Orleans: A longer story

A letter home:

Orleans 31st of December Year of Our Lord 1418

Mother,
I had almost reached Orleans, when I had to take cover in a hunting hut due to the weather. I went boldly inside and found it occupied. Some very angry soldiers drew their swords and almost carved me to pieces. But you know me; I managed in short order to placate them with my civilised charm. That unfortunately drew the attention of the owner, the Duke of Orleans, who was also present.
He had accidentally managed get his previous seneschal hanged and was therefore in dire need of a new one. My degree in Roman Law did impress him somewhat, especially since I had taken the degree right here in Orleans, so I was offered the job on the spot. Declining was not an option I quickly realised, so yours truly is now a Seneschal to the Duke of Orleans.
I will begin working for the great man tomorrow morning. I haven’t had time looking into the affairs yet of my Master and the Dukedom of Orleans, but he assures me our position as France’s vassal is unassailable.
Worry not, our future is secure now.

Your loving son
Raphael de Coucy.

PS
I need money…

Early morning January 1, 1419
I was awakened dreadfully early by my valet, a servant given to me by my master only the day before. He looked terrified. “Duke Charles wants you in his study right now!”
My eyes popped wide open. “Wha…never mind. Help me get dressed.” I don’t think I have ever dressed this quickly and I practically ran up the stairs to my master’s study.
I was out of breath by the time I reached the top of tallest, most massive tower of the palace, where the study was housed. I had to take a few deep breaths, before letting the guards in front of the door to the study announce me. I followed the guard right in. I kneeled with my head slightly bowed as well. “You called Master?”
His Grace, Charles duke of Orleans, turned from the window towards me and waved the guard away. He looked very angry, but also something I can only describe as fear. My stomach felt suddenly leaden. He waved his hand to bid me to stand up.
“Yes, Seneschal, I did. The unending war with the dogs of Albion and the Burgs are about to run us over. Jean de Pressy of Burgundy has started mobilising in Bourgogne and even worse; the Kennel-master himself has crossed the channel from England with fresh recruits. The news is he will start marching his huge army here any day now. We need a miracle to survive this."
I gulped. “Angry is coming here? You are sure?”
Duke Charles nodded. “Yes, so the dispatch from my brother tells me. Here!” He threw the letter at me and I just managed to catch it before it sailed into the flames of the hearth. I read it, while my master angrily paced the floor of the large room.
“And the help promised from Your Brother the King of France in case we as vassal need it?”
“Alas, he is not convinced the enemy are all coming here and besides, he has his own problems to take care of. We are on our own for now.”
“Merde!” Too late I realised I had used a word unbecoming of a gentleman in my master’s presence, but he only smiled ever so slightly. “Your advise, seneschal?”
“I have two diametrically opposed suggestions, Master. One is the logical one, which I’m sorry to say, will not save us.”
He nodded “Defending Orleans with the army…I agree. We might be able to withstand the Burgundian onslaught, but not the English. So instead you suggest we..?”
“Grab the bull by its horn!”
“Ah yes. Attack is the best defence. Where?"
“Bourgogne!”
He sighed regrettable and shook his head from side to side. “Are you crazy? This is not a game, boy! On a normal day we will loose nine times out of ten against Jean de Pressy and you want to shorten the odds even further by going to his home territory? Bah! If that is all you can come up with…”
“Let me finish master…write to the alliance and invite whoever dare to come and meet us in Bourgogne with their army. With a little bit of luck, one of the alliance partners will come. All we have to do is to delay the decisive battle long enough to hook up with them and then we will win.”
“Ok, seneschal, that was at least better, but I don’t see why we have to be there before the others. The risk is after all substantial.”
“I know. Remember though, by being the first inside their territory, the rules of war clearly states we will be the leader in the following siege phase.”
“Unless outranked.”
“True, but as far as I know, there is not a single professional in the entire alliance.”
“Unfortunately.” Duke Charles went over to a small table by the window and poured two glasses three-quarter full from an open wine-bottle. He gave me one. He sipped the wine. “Are you feeling lucky, sire de Coucy?”
“I make my own luck, Your Grace.”

