Battle reports thread - King of the Romans PBM

**GeneralHankerchief** · 10-12-2007, 04:04

The Diary of Dietrich von Dassel
South of Bologna, 1318

We had arrived at Bologna a week prior, but I had declined to attack up until now. This delay was most certainly not my doing; if I had it my way we would have kept right on marching and bit the enemy right in the rear. Of course, if I had it my way back in 1300 I would have been Chancellor, the Kaiser would have been forced to Diet opinion, and we might not have been in such a terrible position in the first place.

Upon seeing the Byzantine army for the first time, my men - my hard-core veterans! - went and got major cold feet. Leading the dissent were the Balkan Archers I had picked up at the start of my march and, more surprisingly, Alexander Luther's very own Religious Fanatics, the same people that had killed Pope Abbate in a frenzy. Now that the odds were slightly against us, they had done a 180 in their opinions; now Luther didn't matter, the Cause didn't matter, defending the Reich didn't matter. They simply would not attack because I was apparently throwing all of their lives away for nothing.

Not even the most passionate speeches by Luther nor the nastiest threats by me could move them from their position. After the third day of the impasse I finally decided to just let them desert before the defeatest sentiment spread to the rest of the men. Of course we were facing bad odds, that was the idea! The Reich needed this kind of victory, and we were the ones that would deliver it to them!

The next few days were spent by me scouring the countryside in search of some less-cowardly men, for with the desertion of the Fanatics and Balkan Archers we were definitely screwed. Eventually I found some Mercenary Spearmen and Pavise Crossbowmen, men not quite devoted to the Cause so much as money. They saw the odds but instead of deserting they simply raised their prices. I was forced to comply.

Finally, after the seventh day, we were ready to move in. And so we did, with me still asking myself whether I was a *#%!ing idiot or not for making this crazy move. Obviously, I kept that sentiment to myself. I didn't want any more men deserting or doubting me.

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The way things were set up, the Bologna garrison would come in from the east and smash the Byzantine force. The one thing we had going in our favor was that about half the ridiculously large army consisted of peasant archers, men who surely knew my and the Army of Light's reputation. If we charged in and flanked them... maybe they would break. Maybe. The small men that were part of the Varangian Guard or the Kataphractoi would be harder to disperse, however.

Our men advanced slowly and deliberately for the time being. I wanted to conserve their energy, for once they got in range of the enemy's archers they would need to run if there was to be a significant impact to my charge. As such, the garrison of Bologna got to the fighting first and began to overrun the enemy Horse Archers placed on the extreme flank.

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The Byzantines, including the archers, held their positions as the Bolognans slowly overwhelmed the missile cavalry. Good. If they had turned and unleashed their arrows onto the flanking force... well... let's just say that there wouldn't have been a flanking force for long.

Our men stopped.

"Crossbows, take aim!" I shouted. I could hear similar commands being made in Greek on the other side of the battlefield.

Since I had given the order first, our bolts hit their targets faster. There was a moment of brief celebration as we saw some of their hundreds of archers go down, but it was short-lived. The hail of arrow fire was coming our way. Everyone braced themselves for the worst.

I sat up in my saddle, facing the storm. I remembered tales of Thermopylae, where the Persian archers had blotted out the sun, the Persian archers that were part of a numerically superior but inferior in quality force. The Byzantines here, the descendants of the same Greeks that had fought at that mountain pass so long ago didn't block the sun, but they came close.

Arrows came down everywhere, sometimes six or seven to a shield. Dozens of men dropped, but our missiles took the brunt of the casualties. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that it wasn't worse.

"Infantry, charge!" I roared, and they instantly ran, hoping to get to the enemy line as quickly as possible. "Crossbows, stay here! Keep firing!"

It was an amazing sight. The Byzantines got one volley off into the infantry before my men closed. And then, just over three hundred men charging scattered off three times that number of men, leaving the infantry to take the brunt of the charge.

All of those numbers and none of them want to fight Imperial infantry face-to-face, I thought. Amazing.

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My glee was short-lived. Our flanking force was closing in, yes. But so was theirs. Hundreds of Byzantine archers worked their way around the battle line, in our infantry's rear, on both my sides, between me and the infantry, and there was only my escort and crossbowmen to hold them off.

I charged into the closest regiment of archers, killing a good amount of them instantly and sending them running. Hopefully it would last and they wouldn't regain their nerve and come back. I spotted another nearby regiment. Lather, rinse, repeat. But this time it was tougher. The enemy held on longer, we had to kill more of them to make our point, and I lost a couple of horsemen.

After disengaging, I took a look at the greater battle situation:

- Our infantry was in good order, defeating the inferior Byzantine infantry.

- Many many many many many archers still lurked.

- The Bologna garrison was about to become a major thorn in the enemy's side (literally)

- I was about to receive more pressure. After turning around, I saw both some Kataphractoi and the Varangian Guard slowly making their way towards me.

"Oh dear God," I muttered. I guess this was the downside to having a reputation. Desperately turning to my infantry, I started screaming.

"Withdraw! Withdraw! You've killed enough infantry! Time to go after the meat!" My men looked around in confusion, and then saw what I was facing. Bless them, they ran. The Army of Light stuck up for each other.

There was a minute of me evading enemy archer fire, cavalry charges, and infantry engagements. Then, two things happened: The Bolognans, in the midst of their flanking push, struck down the enemy captain. Secondly, our Armoured Sergeants engaged the Varangian Guard. Of course they were getting slowly mauled but the important thing was that the enemy was pinned.

"Ride around the rear, then charge!!!"

My escort did so, breaking the famed Varangian Guard and freeing up the beleagured Armoured Sergeants. Unlike with the archers eariler on in the battle, my men spent extra time chasing down and killing every single person in this regiment.

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The process was repeated later on with my infantry and the Kataphractoi. They pinned, I charged. The enemy ran, I pursued. The meat was gone.

The rest of the demoralized enemy quickly routed when realizing that their captain was dead and that the elite units were no more. Our flanking action had gone spectacularly, and the rest of the battle was simply my exhausted men hunting down and destroying routers.

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At the day's close, we looked at the official casualty count: It had been a crushing defeat for the enemy. Around 85% of the enemy was not able to escape the field that day. Our losses were relatively few, and the Army of Light was ready for continued action. Plus, and most importantly, we were now more confident, all of us. There would be less desertion after they learned that they could do this.

