The Grand Duchy of Burgundy

Prologue

December 31, 1418 - Dijon

The War Council was ready to get underway as the last of the Burgundian nobles arrived at the Great Council Hall in Dijon. Upon the throne, overlooking the somewhat chaotic assembly sat the aged Jean I, Duke of Burgundy. His closest advisors stood by his side, as well as his young son Phillipe. With everyone present, the Duke’s Chief Advisor called the meeting to order and a general silence fell upon the crowd. Duke Jean stood and began to speak.

“My lords,” he began, “I am delighted you could all make it in person despite our ongoing situation with the King. It only goes to show that the throne of France holds not the power it used to, that it cannot prevent even our nobles from the Lowlands making it all the way down here to plot his downfall.” There were some cheers at that, although many of the nobility were clearly concerned with the Duke’s frailty. Once the Duke had been a commanding and intimidating presence, but now his voice and every movement betrayed his advanced years. It was clear that the Duke’s health was in fact failing.

“Now I call upon Major General De Pressy to describe to you how we best can do this.” Many cheers went up at the mention of the name of Jean De Pressy, the man who had successfully led Burgundy’s armies of late in this never ending conflict with France. The Duke took his seat as De Pressy took the floor.

“My noble lords, it is good to see you all in good health. And a toast to our noble host, the Duke!” Cheers again were raised as everyone raised their mugs and drank to the Duke. The Duke smiled modestly and gestured for the meeting to continue.

“My lords, we have an opportunity at present that we have been long awaiting: the chance to unite our northern and southern holdings. France is weakened due to the stunning victories our allies the English and the Duke of Brittany’s armies move even now against Le Mans. Troops in the King’s northern provinces are at an all time low and French morale is breaking. There has never been a better time to strike.”

“What’s the plan of attack then?” This came from the Duke of Holland. His participation would of course be crucial as he commanded the second field army that Burgundy would need to defeat the French.

“Quite simple really, but it will require coordination with your forces, my lord. I will lead the Bourgogne army into Nivernais, meeting the French army there in battle and then initiating a siege of Nevers. Colonel Saint Esprit will lead your army to Paris itself, facing the other small French force. Once we have captured both Paris and Nevers, we will move to take Reims in Champagne.”

“Now, beyond this I cannot say yet what our plans will be. I will be coordinating with King Henry of England and we will see from there how are forces can best be deployed. But with these two cities as our primary objective, we will be able to secure a pathway between our holdings in the North and the South. No longer will we have to rely on whims of Charles of Lorraine to disposition our forces safely.”

A grumble came from the nobility at this. The Duchy of Lorraine was considered to be the rightful territory of Burgundy, but the current Duke Charles II had his own ideas. He sought to rival Duke Jean’s position in Burgundy and claim the entire French crown for himself. God knows why, considering the current state of debacle the crown found itself in.

“You have our support General,” rang out the Duke of Holland’s voice, interrupting the grumbling.

“And we shall offer whatever assistance we can.” This came from the Countess of Hainaut and Holland. While she had no troops at her command, her say was considered important. Largely cause she was married to Duke Jan IV of Brabant, one of Burgundy’s loyalest supporters.

Soon a chorus of agreements rang throughout the hall. The General’s plan had been accepted. Now, the Duke stood and reclaimed the attention of the throng.

“Milords! Tomorrow, our armies march for Paris. But tonight, we celebrate!” The loudest cheer of all rose up and musicians were summoned in. The Duke, however was escorted out discretely by his Chief Advisor, leaving his young son to preside over the revelry.

Part 1 - Old Friends

January 1, 1419 - Dijon

“Lady Isabelle, I do wish you would be still,” the matron whispered, but Isabelle paid her little heed. The ceremony was dull, and was more about political manoeuvring than love and spiritual union. The Earl of Strassburg was marrying some English noblewoman in order to unite the two kingdoms further, but that is not why Isabelle had travelled all this way.

