Alternate history: the Anarchy of King Stephen.

[King Kurt]

Going on Stephen's photo reconaisance I suggest we all disguise ourselves as going to the races - Stephen and his 1,000 itinerant bookies - and once we are in over power them

[King Henry V]

I may have read this and now forgoten already...

But are the town walls of chester in good codition after the romans in the story?...
Also a good % of the wals do date from medieval ages.
When to be precice i dont know.

cos Honestly if Chester was like it is these days back then.
I would NOT want to attack it.
(and most of chester town walls have fallen down these days)

The place has town walls surounding it.. "i think romans built them"
It would not be a good idea to attack it imo.
It would be as silly as to try and attack caernarfon castle.


Il show you what i mean... (And the walls could be in MUCH better condition in the story)







There Maby a rethink is in order.

Well Chester is the caput of Earl Ranulf, who is one of the most powerful and richest magnates in England, so think it likely that his walls will be kept in good condition.

[Flavius Clemens]

Just a quick question, should you tell the army or only the barons of the situation? Or should you perhaps keep it a secret as long as possible.

Well the army obviously know we'll have to deal with Robert of Gloucester, but I suggest we don't let them know the full breadth of the rebellion until we are back on safer ground.

[Kraxis]

It is obvious to all that we can't stay in Wales!

We are still outnumbered, we are risking rebellion at home (with no obvious royal presence it can become a wildfire) and the Welsh will deny us the cahnce to defeat them in a regular battle. Staying in Wales would only be possible if we had a larger army and a stable reign.

Remember what it was we intended to do when we went for Wales. To punish them and to halt their raids. Have we done that? The first is is very much accomplished. The second is uncertain given the raiders actually managed to get away with lighter losses than the rest. That, as mentioned earlier, can actually be an advantage. The raiders are pretty much forced to raid now, if they can. But they can only hit the rebels, so we should not try to halt them. But at the same time the Welsh have been severely weakened so there isn't a risk of them actually invading England while we are occupied with the rebels or Scots. Again it will only be the rebels that suffer. Let it stay so.

So I say, find an alternate route out of Wales, best one that can be plundered (forcing the Welsh to raid even more) quickly and safely and of course away from the certain rebels. If that can't be done then the priority is speed, avoidance of rebels, then plunder and finally safety (the Welsh are too weakened to do much right now if we get out fast).

Back 'home' we can easier take stock of what is happening. Perhaps even recalling Ypres and his forces from Normandy. At the very least we will need his good advice once more.

To hire mercs now is not good, they are unreliable, and since we are far away they might just take our gold then switch sides when the other side offers some more, who can punish them? We MUST wait until we get home and assemble a larger feudal army to get mercs in any serious number.

In essence, get home home fast, take stock of the loyalists and rebels, get feudal army called up, hire mercs and recall Ypres (perhaps with his men depending on the situation in Normandy).

[Kommodus]

I agree with those who have said we can't stay in Wales. I haven't read all the responses, but I think a quick summary of the plan is something like this:

1. Negotiate a cease-fire with the Welsh, as favorable to our side as possible. If possible, get them to attack Robert de Gloucester.

2. Return to England and bolster our depleted forces as much as possible with non-mercenary troops, then hire any mercenaries we need to round out a good army.

3. Prepare for the next campaign, whatever it may be. The Welsh will not be an immediate problem for some time, so our next campaign will either be:
a. Against Robert of Gloucester
b. Against Normandy
c. Against Scotland
d. Against various rebels

I'd like to add a couple things that may or may not have been mentioned already:

1. Knowing which nobles are rebellious is a great boon to us, especially since they aren't openly rebellious yet. I'm curious - could we march up to the castles, one by one, and order them to add their garrison and supplies to our army? Then they'd have to either openly rebel before they're ready and before their support is gathered, or comply with the demand. Officially, they're still supposed to be loyal to the king.

2. If this fails, maybe we should start a campaign of assassinations against the disloyal nobles. Cut off as many heads of this hydra as we can.

[Kraxis]

I have been thinking... Didn't we lose an awful lot of loyal nobles in the battle? That can be both good and bad. Bad because we can't know for sure if their successors like us. On the good side it can mean there aren't any successors, in which case we get their lands and troops. But it is still a great loss to lose such men who would be invaluable in battle.

[King Henry V]