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The final thing I had to deal with was the six hundred sixty nine enemy prisoners. That was quite a lot, and ransoming them would give us a lot of money to use for further operation.

"M'Lord," said Friedrich, my aide, "What should we do with them? We could use the money."

"Kill them," I said without a moment's hesitation. "If the Byzantines want a war, we'll give it to them. This sends a message. This sends her a message, wherever she is."

"Yes, sir," said Friedrich, bowing.

"We may not win this thing," I said to myself, "But we'll make it a fight. We'll make it a fight."

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**econ21** · 10-12-2007, 07:52

The storming of Antioch, 1318

Elberhard sat with his head in his hands. His time as Chancellor was coming to a close and the enormity of the ruin the Reich had experienced under his stewardship was overpowering.

“Chin up.” said Linyeve, breezily. “It can’t be that bad.”

Elberhard looked up, exasperated. “Can’t be that bad? Think of what I have “achieved” during my term of office. I’ve given away a large chunk of the Reich. Seen my Kaiser assassinated. Watched my men sack the capital of our most faithful ally. Stood by as zealots killed poor Pope Abbate. Had my partner run off with the entire Treasury. Can there ever have been a worse King of Rome?”

Linyeve smiled, as if enjoying her husband’s discomfort: “Oh, I am sure there has.”

“Who?”

“Err… Nero, perhaps?” Linyeve teased.

“@#$%^&!!! off!” said Elberhard, emphatically. “It’s not my fault.” He whined. “The @#$%^&!!ing Bavarians killed the Kaiser. The @#$%^&!!ing Franconians started the war with Byzantium. The @#$%^&!!ing Austrians killed the Pope. And the @#$%^&!!ing Swabians are killing themselves! Only the @#$%^&!!ing crusaders in Outremer have been true.”

“Yes, and you @#$%^&!!ed the crusaders over, didn’t you?” said Linyeve, evilly.

Elberhard sunk his head back into his hands.

“Look” said Linyeve, seriously. “Forget about internal politics. You won’t have to worry about that for a while. There are far greater threats externally.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I heard from my contacts at the English court. The Poles have been putting out feelers to all the Catholic powers. They are trying to organise a crusade against us. And not just any old crusade – not just each nation sending one to take one of our cities. But a crusade to crush the Reich completely. To take advantage of its weakness. Already our enemies are mustering fresh armies and preparing to cross our borders in concert.”

“Who is part of this alliance?”

“Everyone. Or almost everyone. The Poles have even brought the Orthodox Russians on board. The Hungarians have led the way with their destruction of the First Household Army of Austria. The breaking of the siege of Thessalonica has encouraged the Venetians to go on the attack. The Papacy is enraged by the extermination of Durazzo and the killing of the Pope. The surprise victory at Ajaccio is spurring the Sicilians to raise a massive army to do it right next time. The French can barely contain their delight at Swabia falling into civil war and rebellion. While the Danes have seen the arrival of Peter von Kastilien on their borders as the signal for a renewed drive on Hamburg.”

“And they are all going to work together?”

“Yes. While the Byzantines hold our attention in Italy and Outremer, the rest of Europe will fall on our flanks and rear.”

“@#$%^&!!ing hell!” sighed Elberhard. “What do I do?”

“Oh, that’s easy. There is only one thing for you to do." Linyeve said grimly: "You fight.”

*****

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After a night march, the Kaiser’s army had arrived at Antioch. Elberhard watched with interest the deployment of the two batteries of cannon. He had been impressed by the stories of this new weapon and was keen to see it in action.

“Target the gates” he ordered.

One volley and the gates were down.

“@#$%^&!!ing hell!” said Elberhard appreciatively.

He turned to Jan the Teuton. Jan winced, remembering the fury with which the Kaiser had greeted him on return from Rome.

“Captain – you are in command. Bring up the army through the gates.”

Jan looked puzzled, as Elberhard spurred his escort off through the gates.

“Where does he think he is going?” he muttered as the Kaiser and his men entered the city alone.

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As the army began to approach the city, Jan saw crossbows start to poke out of the adjoining towers and fire on his troops. Through the smashed gates, he could see Byzantine cavalry arriving to block the entrance.

“Sergeants!” Jan called out. “Through the gates! For God, for Kaiser and for the Reich!”

The armoured spearmen poured through the gates into the enemy cavalry. Although the Muslim mercenary cavalry holding Antioch for Byzantium was well armoured, its main advantages were neutralised by its caught stationary and in a confined space.

“Archers! Indirect fire – shoot over the walls!” ordered Jan.

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The fighting was bitter but brief. Soon the enemy were in flight and through the gates Jan saw the Kaiser’s escort pursue them.

As Jan entered the city, he was greeted by an exuberant Elberhard.

“Great scrap, eh?” said the Kaiser. “Right – bring the spearmen through the streets. But halt them just a little ahead of the walls. I want you to create a killing zone for the enemy cavalry. Place the crossbowmen on the walls, so they can provide support. I am going to move to the east side of the city, so I can hit them in the flank as they fixate on you.”

Jan saluted. Sounds like a plan, he thought.

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Even Jan was surprised by how successful the Kaiser’s tactics were. The Byzantine cavalry could make no impression on the German schiltrons. After the death of their general, the enemy seemed crippled by low morale. Typically they would advance – take heavy losses from the crossbows on the walls – and then flee after only the weakest pretence of engaging the German schiltron.

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After his men had expended about half their ammunition, Jan heard a loud “hurrah!” coming from the east side of the city. Evidently the Kaiser was making his move.

“Charge!” roared Jan.

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After the battle, Elberhard returned to Linyeve, his face flushed with pride.

“Well, it’s a start, I suppose.” she said.

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**Northnovas** · 10-13-2007, 13:09

Sofia Region – Road to Budapest 1318

The marched had started and the recruitment was slow. The Count had managed to organize a regiment of spearmen from the stragglers of Bucharest and what he had they were all veterans. The recruits were with the crossbow men. There were more recruits then regulars. Peter his logistics man was able to scrape equipment for them and a limited number of arrows. They were all good hunters with the bow. The Count felt fortunate to finish his Army off with some Reiters he had met recently met and some Knights.

This was the Karl’s first battle against a European Faction. The scouts told them they were slightly outnumbered and it was mainly spearmen. Not what Karl wanted to hear; their level of experience was unknown. There was no avoiding he must fight.