She longed very much to see her childhood friends: Lord Jean-Pierre, heir to the Earl of Besancon, and Lord Phillipe, heir to the Duchy of Burgundy itself. The three had grown up together at her father’s court in Antwerp, but she had not seen them since they had returned home to begin learning the duties of their future offices.

They had only been eight when they left, and that was almost seven years ago. They would be young men by now, and she wondered if she would recognize them. She particularly wanted to see Phillipe, as rumours already abounded about the handsome young bachelor who would one day rule all of Burgundy.

Unfortunately, Phillipe did not seem to be sitting with his father the Duke, and she had no idea where else he might be. Nor could she see Jean-Pierre with his father. It appeared she would just have to wait until the reception.

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“Ah, Lady Isabelle,” smiled the old Duke as he bowed to kiss her hand. She almost blushed, for she was not used to being fussed over like a proper lady yet, something which her Mother and Father were none too pleased about. They had hoped at her age she would already have been married off, but being the youngest of three daughters and from the nobility of a Duchy whose continued existence balanced precariously in the lurch of a war spanning generation, she had little to offer. Not to mention little interest.

“I must say you have grown to be a most charming young woman. I’m delighted you could come.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” she curtsied. “Might I ask your Grace where your son Phillipe is? I have yet to see him since my arrival and would very much like to catch up on old times.”

“Of course,” replied the old Duke. “And I’m sure he will be delighted to see you again. There he is over there talking with young Jean-Pierre.” The old Duke pointed to where the two young men were conversing. She thanked him kindly and then took her leave to go and speak with her friends.

Her heart was thumping in her chest as she made her way towards them. She could hardly contain her excitement at the sight of her two childhood friends all grown-up. Both of them had grown up to be very handsome young men, and Phillipe outshone even the most extravagent rumours that surrounded his looks.

Composing herself, she took a deep breath, then inserted herself in their conversation.

“Excuse me my Lords, but could you direct me to the powder room. I’m afraid my ungracious hosts have been rather unkind and not given me a proper tour of the castle.” The two young Lords looked at her with some shock, but only for a moment, then a wave of recognition swept across their face.

“Izzy! It’s so good to see you!” shouted Phillipe as he picked her up in his arms, and swept her around (rather inappropriately for their station) and gave her a quick kiss. “How are you?”

“I’m very well thanks. Hello Jean-Pierre.” The other young man came forward, and more appropriately gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“Good to see you Iz.” he smiled.

“So come on than you two, are you going to show me around the castle or what?” She demanded with a big smile on their face. The three of them laughed and tore off out of the hall together as if they were kids all over again.

Thanks Everybody

Thanks for the encouragement everyone. And an extra special thanks for fixing the title Lord Durham. I promise that it does not foreshadow my ineptness as a writer. At least I hope not.

Anyways, here's the next couple of posts. And I promise that it's not going to take this long to get through the whole AAR, I just sort of have this idea planned for a story-line and kind of need to establish who these people are at first. Things should pick up game-wise soon, so I hope people can pardon my indulgence.

And Mr. T., I have kept a close eye on the progess of my English allies and I'll make sure they don't leave me without any rewards, don't you worry. Of course now I've tempted fate and I'll end up losing half my provinces to Auvergne or something. Let's hope not.

Anyways, next two installments.

January 16, 1419 - Dijon


“My Lord,” began the Chief Advisor, “Major General De Pressy sends word that he has successfully laid siege to Nevers. However the French army had already fled northwards, probably to Paris.”

“Already we have the French on the run. Excellent.” The old Duke smiled, but his advisor was clearly agitated.

“Not quite my lord. The Northern French army has been seen on the outskirts of Artois, heading for Arras.”

“Has the Army of Holland begun their march yet?”

“No,” said the Advisor. “Although they should be ready to leave any day now.”

“Send word immediately to hold off on the march. Instruct Lord Holland to muster as many new recruits as he can, inform him that they shall be paid for from our own coffers.”

