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!"
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!
The English General is defeated and the news spreads through the ranks just as the two main lines clash on the horizon.
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.
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.
Re: Battle Reports Thread: King of the Franks game
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