The Count surveyed the ground it was a frosty morning and the light snow on the ground gave some disadvantage fro anyhow climbing. He rode up to the Crossbowmen.
“Archers, for many this is your first battle. All that I ask of you men is to concentrate on your tasks at hand. You were picked because of your marksmen ability. Keep your focus on your target and ignore everything around you. Listen to your Captain’s orders and good hunting. A roaring cheer went up from the men; these boys were ready thought the Karl to himself.
Karl then rode up to the Captain of the Spearmen. The Captain looked up to the Count and nodded to acknowledge I know what needs to be done.
“Protect them archers; I can’t have them leave the battlefield.” Karl said very quietly to the Captain.
“I will watch them as if there my own, my lord” said the captain as he turned to the Regiment and barked some orders.

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There were 3 Regiments of Spearmen and 1 Regiment of Feudal Knights. That was the unit that concerned the Count. All missile units concentrated on the Knights. They began to fall.

The cavalry charged!

They fled before coming to the Austrian line.

Spearmen were left and the Reiters and Crossbowmen concentrated on the formation coming directly to the Austrian line. The Hungarians were wavering. The Count’s tactic was working the Spearmen were being hit in the rear by the cavalry before they could set.

The morning was over soon enough.

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A victory no matter how small was all that was needed to build on for the recruitment drive to Budapest thought Zirn.

“My lord, we have prisoners. What are your wishes?” asked the Captain of the Spearmen.

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“Release them!” Karl ordered and rode off. The Captain had a bit of a quizzical look but followed through with the order not showing his utter contempt for the enemy and really knew little about the man he was following; Karl Zirn the Hounourable.

**econ21** · 10-16-2007, 00:34

Budapest, 1320

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“When the cannons fire, you run - right, Klaus?”

Young Klaus looked petulant: “What - run carrying this ruddy great pavise? Who do you think I am? Hercules?”

The older man, Conrad, started to wag his finger: “Look, idiot, we are about all the Count has got to rely on in this battle. Look around you - his army is a bunch of half trained militia. The Magyars will cut through them like a hot knife through butter! We have to get into the city and onto the walls. The militia will hold off the Magyars and we’ll do the killing. Right?”

“I am sorry, did you say something about butter? God, I’m starving.” Klaus looked distracted, and very hungry.

Conrad’s face turned red: “Idiot! Look, just run when … damn it, that’s the cannon! God be praised the gates are down in one volley! Now … RUN!”

*****

Klaus and Conrad puffed their way to the northern gateway to Budapest. Ahead of them, they had seen Count Lorenz be the first to ride into the city. It was said he had received a personal letter from the Kaiser himself, explaining the tactics used to take Antioch and was seeking to apply them here.

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The two German crossbowmen then clambered up the steps to the walls, pushing and shoving with the throng of other Germans racing to get into the city before the garrison belatedly plugged the breach. The gate tower had not been guarded. Count Lorenz had ordered two regiments of militia to make feints for the western and eastern gates, hoping to draw off some of Budapest’s ample garrison. The stratagem had had only limited success - two insignificant Magyar regiments had been roused at the eastern gate. But perhaps the confusion caused by the multiple threats explained the failure of the garrison to guard the key northern gate in strength. The Magyars were clearly trying to correct their mistake - for Klaus could hear the sound of fighting out in the streets. Clearly the German infantry spearhead, a regiment of Zweihanders, was meeting opposition.

When Klaus reached the top of the city walls, he turned to look at the combat below him. The Germans had managed to secure a perimeter around the gates, preventing the Magyars infiltrating their own archers onto the walls. In the streets, Klaus could see Magyar cavalry taking aim at the German infantry.

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Conrad could not believe the chaos and confusion in the German ranks. Crossbow militia, halberd militia, zweihanders and spear militia were intermingled and packed among the narrow city streets.

“Look!” shouted Klaus in alarm. In the distance, Conrad could make out the gleaming armour of chivalric knights coming to assist the Magyar cavalry. If the Germans did not get organised, this could get nasty, thought Conrad.

“Form ranks! Form ranks!” shouted the halberd militia captains.

“Form schiltron!” screamed the spear militia captains.

Slowly order began to emerge.

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As the Magyar horsemen were being worn down, Klaus heard the sound of horns and trumpets coming from the east.

“It’s the eastern gate - Count Lorenz has opened it from the inside!” said Conrad exultantly.

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Meanwhile, the two professional infantry regiments - the zweihanders and the armoured sergeants - had been extracted early on from the melee in front of the north gate and sent east down a side road.

“Where are they going?!” asked Klaus.

“Like us, they are too good to waste on in the carnal house down there. They are going to get behind the enemy.” announced Conrad. “If we can trap the Magyars in the streets, they will lose heart. Let the rebels get back to the city centre and they will fight like demons.”

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With their general dead, the Magyars trapped in the northern streets were slowly cut down and eliminated. The Zweihanders and armoured sergeants began to approach the city centre. There, a remaining Magyar cavalry regiment entered a Cantabrian circle, targeting the German shock troops.

The pavise crossbowmen were helpless to intervene - they were out of range.

“All right you maggots, off the walls! Get down to the city square or do you want to just stand around, watching the others get the glory?” screamed one of the crossbowmen’s officers.

“Glory?!” muttered Conrad, “What an ass!”

The crossbowmen dutifully filed down the stairs and off the walls, but before Klaus left, he saw Count Lorenz’s escort come charging in from the east, riding hard for the Magyar cavalry. While the Cantabrian circle protected the Magyars from return fire, it hopelessly disrupted their ability to evade melee.

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As the crossbowmen came within range of the city centre, they heard the boom of the German cannons. Every available man in the German army was now pouring into the central forum, overwhelming the last defenders.

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In the sacking of the city that follows, 4688 innocents lose their lives - and 15904 florins are looted. For this victory, Count Lorenz will earn the reputation of being a promising commander and identify both a promising veteran warrior and a shield bearer among his retinue

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**econ21** · 10-16-2007, 10:57

Aleppo Province, 1320

“Captain Jan, I want you to sit this one out.”

“My Kaiser, why? Is this some punishment for what happened in Rome – I have explained…”

“No, listen – I have put out a call an open call to all honourable men left in Outremer. I have proclaimed the need of Christendom and stated that the good people here stand in dire peril. I hope to rally ex-Crusaders to our cause. As a Captain of the Teutonic Order, I want you to take charge of the recruits and whip them into shape.”