Response

HJ Tulp: Thanks

MrT: I see no reason to wait and see; de Pressy always attacks Orleans (in my games anyway).

O. Cromwell: may you also live in interesting times...

Sharur: My experience exactly - it is almost impossible.

_________________________________________________

I forgot to mention: I’m playing normal/normal.

And I will post an update later today.
I have to finish it first though, so hopefully work won’t interfere too much…

On the road to Bourgogne, January 1419.
Duke Charles laughed out loud for that arrogant remark. “Do you now? Well, we’ll see. When should the army leave?”
“The sooner the better. Today if it’s ready.”
“That’s the only thing in our favour, we can actually march today. The army is always ready to march.”
“Excellent…is the leader of the army any good?”
“Good?” Duke Charles tasted the word. “I’m a good knight, if that’s what you mean. It’s not exactly difficult. We charge the enemy and God willing, we win.”
I gulped. Somehow I didn’t think he would actually lead the army. I had of course overlooked the fact that he may be the Brother of the King and a Duke besides, but he was first and foremost a Knight. And now he wanted to charge someone as devious as de Pressy and his veteran troops! “Are you sure that is…wise, Master?”
“Wise?” He shrugged. “I’m a knight; ‘tis what we chivalrous types do.”
“I see…” I didn’t see at all actually, but at least I wouldn’t be around to see the charge of the heavy brigade. “Well then, I’ll stay here and mind the shop then and…”
“No, no. It is your idea Seneschal; I want you right there next to me – leading my day-to-day affairs – just like you would here.”
“But I’m a scholar, I know nothing of war.”
“So learn – and learn fast.”

It went downhill from there. In a remarkable short time, the letters to the King of France and the Dukes of Bourbonnais, Auvergne and Provence where written and sent out, informing our alliance partners of our course of action.
I packed a bag of clothes, the tools of my trade – i.e. pen, ink, penknife and paper – and belted on my new sword, a gift from Duke Charles. Apparently as Seneschal, I ranked as a baronet and as such could not go around unarmed. Duke Charles even gave me a horse. I looked almost like knight – from afar anyway. Close up I don’t think anyone would mistake my equestrian skills as anything but a rank beginner, and as far as I know, knightly training start quite early, not when one is 24.
I wouldn’t say we sneaked out of Orleans, but it was close. In order not to alarm the population, the army was officially sent away on manoeuvre. It left during the middle of the day. It was sad to watch them march out of the barrack in silence. The rain continued to pour down, there was no battle flags visible and no music. The good thing about the weather was that few people were out and about. Perhaps the English spies would miss our departure all together.
Duke Charles left his wife in charge of defending Orleans, with little hope it could be done. Our only hope lays in beating the Burgundian army and that we manage to get inside the wall surrounding her capital, before the inevitable happened. He did order his wife to send his infant son to Paris though – he should be safe there.

Despite the weather and the conditions of the road, the army actually made good progress. The moment it started to get dark, we camped where we where. No one thought about whether it was a defensible position or not nor to improve it. In my view the Duke were a little too complaisant, even if we were inside our own land. Being new to the war business, I didn’t dare rising my voice about it.
I hadn’t actually packed a tent – don’t own one – so it was fortuitous that my Master decided I should actually share his large tent. I was given a small bed and took over his field desk – I needed it more after all.
I was then introduced to the rest of the staff. Duke Charles’ second-in-command was a local Orleans magnate called de Monet, a count. The head of the foot was introduced as captain Roquefort. The siege expert, an Italian of course, called himself Julio Caesar – I called him mad, if not to his face.