You find your manservant and quickly order him to ask for the presence of all the major surviving barons who are not seriously wounded behind the keep tower, where there is no one to disturb you. The wounded lords limp into the area sealed off by your bodyguards and sit down on hastily prepared seating. You decide to jump straight to the matter at heart.
“My lords, without further delay I must inform you of news that I have just learned. Amid Robert of Gloucester’s abandoned camp several chests containing correspondence have been found from many castellans, barons and prelates of England informing Gloucester that he has their allegiance and that they will hold their castles against me once he returns from Wales.”
You give a few letters to the nobles whilst you tell them of all the strongholds that will support the rebellion. The shock is apparent on everyone’s faces.
“Our losses in the battle have been too great to allow us to continue with this campaign against the Welsh,” you say. We have achieved what we have set out to do: the flower of the Welsh army lies dead in the valley and we have punished them for their incessant raids, they will not trouble us for many years to come. However, we do not know the state of the realm, therefore we must hurry back to England where an army can be raised to deal with these rebels. In the mean time, I think it best that we keep this between ourselves until we reach safer lands where we may feel out the ground. When we have found out the full scale of this rebellion, then we shall tell the army, but for now I feel that discretion is the better part of valour. ”
“I am sure my castles of Chepstow and Usk will remain steadfast in their loyalty to your majesty,” says Gilbert of Clare.
“As will Worcester,” Robert Beaumont reassures you.
“I thank you for your help,” you bow to them both. “We shall depart two days from now and march down the Usk where we will find whatever food there is. I doubt we will receive much resistance from the Welsh now that we have smashed their armies.
There is a shout from the walls and a young squire runs up to your circle of guards where their spears from a barrier against any outsider wishing to intrude upon this secret council.
“I have news for the King!” shouts the boy to your implacable guards.
“Let him through” you order the soldiers and you beckon the squire in. “What is it?” you ask him.
“Sire, there is a party of riders outside. It seems as though they come in peace.”
Once again, your tired limbs scramble up to the parapet where you are able to see half a dozen horsemen ride across the battlefield. Their shields are up-turned and green sprigs are tied to the lance on which flaps the banner of the great eagle of Powys. It seems that they have indeed come in peace.
You climb back down to the bailey where you give orders for twenty knights to prepare themselves to ride out of the castle whilst a servant quickly helps you don your coats of mail and fasten your swords belt. Your joints ache painfully as you clamber onto your horse and ride out of the gate, accompanied by your party of knights. Your red banner of the centaur flaps in the breeze as you gallop down the hill. You are determined to look as powerful as possible to the Welsh and not allow any weaknesses to be visible.
You rein in your horse where the Welshmen stand amid the corpses of the field.
“We bid you greetings, lord,” one of the Welshmen says. He is a slender man, with dark oily hair, a long nose and bony fingers.
“May I know who you are and what your business is?” you demand of him brusquely.
He gives you a short, syrupy smile showing off a set of perfect white teeth. “I am Hywel ap Madyn, and I speak for my Lord Owain ap Gruffyd, King of Powys.”
Your ears prick up at this. “How so? What of Madog,?”
“King Madog ap Maredudd, alas, has been taken from us as he died heroically in the recent battle, and now surely resides by Christ’s bosom.”
“So what do you want of me? Peace?”
Hywel leans towards a young man and murmurs into his ear. The man seems to be in his early twenties and bears a haughty look. He has a long, gaunt face with hollow cheeks, thin lips and deep black eyes. His head of thick black hair that falls down to his shoulders is crowned with a silver coronet. He is obviously the Prince Owain of Powys.
The prince talks to his interpreter in Welsh before Hywel addresses you. “My Lord King is the rightful sovereign of Powys and is so recognised by all the lords and the people of Powys. However, Gwynedd, whose soldiers control all the major strongholds in Powys including Mathrafal, where all our kings have been acclaimed since the dawn of time. They recognise a usurper, Bleddyn ap Moriddig who is cousing of the late King, as ruler of Powys and it is only thanks to the help of Christ and His Angels that King Owain managed to escape with his life from the assassin’s blade.”
You give him a derisory stare. “What do petty arguments over petty princedoms concern me?”
Hywel bridles at the insult. “My lord, Gwynedd is no friend of yours. It is the major partner in the alliance that fought against you only a few hours ago and their ties with Robert of Gloucester are strong.” He pauses. “Furthermore, if am not mistaken, has not Gloucester’s defiance extended somewhat further than this fair country?”
You look at him with cold hard eyes as he reveals his hand. You give a brief nod.
He continues. “Though the battle has claimed the lives of many brave Welsh warriors, the Lord has surely smiled on the soldiers of Powys, most of whom, thanks be to God, have survived. Unless I am yet more mistaken, as your majesty will want to return to your lands with all haste, you will no doubt want to march down the valley of the Usk. The Usk is a narrow valley, with steep, high hills. A handful of men could cause much damage to anyone marching through.”
You give a wry smile. “So what do you want?”
“We require soldiers. Though King Owain has the wholehearted support of the people and of Righteousness, and though the army of Gwynedd has been shattered, they still control many fortresses. To reduce these strongholds we will need good, heavy soldiers. Furthermore, our people have suffered much hardship due the devastation of the Wye valley. We fear famine this winter. If the Usk is also to burned, our people will be severely weakened and Gwynedd will find their task of subjecting Powys all the easier. We therefore request that twenty-five carts of grain be delivered before the first frost and that you refrain from pillaging the Usk valley. We shall supply you with whatever food we have and we shall assure you of safe conduct and in return you will give us three hundred men-at-arms. Do we have an agreement?”

[Lord Winter]

I think we should agree, While we cant easily spare 300 men at arms, The welsh could probably kill off close to 300 in ambushes or worse a few loyal lords. The soldiers it sounds like will go to good use and we could possibly turn the welsh in to a political puppet.

[AntiochusIII]

Now, first of all: Powys is as desperate as you are. That disaster at Dinas Bran was crippling to all because of the mass slaughter of Welsh nobles.

Second, their only bargains are:

1. To support you in the up-and-coming struggle, probably step up the raids...IF they survive the crisis in Welsh power structure that we initiated.

2. To leave you alone throughout the dangerous march.

We do not know the temper of this Welsh prince, and how trustworthy he could be. With those men-at-arms gone, he could've easily backstabbed us. Or he might not. Desperation breeds randomness. They might become our invaluable ally on the backs of the rebellious Anglos, or they might betray us at first opportunity.

Now, their demands include these two things:

1. We have to give up 300 fine English men-at-arms for them to defeat Gwynedd, allowing Powys to dominate what's left of the Welsh, presumably. If he loses, though, Gwynedd will dominate what is left.

2. We cannot forage the Usk valley for food.

The first is obviously detrimental, the second might actually speed us up if we are well-supplied, or not.

The benefits are to reduce the chance of Powys bogging us down, and probably gain an ally behind the enemy lines. The detriments include the loss of three hundred precious soldiers and the possibility of betrayal.

