Pics & History of your Empire

[bamff]

Nice work, Caravel and Innocentius!

I'm looking forward to the next instalments of both campaigns...

In the meantime, my good sirs, I will offer my own latest chapter in the ongoing saga of my English campaign...apologies in advance - it is a little wordy (yet again)...I may have to change my name to "Bamff the Loquacious"

The Chronicles of Bamff’s English

Chapter 12 – King Henry II (1350 - 1365)
Having ascended to the throne in 1348 upon the death of his beloved father Alfred, King Henry II was most anxious to make his own mark on the world. He had taken advantage of the peace that blessed his kingdom in the early part of his reign to continue the military and economic build up of his kingdom. Whilst it was true that England was still technically at war with Egypt and the Holy Roman Empire, neither of these factions held enough lands, nor possessed enough troops to pose any threat to a leviathan such as England had become, and the rulers of both nations were astute enough to know that maintaining a low profile was their best hope of survival.
For his own part, King Henry regarded Byzantium as the greatest potential thorn in the side of the English Lion. True, the Byzantines had only recently succeeded in the reunification of their empire. True, their empire was still somewhat scattered across the European map, with several provinces so isolated as to make communication within the empire problematic at best. Henry was acutely aware, however, that Byzantium had been at war with England just prior to the collapse of the eastern kingdom. He was also aware that since the Byzantine collapse, England had occupied a number of territories that the Byzantines regarded as their own.
With this potential threat ever present in his thinking, Henry set about presenting a smiling and friendly public face to the Byzantines, whilst secretly transferring troops to regions that may soon come under attack from this burgeoning nation.
Sure enough, in the year 1355, the Byzantines broke the uneasy truce, with Romanus Prvovencani leading an impressively large army south into the now English province of Greece. It is time for Sir Nicephorus Cerlularius to prove his worth to his adopted nation. His defending force are outnumbered, but Henry remains confident – his father was an astute judge of tactical ability, and he spoke most highly of Cerularius’ skill in that regard.
The Byzantines enjoy a significant advantage in terms of numbers, however it is their technical advantage that Prvovencani believes will win the day. Included in his forces are significant numbers of arquebusiers and hand gunners. These weapons are known to induce terror in the ranks of enemy troops. Sadly for Prvovencani, he has neglected to note that neither of his wonder weapons is nearly so long ranged as a longbow or an arbalest; nor do these gunpowder units fare particularly well against cavalry charges. A great many of his gunners, together with many of his cavalry and other troops lie dead before they even come close to the English line. As a Byzantine himself, Cerularius is well versed in the use of mounted archers, and two regiments of Turcopoles add considerably to the mayhem of the enemy lines. Too late, Prvovencani realises that all is lost, and attempts to flee the field – but by this time, what is left of his army is not only facing annhiliation from billmen, varangian guards, and Cerularius’ kataphraktoi to their front, but they are also under attack in the rear from English knights, gallowglasses, and highland clansmen that have now encircled them.
Prvovencani is not fleet enough to escape capture. Greece is saved, and Sir Nicephorus Cerlularius is celebrated throughout England. As it happens, both victor and vanquished are destined to perish in the following year. Cerularius succumbed to a serious infection to wounds suffered in the battle for Greece. His experience had served him well against the Byzantines, but this experience had been bought over many years, and his advancing years did not serve him well in his fight against fever. Prvovencani was to perish in the English dungeons in Athens. With no ransom money forthcoming, this follower of the false cross was summarily garrotted. The parallels of the demise of these two men perhaps underlines the old adage that nobody wins a war.
With the Byzantines tipping their hand by declaring war, Henry now springs to action. England’s long time ally, the Pope, offers his blessing of Henry’s proposed crusade against the Byzantines in Saxony. The English army duly sails from Palestine to Naples.
By 1360, the crusaders have travelled as far north as Bohemia, passing through Venice and Austria after leaving Naples. The force has now mushroomed to almost 3,000 men strong. King Henry is all too aware that the Sicilians, the Germans, and the Poles were not pleased to welcome the crusaders to their lands (Naples, Austria, and Bohemia respectively), however none of these nations dares challenge the passage of this holy army. Henry also notes, somewhat wryly, that all three of these nations have added many troops to the crusade, in a feeble attempt to extract some measure of glory of their own from Henry’s bold venture.