A couple of soldiers brought us dinner – a stew of questionable quality. Mine carried the bowl with his greasy thumb stuck down into the stew. I gave him a piece of my mind about such behaviour. He didn’t respond at all beyond grunting, which unfortunately made me see his mouth. He had only three black stubs left of his teeth and stank like an open cesspool.
“Leave it be, seneschal,” Duke Charles said. “He can’t talk. We are not even sure whether Adus is a man or a beast, but he’s very good at killing. Learn to separate what is important from what’s not.”
“Yes, Master.”
I was so famished I had to eat it anyway, but I did not enjoy it. While gorging on my dinner, I studied this representative of our army from the corner my eyes, which apparently was going to wait until I had finished eating. His clothes were patched together without a thought and his unwashed, hairy skin was quite visible in places normal human would not show outside on ones bedroom. He stooped slightly forward and scratched himself continuously. I shook my head.
Before I had finished dinner, my Master stood up. “Time for inspection round, Gents. Follow me.” I had no choice but to follow. I learned an important lesson about army life there and then: When food is served, eat faster than the highest-ranking member at your table does or you will never finish any meals.
Duke Charles liked to inspect the army every evening since he didn’t trust his subordinates to rapport problems before they no longer could control events, which would be way too late. As we slowly walked around the camp, Duke Charles would seemingly start a conversation at random with anyone. There were very few complaints actually, but it was early days yet. Since I was the new chap, Duke Charles made a point to introduce me to all key personnel.
After the round, we assembled in the big tent once more. The food had fortunately been cleared away by…servants? I realised he had actually brought with him a few as I saw a couple I had seen in the palace in Orleans. So why had we been served such rough food, I wondered.
“Now then,” Duke Charles started. “What do you think? Seneschal?”
“I’m no expert at…”
“Tell us what you think anyway!”
“Yes, Master. Let’s see. The food is hardly fit for pigs, far less humans. There is no discipline in the camp, the men are the greatest gathering of unhanged scoundrels I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. The camp is indefensible and undefended. There is no guards, there is no post, there is no…”
“Excellent!”
“Sire???”
“Not the conclusion, Seneschal, but your report. Believe it or not, they are actually quite good soldiers, but there is indeed room for improvement. As there is about a fortnight to the border, we have the time. This is what I want…”

It rained the next day too and it continued to rain every day of our march towards Bourgogne. Even so, our army actually marched quite fast and we reached the border within the allotted timeframe. Each afternoon the army trained as well and steadily the army improved its discipline and efficiency.
The food improved as well, but we of superior rank didn’t have to eat soldiers ration beyond the first day. Duke Charles only did it on day one of any campaign to check it out. He had after all brought one of his own chefs with him.
Camp security was perhaps what improved the most. Everything I had remarked improved radically – which understandably inflated my ego. There were other improvements as well, but being untried in the art of war I missed those.

We reached the border with Burgundy on the 16th of January. We crossed over immediately and were straight away attacked by forward elements of the Burgundian Army. My Master was not amused.
Fortunately, the weather continued to be bad, so while we had to fight small skirmishes all the time, we did manage to avoid being sucked into a decisive battle prior to finding our allies. After a few days of hectic manoeuvring inside Burgundian territory, generally speaking marching south and west towards the direction we thought our allies would come, a scout from Duc de Bourbonnais’ army finally found us and told us the good news. They were coming and we could link up in a few days.
We gave him a splendid dinner poached from the Duke of Burgundy’s forest, while he told us of what had happened in the world since our departure from civilisation. He did have a few titbits to share with us.
Our alliance where not doing too greatly. No surprise there – France was not even a second rate power anymore and God knows what rank we were. The main French army was on its way to Artois. No wonder King Charles wasn’t convinced we needed help – he was more interested in wresting land from the rebel Duke of Burgundy than helping us and if we managed to take the capitol it would be that much easier. One look of my Master’s face told me he had reached the same conclusion.
King Henry had moved into Normandy and could attack us as well as Provence’s territory from there. Evidently the spies had it right.
A second large English army was active in the Anjou region – no wonder really, as they had inherited the area. More bizarre was the fact that the English actually had a local heretic uprising happening somewhere in their territory called the Lollards. We really couldn’t care less so long as it didn’t spread here.
The scout had one final news item. It was actually the least important and oldest item: France’s vassal “Provence is now granting France military access to their country”, but I was quite intrigued. It was a very good idea and I told my Master we needed quite a few of those ourselves if we stood any chance of growing. He agreed, but we couldn’t arrange it now. It could wait. Survival first.