“But Kaiser – the recruits will be experienced fighters, I am sure I can get them organised in time to join you in your attack on Strategos Nikolaos.”

“Maybe, but Nikolaos has only a small force – he will surely withdraw rather than give battle to a large army. No – you stay; I’ll challenge him with the men I have now. We can re-unite afterwards if all goes according to plan.”

“As you command, Kaiser.”

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*****

“All right, Kachig – what do we know about Nikolaos’s men?”

“A ragtag force. But it includes several war machines. I would not recommend trying to shoot it out.”

“Too @#$%ing right.” swore Elberhard, “I don’t want them frying me Arnolds.”

“Kaiser – if I may interject – a key strength of the Byzantines is their infantry.” said Sir Charles de Villiers, the veteran English warrior that Linyeve had introduced to Elberhard’s retinue. “They have something of the quality of the old Roman legionnaires. While our knights can match them, they will carve through our sergeants.”

“And we have only one regiment of knights.” sighed Elberhard, beginning to regret leaving Captain Jan and his re-enlisted crusaders behind. “So we hit them with cavalry.”

“That will not be easy” interrupted Kachig. “Nikolaos’s own escort are the formidable kataphractoi and he has some lancers too.”

“All right.” Elberhard had heard enough. “This is the plan. Kachig, you deploy the infantry on this raised ground on the right in a defensive position. Loose order, to minimise losses to their war machines. Close up when the enemy get near. Put me Arnolds on the right flank, but keep ‘em safe. I’ll mass our cavalry on the left.”

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“We’ll work our way round the enemy’s rear and take out Nikolaos, their cavalry and then their war machines. Kachig – the infantry will just have to hold until we can assist.”

“Of course, Sire, but try not to tarry.” said Kachig.

@#$% it, thought Elberhard, I’m taking orders from a @#$%ing Armenian mercenary now.

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*****

The battle was fought at night and the darkness masked the flanking movement of the German cavalry. Elberhard aimed his large escort at the most powerful Byzantine unit – Nikolaos’s veteran kataphractoi bodyguard.

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Gradually, Elberhard’s flanking force overwhelmed the outnumbered Byzantine cavalry and then overran their war machines.

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The German anvil – their foot troops - was sorely pressed by the superior Byzantine infantry. However, the cavalry hammer arrived just in time to prevent excessive losses.

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*****

After the battle, Linyeve advised Elberhard to try to ransom the prisoners.

“You need the money.” She said simply.

“Should I not follow King Jan’s example and release them?” said Elberhard.

“One King who is known as the merciful is quite enough.” said Linyeve emphatically and then she looked at Elberhard suggestively. “You are my champion and I want you to stay that way.”

Unfortunately for the Greek captives, however, the Byzantines were in no mood to fund their cash-starved enemies.

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**OverKnight** · 10-18-2007, 19:01

The Sally out of Antioch

Matthias gave a prayer of thanks as he reviewed his troops. After he had grudgingly agreed to garrison Antioch and abandon the Iron Bridge, he feared the Greeks would pour south in great numbers around the city. They indeed came south, but they had dispersed themselves to the bridge, Antioch itself and Aleppo. Rather than conquer Outremer one settlement and army at a time, the Byzantines sought to overwhelm them all at once. They seemed to have limitless men, but their arrogance was their weakness. A weakness Matthias was intent on exploiting.

His reverie was broken when he came to the four cannons ready to be deployed from the north gate. Matthias was intrigued, he had never led gunpowder artillery into battle, but the construction of the Royal Arsenal at Adana had given him some familiarity with the new weapons.

He approached a battery and spoke to the sergeant in charge of one of the cannons.

"Your gun is ready? I intend for you and your fellows to play a key role tonight."

The gunner nodded, "Aye lord, Feuer Faust here is ready to go, you get us outside the walls and we'll send some Greeks to hell."

"Fire Fist? You name the weapons?"

The artilleryman smiled, "Yes lord, the other cannon in this battery is called Spitfire. Named after the Kaiserin Linyeve herself."

Matthias chuckled and shook his head, "I hope that doesn't get back to her Majesty. Good hunting Sergeant."

Mounting his horse, Matthias looked about him. The troops were ready and it was the witching hour, time to give the Greeks a nightmare.

The Pavise Crossbowmen were deployed on the walls facing the besiegers.

The cannons and the spearmen of the garrison deployed from the north gate in the shelter of the walls that thrust out around them in a U. As the men took position, Greek horse and foot archers came forward to disrupt the move.

The bowmen on the walls kept them engaged as the cannons began firing on the main Greek force.

Demetrios Diogenes, the Greek Strategos, in an effort to raise the morale of his men, told them the Germans couldn't hit the side of a Cathedral with their new cannon. He died in the third volley.

Disoriented by the loss of their leader and the aggressive use of an unusual weapon, the Greeks prevaricated, content to continue skirmishing with their missile troops. They withstood fire until the cannons ran out of powder and shot.

Matthias ordered his men forward, with the spearmen followed by the fanatics and swordsmen.

The Greeks' will to fight melted on contact between the two lines. The rout was on.

The cannons had served Matthias well. He sent Feuer Faust and Spitfire on to the Kaiser with his compliments. The ransom on the prisoners was refused and they were put to the sword.

The Second Battle of the Iron Bridge

Matthias surveyed the Iron Bridge with his good eye. Privately he had expressed doubt to the Kaiser and King Jan that he could take the bridge without heavy losses. Still, he now had cannons. A battery had gone east to the Kaiser, but he had kept one for his own army, with them a bridge assault might be possible.

Matthias deployed the cannon near the bridge, but outside the range of the Greeks' older artillery. Pavise Crossbowmen were in loose formation to the left and right of the battery and the rest of the troops were hidden in a palm grove further back. If the Byzantines were goaded into crossing, they would be in for a surprise.

With a roar, the two cannons began firing across the Orontes. Matthias ordered them to concentrate on the Greeks' defensive line at the mouth of the bridge. After a few hits, the troops redeployed into a loose formation as they retreated back from the river.

Matthias looked on, a grim fire in his eye. Their hold on the bridge was disrupted, now to take on their siege machines. If left intact, they could thwart any Imperial assault with a well placed shot.

Half the machines were wrecked and their crews scattered, but the cannons were now out of shot. Matthias ordered the crossbowmen to the banks of the river to further soften up the Greek line.

