Pics & History of your Empire

[bamff]

Now, the latest update from "the campaign that would not die"....

The Chronicles of Bamff’s English

Chapter 16 – The March of “The Warrior King”, William IV (1395 – 1405)
Under William’s orders, Sir Charles Peckham marched north into the province of Georgia in 1396. The Byzantine forces there have no hope of either reinforcement or retreat. To the north, Khazar is held by the Golden Horde. The waters off the Georgian coast similarly offer no safe passage. They are constantly patrolled by vessels of the English and the Golden Horde. As such, the Byzantine garrison commander, Manuel Stratiocus, is faced with but two choices – fight or surrender.
This choice is by no means an easy one for Stratiocus. A proud man, a loyal subject of the Byzantine Empire, and with a well documented hatred of the invading English, his first instinct is to reach for his sword. This instinct is somewhat tempered by his knowledge of a significant deficiency in his armoury. Stratiocus has not a single archer in his garrison. All had travelled west in 1392 to take part in the disastrous battle for Trebizond. Not a one had returned. True, his garrison was still strong in number, but to take the field with no missile troops other than naptha throwers….Stratiocus loved his troops as a father does his sons. They had lived and fought together over many years. To be responsible for their needless deaths was a thought too horrible for him to dwell upon, and yet a decision had to be made.
“Our lives or our honour….” He mused aloud. Absent-mindedly his fingers turned the family ring long ago given him by his father, and his mind drifted to his wife and sons in Muscovy, far to the north. His decision was made. Stratiocus summoned his captains. “If we are to die this day, we do so as heroes of Byzantium!”
Stratiocus chose a field not far from the gates of T’bilisi Castle to make his stand. The field itself included small patches of forest, which the Byzantine general had reasoned would afford his men some cover from the English archers.
Sir Charles Peckham surveyed the scene from the opposite side of the gently sloping valley. He also felt that the woods could be turned to his advantage, and he directed his Turcopoles and Footknights to advance on either flank, using the trees to screen their movements. The main English force advanced across the open centre of the field. Peckham ordered a halt when his arbalesters were within range of the Byzantine force. The two armies faced each other for a moment, and then the first hail of arbalest bolts tore through the Byzantine ranks. As the second volley cut almost an entire troop of lancers from their saddles, the English footknights, having made their way behind the Byzantines, and through the trees, now smashed into the enemy’s rear.
Stratioucus’ men turned in an attempt to meet this unexpected threat, and Peckham unleashed his Fyrdmen and Royal Knights. Stratiocus and a small band of his lancers managed to fight their way clear of the carnage that followed, and rode hard for the gates of T’bilisi. Some Urban Militia and Peasants tried also to flee, but the English Turcopoles had been positioned to wait for such routing troops, and made short work of these hapless souls. Indeed, not all of Stratiocus’ lancers survived to reach the safety of their stronghold. The day had been won by the English, and in devastating fashion.
Meanwhile, in central Europe, Princess Ryska of Poland is despatched to seek an alliance with Italy. Word of her clandestine mission is relayed by English spies, and the sinister William Fitzneale is soon following ever closer in the footsteps of the princess’ retinue.
Fitzneale finally catches up with his quarry at a lonely inn in Western Bohemia in 1397. As he rides away into the night, the piteous screams of Ryska’s ladies in waiting signal the grim success of his mission.
1397 proves to be a busy year for England’s generals. In Georgia, with his army still encamped around T’bilisi Castle making preparations for the coming siege, Sir Charles Peckham is alerted by his scouts of the approach of an army from the province of Khazar. It proves to be little more than a raiding party, and it withdraws without further incident.
The Italians are not so easily dissuaded, however. Doge Giovanni IV is of the opinion that Sicily, like Naples, should be part of the reborn Italian empire. He leads an army of 3,673 men south, intending to seize the English province. Lord de Beauchamp, commander of the English forces in Sicily, is heavily outnumbered, with only some 1,425 men and boys at his disposal. He holds two important advantages, however. The central core of his army are seasoned veterans with many years campaigning under their belts. The second “ace” in de Beauchamp’s hand is the hilly terrain of Sicily. He positions his men accordingly.
Giovanni’s army climbs steadily to meet the defenders. On the right English flank, two regiments of arbalesters and one of longbowmen concentrate their fire on the leading Italian unit, a squadron of royal knights. A dozen are unseated by the first devastating volley; but three remain after the second – and they are now riding quickly back down the hillside. A regiment of chivalric men at arms now threatens the English bowmen, but as they draw closer to the English line, a unit of Highland clansmen sweep over the hill and smash into their exposed flank, as the swiss halberdiers slice into their other flank. The Italians rout.
Meanwhile, the arbalesters and longbowmen have continued to exact a terrible toll of the Italians struggling up the slope. Giovanni raises his sword to encourage his men, and is unhorsed as an arbalest bolt smashes its way through his exposed armpit. Chain mail alone is no defence at such close range. The Italian forces waver with the falling of Giovanni. Prince Jacopo, next in line to the Italian throne, sends his man to “tend” to the fallen Doge. He duly returns, bearing the sad news that the Doge has perished of wounds suffered by an arbalest bolt and a dagger.
Whilst Jacopo’s face remains grim, there is an undoubted smile in eyes as he places a hand on his attendant’s shoulder. He orders his men to withdraw. “I now hold the Neapolitan crown,” reasons the prince, in somewhat Macchiavellian fashion “I have no need to waste further men seeking Sicily at this time.”
As the Italians withdraw, they leave behind some 450 of their countrymen on the battlefield outside Siracusa, and a further 86 who are now held prisoner by the English. A paltry 17 Englishmen have perished in the battle, and one of those was a billman who carelessly wandered in front of Perkin Percy’s arbalesters just as they loosed their bolts.