We found Duc de Bourbon and his army on the 19th. That gave us a few days to reach the capitol, but by the 22nd we were ready to give battle in full view of the citizens of Bourgogne. Jean de Pressy was also there; ready, willing and waiting.
Unfortunately the weather was still exceptionally bad. We marched to the killing field each day and organised ourselves into battle-formation. But no battle took place. Neither side wanted to do anything in this weather, apparently.
I became increasingly edgy. We needed to vanquish the enemy and start the siege here before the English came to Orleans. As they were better at besieging towns, we needed a head start to finish first – or we would be annexed.
Finally, on the evening of January 27th, the weather cleared. The next day…

Yeah, I know. Update tomorrow, I hope...

The Battle of Bourgogne, January 28th 1419.
A whole night without rain dried the field somewhat. My Master was quite pleased as the heavy cavalry could now be used as intended.
Our army originally had 10,000 foot and 5,000 knights when we left Orleans. The constant marching and fighting inside Burgundian territory together with the weather and the general danger of being in the field meant we had lost a 1,000 or so of our men. Duc de Bourbon brought 13,000 men. I’m not sure of its composition, but if I should hazard a guess I would say 9,000 men and 4,000 knights. They too had lost a few men along the way. The Burgundians had an army of about 10,000 foot and 5,000 knights.
We had the all important cavalry numerical superiority – as well as overall numerical superiority – but the Burgundians had in Jean de Pressy a proven tough and devious leader.

We of the command shared a very light and early breakfast in my Masters tent on the morning of the 28th convinced this was the day of battle. The mood was sombre, only my Master was feeling cheerful. He was convinced a charge was all that was necessary to rout the Burgs. I wasn’t nearly that optimistic, but I couldn’t talk him out of it. Instead I tried to engage Comte de Monet and Captain Roquefort in small talk, but neither was in the mood. The mad Italian stuffed himself of course. His role would come only if we won today.
Our knights, my Master and Comte de Monet included, needed a lot of help dressing themselves in steel. It took quite awhile. Even if steel might give you a better protection it also generally meant putting a man in harms way. I had been offered full body armour, but declined. I did put on a helmet and a cuirass though. I even had a small shield painted with the three fleurs-de-lis, the symbol of France and Orleans.
My job during the battle was light – I was to guard the camp with a few fellows unfit for battle. A glorious command indeed.
Duke Charles did apologise for given me such a lowly command, but since I wasn’t really trained for war… I smiled and said it was fine.
“Next time, I promise…”
Sure.

Our armies marched out to the battlefield and arranged themselves according to plan. We had the right side and the Bourbonnais the left. The foot was in the middle and cavalry on either side. The pikemen had front, swordsmen in the middle and crossbowmen behind them. There was a small gap between our foot and the Bourbonnais foot, but that was only natural I had been told. I was more dubious as it could be breached, but nothing could be done apparently. Our foot was lead by captain Roquefort. The overall foot commander was the Bourbonnais foot commander, since we had the overall command in Duke Charles as well as the command of the cavalry.
Our cavalry was to the right of our foot and the Bourbonnais cavalry were to the left of their foot, thus protecting both wings.
The Burgundians were similarly arranged but as they were fewer than us, their front was shorter.
Our plan was to rout both enemy cavalry units off the field and so far away that they would not come back. When the enemy cavalry broke, only a detachment large enough to pursuit without danger, but not so large as to diminish our remaining cavalry forces beyond use, would pursuit the enemy. The rest would then fall on the enemy foot and crush them. Our foot’s only goal was to hold the field while cavalry fought and then help out when our cavalry broke the enemy foot and mop up remaining resistance.

Our camp was situated on a small hill behind the battlefield. By sitting on a horse on top of the hill, I had an excellent view of the battlefield. About midmorning both sides of the battlefield were ready to do war. Duke Charles ordered the signal for the cavalry charge and soon loud brass horns could be heard over the entire area. I have never heard anything like ever before. You had to be deaf not hear it – I’m not certain they didn’t hear it in Paris! I was so surprised by the awful sound as well as the level; I actually fell off my horse.
As the horn screeching faded from the field and my ears slowly regained their function, I actually felt more than heard the cavalry charge. 8,000 horses make quite a lot of noise and the ground literally shook. I slowly got up and climbed up on the horse. Hopefully not too many had noticed.
The Orleans cavalry charge went quite well. They crashed into the Burgundian knights. It was the most glorious sight I have ever seen. In no time at all the Burgundian knights were forced to retreat and as planned, our knights followed and continued to harass them. I soon lost sight of both. That was not the plan. Stay alive, Master, stay alive!