I would not be so decisive but propose back to him to aid us immediately in trying to catch, or bog down, Robert of Gloucester. This is what we truly need. If he can't give us this, I don't see the point of allying with him: the risks of a Welsh ambush may be unattractive, but what teeth does this viper has after so hard a fall? Why lose the precious warriors now that their iron fists might soon be needed? Besides, the troops would absolutely aware that something is not right when you allow the recently defeated foe to have three hundred of your men away for safe passage home...

In truth, I'd rather fancy gaining Powys as an ally and the dominant force in Wales, rather than Gwynedd, as it is much closer to the majority of the Marcher Lords, and you will have its gratitude (presumably), while Gwynedd might go on to disturb Chester, our possible destination. But the cost they're demanding is not worth it. Remember, our army is barely above (less?) the thousandth mark. Three hundred is a lot.

[King Henry V]

As with all diplomacy, the terms are negotiable.

[King Kurt]

We should negociate with this Welsh prince. We should include in our demands
1) The capture, or at least, knowledge of where he is, of Robert of Gloucester.
2) A hostage of suitable rank.
3) We should only give them 200 men - our force is small, so its size is relative. In fact a smaller force might be swifter. We need to get to England quickly and raise an army.
4) We should issue our potential welsh allies permission to raid our enemies - would help with tieing them down. I would see this a bit like a letter of marque issued to privateers.

[Kraxis]

Ok this could very well be dangerous.

If Powys is strongenough to ambush us, and their army managed to survive, mostly, then why do they need our troops?
Either it could be a trap or they are bluffing. I estimate the last. We could likely survive the trek home without much trouble. But!

Since they are bluffing they are also sincere. They would prefer us as friends.
Thus I propose that they get not a single soldier until we are out... Meaning we have the entire army with us.
The prince will travel under our protection with whatever bodyguards he has until that point (hostage, but strong enough to help in case of Gwynedd attacks).
At that time we hand over enough troops to help him subdue Mathrafal, I suspect 150-200 will be more than enough. That should firmly set him on the throne in the view of the troops and people.
When that is done we should be home taking stock of the matters at home and in a better position to see if we can help with a few more troops to gain an ally/puppet (we should demand that for the help), or rather leave Wales in an almost perfect unbalance where neither side is strong enough to overwhelm the other within a good time.
Food they can get when we get out, it is not a major matter out there, in here it is. The food we have will last us out of Wales, it is doubtful Powys can/will provide enough for us when they demand food in the first place.

We must remember we are the strong party here, so we are the ones to make the demands, and I think my demands are fair enough to get a positive response.

Should it be forcibly rejected we could still take him hostage. And while in our custody be treated nicely, shown that we had no intentions of tricking him and at the end still hold our deal of the bargain open. The time it would take to get out would likely see him calm down a bit and be more open to our suggestion.

[Mouzafphaerre]

.

.

[Flavius Clemens]

Kraxis' plan sounds good to me.

[AntiochusIII]

Kraxis' plan sounds good to me.

Agreed. The master has spoken. And, more importantly, he makes sense!

Powys as an ally will calm the Welsh border down for years. That prince couldn't possibly defeat Gwynedd on his own without outside (ours) intervention or we've given too much force. With two contending powers (we bolstering Powys enough for it to stand), the majority of the Welsh military strength, or what's left of it, will be bogged down for years.

But, as always, from now on Wales is secondary. The English throne comes first. Gain as much advantage as possible from this ordeal.

[Kommodus]

Kraxis' plan sounds good to me.

Here, here!

I can't help but remember one of Kraxis's earlier alternate histories, in which people voted to give a large part of the Seleucid army to a Pontic prince, in exchange for his promise to be an ally and supply troops once he had defeated his rival. That didn't turn out so good - he mismanaged his opportunity and ended up losing, and thus never delivered on his promises.

The point is this: it's rarely, if ever, a good idea to just give away a part of your force, especially to leaders you just met and have little cause to trust. They might squander our excellent men-at-arms and lose their battle anyway, or they might just turn on us.

Kraxis's plan to turn over 150-200 troops once we are out of Wales might be fine; I have my reservations on it and would prefer to keep our whole army - we'll need every man for the coming fight. We should at least agree not to pillage Usk, as long as we have enough food to get out of Wales without starving.

[King Henry V]

Sorry for the delay, but I'm on half term hols at the moment.
Enjoy.
You ponder for a few moments before giving your answer. “You may inform his highness,” you tell Hywel ap Madyn, “that he has my recognition as the rightful Prince of Powys and will have my support along with the twenty-five wagons of grain and promises to refrain my army from plundering his subjects. However, I cannot spare three hundred soldiers and nor will I do so at the present time. Once my army is on safe territory I will despatch to you two hundred men-at-arms at the earliest possible opportunity and not before. Furthermore, the Prince Owain will pay homage to me and recognise me as his suzerain. He will also accompany the army on its journey home as testimony to your good will and to stop your rasher countrymen from molesting my forces.”
“This is preposterous!” Hywel protests. “My King will never accept such an affront to his dignity in being reduced to a hostage!”
“At the moment your “king” is nothing but a lord of sheep, grass and rocks by your own admission. You will tell your princeling my terms.”
Hywel jabbers away in Welsh at the prince for a few moments. After your terms are translated, Owain gives you a sneer and spits on the ground before saying his answer, no doubt heavily laden with profanities.
“My Lord King refuses to accompany you as hostage,” Hywel says flatly.
“Then you may inform your lord that if does not come willingly, then I shall make him come. My guards are amongst the most feared knights in Christendom. It is they who slaughtered an army twice their size yesterday and your puny horsemen that accompany you will prove no match. If you try to escape, be warned that I have some of the finest crossbowmen who can hit a hare’s heart at two hundred paces and who will find your prince an easy target.
“You may also tell Prince Owain that if he does not ride with me then he will receive no succour whatsoever on my part and so may either run away to fester in some foreign land as a prince without a princedom, or fling himself on the ground in front of Owain of Gwynedd and beg for mercy. It is your choice.”
Hywel is indignant but nonetheless translates for his lord. Owain reluctantly nods his head in approval of the terms with a sullen expression.
You give them a genial smile and bow. “Then it seems we have an agreement.”