Sensing that the moment of decision was coming, Matthias spurred his horse out in front of his infantry.

"Men! Germans! The way is clear! Look at those cowards on the far shore, they are no match for the Chosen of God! We will go across the bridge and smite the infidels where they stand."

Despite the speech, there was some muttering among the footmen. Matthias looked about, Gunpowder and God might not be enough to inspire them.

Lowering himself off his horse and sending it away with his squire, Matthias drew Iron Faith, the sword of Saint Maximillian.

"I will lead the way! Follow me and we will take the bridge! Nothing can stop us, for we walk in the Light!"

Turning, Matthias brought the sword down, pointing to the north.

"For Saint Maximillian and the Reich! Forward!"

Screaming in a frenzied state, the footmen, with Matthias in the lead, charged across the bridge. The Byzantines marched forward to reestablish their line, but they were met with withering missile fire from the far bank.

Running as fast as his armor would allow across the bridge, Matthias heard the shudder of the remaining greek trebuchet in motion, he could feel heat all around him as the night went red.

But the shot missed. Matthias charged into the Greeks' line, his men a step behind. Iron Faith struck true, as three Greeks died in a moment. He was lost in the battle, a blind rage consumed him. Only when the Byzantines began to break did he emerge from the fury to order the cavalry to pursue.

It was over, the Iron Bridge belonged to him again. The prisoners were killed after a ransom offer was refused. Matthias knelt, covered in gore, and offered a prayer of thanksgiving. The Lord had granted him and his army victory, first at Antioch and now here. Come what may, he would hold against the Greeks, he would hold. And one day, if the Lord saw fit, he would pry Adana from their hands and he would have his vengeance against one Greek in particular.

**Cecil XIX** · 12-11-2007, 05:56

Count Lorenz soon reached the crest of the hill, and he paused to survey the scene before him.

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Muttering a curse to himself, he called the rest of his army forward in a double line.

Meanwhile, Edmund Becker was busying himself with saving the remnants of his army. There were still a few who remained alive outside the walls, but if any of the enemy were to get through it would prove disastrous. Fortunately the bulk of the Polish army was reorganizing in preparation to receive Count Lorenz, leaving only a heavily depleted unit of Lithuanian cavalry to finish the job. Becker quickly raced to closest ballista tower, where he personally directed their fire at the enemy.

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By then, the bulk of Zirn’s forces were nearing the city. Unfortunately, it looked like the Polish reinforcements were ahead. However, they left themselves completely exposed by remaining in a column. With the Pole’s main force still some distance away, Count Lorenz ordered his men to run forward and rout the enemy with all speed.

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As Count Lorenz’s men rushed to engage, the ballista tower was soon able to rout the Polish missile cavalry. Becker quickly rushed out of the tower.

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“Open the gate, let the rest of the men inside! Quickly, quickly!”

Becker then received a message informing him of Lorenz’s actions.

“That’s good, tell him to stay near the walls. Get the rest of the army over there so we can give them support fire!” The order, given, he rushed to the southeast corner of the city.

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As the rest of Edmund Becker’s army followed his orders, Lorenz Zirn’s army quickly routed the Polish reinforcements.

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The lesser army was dealt with easily enough, and the larger army was bearing down upon him albeit in a disorderly manner. Perhaps they were still reeling from the battle with the Bohemians or perhaps they underestimated the strength of Austria.

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Regardless, as Count Lorenz instructed his army to face the attackers he took notice what the Polish Captain was doing.

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Lorenz quickly spurred his own knights to action, and quickly charges the Polish Captain’s men before they could call up support.

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[/IMG]

The captain did not live long to regret his mistake.

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This had a major effect on the tired Poles, and a few regiments began to run immediately.

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Edmund had seen this happen from the rather spectacular viewpoint provided him by Prague’s walls. With the battle swinging back in the Reich’s favor, he quickly got back on his horse and rode out for a more personal examination. The sight that greeted him was very welcome.

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Edmund rode quickly to greet Lorenz Zirn, stopping only to relieve his stress for a few moments.

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Soon he was able to wave down Count Lorenz, who rushed to meet him.

“Count Edmund! Good to see you’re still alive!”

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“It will take more than this to kill me. How goes it, Count Lorenz?”

The two rode back to Lorenz’s guards, discussing their various parts in the battle. As Lorenz took up position at the head, his head darted to look over Becker’s right shoulder, Lorenz pointed behind Becker and shouted “Behind you!”

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Edmund quickly turned around to see fifty heads headed right toward. For a second his life flashed before his eyes, but then instinct took over.

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After a few seconds it became clear that the Knights were not interested in taking Becker’s life, but merely fleeing the field. It was merely a poor choice on their part that they chose to flee directly into Lorenz’s bodyguards.

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Once that was taken care of, Lorenz turned back to where Edmund was.

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“Lord, I am not at home upon the battlefield.” Thought Edmund. “Perhaps if I get a faster horse I can catch Contzel and the children before they reach Mahren.”

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***

From the Diary of Edmund Becker:

What I reviewed was not actually the battle report itself, but rather an account of Polish forces in Silesia shortly before my battle. The army I noted was probably heading east to Magdeburg. Still, the battle should have gone better. Alas, I fear I have not the patience for these things.

Regardless, I have accomplished what I set out to do. I have already spent the money necessary to construct a City Hall, and by releasing the prisoners my stature as a noble and just Elector has risen, drawing immigrants and refugees to Prague.

**econ21** · 12-11-2007, 16:22

The battle of ~~Ragusa~~ Zagreb, 1338

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Gustav Peters, intrepid explorer from Antioch, gazed through his lenses at the Hungarian army deploying in front of him. Although the Germans had deployed on higher ground, the enemy had taken up position around a small fort. The motte of the fort provided some elevation for nearby infantry.

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“@#$%^&!!! it!” swore Elberhard. “They just want us to come and get them. This is not going to be easy.”

The left flank of the Hungarian line was secured by the fort. The right flank was protected by several regiments of Hungarian nobles - horse archers with formidable close combat ability.

Kachig Istvan, Armenian mercenary captain, cautioned the Kaiser: “Most of those men are good soldiers, Sire - Hungary’s finest. We should not rush in.”

“What are we? The Reich’s @#$%^&!!!?” retorted Elberhard, bitterly. But he knew the Armenian was right. The cataclysm had seen many of the Reich’s veterans killed in brutal wars - external and internal. The victories of the invaders had seen their armies rise in experience and morale.