Indeed, so many Sicilian troops joined the crusade against Saxony, that the garrison of Naples finds itself severely depleted – so much so, that this province became all too tempting a target for Doge Vitale IV of Italy. The Italian forces land in Naples in 1361. King Alexander of Sicily (known throughout England as “the Stuart pretender to the Sicilian crown”) is sorely outnumbered, and flees o’er the sea to Malta, after briefly considering Skye.
Don William Sismondi is left to defend Naples castle. The Don and his men cannot hope to hold off the Italians for long – they are cruelly short on supplies, and have no hope of the siege being relieved by their Sicilian countrymen. The castle duly falls to the Italians in 1362.
1362 is also the year in which the English crusade finally reaches its target province. The Byzantine commander in Saxony is Lord Prvovencani. Long has this man harboured a deep hatred of the English, and those fires were lent extra fuel with the defeat and subsequent execution of his brother Romanus in Greece. He is anxious to restore the name of Prvovencani, and to strike a blow against the English at the same time. Sir Richard Burnell leads the English force. Whilst not so skilled a general as Prvovencani, Burnell draws solace from the numerical superiority of his troops – he believes that with almost 4,500 men, he has enough to secure a resounding victory.
As the battle unfolds, it is Prvovencani’s inspired use of the terrain, and Burnell’s impetuous nature that prove the decisive factors. With his men forced to march a great distance before joining battle, they are already exhausted when the breakthrough is achieved. Ignoring this, Burnell urges them to pursue the Byzantine units – and the utterly exhausted Englishmen charge headlong into a second Byzantine force advancing to reinforce Prvovencani. With his men too tired to offer any resistance to this onslaught, Burnell watches in impotent fury as unit after unit breaks and flees from his side. What little resistance remains dissipates immediately as Burnell is thrown from his steed and is summarily hacked to pieces by Varangian guardsmen.
Prvovencani has secured a victory – although it is somewhat pyrrhic. Over 2,000 of his men perished (some 300 odd were prisoners executed by the English when the battle turned). English losses on the day were only 1,018….and the neighbouring English held provinces of Friesland and Franconia would more than make good these losses. As such, Henry is unperturbed by news of the defeat. He is confident that ultimately victory will be his. This indeed proves to be the case in 1363, as the crusaders once again cross into Saxony. This time Prvovencani does not have suffient forces to mount a credible defence. Nonetheless, the proud Byzantine general doggedly vows to fight to the death if need be. The crusaders duly oblige him, and Byzantium mourns the loss of a great general. Byzantium has also lost the province of Saxony. While it is true that some defenders remain under siege, the Emperor is well aware that he does not have any means of relieving the English siege.
Inspired by the English defeat in Saxony, Doge Vitale IV orders Don Anselmo Salviati to take an Italian force south to invade Sicily. Salviati has gathered a very large army indeed, and all are seasoned veterans of the Neapolitan campaign. Lord Langton’s defending army are outnumbered almost 2 to 1, but Langton is a skilled defender.
The English make great use of the mountainous terrain in northern Sicily, positioning themselves atop a reasonably steep sided hillock. Langton positions his Turcopoles on a nearby hill, away from his main force. The Italians will be faced with the option of a steep climb to go over this secondary hill, or to travel through the valley below to reach the English main force.
Don Anselmo Salviati chooses the low road for his troops. As the near the valley, the first volley of arrows loosed by the Turcopoles rains down on them. Several more volleys follow in quick succession. Two regiments of chivalric sergeants break from the main Italian force to charge uphill to the Turcopoles’ position. Their heavy armour and the steepness of the slope make this assault hard going indeed. As they make their way up the slope, the Turcopoles offer no respite, and by the time these two regiments are only half way to their target, one regiment has been reduced to 81 men, and the other to 79.
Meanwhile, Salviati’s main force has come within range of the English archers in Langton’s main force. These Italians soon find themselves not only having to climb a steep slope, as the fast mounting casualties soon force them to clamber over their own fallen comrades. Those Italians that survive to reach the summit find themselves facing fresh units of billmen and chivalric footknights, and these Englishmen make short work of their tired counterparts. Sir Charles Greystoke and his footknights cut a veritable swathe through the Italian ranks. Salviati flees the field, followed by those of his men that survive. 774 Italians have perished and 76 have fallen into captivity. English losses number only 86.
