a place not far from Magdeburg alone on a barren hill stood Brandenburg Kirche (Church). Here was a battle to take a place on terrain far different from that where Thomas last tasted victoire. Here there was no bridge on which to contain the enemy; it would be battle upon the open field. Almost certainly the weight of numbers would press the stout men under Baron de Saint-Amand more than the last fight, though the Germans here were in fewer numbers.
Thomas deployed what was half a crossbow company to his front, with his own bodyguard positioned directly behind them.
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The start of the fighting was a curious spectacle and was harmless enough. Young Captain Godwine of the Reich marched his reduced infantry company alone, into the hail of fire from the crossbows. Did he truely expect to rout his opponent single-handed? The arrogant German charged his men forward, only to be counter-charged by Thomas. It was not long before poor Godwine found himself alone, his men having fled or consumed in the melee.
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But while the one foolish captain was floundering, the other was far more capable, bent on breaking the numerically smaller Frankish force. Storming down from the hill, the Germans crashed down on the Frankish militia.
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Thomas turned to meet them, but the wily Captain Hans had a trick up his sleeve. He had sent horsemen around from the other side of the church and threatened to fall upon the exposed flank of Thomas. Now a decision had to be made. Where should the Baron position himself? Could the spear milita hold on their own while he dealt with this latest threat? Saint-Amand knew he had no choice. His militia must hold.
“Stand your ground, brave men of the Royaume! They will break upon your wall as a wave upon a rock. Now hold!”
Thomas led his men at full gallop against the German horsemen. Falling upon them, this separate fight was somewhat short. It had to be; Thomas knew he had to bolster the militia before long.
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This small German group began to scattered in disarray, but now a new quandary. The fighting was taking Thomas back, away from his milita and worse, his crossbowmen had separated themselves to the point where they were to the rear and at the mercy of a few enemy horsemen who had managed to somehow rally and re-form. Again a choice, likely lose the crossbows or risk the militia. An easier choice to be sure, the battle would be won or lost depending on whether the spearmen held. Thomas left the merenaries to their fate, turning his men and speeding back to his line of infantry.
And hold they did. The Germans indeed broke against the shields of Lorraine’s men.
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As one would expect, with the infantry broken, the archers were taking to their heels in short order, with Thomas once again in pursuit. The outcome was indeed resolved.
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Again a victory, but at a cost. His crossbowmen had been felled and the militia sorely bloodied.
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The tally for the day was another haul of German archers for the Baron of Franconia.
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A reward of 1458 florins were to be reaped if the Kaiser would pay the price.
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And indeed, the coffers of the Reich were soon depleted by that amount.
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His third battle at the head of his troops meant another defeat for the empire he had long fought, but the loss to his own men made the victory a bittersweet one for Thomas.
Botersheim Forest – 1108 Summer
*Extracted from the Diary of Prince Henri*
It appeared that Magdeberg had nearly completely emptied and the significant army moved West where we intercepted it at a small village called Botersheim. Mainly forest with a small hill with a windmill on top in the centre of the woodland.
My army, such as it was, was arrayed outside the forest on a low ridge overlooking the tree-line. Under my command were three companies of spears…two of them mercenary…and two ranged companies.
We spotted the enemy far from us, partly hidden in the woodland and their number was significant. I sent my scouts forward to investigate and report and his report was unsettling. The enemy outnumbered us at least 2:1 but their companies contained only archers, crossbowmen and horse!! My main concern was the horse companies, five of them, as we would not be able to withstand a concerted charge from all of those horses. In horse alone they out numbered us!
I advanced my own ranged units, one of archers and one of crossbowmen, forward to investigate the centre of the enemy line. I hoped they would be partially shielded by the windmill and small hill. My mistake was that they were not and immediately the night sky lit up with fire…such was the fusillade that briefly night turned to day. They, obviously, retreated in the face of such fury but not before suffering casualties.
I had to deal with the cavalry threat however. I knew full well that my spearmen would best any archer or crossbowman if they could get within fighting range and I could send them through the forest to do that…but the cavalry would destroy them from the flanks first, which I could not allow.
I set forth with my bodyguard alone once more. We moved out to our left flank, away from the forest and struck at one company of mounted sergeants. After a brief melee they fled, I did not pursue as there was still much work ahead of us. Down the enemies right flank we ranged and managed to defeat four companies of horse! Mounted Sergeants and Mailed Knights fell to my bodyguard but our numbers dwindled swiftly and once there was but five of my guard left I decided we had done all we could to balance the field.
I returned to my lines and ordered the advance on the enemies left flank. My companies advanced from our right, through the forest which provided cover from virtually all arrows and bolts and hit their lines of archers. The melee was swift but decisive. My men prevailed but we worked hard into the night to ensure we captured or killed as many as possible.
Our losses were high still however and I am left with but two near full companies of spear and one half company of archers. Unfortunately both my archers and crossbowmen were caught by two companies of horse in the battle but they defended themselves well enough, however, the crossbowmen lost nearly all their number.
A ransom for 1330 was again refused but those that fled successfully, for we were all exhausted, fled to Hamburg. We march now to that Castle.
Brief Placeholder for the Second Battle of Bern.
Placeholder for the Battle of Nottingham, 1111
Raoul, Lord of Berne surveyed the men under his command. A good number of archers and a good number of mounted men. He preferred having some infantry to fall back on, but it was not to be. He looked to the young Sieur Chretien sitting his horse beside him.