“Of course my lord. But now, I must insist that you prepare your belongings and make haste away from here with your court.” The Duke responded merely with a puzzled look.

“I have saved the worst news for last, Your Grace. The Armies of the Dukes of Bourbonnais and Orleans are marching towards Dijon. Already there is fighting along the borders of Bourgogne. We must relocate the Court at once.”

The Duke could hardly believe his ears, and his tongue was only held by the swift arrival of his son.

“Have you heard this Phillipe? The Vizier wishes us to abandon Dijon to the King’s lap dogs and flee the city? Have you heard anything so preposterous?” The Duke was almost laughing.

“I’m afraid I must agree with the Vizier, Your Grace. Should Dijon fall, the Duke’s would at the very least hold your person for ransom and seal our fate in this war, if not worse.”

“But surely De Pressy’s men are more than a match for these lackeys?” The Duke’s concern was evident, for he had grown to trust his young son immeasurably as an advisor.

“As great a general as De Pressy is, Your Grace, he will be greatly outnumbered should he return. As well, he would have to abandon the siege of Nevers. If De Pressy pushes on, he may be able to force the King’s hand without even involving the other Dukes.”

“Besides, Your Grace,” added the Advisor, “with Duke Charles’ army occupied outside the walls of Dijon, Orleans is left vulnerable to the attack of our English allies in the north.”

The Duke pondered the situation for a moment longer, but clearly had been convinced.

“Send word to the Court that we leave for Strassburg immediately. See to it that the city is as prepared as can be for a long siege, but Philippe, speak to the Captain of the Guard. I do not wish the people of Dijon to face any unnecessary suffering. If the stores run out, and they can hold out no longer, they are surrender to the Duke of Bourbonnais’ forces. He is an honourable man, and they shall come to no harm.”

“I shall see that it is done, Your Grace.” With that Philippe bowed and exited the chamber.

Soon, all around the capital preparations were made for the impending siege. And just as the sun began to set, the Duke and his court, accompanied by his honour guard, left through the East Gate and on towards Strassburg.

August 3, 1419 - Strassburg

Philippe, Jean-Pierre and Isabelle sat in the courtyard of Strassburg enjoying the summer heat. Despite the continuing battles abroad, the three had enjoyed their summer together so far.

“I must say it’s almost a relief that the Duke of Lorraine has refused us passage to the North. Summer’s never quite this beautiful in Antwerp and the weather here has been amazing. You can almost forget that there is a war going on.” Isabelle lay back, basking in the sun, resting her head on Phillippe’s shoulder.

“By the sounds of it, your much safer here. Reports say that the Army of Holland is in Flandern now and marching South as we speak to battle the French at Arras. If they fail, there’s going to be a lot of weary soldier’s hanging around Antwerp.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist Jean-Pierre. We can beat the French.” There was the arrogant confidence of youth behind Isabelle’s prediction of victory.

“Plus with word arriving today from England that the Duke of Gelre has joined on our side, there could be thousands upon thousands of me holed up in Antwerp.”

“Now, now Jean-Pierre,” Philippe chided his friend mockingly. “We mustn’t get the lady excited with the thought of all those lonely soldiers in need of attention.”

Isabelle smacked Philippe on the shoulder as the two young man laughed.

“Here we are on a beautiful summer’s day, with the trees and lake and all you two can talk is war and politics. You’ll have the rest of your lives to deal with that garbage, why not enjoy yourselves for once.” She threw the wildflower she had been twirling in her hands at Jean-Pierre who couldn’t control his laughter, but suddenly Philippe became very serious and quiet.

“She’s right of course, Jean-Pierre,” he said, very sombre. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

For a moment Jean-Pierre looked back at his friend confused, and then a big smile crossed his face as he caught on to Philippe’s idea.

“What?” queried Isabelle. “What is it you two? I hate it when you two do this. What are you planning?”

Suddenly the two young men were up in a flash, tearing towards the lake and throwing their clothes every which way as they went.

“Last one in the water has to kiss the Dauphine,” Jean-Pierre called back.

