Homelands
Chapter Twenty One: Dawn of War
Part 2
Prelude:
With war in Russia on the horizon for Prussia, Western Europe was facing the most increase in its own wars. In 1207 troops of the Caliph of Toledo sacked Cork in southern Ireland. Soon all of the British Isles were subjects to Muslim raids and attacks. At the head of many raids were the Carthaginians, hired by the Caliph. Their admiral was Louis Muhammad bin Henri Abdullah de Bourbon, a man of French descent but of a strict Muslim family. He led many daring raids, usually personally, into England and Wales. Even with the Carthaginians supplying ships, the bulk of the land forces were that of the Caliph: Istimari and Vasques (from Iberia); and Arles (from southern France). Unlike France, Italy and Iberia, there was little effort from the Caliph to settle the Isles, instead the new territories were used for farming purposes, supplying raw materials to the Caliph as well as a new source of soldiers to continue fighting England. Many speculate that the hope of eventually converting the Isles was part of the plan of the Caliph, but by the time that the last Emir of the Isles was reconquered in the early fourteenth century only a merger amount of native Christians had converted to Islam. Instead, it left Ireland and Scotland centers of Revisionism and resistance to Islamic subjugation.
The Isles at the height of Islamic rule circa 1230. In green is the Caliph, ruled from Toledo with the regional capital in Dublin. In Blue Scotland, in Red England.
April 18th, 1207
A cool breeze blew over the decks of the raiding ships. The large square sail flapped gently in the breeze and the men rowed consistently as they had been trained. These ships were simply Arab reenvisions of Viking boats so renowned in the North. In the distance a thin line represented land, England, ripe for raiding and plunder. On the bow of the ship stood a colorful figure, wild blond hair trailing out a loosely wrapped blue turban, pulling at a long mustache.
Emir Louis Muhammad bin Henri Abdullah de Bourbon, Lord of Carthage
"Commander!" shouted the first mate, "We are almost to Wessex, sirrah."
"Good, good!" Louis de Bourbon stepped off the bowsprit and walked down the center of his flag ship. Once at the bow he looked and saw the twenty ships following his. He waved his arms to get their attention and then cupping his hands around his lips yelled "LAND HO!" The other commanders heard his call and ran to spread the message to ships too far out to hear him. Ahead of them a bank of fog shrouded the beach in mystery, so as Louis walked back to his first mate he tried to peer into the fog looking for a sign that unfriendly troops were waiting for him. As the drew closer a lone figure seemed to stand out on the beach.
A sailor behind Louis pulled out a bow and fired a single arrow at the guard, hitting him the chest and allowing them to easily glide onto the beach. Hitting the shore the boat slid easily up onto solid ground and men jumped off and secured her to the land. Louis was one of the first off and up into a tree looking for more guards. No one. Within a few minutes more ships were hitting the beach, dropping anchors to hold their ships fast to the sand. He looked around and saw nothing resisting their movement and nothing coming their way, so he slipped back down the ground and motioned for troops to follow. He had with him almost six hundred Carthaginian raiders with him, each a machine of war.
"Come quickly!" Louis hissed. Everyone followed him, swords drawn. They came to a hill overlooking a the city of Winchester. "There, they have their defenses down! Raise the banner!"
"Yes sir!" The first mate pulled out a curved horn and sounded the attack, inciting panic in the city below. Their flag was pure red banner and when it was flown it meant battle. Louis came upon a helpless shop and taking a torch lit it on fire. The point was not conquest, nor was it depopulation. It was about plunder and fear. Around the corner a local militiaman and a Carthaginian were locked in hand to hand combat, but Louis cut the Englishman across the back, ending the fight prematurely and opening up another raider for pillaging.
The admiral found a blacksmithy stocked full and shouted, "Bring a cart, we can make a fortune off of these!" Two men ran over with a hay cart that had been emptied of hay and helped Louis fill it with swords and bars of iron. "Quick, get these back to the ships!" With the men headed out, Louis headed back into the fray. At the center of town the church was on fire, the Carthaginians were running out of the building taking with them paintings and artifacts. Everywhere women and children ran screaming from the raiders. Louis tried keeping control over his men, keeping them on task and away from the English women.
"Sir, troops!" a cry came. Louis followed the voice over to a skirmish between fifty or so English soldiers and forty raiders. Raiders were flocking from all over to help, including their commander who dashed in sword drawn and cut a man down within a few seconds. He rallied his raiders and ended the light English resistance. In the center of town a cry came up, the raiders had reached the city center which included the recent tax collections. Carthaginian troops ran past carrying bags of gold coins and other goods. This raid was going well. Louis watched calmly as the city around him burned and headed toward his first mate.
"Mate, I believe it is time for this raid to end, we need to get back to Normandy by night fall,
he said, putting his sword away and placing his hands on his hips.
"Right away sir." The mate pulled out his horn and blew it twice. Raiders began heading toward the ships, bringing with them their loot and other goods that would help feed the mercenaries back in France. Louis climbed into his flag ship and watched as people did the same. In a few minutes everyone was in and the boats were back out in the Channel.
Behind them a pillar of smoke wafted into the air, billowing and churning. On board they counted their losses, only five for his ship, and began to figure how much they had made in the raids.
"Admiral, some of the men are wondering when we are to sail again for home," the first mate reported.
"Soon, we have contracts to fulfill! And the money is good, with this kind of pickings we shall turn Carthage into the supreme power of the Mediterranean! But when we do return, we shall be heroes of our home! Now come, quickly to Normandy so we might rest." Everyone agreed, small steps would achieve their goals. Admiral Louis was also their King, a glorious leader, feared throughout the western world. But he knew that the world was staking up against him. The English would eventually not be outsmarted and he would get caught and he would be executed. Simple as that, all inevitable. Thus was his life. But for tonight he was safe, he would land in Normandy and he could just leave. He and his men could just head home and be done with it all.
But they couldn't. Impossible. The spirit of adventure was like a drug, once in the veins of a man it was a high that could never be explained or even resisted. Tomorrow they would rest, rebuild their numbers from extras they brought and then would soon be raiding England again. They had two more years on their contract, but Louis knew that soon enough they would be done. So far away. Done for the night, Louis excused himself to a small room at the center of the ship to sit down and relax, he had nothing to do until they were on land and gathered all their loot together to be divided and consumed.
Back in Winchester the flames were being fought and a parade of flags came toward the town. At its head was Viggu Iziaslavich, King of England. His face was set in a scowl as he saw the carnage and surveyed what was once the capital of England. The city was dead, a shell, a corpse burning in a ditch after a plague. His expression didn't change, but he vowed that next time de Bourbon would not be so lucky.