The knights of Bourbon were less successful. Burgundian cavalry did give ground, but only grudgingly and very slowly. I had a sinking feeling they might mutually annihilate on another rendering the cavalry useless.

At that point, the Burgundian infantry decided to advance. They marched slowly towards us. When they had halved the distance, they stopped. The air went suddenly black from arrows. Before landing among our foot, the second volley was in the air. And then the arrows fell. The carnage was unbelievable – the volley killed and maimed hundreds.
“Merde!” I heard someone exclaim. “They have hired English longbows!”
I turned my horse around to face the speaker, a wounded soldier under my command. “So?” I asked. “Aren’t our crossbowmen just as good?”
“No sir, “ the wounded soldier explained. “English longbows are specialists. If properly trained, and these obviously are, they fire much faster and have longer range, as well as being more accurate and overall deadlier.”
“I see. Do our crossbowmen have any advantage?” I asked sourly.
“Only one, sir.”
“Which is?”
“They are cheaper, sir!”
“Damn!” I turned my horse around to the battlefield again and muttered. “As I always say: it’s expensive being poor.”
“What, sir?”
“Never mind.” Studying the rapidly worsening battle, I was reminded of the old military saying: No plan survives the first contact with enemy. As I looked on, it appeared to me our men where being slaughtered. Why weren’t we firing back?
“No-one to lead, sir. All our officers are dead or wounded.”
I realised I had spoken out loud. “What can we do?”
“Only two options left. Either we pull back and run the risk of breaking…”
“Or?”
“Or advance forward quickly.”
“Charging them?” I asked scornfully.
“No, sir. Foot doesn’t charge, sir – it only moves fast forward in order to close a distance rapidly – like here – in order to minimise damage.”
“Yes, but why?”
“At close range, their bows are useless. And as we still have more men than they do, if we hurry, we should win hand-to-hand fighting. But they won’t do it without someone telling them to.”
“Excellent advise, lieutenant. Find yourself a horse and come with me.”
“I’m only a corporal, sir.”
“Not if this works out. Now find that horse!”
“Yes sir. My arm is useless though – I can’t fight.”
“Never mind. We aren’t going to fight, I’m going to lead and you are going to advise me. Move man!”
I was halfway down the hill before realising what I was doing. Me volunteering to put myself in harms way in order to save our army? This just isn’t me, my lords, I tell yah…