“All right - Peters, I want you to sight our cannon. Go for the rear most cavalry unit - the Magyars. That’s their general. With any luck, we can take them out. They seem to have left their bombards behind for now. So fire all ammunition, then Kachig will send in the crossbowmen.” Elberhard looked at the early morning sun. “We’re in no hurry.”

*****

“Bull’s eye!” Elberhard roared with the appreciation as Gustav Peters reported the result of the second volley of the cannon. “Now let’s see how “Hungary’s finest” fight without their general!”

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The cannon discharged all its flaming ammunition into the centre of the Hungarian lines. The enemy just stood there, stoically, soaking up the punishment. After the battle, Peters estimated his two cannon had killed 100 of the enemy.

“All right - your boys have done all they can, Peters. Send them back to the baggage train. And send word to Sir Karl Zirn. Tell him, he is missing all the fun.” ordered Elberhard.

The next stage of the battle then began, with the German pavise crossbowmen advancing in loose formation to skirmish with the Hungarian line. For some inexplicable reason, the Hungarians began to shift to their right - weakening the forces deployed around the fort on the left. Elberhard saw his chance.

“Mr Peters, care to join us in a cavalry charge?” Elberhard asked the explorer. Flustered, Gustav hastily mounted his horse. His heart was pounding as the Kaiser’s escort began its slow advance on the enemy line.

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They trotted past the skirmishing crossbowmen and even started to mount the motte of the fort. A panicked Gustav held up his lens - he could see the whites of the enemies’ eyes. Why don’t we charge now? wondered Gustav. He never received an answer. For whatever reason - whether it was forgetfulness, miscalculation or the difficulty of climbing the snow covered slopes - the Kaiser’s escort simply walked up to the enemy lines and began fighting. It was an ineffective, wasteful melee.

Gustav looked to his left and saw the mass of the Hungarian army turning about and marching back towards him, returning to secure their left flank against the fort.

“@#$%^&!!! it!” Gustav heard Elberhard roar. “Pull back! Pull back! @#$%^&!!! it, let’s do it again - properly this time!”

The German cavalry withdrew back down the motte. Turned and then approached again, this time running at full speed from the start.

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However, although the German cavalry hit the enemy line at the charge, the snow and slope sapped the impetus out of their charge and the result was no better than the first attempt. All that saved the Germans was that the Hungarian infantry lacked the long spears that would have been most effective against the Kaiser’s knights. Both sides were trapped in an inconclusive melee.

“@#$%^&!!! it!” came the familiar cry from amidst the sound of battle. “Ride through them! Ride through them! With me! Follow me!”

Gustav saw Elberhard lead his horse forward through the enemy infantry, seeking to break through to the rear of the enemy line. Gustav spurred his horse after the Kaiser, but saw several knights fall to the blows of the infantry they tried to bypass.

Soon the Kaiser’s retinue was free of the enemy frontline. In front of them, they saw the crews of two Hungarian bombards hastening to man their war machine.

“Charge!” shouted the Kaiser and the chase was on.

Once they had ridden down the unfortunate artillerymen and some skirmishing Hungarian pavise crossbow militia, Elberhard turned his escort around and began to race back up the motte, but this time from the opposite side - straight into the rear of the enemy’s lines. As they crested the slope, Gustav could see almost the entire Hungarian army had surged forward to engage the German main line.

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The ensuing battle was bloody, scattered and disorganised. The morale of the Hungarians had been fatally undermined by the early loss of their general and coming off worse in the initial exchange of missile fire. Gradually, the dismounted Imperial knights broke the Hungarian infantry.

However, the Hungarian cavalry were less easily disposed of and a tense moment came when the Hungarian chivalric knights made their presence felt - threatening to turn the German left. Gustav could make out a mass of shining silver rumbling forward to meet the threat - the Reich’s sole regiment of Gothic knights, kitted out in the finest armour known to man, were intervening.

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By hard sacrifices from the mounted German knights, the enemy cavalry were halted and then overwhelmed as the German infantry joined the fight. However, small bands of Hungarian knights still roamed the battle field - exacting a heavy toll on disorganised German regiments. The Kaiser’s escort - now joined by that of Sir Karl Zirn - played a key role in countering these brave enemies.

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After the battle, Elberhard rode into Zagreb with Sir Karl Zirn and his eldest son. Sheltering from the snow and ice, the two veteran crusaders reminisced about their younger days in the dust and snow of Outremer. Elberhard was happy to see Johann Zirn was following in his father’s footsteps as a warrior of chivalry and piety. Gustav Peters reported to Sir Karl Zirn on his scouting of the road to Ragusa, then the Kaiser bade his farewells and began to return northwest, to the begin preparations for the Diet and a campaign to recapture Rome.

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**econ21** · 12-12-2007, 18:50

This is a cooperative story between econ21 and Mini-Econ.

The reconquest of Sicily - prelude

A ship in the Mediterranean, off Tarentino, 1336

“I need a Citadel.”

Gustav Peters looked up, surprised to see the Kaiser had entered the explorer’s cabin.

“Sire?”

Elberhard sat down heavily on the explorer’s bunk.

“Do you know the lowest point of my entire @#$%^&!!!ing existence?”

Gustav swallowed. The assassination of Kaiser Siegfried? The sacking of Constantinople and the start of the cataclysm? The murder of Pope Abate? The extermination of Rome? The death of the Kaiser’s brother Hans? There were so many low points to choose from…

“It was just after the Diet fell and I was stranded in Outremer. I had to live off the kindness of the King of Outremer. From the entire wealth of the Reich, I, as its Kaiser, was entitled to receive precisely nothing.”

Elberhard shook his head at the humiliation.

“Never again!” He gave Gustav a piercing look: “The Kaiser will never again be dependent on the kindness of others.”

“So a Citadel…?” ventured Gustav.

“A Citadel under Imperial control will guarantee that my army, and that of my Prinz and my Chancellor, will not be dependent on the whims of my Dukes. The cataclysm has seen the Reich fracture into Houses - the Dukes were already increasing in power, recent experience will only strengthen their desire for autonomy. I cannot resist them. So I must provide a countervailing source of Imperial power. And power depends on the ability to train good troops.”

“So you need a Citadel.”

“Yes, but where? Each Duchy has their own - Innsbruck, Staufen, Magdeburg and Ragusa. There is no way any Duke would surrender them. They even have some claim to the Citadels on the periphery of the Reich - Thorn, Bran, Ajaccio and even Caen.”