In a second Isabelle was after them, doing her best to get out of her own garments.

“No fair, I’ve got way more on than you two!” Finally she joined the other two in the lake and the three splashed about in the water under the hot summer sun.

A quick note on continuity

Hey, just a quick note. I've had to go back and change the ages of Philippe, Jean-Pierre and Isabelle to a younger 15. I've played further into the game and realized that Philippe has a long reign and certain stuff wouldn't make sense if he were already almost twenty when he took the throne. I edited the earlier reference. Nevertheless, Philippe remains very mature for his age.

Anyways, another update.

August 31st, 1419 - Artois

The Army of Holland descended upon the French camp without mercy. Advantage was theirs. The French commander had refused to break the siege in order to meet the Burgundian army, fearing sorties from the city. As a result, only a pitifully small division of men met the mighty knights and infantry of Burgundy head on. Had the French commander not died on the field that day, he surely would have beheaded upon his return to Paris for such folly.

The Burgundians descended upon the pitiful French resistance, overwhelming them with ease. Then, before rushing in to break the rest of the siege army, Colonel Saint Esprit called his forces back to order. No chances were taken and the army advanced on the French in a coordinated manner.

Arrows rained down upon the French forces who scrambled to provide some defence. Where groups of resistance began to organize, Burgundian knights rode them down without mercy. The French troops began to scatter and were clearly in a panic as the Army of Holland advanced down upon them.

Soon they were in full retreat and utter chaos as men ran in every which direction, not even sure in which direction lay safety. Many ran far too close the walls of Arras and found themselves within the range of the garrison’s archers, who were more than delighted to take shots at the enemy who had held them prisoner in their own home for so long.

When the sun rose on the first day of the new month, every soldier of the King of France was either held prisoner or lay dead on the field. Colonel Saint Esprit rested his men for the day, but by morning of the second of September they marched on again to Paris.


September 12, 1419 - Strassburg

Philippe entered the room with an heir of dread. Of late there had been much celebrating in Strassburg. The siege of Arras had been lifted, Nevers was beginning to weaken and the Army of Holland marched towards Paris itself.

However, Philippe had noticed how his father seemed to be staying an increasingly short amount of time at the festivities. He rarely appeared in public for more than an hour since coming to Strassburg. And now this summons caused Philippe to fear the worst.

There was a musky smell in the room, and the curtains were drawn despite the beautiful sun shining outside. His father lay in bed, the Vizier at his side. A woman was patting his father’s head with a damp cloth, and a surgeon was packing up his belongings. Philippe knew his fears were founded before anyone even spoke.

“Could you please leave us now? I wish to speak to my son alone.” The Vizier nodded, and as there was nothing more that anyone could do, they all withdrew from the room. Philippe hesitated before making his way to the bedside where is father lay.

“Well my son. I can see from the look in your eyes that you already know what is happening.” The old Duke swallowed a lump in his throat. His eyes shone with a mixture of fear and pride.

“You have grown up to be a fine and handsome young man. You will make some young lady very happy someday.” Philippe averted his father’s eyes. His father’s eyes were welling with tears. Philippe had never seen his father cry before.

“I am sorry that I will not live to see you grow old, or marry. And I am more sorry that I leave you with our Duchy in such a sorry state of affairs. I had hoped to see peace before I died, but it does not like that I shall be so lucky.” The old Duke smiled faintly and sighed a heavy sigh, still fighting back the tears.

“Come here my son.” Philippe leaned over at his father’s request, and the old man planted a kiss on Philippe’s forehead. “Now go. Spend some time in the garden and enjoy the sunshine. When you wake tomorrow you will be Duke and there won’t be much time to enjoy the simple things as often. Go. And...take care.”

Philippe clenched his jaw, bowed his head, then turned and walked from the room with as much dignity as he could muster. Once outside, the Vizier put his hand on Philippe’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before reentering the Duke’s bedchamber.