The battle proves useful to both the English, and Italian commanders. The vanquished Prince Jacopo returns to Naples, where he is crowned Doge Jacopo II. The victor, Lord de Beauchamp is now widely known as a field defence specialist.
The following year, the Golden Horde shows the world that the raiding party sent into Georgia the preceding year was not there by accident. Their vessels in the Black sea launch a series of attacks on English shipping. It is a misguided move to have underestimated the English navy. The result is that by 1399, the Horde have no ships left afloat.
In the summer of 1401, Sir Robert Mobray’s crusaders arrive in their target province of Moldavia. He is reinforced by Sir Henry Uhtred, who has marched north from Bulgaria with an impressive army of some 1,520 men. At the same time, Lord Giffard, Duke of Greece, leads his army north to Kiev, Sir Charles Peckham sails from Georgia to the Crimea, and King William IV and Lord Longchamp lead the English forces as they strike north into Khazar.
The Horde do not give battle in either Khazar or the Crimea, withdrawing to their fortresses in both provinces.
Lord Giffard meets stern resistance in Kiev. After a tumultuous struggle, the Horde are defeated, but a heavy price has been paid by both sides in this battle. 687 Mongols and 259 Englishmen lie dead on the field. 242 of the Golden Horde’s finest have fallen into English hands. This, however, pales into insignificance next to the carnage of Moldavia. With no hope of retreat, and led by their Emperor, the Byzantines fight ferociously. 1,902 Byzantines and 423 Englishmen are slain before the Byzantine survivors relinquish the field and retreat to Cetatea Castle. 176 Byzantine prisoners gloomily await their fate as the English set up their camps around the enemy stronghold.
Meanwhile in the west, the final flickering light of the HRE is finally snuffed out with the invasion of Austria and the death of Emperor Otto IV. Another faction becomes no more than a memory.
Come 1403, the Golden Horde make a concerted effort to regain their lost territories. Ordhun leads the assault on Khazar. 170 of his men pay the ultimate price for an incautious advance before the Horde are forced from the field. At the same time as Ordhun was suffering this defeat, Aradai leads a large army, estimated to be some 4,000 strong, into Kiev. Grossly outnumbered, the English set their defensive line on a riverbank, with a single bridge crossing. Sir Thomas Peckham’s chivalric footknights and Edward Longchamp’s billmen were assigned the task of holding the bridge. Fanned out to either side were 4 regiments of arbalesters. Wave after wave of Aradai’s men charged the bridge, only to be beaten back each time by the combination of murderous arbalest fire and the staunch resistance of the knights and billmen standing firm at the bridge. The most significant source of English casualties comes from the bows of mongol warriors. These troops line the opposite bank, firing across the river until encouraged to move on by the arbalesters.
Eventually, casualties and fatigue force Peckham and Longchamp to withdraw their men, and their places are taken by more footknights and billmen. As night draws in, and their casualties mount, the Horde withdraw. 1,157 of their number lie dead at the bridge. On the other side of the river, 41 Englishmen have fallen defending the bridge. It is a remarkable victory by any measure.
More troops are sent to Khazar in the latter part of 1403 to bolster the garrison, which has been sorely depleted by two years of warfare.
In 1404, Lord Angelus leads a Byzantine army south into Khazar. His force is twice the number of Lord Longchamp’s English army. The numbers conceal something of a lie in comparing the two forces, however. Whilst Angelus’ force is in total greater than his English opponent, much of the number is comprised of poorly equipped, inferior troops.
Sadly for the Byzantine general, the battle opens with his committing a grievous tactical error. Angelus orders his troops to halt short of the English line, prior to ordering his opening charge. Whilst his men would have been safely out of the range of the common archer, they are well within the reach of the English longbows and arbalesters, who set about reducing the Byzantine forces with ruthless efficiency.
Angelus unleashes his Kataphraktoi. They are met by a solid wall of chivalric sergeants, and then the English billmen and the footknights of Sir Thomas Camoys close in from both flanks. Even as they do so, English knights and Gallowglasses burst from the forests on either flank of the attacking Byzantine army. The combination of the rain of missiles from their front, and these sudden surprise attacks from their rear spark a chaotic, panicked retreat from the Byzantine army.
Camoys and his men are conspicuous for their valour on this glorious day, with this small unit accounting for a significant number of the enemys total casualties of 593 dead, 356 captured. The errant knight has redeemed his family honour in spectacular fashion. Lord Longchamp’s skilled leadership has delivered victory for the paltry price of only 98 English dead, and he is now recognised as a skilled defender.

So, as we leave the chronicle in the year 1405, the map of Europe stands thus:



Author's Note

Silly I know, but I was so pleased that Sir Thomas Camoys performed so well in Khazar. I suppose I was feeling sorry for him - he had done nothing other than what he had been asked to do, and copped a couple of vice slaps for his trouble.

I am thinking that at this point, William will push on to Volyhnia (note the crusade currently in Moldavia), then perhaps turn his attentions to Italy and Hungary (just to alleviate the garrison requirements in surrounding provinces). That will leave the Byz, the Horde, the rebels in Latvia, the People of Novgorod, and last but not least, our one staunch ally - the Papacy. After cleaning up the Italians in Naples and the Hungarians, I thought taking out the north east corner would make sense before folding back towards Scandinavia.

My aim is to wrap it all up as quickly as possible - both to keep "in character" as the aggressive William, and because it is becoming more than a little tedious at this point (I have massive numerical, technological, financial, and territorial superiority over every other faction, and am miles ahead in terms of GA points - in other words, i'm struggling to find entertainment without a challenge).