When I reached our line, the panic was indeed setting in. All officers were rendered useless and the sergeants were about to give up. I turned to my “lieutenant”. “Can you yell?”
“Yes sir, I’m a famous yeller.”
“So give the order: forward foot – close in on the enemy! And get the Bourbons here – we must close the gap between us or the enemy might take advantage of that.”
“Yes sir.” And then he yelled. I have heard yelling before, but this guy actually managed to be heard above the noise of the battle. He did have to repeat it a few times, and we did had more or less show the sergeants forward, but in short order our army did move forward. After some grizzly threats the lieutenant even managed the get the Bourbons and our men to close the gap. One threat less, I thought.
I was a very visible target on the horse, but I wanted to be seen. I needed to be seen by our panicky men. Besides today, just this moment with my shield painted with fleurs-de-lis, I felt like the representative of Orleans and thus invincible. I showed my shield to all. “Forward, lads, forward!” I shrieked madly.
It rained arrows around me, but for a nick in the arm and one that stuck on my shield, not one hit me or my horse – fortunately. I contemptuously broke the arrow that stuck to my shield
When our pikemen reached the Burgundian line, the arrows more or less stopped falling. So far so good! I looked around for my lieutenant. I waved him over. He had discarded his horse earlier, but still I sat on mine. “Now what?”
“Now comes the fun part – a tug of war of sorts.”
“Fun, lieutenant?”
“Yes sir. Being soldier is dangerous, so a certain outlook on life is needed to stay sane, sir.”
“I see…go on.”
“Well, we try to push them off the field and they try the same with us. I think we have more people so we should do alright, but the bastards have hurt us badly and our morale is low.”
“Do they need orders?”
“No, no, sir. They are trained for this and it’s more or less automatic, but they do need encouragement.”
“Fine, I sit here encourage then!”
“Yes sir” He looked strangely at me. I raised one eyebrow. “What?”
“You are very exposed sitting there, sir”
“I need to be seen, lieutenant. I’ll sit here and encourage the men by being exposed; you do it by yelling at them. Between us we make up for one real officer. Besides, today I feel invincible. Carry on.”
“Yes, sir,” he said and trotted through the ranks to spread his encouragement.
We did advance for a while. Unfortunately, our effort might be for naught, as it looked like the Burgundian knights might actually win. Slowly the Bourbonnais knights were pushed back. Seeing that, the Burgundian foot re-found their courage and stopped our advance. Slowly, but steadily they began to push us back. I cast a quick look behind me and saw the hill up close. The bastards had almost pushed back to the camp.
The lieutenant pulled my arm to get my attention. “Sir, look. Knights coming,” he said pointing in the direction our gallant knights had gone chasing the enemy knights. “Yeah, I see them, Lieutenant, question is, ours or theirs?”
“I’m sure it’s ours.”
Apparently the Burgundians had also seen the knights coming, because they redoubled their effort to break us before the knights could save us or break us, depending on whom they were. As we reached the top of the hill, the enemy was so close I could almost touch them. I drew my sword deciding to sell myself dearly. The men around me nodded grimly gripping their weapons. I swung my sword at a Burgundian head and killed him. I felt great. The lieutenant was right – war was kind of fun. The bastards tried to drag me off my horse, but with luck and the help of my men, I managed to stay on it leading the battle. A mad laugh bubbled up inside me. We were going to win.
Suddenly the Burgundians stopped pushing. I straightened in my saddle and looked up from the immediate surroundings. The knights coming were indeed ours. They had split, half helping the Bourbon knights and half helping us. The Burgundian foot could not keep up the pressure anymore. I screamed from joy and spurred our men to new levels of effort. We pushed the bastards off our hill and towards the knights, where they were being slaughtered. I saw my Master – alive and well – and I waved madly. He waved back.
Suddenly something hit me in the head. As I fell off the horse, the world went black…

OK, I survived this vacation too.
I haven’t had the time – really – to write anything since my last post. I planned a little bit though, and even played Orleans a little longer.
This is the only nation I have ever reloaded if the result was not agreeing – I won’t apologise though. Unlike any other nation (almost), playing Orleans one have to reload if to get a result worth writing about…I’m only a few years ahead with my savegames, but I’m almost stuck. It’s almost impossible to get the cool result I’m looking for.
Later today, if all goes to plan, I will do an update.

---

HJ Tulp: Yes, we won…

MrT: Thanks. As for the ‘tiny nit’ you are probably right. I’m no expert but even as I wrote it didn’t feel quite right. But in my defence I wrote it more like a rant from an angry frightened man, than something meant to be 100% accurate…
And yes, we won.

Sharur: Thanks. Sooner or later I will have to speed things up though. Otherwise, at this rate, I will be dead before my lead man is…