The rest of the day is spent burying the English and Powysian dead in a great communal pit, overseen by an English and Welsh priest. The nobles who were killed are given their own graves, as well as Madog, the late ruler of Powys. As the day progresses, the pile of corpses in the pit grows as the grievously wounded lose their fight for survival and die. By the next morning, most of the casualties’ fate has been decided.
It is on that day that you hold a council of the barons and formally receive the Prince Owain in the ceremony of vassalage. You are seated on a plain wooden stool over which has been draped a swathe of scarlet silk. Owain, flanked by his retainers, advances up to you. He kneels down, raises you foot and bends forward to kiss it, recognising you as his suzerain and overlord, to whom he owes all his lands and riches. His act of homage done, you bid him to rise and give him the kiss of peace, accepting him as your vassal.
A Bible is then brought forward, upon which he rests his hand and swears an oath of loyalty to you. You formally recognise him in front of the barons as the rightful Prince of Powys, in the presence of a couple of local priests. Two parchments are brought forward, each a copy of the terms of fealty and alliance, including the support you will give Owain against his enemies. You both set your seals to each sheet. England and Powys are now allies.
The last pieces of business are dealt with that day. Several squires who fought valiantly in the battle are knighted, including the commander of the garrison left behind whose sortie was so decisive in the outcome of that battle. The commander, Humphrey of Rouen, will be given a fiefdom with a fine castle in the earldom of Worcester. Little does he know that he may have to fight hard to keep his newly acquired gains.
Two days after the great battle, the remaining wounded are loaded onto the empty food carts and your army limps home, accompanied by Prince Owain and his retainers, minus a horseman to order his countrymen living on the Usk not to molest or oppose your army. Dinas Bran is abandoned and you leave the festering corpses behind to the swarms crows and ravens that gather to feast on the carrion.
Within a few days the valley becomes a narrow tunnel with the Black Mountains to North East and the Brecon Beacons to the South West. It is a place perfect for ambush but no enemies harass your passing army. The local peasants grudgingly share their food, though there is little of it and mostly consists of unripe fruit since the peasants jealously guard their precious livestock.
The Prince is given his own tent and you provide him with a half a dozen servants, including a cook, as befits his royal status. He wears a sword, roams freely around the camp and is invited to dine with you and your nobles each night. However, despite this apparent freedom, a couple of soldiers shadow him as discreetly as possible, should Owain be foolish enough to attempt to escape, although the guards have strict orders not to harm the Prince in such an instance, only to restrain him. Likewise, during the day four men are given the fleetest horses that you have and powerful crossbows to shoot the Powysian Prince’s horse from under him if he decides to suddenly gallop away.
As the day light slips away for the third time since you left Dinas Bran, you reach the point where the valley broadens; the Anglo-Welsh border. That night, as you camp in the river’s crook, you give your permission for Owain to leave. His baggage is hastily packed away and within an hour he bids you a curt fare well and rides off with his followers into the night, back to Wales.
The following dawn you cross over into England. Even after passing the battle-scarred region along the border, the land seems strangely quiet. Several wooden castles are garrisoned with troops, yet none leave the safety of their walls to inspect your passing army. The local population, at the sight of armed men, quickly scurry away into their hovels.
By mid afternoon you reach the town of Usk. It is an old settlement, and many fragments of its Roman past still remain, though it is dominated by the great castle that looms to the northwest, standing guard over the town on a steep hill. It is a strong castle, boasting stout timber walls, a deep ditch flooded and a great stone keep.
Messengers who were sent ahead to reconnoitre the land in the morning had confirmed that Gilbert of Clare’s castellan still held the castle and that you would be given shelter.
As you ride under the gate’s archway by Gilbert’s side, the castellan, a balding man whose remaining hair is streaked with grey and whose nose juts out from his face like the prow of a ship, runs out of the keep and bows down to his lord and to you.
“May God be praised! You are safe!” he cries. “We had heard the most terrible tidings.”
“What did you hear?” you ask him.
“I heard tales that you were dead, that you had perished with your entire army, cut to pieces by hordes of Welsh savages. The kingdom is now in turmoil, several barons have raided their neighbours’ lands and bands of brigands have closed off many of the roads to all those who have a care for their lives
You curse. “What of Robert of Gloucester? Do you have any tidings of him?”
“It was Robert who returned from Wales with the news that you were dead, my Lord. He remained only a few hours before riding with two hundred knights to London where it is said he will acclaim the Countess of Anjou as Queen.”
“Have you news of my family? Where is the queen?” you ask him urgently.
“The last tidings I heard said that the Queen was in Kent, at her castle of Leeds.”
This news brings you some relief that your family will probably be safe. Your wife, Maud, is a shrewd woman and will not be gulled by Robert’s promises of safety. Hopefully, she has already made for the coast where she may catch ship for her native Boulogne.
“And of mine?” Gilbert asks his castellan with a look of concern.
“Your wife and children are safe, lord, and reside at Chepstow. They are much grieved by these foul rumours and will for certes be overjoyed to see you.”
The survivors of the army settle down and rest, whilst a lunch of bread and cheese is handed out to your hungry army. You ravenously devour a platter of roast beef with your barons in the great hall before further quizzing the castellan of the situation in the Marches.
“What have you heard of Monmouth?”
“Monmouth has been garrisoned by a small band of knights and men-at-arms, barely a hundred men, all followers of the Earl of Gloucester. Many towns along the Severn have declared for Robert when they heard news of your death, lord. It is the nature of people to change with the strongest blowing wind.”
You give a sullen grunt. “Is Worcester still loyal?”
“Sire, in truth I know only what I heard when I was in Hereford on matters of business for my Lord Gilbert. It was there that the messengers of Robert first arrived and I decided to return to Usk forthwith lest the wave of chaos overwhelm it.”
“Hereford? Then you must have news of my brother, Henry. Was he not overseeing the supplying of my army there?”
“My Lord Bishop was indeed in Hereford but he abandoned the place within a few hours of the first messenger arriving. It seems that he did not wish to linger around for the arrival of Robert of Gloucester and rode off for Winchester.”
You chuckle sardonically. “That I can well believe. My brother has always been very cunning in matters of state.”
Perhaps he should have been the king and you the clergyman, you mutter to yourself.
As the evening winds on, the nobles gather for a council.
Robert of Leicester advocates that you lead the entire army through the Midlands, where he holds large fiefdoms where he may call more men to the army. He is certain that Worcester still holds out, and from there you may travel to London. By that time, he reassures you, news that you are alive will have reached the city and Robert of Gloucester will be repulsed.
Several of the barons disagree strongly, as they do not wish to stray to far from their lands. “Sire, the southern Welsh Marches are not yet secure and Gloucester’s supporters still hold many castles, notably Monmouth.” one of them says. “I say that we consolidate our position before venturing further afield.”
Gilbert of Clare lends his advice. “My liege, my castle of Chepstow stands guard over the Usk estuary, whose deep bed makes it a superb natural harbour. At any one time there are several ships there. If I am not mistaken, the castle of Dunster and Bampton are declared for Robert. If we were to embark say three to four hundred soldiers on to ships, we could sail across the Bristol Channel and land on the northern coast of the shire of Devon. We could then swoop down on the two castles and storm them. Their castellans will never expect such a bold move and we could easily take two very important castles with little loss of life. However, it is true that troops are needed to consolidate our position in the Marches. Therefore I propose that after taking these castles, the soldiers should be embarked on their ships again and return to the Marches, leaving a garrison behind. Meanwhile, your majesty should travel anonymously, so as to attract the least attention to yourself, to London. Unencumbered by an army, your progress will be quick and you will be able to raise an army in the eastern shires of the realm.”

