Book I: Ramon Berenguer de Barcelona
Chapter XI: Zaragoza delendam est, part two
Bank of the Ebro, near Tarragona - November 11, 1074 - 09.00
Pedro watched the sun rise over banks the mighty Ebro, a magnificent sight. Too bad that this peaceful morning would be shattered by violence and bloodshed very soon. Today he would face Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, El Cid Campeador, himself. Young Ermengol stood beside him, looking even more displeased than normal. Pedro knew why. Yesterday the boy had explained the battleplan of the great Hannibal at Cannae to him, fully expecting Pedro to copy this plan. The plan was to stretch the light Moorish levies into a long line, deceptively weak in the centre. The opponent would try to take advantage of this ‘weakness’. The lines would then cuve back, overwhelming the opponents from all sides and negating the opponents superiority in infantry. While the infantry was caught up like this the cavalry would beat of the lighter cavalry of the opponent, and could prepare a devastating charge in the back.
If the plan was succesful, Ermengol could claim praise for his stratagem. Pedro was sure the boy hoped to prove that his brains where superior to Pedro’s brawn. However, even if he wasn’t as well schooled in the exploits of the ancient Romans as Ermengol was, he had the experience and knowledge Ermengol lacked. For example, he knew the Cid himself was a student of ancient Rome and as such would see through the trap. Therefore he had changed Ermengols plan significantly, a trap in a trap.
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Bank of the Ebro, near Tarragona - November 11, 1074 - 10.00
Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar overlooked the field of battle. The Catalans had already entered the field. From the look of it most of the troops where Moorish levies, forced to fight for their new overlord. The Cid spotted some Christian heavy infantry too. There was just one thing that bothered him, where was the formidable Catalan cavalry? Decades of warfare had given rise to plenty of skilled knights and horsemen among the Christian states in the North. He knew Pedro Berenguer wouldn’t enter the field without a large contignent of them. But wherever they where, the Cid had prepared himself. A band of Castillian knights, forced into exile by that idiot Sancho too, had joined him for the battle. He would fight fire with fire.
A Moorish officer approached his position: “Sayyid, the infantry is ready to advance. The enemies center is looking particulary weak. Should we strike there?”.
Rodrigo smiled, so that was the Catalans plan. “Certainly not, we wouldn’t want our opponent to succeed, do we? Strike at their right flank, at the Christian infantry. When the Catalans break, your Moorish brothers are free to stop fighting for them.”
“As you command Sayyid. If God wilst it, we shall be victorious today.”
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Bank of the Ebro, near Tarragona - November 11, 1074 - 10.30
Pedro saw the Moorish infantry moving towards his right flank, as he expected. The double lureof a clumsily weakened center and the heavy infantry was succesfull. It also meant the Cid was underestimating him, seeing him as a one-trick pony. It was the same mistake Ermengol made when suggesting the plan to him.
“Ermengol, prepare to move your horsemen to the left. Make sure the Cid sees you.”
The boy looked even more displeased now. His men had to act as a decoy, while Pedro’s knights would gain all the glory. However, that was not Pedro’s intention, th humiliation of the boy was just a bonus. His horsemen from Urgell where simply too green to give the important task he had in mind for his cavalry.
A Jinete, light cavalryman. Lightly armored an carrying a javelin. The Northern Christian states made extensive use of these men to bolster their forces.
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Bank of the Ebro, near Tarragona - November 11, 1074 - 10.40
The Cid saw his troops marching towards the Catalan lines. Obviously the troops where too stretched out to truly hold the line, especially the center looked weak. However, Pedro Berenguer wouldn’t been the kind of fool to leave such holes. Instead he was the kind of fool who hoped his opponent would fall for a simple trick. The Cid knew better than that. However, even attacking a flank meant that his forces would be vulnerable for Pedro’s trademark timed charge. The Cid knew too that his own cavalry would be no match for the Catalan knights. His Castillians simply had to harrass them long enough to buy the infantry time to win the battle. He had noticed a cloud of dust on the Catalan leftflank. Smart move, to let them take the long way around the battlelines since nobody would expect that.
“To the left flank! Keep them away from our infantry!”
Bank of the Ebro, near Tarragona - November 11, 1074 - 11.00
The battle was in full swing. Pedro saw his heavy infantry, all hardy veterans from Lleira, hold of the tides of Moors. As expected the levies from Zaragoza held the flanks of his men, but lacked the enthousiasm to truly turn the tide in the battle against his brethren. Men from all sides fell as the battle raged on, Catalan, Arab, Christian, Muslim, in death hey where all equal. Pedro hoped his men could hold the lines a bit longer.