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Just then an archer shouted down from the walls:
"They are retreating my Lord, in a disorganized clump!"
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Raoul went with his first instictive thought: Charge! The first to be overrun by the French cavalry were the Imperial ballista crew, cut down to the man. Meanwhile, the main force had attempted to reform and tried to keep the French knights at bay with crossbow fire. Again, an instictive thought, again action.
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The Imperial crossbows were silenced. Now it was the Bernese turn to open fire. The archers, removed from the walls and augmented by a small force of spearmen, opened fire on the Imperial host. The response was rapid: Two companies of Imperial knights came charging. The first was warded off by the French cavalry and a deadly melee ensued, but the second got through to the archers, who fled in terror. Eventually, Sieur Chretien led his knights into the back of this dangerous foe and drove off the remaining Imperial cavalry.
The remaining imerpials stood no chance. Thrice they charged across the open ground towards the French archers, only to be repulsed by arrows and harried at their flanks by the Raoul, Chretien and their knights. Eventually, the last of them broke and fled, only to be cut down or captured as they ran.
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Offers for a ransom were rejected, the remaining Imperial soldiers were rounded up and killed.
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Battle of Frankfurt – account dictated by Duncan De Gant, late of the village of Leeds in England.
The enemy had been well scouted before hand by Prince Henri so it was well known to us that the German force was not only one of the largest we had seen but also certainly the most professionally trained and well armed.
Duke Thomas Saint-Amande, Duke of Lorraine and the Prince had gathered as much fighting force that the Duchy could provide and centred them on Frankfurt. Indeed most of the men armed with Spears had been born in Frankfurt, however, mostly they were Militia men, armed laymen of the parish rather than the professional soldiers who were arrayed before us outside the walls.
Along with the Prince and the Duke, the Princes’ vassal Baron André des Vaux and his bodyguard were with us. In all, our numbers matched those of the enemy although we were significantly lacking in the arms and quality of the men themselves. Word had also reached us that re-enforcements lead by a Chevalier named Villain de la Salle could also join us.
The Duke thought of a plan which was simple and used our strength over the Germans…our Royal cavalry.
We exited the city gates in full view of the enemy who redressed themselves further from the walls where we had our crossbowmen arrayed. This gave us time to ensure our militia spearmen were in formation. The Duke and Baron took one unit of mailed cavalry and moved to our right flank whilst the Prince took the remaining company of mailed cavalry and the armoured knights out to our left.
It was clear initially that the enemies own cavalry showed themselves more to our left flank so the Prince called for support from the crossbowmen we had on our walls. Our lines dressed and ready we started taking incoming bolts from enemy pavise crossbowmen who had moved ahead of their lines to harass us. The Prince charged them with all his companies and they were routed, he returned to our lines. The Duke took his companies of horse wider right and headed up the hill that the enemy sat at the base of, they took some fire from more crossbows but found combat with one enemy company of armoured knights whom they defeated with ease.
Again Henri moved ahead of our infantry intent on teasing out some more of the enemy mounted knights. This plan did work and we found ourselves engaged with at least one of their companies, perhaps two. I do not how it happened but one company managed to bypass us and engaged our crossbowmen who fled and were cut down before we could wheel and defend them. They were avenged however and soon the enemy had no horse to speak of. The Dukes own companies of horse continued to harrie the rear of the enemy force but soon it was time to signal a general advance.
In good order our militia men and the two companies of mercenaries advanced on the enemy. The Duke again charged down hill and destroyed a company of pavise crossbowmen who were harassing our advance before proceeding up hill again to the rear of the German army.
The Prince followed suit but on our left flank, advancing up hill behind the enemy formation.
Soon dreadful melee was engaged along the front lines. We, I mean, the Prince, would send our companies down hill into the enemy formations again and again, however, two companies of pavise crossbowmen remained in the centre of the enemy, well protected by foot-knights. These would assail us with bolts each time we tarried in melee for even a moment…no heed was held for their own casualties and they would loose directly into the mix of German and French horsemen without hesitation.
It was after one such engagement that I saw the Duke fall from his horse. The Prince and the Dukes companies had engaged into the rear of one company of foot-knights in the centre of the enemy force…again we were assailed by crossbow bolts from all sides but we showed no fear. All our companies redressed as one to gain high ground again and upon exiting melee I saw the Duke hit by several bolts to his body and fall from his horse. I gave the news to the Prince as we gained the high ground again but he seemed only intent on finishing the battle. Two or three more times all our companies fell upon the enemy from upon high before they finally broke and ran. Shortly after dispatching half their number it was clear we had also only half our men remaining too.
We captured upwards of 400 Germans. The Prince finally realised upon the Dukes death and was stricken by a grief I have not seen before, such was his anger that he killed one captive and myself and other retainers had to restrain him and remove him from the field of battle for the safety of others.
Baron André des Vaux was given charge of the enemy captives and attained a reasonable ransom for their small number. I heard that the enemy regrouped and withdrew to Nuremburg. Many of us said this was a heroic victory but the Prince did feel neither Heroic or Victorious with the Dukes death, nor was he happy that so many of us had perished during the fight either…I myself take solis from the fact that God has spared me this day and that despite the fact the enemy were far better armed and trained than our own men of Frankfurt we did best them and kill at least 2 to every 1 of us. I heard later that our re-enforcements arrived but only after the battle had just about turned in our favour and they did little if any fighting…pity perhaps but they remain largely un-touched and can pursue the enemy now in our stead.