The Baron of Montargis.
I awoke wondering where I was. Paradise? Hell? Brrrr… The roof looked like a tent I had seen before, but the bed was far more comfortable than any I’ve ever slept in so this might be Paradise. My body though, especially my head, hurt like hell, making Paradise seen unrealistic. Besides, I was way behind in my Confessions, and if the priest had it right, there was no chance I would be going directly to Paradise… what's more I didn’t feel especially warm, so I didn’t think this was Hell either. Purgatory perhaps? Somehow I doubted that.
I tried to sit up in the bed. The world starting to spin and I took both hands to my head finding my head bandaged. Bandage? Must be alive then.
I sort of remembering being hit in the head as the world went black yesterday…err…what time is it? What day is it? It felt like early morning, probably the day after the battle but I wasn’t sure.
I looked around me. Yeah, the tent was indeed familiar, it was my Master’s and I actually lay in his bed. Daylight outside lighted the inside bright enough to see I was alone in here.
My stomach growled loudly making me aware just how hungry I was. I managed to stand up. As I was completely naked, I used the bedcover to clad myself decently. Besides, it was cold today. No wonder though, I thought as I looked through a small crack in the tent opening. The ground was white and it was snowing. I hate winter.
Slowly I walked towards the table where I smelled some food. I sat down heavily and grabbed some cheese and fruit. I poured liberally some wine into a cup and drank thirstily. While eating, I took stock of my body. Besides the head bandage, my left arm was also bandaged making the arm stiff and almost useless. My right thigh also had a bandage. I could use my leg though, but it hurt like hell. Well all right. I was wounded but none of them looked threatening to my untrained eye. It appears that I had come through this all right. Thank God!
The tent opening was pulled aside and my Master strode in. I tried to get up, but he waved me down.
“Excellent, seneschal, you are up. How are you feeling?”
“Not bad, Master. How long did I sleep?”
“Almost two days. It’s midday the 30th today.”
“Mon Dieu! Two days…” No wonder I felt somewhat disconnected to the world. There were something really important I should ask…Ah yes! “I’m sorry, should have asked right away, but I’m a little slow today…how did the battle go?”
Duke Charles smiled beatifically. “We won of course – thanks to you my dear baron!”
“Ah good…wait…what…baron?”
“Yes, de Coucy. I can’t have a non-noble saving the royal army of the Duke of Orleans. So henceforth you are known as the Baron of Montargis, which is a small village inside Orleans’ borders incidentally. There you will rule with all rights and privileges etc. The local manor is nothing more than a censes [OOC: big farm] really, but the title of Baron makes all the difference. Being a baron, you are exempt from almost all taxes, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you manage to earn a little money from the place. You even get your own coat of armour – look this is your escutcheon.”

He held up this drawing of a shield.
[OOC: Looking around for general info on Orleans and what not, I came across this shield which actually is the modern city of Orleans’ coat of armour…]

I took the drawing and shook my head. The shocks just kept piling on…
“As soon as you are up to it,” my Master continued. “I will give you the necessary books, rolls and papers. The land by the way, makes you the vassal of Comte de Monet here, but if you will I can transfer that directly to me…”
I noticed the hard face of Comte de Monet behind Duke Charles looking at me. I didn’t want to make an enemy of this man, so I shook my head form side to side. “No need to change anything, Master.” Come de Monet nodded ever so slightly.
Until now I had been just an employer of Duke Charles and thus unworthy of the good count’s attention, but now, as a noble, I was suddenly a competitor for my Master’s attention and favours. There were after all very few nobles in the Duchy of Orleans. I resolved to clear the air between us at first possible opportunity.
“Furthermore,” my Master went on unrelentingly. “You will marry at the first possible opportunity…”
“What? No, no, no, master, that’s impossible. I belong to the Church. My mother made a promise to God when I was born that I would enter the Church at the appropriate time. Even my education was all about ensuring that.”
“I know, but this is more important. You are the last of the de Coucy’s, if you die without heirs, being in the Church, the land will go the Church. As a duke and a brother of a king, I cannot accept that. The Church is slowly draining us dry by “inheriting” land on the deathbed of magnates. It has to stop. It will stop with you.” He’s usually friendly eyes turned angry on me and his longest finger pointed almost as a sword close to my nose. “This is a package deal, seneschal. You will accept all of it or nothing at all.”
I blinked. My eyes could not be more open, but I still did not believe it. “I’m to stunned to even begin a proper thank you, Master, but I’m…”
“That’s good, seneschal. Given time, I think you will enjoy marriage as much as anyone. I know I do, and I too were once considered for Church service.”
I looked surprise. “Really? Why didn’t you…eh…”
“Take it?” I nodded. “Father decided it was too risky with the war with England and all. Since all nobles, even kings, have too take the field,…you know.” He crossed himself. Comte de Monet and myself followed suit. “God willing that day may never come…” He drank deeply from his wine-cup and got Comte de Monet to pour another round. He did so by signalling some servants who had come bringing more food. I had a chicken.
My Master looked up and stared hard at me. “Do you, Raphael de Coucy, accept the whole deal – including the marriage part?”
I realised I couldn’t wiggle out of this. With heavy heart, I said: “I do.”