You must decide on what action is to be taken:
1.Listen to Robert Beaumont's advice and lead the army across enemy territory and into the lands where he is sure that you will gain support. Such a large force will no doubt attract the attention of the enemy, but the Earl of Leicester is confident that the army will be able to defeat anything thrown against it.
2.Heed the counsel of the Marcher lords and consolidate your position in the souther Marches, as it will prove a good base. In taking Monmouth, you can start to build a chain of strongholds that will cut the rebel lands in two and ensure a line of communication between the southern Marches and the rest of the realm.
3.Follow Gilbert of Clare's plan and sail across the Bristol Channel to attack the rebel castles in northern Devon, and from there ride across southern England to London, alone but for a few knights. It is a daring and risky plan, but it could pay great dividends if it succeeded.

[Kraxis]

Tough one...

1) is very tempting. We need to be seen to gather support, to rally the undecided and those who have reluctantly joined the traitors.
At the same time we are not very strong right now, a fieldbattle could very well end us right away.

2) This is tempting for it's security. If anything it will have us last longer, give us more options and chances. Sadly given too long time th undecided might join the traitors and the reluctant joiners could be swayed by getting too deep into the 'rebellion'. We could very well end up being severely outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

3) The lure of this option lies in the simple fact that we can relatively easy get hold of important positions, while we stay relatively secure. But this could be even more dangerous than 1 in that it is exactly what the opposing side in a normal succession power-struggle would do, limited strikes. Our person would become very anonymous, and very much at personal risk while traveling.

GAH!!!

But given how I argued for my choices last chapter, I would have to continue it and go for 1. But I'm anything but certain so I reserve the right to change it, if anyone else can argue for the others well enough.

[King Kurt]

I think option 1 is the best. We need to keep our resources together and need to move to an area which is friendly. Also the Midlands means that we can strike in any direction.
Option 2 is too cautious. The Welsh Marches is too far away from the centre of power and, as the Welsh are subdued, we need not fear trouble on that count.
The worse part of option 3 is the King's ride to London - Stephen must be visible as Robert's spread of news of his death is the main agent of insurection - also he will be highly susceptable to capture or death.
The only drawback of 1 is a possible battle - but, hey, we can handle that!!

[Flavius Clemens]

I think option 3 is too dangerous - heading off with only a few knights could be a quick way to an anonymous death. I'm torn between the other two options - consolidation appeals to me, but I think option 1 is better - Stephen needs the bold move and to reach the heart of the kingdom to sway the hesitant before Robert's momentum attracts more and more support.

[AntiochusIII]

Wow. Really tough choices. Anyway, at least we finally got the big picture of things.

Let's see:

1) Has many supporters: it will be the big plan into the heart of the kingdom, facing Gloucester head on, gathering as much supporters as possible for a battle -- or a series of battles -- with Hasting's level of importance. A very high risk of being crushed by superior force, or, hopefully, a Dinas Bran repeat.

