April 22nd, Year of Our Lord 1339
So it begins. The armies of Brittany have mobilised and now march to war. The new Duke and Steward Jeanne have conspired to assemble a fighting host with much speed and the vanguard has already departed west towards the royal keep at Anjou. The Duke's party is accompanied by most of the ducal soldiers, while I have been tasked with instructing the vassal armies of Penthievre and Cornouaille to move into the royal lands around Normandy. This should at least prevent an inconvenient meeting of Countess Jeanne and Duke Jean on the battlefield. Such a division of forces obviously carries some risk but it should also reduce the foraging burden and (hopefully!) force the King to follow suit in dividing his armies and attention
That I pen these words from the stout walls of my bedchamber is evidence enough that I have not accompanied either army into the field. Even the witless mule Hélie de Pontchâteau has been granted a command within the ducal army advancing into Anjou but I have been relegated to holding a small regiment in the defence of Nantes. This is a decided slur against my character and a worrying indicator as to my standing in the court. It is possible of course that the Duke views myself as the most capable of defending the duchy... but I do doubt this. Commanding a handful of inbred Bretons who could not tell one end of a spear from the other is not a just reward for my years of loyal service. My regiment is due to arrive in a number of days from Vannes and I already shudder at the thought of what dull cretins are considered able soldiers in such a backwater
April 29th, Year of Our Lord 1339
The men from Vannes arrived yesterday evening and I was not particularly impressed. There are a handful of capable soldiers amongst them, drawn from the local nobility, but most of the regiment, which numbers just over two thousand men, is clearly comprised of peasants and small farmers. Given that these are no doubt better suited to wielding a spade than a sword, I have set them to work on the construction of some earthworks on selected sites south of the town. If Jean de Valois marches north towards Nantes, which I pray he will not, then he will have to cross the Loire River at some point. Obviously I am not a military man but even I can perceive the defensive advantages of such a natural obstacle
Now I must return to the arduous task of supervising these gormless Bretons and practising my swordsmanship. I have no intention of seeing battle myself but apparently it encourages the rank and file when their commander can at least wield a sword without causing himself injury
May 16th, Year of Our Lord 1339
I cannot pause to write as news most urgent has reached me of a host moving rapidly against Nantes. Several thousand men, under the command of Louis Duke of Bourbon, will fall upon us in days. Clearly Jean de Valois has directed the bulk of his forces against us... as I had feared. I have already dispatched runners to Duke de Dreux, still investing Anjou, but I fail to see how he can return in time. It is too early to talk of surrender; tonight I lead the bulk of my formations down to the river fords and prepare positions for coming battle. If all goes well the narrow crossing points will nullify any advantage in numbers enjoyed by the royalists
May 21st, Year of Our Lord 1339
Words cannot do justice to the fury and passion of today's battle and so I shall not exhaust my remaining energy in an attempt to do so. It was a ferocious occasion but Brittany did prevail and the forces of Louis de Bourbon were unable to establish themselves on this side of the river. Alas that our heavy numerical disadvantage - the enemy has mustered at least fifteen thousand men for this expedition - prevented us from taking the offensive and driving them from the battlefield. Of course it is also true that I would not trust my peasant levies with such a manoeuvre as they are capable of stationary formations and little else... but perhaps I am being churlish. My men did perform admirably as we carried the day. Unfortunately battle will inevitably resume tomorrow and I remain no more confident as to the odds stacked against me
May 27th, Year of Our Lord 1339
The past days have been intense and unlike any previous campaigning that I have participated in. For three days Louis has attempted to force the crossing and for three days we have repulsed him. My men are worried as to the mounting casualties and I pray daily that my foe will soon exhaust his foraging efforts and thus withdraw his army from the field in order to avoid starvation. Despite this I am confident that we will hold and thwart Louis' march north. We have fought well to date and morale remains acceptable. No doubt my own heroism on the battlefield has contributed greatly to the
esprit de corps. I really should have instructed a bard to accompany the expedition and record my deeds in a more fitting prose
Clearly my talents are not limited to fighting with words
June 4th, Year of Our Lord 1339
There is, as they say, no shame in being defeated by the best. Louis de Bourbon is clearly a master tactician to rival Alexander and I now have little recourse save to steel myself for defeat. There has been no fighting yet today, hence I possess the time to scribble these thoughts, as the forces across the river have not attempted to dislodge us. Indeed they have done naught but threaten an advance for the past two days... two days in which Louis has stealthily taken the bulk of his forces some distance downriver to cross in peace. It was admittedly a cunning masquerade and I see little escape. Any attempt to retreat north will encourage the enemy formations across the river to renew their assault along this bloody ford, and incur the very real risk of an attack on the flank of our march by Louis and his advancing army on this shore. Obviously complete inaction will result in an attack from two fronts. I have no intention of dying for Brittany... surrender it shall be
June 7th, Year of Our Lord 1339
This has been an... odd day. I awoke expecting defeat and yet I shall shortly rest for the night after claiming a most improbable victory.
C'est la vie. On the approach of the royalist army I had ordered my own men to the field of battle with the intention to surrender them to Louis de Bourbon. That much is clear in my mind but while I laboured over my document of surrender events suddenly took an unexpected turn. Turmoil to the rear of the enemy army indicated that something was amiss and it became apparent that Louis was under attack! While I carefully weighted my options a number of minor nobles under my command took it upon themselves to compound royalist difficulties by launching an assault of their own. Naturally the rest of the ill-disciplined rabble that I call my army followed suit and I had no choice but to commit myself to battle. Who was at the head of this third army that complicated matters? Imagine my shock when I saw none other than Bishop de Donges leading a regiment into battle. This man of God - supposedly on pilgrimage in Rome... while his men are supposed to be campaigning far north from here - was quite something to behold with mace in hand and foam at the mouth. The ferocity with which the Bishop's men pressed their charge, combined with my own brave assault, was too much for Louis and his men - they were driven from the field and many were slaughtered as they sought to cross the river to sanctuary. So ends, for the present at least, the obvious danger to Brittany and the hopes of de Valois for a quick campaign
And that was a long but ultimately profitable day of fighting. Now I must return to questioning this bloody bishop in an effort to make some sense of his arrival. Thus far he has simply stated that angels informed him of my plight and directed him south. Of his whereabouts for the past year he says naught... I am beginning to suspect that the man is not entirely sane. Still, even I will take some comfort in attending tonight's celebratory mass
Excommunicated? One would have thought that I would have been informed...