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Bank of the Ebro, near Tarragona - November 11, 1074 - 16.00
It all happened like in a dream, a very bad dream, a horrible nightmare in fact. He should have known, he really should have known. He, the great Cid Campeador made the mistakes of a simple squire. The weak center, the apparent lack of cavalry, the not-so very well hidden cloud of dust. Cheap tricks, all of them, but he had fallen for them. The battle had gone so well too.
The Catalans where about to break, being overwhelmed by his brave men, while his opponents Moorish levies had fought without any true conviction. His cavalry had held the Catalan horsemen away too. The battle was almost his, untill THAT moment. The moment when he heard the trample of horses behind him. Obviously the men had marched from before dawn, to attack him in the rear without him seeing them before. He had to moun his horse and run for his very life. With both his infantry and cavalry engaged, there was noone to stop these knights. No one.
Now he, El Cid himself stood before the Catalan commanders, being caught while trying to rally his troops. A knight had caught him offguard, knocking him out with the broad side of his sword. He was sure the man could retire off the sum his liege would pay him for this feat. The Cid knew this could be his last our. He didn’t expect any mercy. He bowed to his knee and presented his sword to the man that had defeated him. That fool Sancho might have destroyed his good name, atleast the world would now of his horourable surrender.
“Lord Pedro Ramon, Alférez of Barcelona. Hereby, I, Rodrigo, lord of Vivar present my sword to you. As you are the first man to best me in battle. May it serve you better than it served me.”
“Please stand, Lord Rodrigo de Vivar. Only the truly vanquished bow to the victor. This battle knows neither. I failed in my plans, losing too many man to your assault. You have successfully defended your city, as I lack the men to siege it.”
“Still, please accept this sword. Even if your victory was Pyrrhic, it is a victory still.”
“Then I will not insult your honour by refusing your gift, lord Vivar and I hope to wield it with the same skill and audacity as its owner. Now lord Vivar, you and your men are free to go, as long as you swear to never hold a sword against my House again.”
The Cid was stunned, this man not only rejected the glory of victory, but he would let him go too?
“Mylord, as you know I am wanted for attempting to slay the king of Castille. Why let me go?”
A smile formed on the face of the Alférez: “The men of Barcelona know better than to trust Jimenid slander. Rest assured lord Vivar, history will know the true version of your accomplishments.”
Tizona, the sword once held by both El Cid Campeador and Pedro Berenguer. It is now a national treasure.
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The city of Calatayud was Moorish no longer. Duke Ramon Berenguer couldn’t believe the ease with which the city had fallen after the month long siege. Just yesterday , the same day he had a dream send by St Eulalia, a Moorish noble had offered to open the gates of the cityfortress, in exchange for keeping his wealth and position. It was an offer too good to be true, yet here he was standing in the city that had defied him for so long. The noble had opened the gates in the early morning. His troops quickly used their numbers to secure the city. The Moors fought bravely, but the city fell soon. Only a handfull of soldiers and citizens where still resisting. The fall of the city had to be divine interference, no other scenario was possible. The Duke walked proudly through the fortress that was his now, even if Bernat had warned him not to. Many people. The Duke had dismissed these words. The heavens had given him this city, surely he would be safe.
Suddenly the Dukes thoughts drove off, to the dream he had yesterday. The grand cathedral, the man clad in Barcelonid heraldry, the little girl that happened to be Saint Eulelia. The words the girl had spoken:
“Just remember, the easy path is not always without its costs.”
The rest all happened in a flash. The Duke saw an old woman in Moorish garb on a rooftop, he had heard Bernat scream out to him, he saw the Moor throwing a rooftile from the rooftop. He had been unable to dodge it. Some soldiers tried to reach the woman, while the Duke saw Bernat running to his side.
“Tell Pedro, the easy path is not without its costs…”
Then all turned black. Calatayuds capture had been costly indeed.
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And so ends the rule of Duke Ramon Berenguer. Will Pedro follow in his fathers footsteps, trying to reconquer Spain for the Church, or will he choose his own path? Find out in Book II soon.
A cookie to anyone who knows whose death inspired me for the Dukes end.
Also, I tried to make the battlefield passage look more dynamic by switching viewpoints. Do you all like it, or is it a bit too chaotic? Please let me know.