2) Effective consolidation and preparation. Stephen will also be visible, albeit not aggressively visible the 1th way. Unfortunately, we're too far from England's power bases. Those are what we want, not some borderlands near a rather hostile Wales. There are forces untapped which, if we cannot tap, at least prevent the rebels from tapping them.

3) Also consolidation, but Stephen will be extremely risky on his way to London. Besides, what's a general without an army? Why would Londoners support a toothless king?

Personally I'd prefer a combination of two and three without Stephen going anywhere, so to consolidate as much as possible, but that's an MTW thinking (strike and build up, rinse and repeat). This is real game. If we don't gather as much England as possible then all of England is against us, plain and simple.

Number One. Let's waste some English blood.

[Lord Winter]

1 seems a little risky. Too many ifs but in the face of no other options

[BOLD]ONE[/BOLD] go through and try to crush as many as possiable.

[Ludens]

I also prefer option one, though I would like to know how essential Worcester's loyalty will be for this plan. We cannot take for granted that they haven't joined Gloucester, and the way Henry V formulated the options it sounds like their loyalty could make or break the success of this plan.

However, last time I advocated an aggressive advance into enemy territory it almost went wrong, so perhaps I don't have the right to speak .

[Kommodus]

Perhaps it matters little, but I'm gonna vote #3 on this one.

At first I didn't like it, because I wanted to counteract Gloucester's false reports as quickly as possible, making it obvious that Stephen was both alive and a force to be reckoned with. For this objective, #1 looked best. But then I realized, if Stephen travels quickly with just a few knights, he'll arrive in London as quickly as any news would. Wouldn't it be great to announce that Stephen is not only alive, but back in London and raising an army? Meanwhile, we'd seize some important positions from Gloucester's supporters and secure the southern Marches. All that combined should be enough to sway any wavering vassals to Stephen's side.

Option #1 may seem less risky since Stephen travels with his army, but it could go wrong too. Our army is weakened, and we may face a field battle before we're ready. Also, at our plodding pace, we may not reach London before it falls to Gloucester's men. The city may be able to hold out on its own, but information on the likelihood of this is sketchy.

As for option #2, I fail to see how it's in Stephen's advantage to build up his base in the western lands of Britain, near the Welsh border. It seems much better to try to centralize himself in the east, in the nation's actual power center.

[Csargo]

One its gotta be one.

[Ludens]

Any update on this? I would feel really bad if we managed to save his life in Wales just to lose him upon return to England.

[King Henry V]

Sorry, my creative juices were a bit broken when my grandmother came and strictly limited my time on the PC, however, I have just written a paragraph, though I am a bit busy at the moment with exams.

[Ludens]

Sorry, my creative juices were a bit broken when my grandmother came and strictly limited my time on the PC, however, I have just written a paragraph, though I am a bit busy at the moment with exams.

I see. Well, I am also a bit too busy to waste time with interactive histories so it is probably for the best. Still, let us know when you are able to resume writing .

[Mouzafphaerre]

.
Belated good luck with the exams! I still gotta read the last half page.
.

[King Henry V]

Well, after four months I have finally completed the next installment! Sorry for the huge delay.

----------------------------

You inform the nobles of your decision that you will lead the army across the rebel lands and into Beaumont’s Midland fiefdoms, where you can hope to strengthen your army before marching on London.
There is a look of disappointment on the barons’ faces as you tell them. They have marched with you deep into Wales, they have fought hard to gain a crushing if costly victory against the Welsh and now having returned to safe territory to find the realm in crisis and enemies in their midst, they are not permitted to deal with these enemies and leave their homes in safety before once again venturing forth into hostile lands.
Nevertheless, they will follow along with the rest of the exhausted army.
All the barons will be allowed a week’s leave during which they may return to their lands and deal with any urgent business, raise any more soldiers than can be found, gather more supplies and collect the scutage money form those who do not fight to deal with shortages in manpower or food. A week from today, the barons are to meet your army in Monmouth, which you are to secure in the mean time. To do so, you and Robert of Leicester will command the rest of the army in a lightning strike against the Angevin garrison of the town. Together, you hatch a plan.
Firstly, six squires shall ride into the town two days from now. They will wait until evening the next day before carrying out their mission: one will create a diversion in the town whilst the other two attempt to open the town’s main gate. Outside the town will wait all your horsemen, who shall ride through the gate to seize Monmouth once your squires give the signal.
With the town taken, the cavalry will hold Monmouth until the arrival of the footmen of your army, which will storm the castle should it still hold out.
You lay out the plans of battle to Robert, who nods his head and raises his goblet of malmsey wine in a toast.
“To victory”, he says.
“To victory,” you repeat.
And on to Monmouth.