Finally alone, Philippe allowed the tears to stream down his face. He raced out into the garden to a spot where he could be alone. He sat under a tree by the lakeside and watched as the sun began to set slowly on the horizon. Before it had disappeared completely, Philippe heard the bells ring out in castle’s monastery. The young man, only fifteen years old, thus began his reign as Duke Philippe III of Burgundy.

Hey, I'm going away for the long weekend (it's Victoria Day weekend here in Canada) so there won't be any forthcoming posts. Not that they've been arriving at a flurry anyway. Just thought I'd let people know if they were interested in the story. Anyway, pace should be picking up more now (I actually make it into the next year in the next post alone!) although I'll try and make sure it stays interesting. I've skimmed over a lot of the war right now, but I plan to try and write some good battle scenes soon if anybody happens to like those. Enough rambling, gotta pack. Happy May 24 to all Canadians.

The war progressed well for Burgundy, despite the loss of the Duke. On October 30th, a French sortie from Nevers was crushed by De Pressy’s siege army, and only a few stragglers escaped to the nearby province of Champagne. By December 2nd, the army camped outside of Paris was fleeing to the hills and the seat of the French throne found itself surrounded by the forces of Burgundy.

On December 23rd, grave news reached Strassburg as the garrison commander at Dijon was forced to turn over the city to the Duke of Bourbonnais in order to prevent people from dying of starvation. Philippe vowed to liberate the city within a year, or else abdicate his title.

December 28th saw a new morale boost for the Burgundians as the fleeing Parisian army met a small contingent of calvary, raised by the Duke of Holland to support his army. The calvary held the day, and chased the French army to their doom before the walls of Paris. By January 9th of 1420, the French Parisian army was wiped out.

January 22nd saw the return of the French army to Nivernais, who were easily beaten back by De Pressy’s forces. However, grave news followed when the forces of Auvergne set up around Besancon on February the 26th. Many of the Duke’s began to worry about terms of peace. April 30th, a small sortie from Besancon attempted to lift the siege, but instead made a strategic retreat to Nevers to join with De Pressy.

April 25th saw an end to haggling as the Count of Nevers surrendered the city and the province was secured for Burgundy. Philippe rides to Orleans, recently absorbed by the English to discuss the dispensation of lands with King Henry himself. He arrives by June 4th, with news that Paris itself, is now in the hands of the Duchy of Burgundy.


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June 4th - Orleans

“You must see the value us securing those lands as opposed to yourself your majesty,” argued the young Philippe. Despite the arrogance that the English King had shown so far, Philippe remained highly diplomatic. “If we take control of Nivernais and Champagne, it will unite our Northern and Southern holdings, and provide us with a dual front against the French. If you take the two provinces, they will be isolated from the rest of your holdings. The French there will not willingly accept English rule. It will be plagued with revolts, which you will not be able to contain.”

“My forces,” Philippe continued, “would be in a perfect disposition to maintain an authority in those lands, and would only serve to strengthen and improve your earnest and faithful ally of Burgundy.”

Clearly, Henry was not impressed. He continued to look disdainfully at the boy, now only sixteen years old who made such high demands of the King of England.

“My claim is to the crown of France and all of it’s territories. These include Champagne and Nivernais. I will control them in my own time.”

“But it is my forces which will capture them. Am I to hand them over to you and receive nothing in return?” Philippe was finally letting his anger show.

“I have little concern what you want, boy,” and there was such degradation in the use of that word that Philippe’s face turned a very noticeable shade of red. Many of the English lords around him looked concerned. They understood the gravity of this meeting, despite the Duke’s age.

“Very well, your majesty,” and here Philippe imitated the King’s degrading tone. He would not allow himself to be pushed around in this first of meetings. “I will be forced to see to my own terms with the Dauphin then. You brought this own yourself.” Then with grate dignity, especially for a sixteen your boy, Duke Philippe the III of Burgundy turned and marched out of the room followed by his entourage. King Henry was not worried, but several of the English lords cringed noticeably.