Notwithstanding Langton’s minimal losses, King Henry quickly despatches reinforcements to bolster his general’s victorious army. Henry does not believe that the Italians will be so easily dissuaded by this initial setback.
Henry is ultimately proven right in 1364, as once again Don Anselmo Salviati sweeps south at the head of a large Italian army. As was the case with the preceding conflict, Langton chooses a hilltop from which to meet his numerically superior adversary. Salviati again doggedly persists with a clumsy frontal assault, succeeding in little more than providing archery practice for the English. On this occasion, however, the Italian general is not so fortunate as he had been in 1363, and like most of his men, the Sicilian countryside is to be his final resting place. As the dust of battle clears, it is immediately apparent that the English were in greater danger of running out of arrows than they were of defeat. 1,452 Italian corpses are strewn across the field. 38 shocked and broken men are prisoners. The small number of prisoners speak volumes for how few Italians actually joined combat with the English, as do the English losses of only 121 men.
In the very same year as this battle unfolded in Sicily, trouble arrives from an unexpected quarter, as King Wladyslaw III of Poland leads an impressively large army west into Franconia. Lord Fitzalan is outnumbered, but nonetheless confident of victory. The English front line is provided by the pikemen of Sir Walter Curthose, Sir Jasper Swynford, and Sir Hubert Langton. These units were raised in the Tyrol regions, and while none of them has yet seen battle, they are superbly disciplined troops.
Fitzalan surveyed the battlefield. Wladyslaw had indeed picked a miserable day on which to meet. A light rain had been falling for some time now, and showed little sign of abating.
“No doubt he hopes for some respite from our archers.”, he noted to Swynford.
His smile broadened as he jabbed a thumb over his right shoulder in the direction of 4 units of arbalests that had assumed their position further up the slope “Little does he realise that the weather won’t affect these lads!”
Wladyslaw’s first wave consisted predominantly of javelinmen. Whilst able to pierce armour, the javelinmen are hopelessly outranged by the arbalests, and suffer dreadful casualties. It is not long before they break and withdraw. Their place is soon filled by rank after rank of armoured spearmen. These troops also provide good target practice for the arbalests. Doggedly the Poles continue up the slope. By this time, both men and horses were struggling to maintain their feet in the treacherously slippery conditions. Two units of knights finally arrived at the English line, and charged. The pikemen stood ready, and the front ranks of knights were duly impaled. Whilst the billmen dealt with the Polish armoured spearmen, the English halberdiers outflanked the surviving Polish knights. Trapped between the pikes on one side, and halberds on the other, the knights were doomed. With only 2 other knights still astride their steeds, Wladyslaw panics and flees with the grace of a spavined nag. While he reaches the valley floor in safety, his companions are not so fortunate. The arbalests had simply been waiting for the knights to move clear of the English forces, and they did not waste their opportunity for a clear shot.
Wladyslaw’s flight soon spread panic through the depleted ranks of the survivors, and those that could scrambled back down the slope as quickly as they were able. A rain of arbalest bolts followed every step of their flight, allowing precious few to flee the field.
As the English reformed their line, the rain grew heavier, as if mother nature herself was seeking to cleanse the mountainside of the blood and detritus of battle. A second wave of Polish troops materialised out of the gloom, and stoically headed towards the English line. Several well aimed arbalest volleys proved a real test of the mettle of these troops. It was a test that they failed miserably. As lightning flashed overhead, the Poles wheeled as one and fled the field.
The battle for Franconia had proved a dreadful miscalculation for Wladyslaw. 1,874 of his men lay dead. 218 had been taken prisoner, and he had not the gold with which to secure their release. The pride of his armies in the west had been cruelly snuffed out, and all for the loss of a paltry 196 Englishmen.
It would be a long time indeed, before Poland could again hope to threaten England….and more of a concern for Wladyslaw was that his armies in the west were now so severely depleted, that he was now almost completely at the mercy of the English.
In early 1365, word arrives at court that the Italian Doge has succumbed to a fever. Henry had already received word from his agents in Sardinia that the Doge had fallen into a deep depression after suffering two successive defeats in Sicily, and had taken his own life rather than face a revolt from his own generals. Whatever the true cause of death, the Doge perished without leaving an heir. With no rightful claimant to the Italian throne, the Italian kingdom disappears once more into the pages of history.