The rain drizzled down heavily, pouring off helmets and drenching every man to the skin. The rain soaks through the ground, turning the narrow track into a boggy mire, the thick mud sucking men’s boots further into the brown morass. Men shout and curse as they heave carts out of the mud and pray for the rain to stop.
It is now two days since you left Monmouth. Your plan to capture the town was a success. Everything proceeded according to plan, and the town and the castle fell with little loss to your soldiers. The commanders of the Angevin garrison are dead and their corpses now rot in the castle ditch, where the ravens feast on their putrid flesh.
The townspeople of Monmouth seemed relatively indifferent to the change of control and have accepted you as their rightful ruler. You left behind a garrison of 80 spearmen and men-at-arms commanded by one of Gilbert of Clare’s knights.
As agreed, the Marcher barons met you at Monmouth one week after they left Usk, and you now have an army of two hundred knights, three hundred and fifty mounted and dismounted men-at-arms, two hundred spearmen and seventy-five bowmen.
Many of your men are mercenaries hired with the scutage tax and the remaining gold of your lords. Their Welsh estates are now hard pressed both financially and militarily, and they are unhappy fighting a prolonged campaign far from their lands while Angevin lords still remain a threat closer to home. Few of your barons will continue with you much further than Worcester.
Robert of Leicester has already departed for Worcester with a handful of his knights, from which you are now one and a half day’s march away.
Thick mist shrouds your column, and those at the rear can barely see those at the front. The woods that flank the track are faintly visible. You shiver from the cold and pull your cloak more tightly around your shoulders in an effort to keep warm.
After a while the rain ceases, yet the fog still remains as impenetrable as ever. Soon you approach a stream, swollen by the heavy spring rains, over which has been built a small wooden bridge, barely large enough to permit the crossing of carts. The first of your men cross the bridge. A knight’s mount stalls as it approaches the bridge. It snorts and whinnies and attempts to shy away from the crossing. The knight angrily digs his heels into his horse’s flanks and yanks at the reins, forcing the horse to cross.
Following behind you and your royal guard is the baggage train, where the food, drink, arrows and tents for your army are carried in heavy carts pulled by stout shire horses. After your cross the bridge, you hear shouts and curses as the first of the carts become stuck in a rut before the bridge. You take no notice of it and order the rest of the column to carry on.
It is then that a horn sounds, its deep loud tone piercing through the fog. You twist to the right in your saddle to where the sound came from. You see vague shapes at the tree line. Then you hear the unmistakable sound of massed horses’ hooves thumping down on the ground. You see the glint of steel in the faint sun. Your men see it also, and soon the entire first part of the column disintegrates into chaos as the dismounted peasant spearmen run for their lives.
You draw your sword, but you know that resistance is hopeless. The horsemen are about to cut off your retreat at the bridge, so you turn your horse to the left and spur it on. As the horse gallops away from the pursuing enemy, you spot a small hill in the mist about fifty yards away. The slope is quite steep, which could perhaps help to stop a cavalry charge. It is your only hope.
“To the hill!” you cry. “To the hill!”
The men-at-arms and knights, more seasoned in warfare, hear you cry and rally to you. However, the spearmen, poorly trained and armed, are not so clear-headed. Panic engulfs and they flee in all directions, making the easiest targets for the horsemen at their heels. You hear the first cries of pain as the knights slash down their swords or thrust their long lances into the fleeing spearmen.
However, the enemy are distracted by this easy prey and ruthlessly pursue the hapless spearmen across the sodden ground, giving the knights and men-at-arms around you to group together and reach the mound. You form a small rearguard of knights to protect your retreating footmen from any of your pursuers who approach too near.
You wheel your horse around to face a charging knight, screaming at the top of his voice and his lance tilted and poised to impale your chest. You lower your sword. Just as the lance is about to pass your horse’s head, you flash your sword round, deflect the tip from your body and slash the blade at the rider’s unprotected neck. Blood splashes across your face as the sword partially decapitates your adversary.
You turn your horse and spur it on to the mound, leaving the dead horseman’s body limp in the saddle.
At the bridge, the rebels are vociferously attacking your men, pinning down the rest of the column and preventing them from coming to your aid. You are now completely cut off from all relief. Some of the horsemen try to cross the stream, yet the rain-swollen waters are too deep to allow them that.
By now most of your group has reached the hillock. The knoll resembles one of the burial mounds that you have seen elsewhere, built by one of the old peoples who inhabited the land of England long before your grandfather conquered it and even perhaps before the English did so themselves.
Your order the knights to dismount and the soldiers to form a wall with their shields around the rim of the steep slope. Your banner of the Centaur, which your guard rescued from the chaos, flutters lightly in the feeble wind. More enemy soldiers arrive from the trees, including a large party of knights carrying their own banner. You see the coat of arms of Robert of Gloucester, and recognise a dark haired, stocky man barking out orders to his knights as one of Robert’s castellans, Miles, castellan of Gloucester.
You roughly count about four hundred men, more than enough to hold off the rest of your army and destroy you and your small group of men. The rain begins again and you see Miles’ knights regrouping after having slaughtered every visible spearman without mercy. You order the men to tighten their ranks and make sure every shield is firm. Sixty swordsmen against more than a hundred knights. It will be a close fight indeed. However, hopefully the tactic that served your uncle the King so well at the battle of Brémule will serve you here. Perhaps you were ill advised to proceed this way.
The captain of your guard, Ranulf, approaches you.
“Sire, you must leave now, while you have the chance!” he implores your.
“No! I shall not run away like a coward. I shall not! Do you think I have forgotten what happened to my father? Even my own mother thought him a coward for abandoning Antioch. I shall not allow the same to be thought of me.”
“My lord, your father was a brave and noble man, and no man can be ignorant of his valour, not when he gave his life in the end to free the Holy Land of the infidel. Some spoke a harsh and untrue word against him, yet they now surely know the falsehood of their words. But sire, I beg of you, think of your family and your followers. Think of what would happen to them should you this day or be captured. You must save yourself for their sake.”
You remain silent. The enemy knights charge.
“Ready!” you cry.
The knights gallop at you in a confused fashion, arrogantly disdaining a tightly packed formation, as they see no reason why you won’t be as easy prey as the spearmen. The speed of their charge is slightly broken by the mound’s slope, yet the horsemen still crash into your shield wall with a ferocious force, and it at first seems as though your men will give way at any moment. However, the wall begins to stiffen and soon it becomes apparent that the tactic that served King Henry so well at Bremule almost twenty years ago will be equally as successful here. The horsemen desperately try to hack a way through your lines, yet to no avail. They know that the impetus of their charge is lost. The knights withdraw.
The carnage of the short fight is now visible. Bodies of men and horses are strewn all over the slope and rim of the mound in the shape of a gruesome half-moon. Your men also suffered heavy casualties. Of the sixty men your first had, twelve are now dead and six are wounded. The shield wall is now pitifully small, and you know that you cannot hold out for much longer.
“Sire we cannot repulse the enemy many more times.” Ranulf says. “Perhaps once more, but a second charge would surely kill us all. If you remain here, I shall fight on until my last heartbeat and we shall all die. If you depart whilst you have the chance, then we may surrender with the knowledge that our sovereign is safe. I implore you, please think quickly on what you shall do.”
You look at the grim faces of the knights and men-at-arms and contemplate on your captain’s advice. Think of your family. For their sake alone, you cannot abandon them.
You slowly nod your head. Ranulf breathes a sigh of relief. You exchange surcoats with a knight and you are given what little food your men have on them, as well as a small wooden crossbow with a quiver of bolts. A knight leads your horse behind the mound, out of sight of the enemy. You mount your horse.
Ranulf takes your hand and kisses the ring. “May God go with you, my lord.”
“And you,” you reply.
And you spur your steed towards the distant, mist-shrouded woods, unnoticed by the enemy. You dare not approach the stream lest you fall on Miles of Gloucester’s men, so you ride in the direction of Worcester, where you hope to find Robert Beaumont and his men.
As you reach the trees, your rein in your horse. You can still see your men on the mound and your banner in the distance. The banner is lowered, and the knights and men-at-arms kneel in surrender.