“I see, Sire, quite a dilemma.”

“Yes, I know it’s a @#$%^&!!!ing dilemma! But you are supposed to be an intrepid explorer, @#$%^&!!! it, find me a Citadel!”

Gustav unravelled a large map of Europe on his desk. Both the Kaiser and he surveyed it.

Gustav pointed a finger at Palermo:

“Sicily is almost the centre of the Western world. It would be an excellent strategic location.”

Elberhard roared with appreciation: “Perfect! Taking Palermo back from the Byzantines would pull the feet from under their occupation of Italy. Without Palermo, they would have no Citadel in Europe and no way to resupply their armies in Italy except by sea!”

The Kaiser slammed Gustav on the back with a hearty expression of appreciation, then left the cabin as abruptly as he had entered it.

*****

“Are you sure we can ask this of the boy?” Niklas Gruber’s voice was full of concern. “He has already done so much.”

“Nonsense, he’s twenty-one - no longer a boy. He’s proved himself at Acre, Jerusalem and Damascus. He’s perfect for this.” insisted Elberhard.

“But we would effectively be marooning him on the island without hope of outside aide. And with the Sicilians sailing around, eyeing their old homelands…” pressed Niklas.

“He will have an entire Citadel at his command! And I am sure the next Chancellor will see the importance of keeping him well supplied.” countered Elberhard, in reality sounding not altogether sure.

“But … he is not quite … right. You know that. He … err … seems to hear voices…” said Niklas hesitantly.

Elberhard resolutely shook his head: “So what, he’s a little strange - we all know that, but who cares? He can fight - he can lead. That’s all I need, a sword arm.”

His old tutor looked down: “But, Sire, he may be a fragile vessel. Remember his father…”

“Don’t speak of his father to me! We talk of the boy - he is not stained by the sins of the father!” shouted Elberhard angrily.

“Yes, yes, I know. But he has been under such stress - what we made him do at Jerusalem, it would have tested even the strongest of men. And he is … as you say, strange.”

“Enough, Niklas! Don’t you @#$%^&!!!ing get it? THERE IS NO ONE ELSE! Who can I trust? Hans - dead. King Jan - dead. I have no other allies. I am alone, without influence or authority. Dieter von Kassel is all I have.”

Niklas raised his eyes - the Kaiser was placing his hopes in the hands of a young man who heard voices.

**econ21** · 12-12-2007, 18:51

*****

The Reconquest of Sicily contd - the siege of Palermo

Palermo, 1338

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Gunther, the shield bearer, looked at the impressive citadel in front of him, three concentric rings of walls. He had been at Dieter’s side when they had stormed the huge city of Damascus, but this - this was an entirely different proposition. Gunther looked around at large Imperial army that was gathered. His eyes were drawn to a battery of grand bombards and a couple of regiments of dismounted foot knights. Out of the host of over 1400 men, these were about all that was suitable for a siege assault. They had plentiful crossbowmen and heavy cavalry, but could they be of use in a siege?

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He turned to view his Lord, Dieter von Kassel. The young man had a distracted faraway look.

“How do we tackle this, my Lord?” Gunther nervously inquired:

Dieter seemed to wake from some inner reverie and spoke hurriedly, almost tripping over his words:

“We will repeat the tactics we used at Damascus. The bombards will blow the gates. We will charge in to establish a perimeter. We will move crossbows onto the walls and guard them with a wall of infantry on the ground. Hopefully we can turn this into an inverse siege - so they end up falling to fire from our walls!”

Gunther was unconvinced: “That might work where a settlement has only one set of walls, my Lord. But here - they have three. They can just retire to an inner wall.”

“Well, then - we’ll just rinse and repeat - do it to the inner walls.” replied Dieter, matter of factly.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” muttered Gunther under his breath.

*****

The first wall of the Citadel was taken with ease. Deploying out of archery range, the Imperial grand bombards were able to fire with impunity. Consequently, the Byzantines perhaps wisely did not even try to defend the outer walls. Instead they mustered within the second ring of walls - on some open ground in front of the gates to the inner Keep.

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Dieter did not want to provoke the Byzantines into taking up position along the middle walls, so he ordered the slow moving bombards to lead the way. He turned to Hermann, his veteran warrior.

“When the second gates are down, we must rush in. The distance is too short for infantry to penetrate far enough to establish a serviceable perimeter. You take a regiment of cavalry and try to buy time for our infantry to seize the towers. Once we have our crossbowmen on the middle walls, the enemy will be ours.”

Hermann grunted: “Which cavalry regiment do you want me to lead?”

Dieter looked distractedly: “Oh, an expendable one - how about the Kwazarimans? They should start earning their pay.”

Hermann looked impassive: “We will do it.”

The first volley of the bombards took down the middle gates and Hermann led the Kwazarimans through them, riding hard. The archers of the garrison rushed down, belatedly seeking to take position on the middle walls and fire down on the Imperial army surging towards them. But the Kwazarimans were able to intercept them before they could reach the towers. The narrow lanes of the Citadel prevented the cavalry from mounting a charge but they performed their mission effectively nonetheless.

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Hermann hacked and slashed viciously at the Trebizond archers he had caught, but he was mortified to see the bulk of the garrison was turning back.

“Oi! Where you going?” Hermann taunted the retreating Byzantine infantry.

The enemy were giving up on contesting the middle set of walls. Instead, they were retreating to the third walls. The big man bellowed in frustration - the plan to repeat the tactics used at Damascus had failed. With the sole exception of the regiment of archers Hermann’s cavalry had snared, the entire Byzantine garrison was slipping away.

Within a minute, the garrison was hunkered down in the courtyard of the inner keep. Their archers were on the walls, ready to launch fire arrows at any Germans who came within range. Heavily armoured dismounted Latinkon stood either side of the central southern gate, ready to butcher any who breached them. Any attempt at clever tactics had failed - the only way to the inner courtyard was over the bodies of nearly 800 Byzantine soldiers.

**econ21** · 12-12-2007, 18:53

The Reconquest of Sicily contd - the storming of the Keep

Time was running out for Dieter. Night was falling, if he did not seize the Citadel’s Keep soon, he would have to call off the attack. There was a risk that Byzantine forces in outlying areas of Sicily would arrive and threaten his baggage train. Darkness might also allow agents within supposedly secured parts of the Citadel the opportunity to agitate the locals, provoking them to rise up and attack the enemy within their midst. Impatiently, Dieter chided the grand bombard crew to haul their pieces in front of the central southern gate to the inner courtyard.