* * * * *

“So how did the battle go really? I sort of lost track of large part of it, Master,” I asked while we ate.
“I’m not your Master anymore, baron. You may now call me ‘my Lord’ instead.”
“Yes, sire,” I said and laughed. He laughed too.
“Well then – let’s see if I can piece it together for you.” He sat down and grabbed some fruit to eat. “You saw as we chased away half their cavalry?” I nodded. “That I think, even if it was our plan, also was theirs.” I raised my eyebrows in question. “Yes,” he said and drank deeply from the cup. “They could count as well as us, and Jean de Pressy probably realised we would win the cavalry battle, our half of it anyway. So they broke off almost immediately and lead us on a merry chase away from the battlefield. They had hardly lost a single knight in the encounter, which is why I think they planned beforehand. As their force was intact, we didn’t dare splitting up, as originally planned before seriously hurting them some more.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. Then what?”
He took another sip from the cup. “We caught up with them on the other side of Dijon. Hidden there was another army of pikemen. They obviously wanted us to charge straight in, but fortunately we managed to change direction slightly, so we only hit the bastards on their flank and not head on. That manoeuvre saved us. To be safe though, we decided to teach the pikemen a lesson before continue with the chase.”
“Oh? I thought pikes were deadly to cavalry?”
“They are – if you hit them head on. We didn’t. After crashing through left flank, we hit them again in the back. The couldn’t react fast enough to get their pikes in place, so we crushed them. Unfortunately, the Burgundian cavalry got away almost unhurt. We tried to chase after them, but they too much of a head start, cowards!” He drank deeply. I could not remember my Master…err…my Lord Duke drinking this heavily before and certainly not in the middle of the day. I couldn’t ask though; not yet anyway. Instead I asked: “Then what?”
“So we turned around and came back here – just in time too. We split up and crushed both the Burgundian infantry and as well as the cavalry. Though, in honesty, you had done most of it already. We waved to each other and suddenly you fell down. The wounded corporal you were talking to, guarded your body until you could be rescued.
Corporal? Oh yes of course, my lieutenant. “Did he make it. He helped me tremendously and I sort of made him a lieutenant.”
“Did you now…well yes, he did survive. He’s been asking about you. How helpful was he?” Duke Charles asked neutrally. He pointedly did not look at Comte de Monet.
“Very. I did…I do after all know little of leading men into battle and…”
“You know more now than you did then!” Duke Charles laughed and drank some more wine.
“Indeed. Anyway, he gave some good advice while we were still watching from the hilltop. Based on his advice, I chose to intervene and wanted him to accompany me, so I said he was a lieutenant and my second-in-command, and as we took charge he advised while I decided. It worked out quite well if I may say so myself.”
“And did it ever occur to you how come he knew so much? After all he was only a corporal – or at least you thought so.”
“So who is he then?”
“My prodigal son, Antoine de Monet.” Comte de Monet answered angrily. “The black sheep of the family.”
No wonder he was angry. Why is a son of count slumming with peasants?
“Good question,” Comte de Monet replied angrily, as I realised I had said it out loud. I blushed like never before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
Comte de Monet waved my apology away. “No matter, baron. Antoine has always been a strange kid with even stranger ideas. He actually volunteered with the army without any of us knowing. He was in fact missing from the call-up of the knights, which is a major crime by the way, and put on the most wanted list. Let’s just say we where very surprised when we saw who was guarding your body.”
“So what will happen to him now?”
Charles, Duke of Orleans answered. “By Law, I can execute him by separating his body and his head with a sword.”
I looked aghast at my master. “You cannot do…” I realised he could actually do that. Having studied law I knew what rulers could and could not do, theoretically anyway. Being a student of Salle des Thèses, had not in any way prepared me for real life. I have never actually, I confess, actually been to an execution. “…when?” I asked weakly.
Shockingly, they both laughed out loud. “Don’t worry, seneschal, it won’t happen – not yet anyway. With a little bit of luck, not ever, but you don’t have to tell him that. You see, we are releasing him to you – if you want him that is. Otherwise…” He made a cutting motion across his neck with his right hand. I got the message – loud and clear.