You awake early the next morning, huddled under you cloak as you lie on the cold forest floor. Your clothes are damp, your muscles ache and every movement brings a flood of pain. Your stomach rumbles, and you bite into a piece of stale black bread. After finishing your meagre breakfast, you haul yourself up onto your feet. You untie your horse’s tether and wearily pull yourself up into the saddle. You don’t know precisely where you are, you don’t even know in which direction you should ride to reach Worcester. You dare not approach any villages or taverns, lest you fall upon a group of horsemen looking for you, as Miles of Gloucester has surely learnt that you evaded capture.
Nevertheless, you spur you horse on towards where you hope lies Worcester.

You knew you weren’t alone as soon as you had crossed the stream. As much as you twisted around in your saddle, you still couldn’t see anyone in the woods, but an instinct knew there was someone there. You halt your horse and take the crossbow out of your saddlebag. You pull back the bowstring onto the snag and place a bolt on the bow before replacing it in your saddle. You ride on.
As you go down a dip, you hear a rustle of leaves. Two horsemen appear from the trees in front of you, swords drawn. You turn round to see another knight some yards behind you. You rein in your horse once again.
“My lord, if you would be so kind as to drop your sword and any other weapons you may have on you, no harm need come to you,” says one of the knights in front of you. “However, my lord the Earl of Gloucester has given me every licence to take whatever means necessary in…disabling you. Naturally, I hope that you choose the most peaceful method.”
“Indeed I shall,” you reply and pull the crossbow out of the bag and shoot it at the knight. The bolt plunges into his belly and you pull your sword from your scabbard. You charge at the other knight and your swords meet, sliding off each other with a sharp sound. You feint with your sword, then bring it down and thrust it into your opponent’s chest. You charge back down the dip towards the last horsemen. You can tell from the position of his arm that he will make a slash at you head, so you duck at the last minute. The blow passes over you and you swing your sword round into the knight’s unprotected back. The rider cries out in pain, and you stab him in the back to kill him.
You then hear the sound of more horses’ hooves, so you gallop off in the opposite direction. Six more riders appear behind you, and you dig your heels into the horse’s sides to spur it on. You duck as branches whiz past you and hold on to your saddle as it leaps over rotten tree trunks. You turn to look back for a moment, and see that your pursuers are getting closer. You know that you can’t keep ahead for much longer.
You see the end of the trees two hundred yards away and are determined to push on. The nearest of your pursuers is but fifteen yards behind you. After what seems an age, you finally ride through the tree line into the open fields. You can almost hear the rider’s breathing behind you. And then, you see it, one of the most glorious site you have ever seen. An army. Robert of Leicester’s army.
You whoop for joy as your horse thunders across the fields to Leicester’s men. Your pursuers, seeing the army, halt and turn back.
“Halt!” commands one of the knights flanking the column as you approach it.
“Who goes there?” the knight demands.
“I am Stephen, King of England and Duke of Normandy.”

Robert of Leicester has succeeded in raising a force of three hundred and fifty knights and men-at-arms, half of which are mounted. He informs you that Robert of Gloucester has already made for London with two hundred knights. Your brother Henry, Bishop of Winchester, has made for his see, and reports say that he remains in control of both the royal and the Episcopal castles, and most importantly of all, the treasury. Your wife, Queen Maud, far from escaping to her native Boulogne, has ridden with her knights from Kent for London, where she appears to have the overwhelming support of the guilds and the people.

You now have two options.

1. Lead Robert of Leicester’s men towards Monmouth, in the hope of linking up with the Welsh barons’ army, which you were forced to leave the day before. You would then have an army of almost one thousand men. However, you do not know where that army is nor whether or not it has retreated to the Marches, owing to the unresolved situation there. Do not forget that Miles of Gloucester, a most formidable commander, has a force of at least five hundred men and is also near.
2. Take Robert Beaumont’s knights and ride immediately for London, hopefully arriving in time to reinforce your wife against Robert of Gloucester. The men-at-arms would then fall back to Worcester and consolidate your position in the Midlands.