“There is a second gate to the inner courtyard.” reported Gunther, breathlessly. “It is over on west side. It does not seem to be guarded.”

“Not guarded for now.” said Dieter dismissively. “There are nine regiments of the garrison crammed into a courtyard little bigger than an tourney grounds. How long do you think that gate will be unguarded if we approach it?”

Gunther looked downcast and Dieter took pity on him: “But you are right. After the bombards have blown the central gate, I will send it to the western gate. Better to enter from two points than one.”

When the grand bombards finally reached a position where they could fire on the central inner gate, they quickly brought it down.

“Hermann, take the artillery to the west gate - quickly! We don’t have much time!” Dieter urged.

Dieter looked impatiently as the sweating artillerymen resumed the painful process of pushing their pieces along the lanes of the Citadel.

“Look, Sire!” Gunther shouted out excitedly.

Dieter turned and was amazed to see a mounted troop of Latinkon emerge from the now destroyed central inner gate.

“Crossbowmen - onto the walls! Double time!” Dieter ordered. If the enemy really was so stupid as to sally, his battleplan could still work!

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However, the Byzantine cavalry did not sally - it simply stood stationary, blocking the fallen gate. Only one regiment of German archers on the wall could get in range, so Dieter summoned a second to come off the walls and join it in on the ground in firing on the hapless enemy cavalry. The Latinkon bravely endured the fire, their armour succumbing to the powerful bolts of the German arbalests.

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When less than half the enemy cavalry remained, Dieter started to lose patience. There was not enough time - they had to act now. He ordered a regiment of armoured spearmen to finish off the mounted Latinkon. However, he knew his sergeants would not be able to force their way through gateway - guarded as it was, by two regiments of dismounted Latinkon. Consequently, after the enemy cavalry had been dispatched, he pulled back his spearmen and sent in his one full strength regiment of dismounted feudal knights. Even these men stood no chance of cutting through the superior numbers of Byzantine troops that opposed them. Dieter’s only hope lay in a flanking attack via the western inner gate.

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*****

In frustration at the slow pace of progress, Hermann dismounted his horse and joined the artillerymen in putting his shoulder against one of the grand bombards, pushing it through the middle ring of the Citadel, towards the western inner gate.

Unfortunately, the gate was at the top of a winding path, with no clear view from below. The only way the bombards would get a clear shot at the gate was to march up the path and fire at virtually point blank range. What was worse, the three regiments of Byzantine archers on the walls had belatedly started to recognise the threat posed by the artillery and were raining fire arrows down on the crew.

“Faster! Faster, you scum!” cursed Hermann in frustration. He knew the slaughter at the central inner gate would not be resolved in the Germans’ favour. The only way to enter the Citadel before nightfall was through the western gate.

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After what seemed like an age, the grand bombards had climbed the twisting path to the western gate. Slowly, methodically, they prepared to fire. One unfortunate crewman was pierced by a fire arrow just after he had loaded a ball into the muzzle of a bombard. However, it was enough - the gate was breached in a single volley and in that instance the character of the battle changed completely.

What had previously been a methodical almost bloodless process of reduction and cautious advance now became a chaotic and bloody scramble for the inner courtyard. All German melee regiments were ordered to charge through the gates. In return, the panicked Byzantines on the walls scrambled down into the courtyard, determined to defend it with every available man.

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The fighting in the inner courtyard was brutal. The narrow confines of the yard, the press of numbers and the determination of the garrison to fight to the last all negated the key advantages of the German cavalry. It was a brutal slaughter, with equal numbers falling on both sides.

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However, the threat to the courtyard unlocked the struggle at the central inner gates and Byzantine opposition there was reduced, until only a single regiment of dismounted Latinkon remained. Slowly, it was overpowered - allowing the Germans to press into the inner courtyard from two sides. The Byzantines were surrounded, but night was falling and it was still far from clear the Germans could achieve a decisive result before dark. There were too many enemies and depleted German regiments lacked sufficient weight of numbers to overwhelm them quickly enough.

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Dieter looked around in desperation. The only spare men left were his crossbowmen and bombard crew. Reluctantly, he ordered them to draw swords and press forwards to the inner courtyard. There was no room for tactical subtlety or even appropriate use of arms - all that mattered was weight of numbers.

Slowly but inevitably, the Byzantines were cut down. The battle ended with the victorious Germans at less than half strength, standing on a heap of corpses - both Byzantine and those of their fallen comrades.

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*****

After the battle, an angry Italian emerged from the Keep and rushed towards the many wounded who lay mutilated and moaning in the inner courtyard.

“You God damn butchers! Look at what you have done!” he cried, as he crouched to tend one of the injured.

“Water!” he called out to the exhausted German soldiers standing around. “I need hot water and soap! And bring me cloth - clean cloth. Now! God damn it!”

The soldiers looked impassively at the strange angry figure giving them orders. Dieter edged his horse forward towards the newcomer, intrigued.

The Italian saw the young general approaching, dressed in the finest armour.

“You, you dumb son of a … Now what did you have to do this for? What the hell did you think you were doing?” The Italian cast his arm around, as if displaying the dead and wounded lying in the coutyard. “Is that how a great general fights a battle? Is that your grand strategy? Your masterful tactics? You God damn butcher!”

Hermann angrily drew his sword and rushed towards the impudent Italian.

“Stay!” ordered Dieter, imperiously. “What is your name, friend?”

The Italian stood up, wiping the blood along his trousers. “My name is Doctor Antoni Castelletti, physician to the Citadel of Palermo. And I am not your God damn friend, you moron!”

Hermann moved to strike the doctor, but Dieter snarled at his veteran warrior: “Stand down!”

Dieter turned back to the doctor. “You are a brave man and your dedication to your calling does you great credit.”

“Hermann!” Dieter turned back to his red faced aide: “Get the doctor the hot water and bandages he needs. Organise the men to provide him every assistance. Gunther! Makes sure the Citadel is securely occupied. None of the locals are to be harmed - we are going to stay here for some while. Doctor Castelletti - could you use my help?”

The contempt on the Italian’s face was temporarily mingled with surprise, then he turned back to treat the wounded: “Sure, newbie - knock yourself out.”