totally agree with stinlan... this AAR deserves to be published and printed as a masterpiece of Alt-History
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Before Plantagenet – A House d’Anjou AAR
- Thread starter JabberJock14
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Never mind a book, we need HBO to make this into a show only to let us down a few seasons in! 
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edited: my thoughts exactly... the show would go fine and smoothly for the first three seasons and then all would simply be washed away by some rush decisions to move to another showNever mind a book, we need HBO to make this into a show only to let us down a few seasons in!
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Agreed. The ability to "like" and "love" posts is a big help in this regard, but writers always like reading comments. Always love seeing new readers enjoying it.
Thank you! I have debated somehow redoing it with different names but largely keeping the plot intact. Maybe I'll do something when it's over.
Thank you! Not sure if that will ever happen, but it is nice to know!
Never mind a book, we need HBO to make this into a show only to let us down a few seasons in!
Ha! Thanks. This show would not be for anyone who wants to wrap things up quickly! That said, lots of material here to draw from.
But Geoffrey I's reign is where it gets really crazy!
I tried Reign... I just couldn't get into it. I'd like a good historical drama to get into though, but my wife and I have found it hard to. We were watching Vikings, and then our son got old enough to understand it, so that went out. It's hard to find historical dramas that you can watch with a kid around!
Apologies for the delay, but the chapter is ready. It should be up shortly and hopefully it proves worth it!
Thanks as always for your patience and your kind words. If I had the power to turn this into a TV show, I would!
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Chapter 255 - May 1134
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 255
May 1134 - Contis, Kingdom of Aquitaine
Geoffrey’s boots hit the water with a splash and he began his trek to the beach. He could feel the brine in his boots, but he didn’t care at the moment, as he also felt the ground beneath his feet.
It was good to be back on land.
When he’d first traveled by sea en route to Rome, it was a novelty. He was curious. Now, he’d had enough of it.
The rocking on the boat was unsettling. So too was the fact that the boat was very much out of his control. Yes, his horse was of its own mind, but he could rein it in. If rough seas or a collision with a rock capsized the boat… there was nothing he could do but pray.
Even this last little bit, hopping on the small row boat to travel the last distance before the shore, was more nerve wracking than he liked. He initially stood, but a wave underneath him nearly knocked Geoffrey off the small boat, so he sat down quickly.
But that was done, at least for now. He could worry about his next boat ride, once his business had been attended to.
Geoffrey trudged through the last few feet of seawater before him, sloshing it up as he pushed his legs forward through the brine, and met up with Berard and Rogier d’Uzes, Geoffrey’s cousin, on the beach.
They were not alone, as many of Geoffrey’s 18,000 men had already made their way off the boats. There was still a great deal to unload, including the horses, so it would be at least another day before they would be ready to proceed.
But as Berard pointed out, their welcoming party had already arrived.
Making sure his mail was adjusted properly, which included yanking a piece of seaweed off his boots, Geoffrey joined Berard and Rogier as they made their way away from the water’s edge and up the beach. Their target was a small group of men in mail themselves, all atop horses.
But as Geoffrey and his group approached, the men all dismounted, and one man, a teenager with reddish-brown hair on his head and a few more poking out of his chin, stepped forward.
“Adhemar,” Geoffrey said. “Cousin.”
The younger Adhemar de Limoges, the third straight of his line to carry that name, bowed.
“Hello my king,” he replied. “Cousin. I’m glad your journey looks to have been uneventful.”
“I had enough of surprise events while I was in Brittany,” Geoffrey said. “Have you any news?”
“Bordeaux still holds out,” Adhemar said. “I have scouts with eyes on the city, and someone is giving me reports every day, so that you would know the situation upon your arrival. It stands still.”
Geoffrey crossed him at that news. Though his relief was quickly replaced by curiosity at his young cousin’s resourcefulness.
“You had the idea to send scouts?” Geoffrey asked.
Adhemar cleared his throat. “Count Centule of Bearn suggested it. I agreed.”
Geoffrey glanced over at the bearded man just to the rear of the younger Adhemar - technically the regent while the duke was away.
“My father did not come with you?” Adhemar asked as his eyes drifted toward the water, where the nearly 200 boats sat just off the coastline.
“He remains in Normandy,” Geoffrey said. “Attending to his duties. He’s not one for battle, so I saw no harm in him remaining.”
Berard nudged him. And as Geoffrey noticed the slight frown on his cousin’s face, he could see why. He had hinted at the older Adhemar’s reputation as a coward. True or not, it was not something anyone wished to hear about their father.
“Give me the latest on the city,” Geoffrey said, changing the topic quickly.
“As I said,” Adhemar replied, “no news. The English, mostly Saxons, sit in siege of Bordeaux. They have made some attempts to battle with the defenders on the walls, but no full scale assault.”
“They must not be able to,” Geoffrey said. “Do you know if they are aware of our landing?”
“Their Duke Osmund believed you had sailed to England,” Adhemar said. “As far as I know, he still believes it.”
That was no accident.
When Geoffrey made his decision to come back south, he hoped to keep the English fixed, rather than have to chase them down across Aquitaine and beyond. So he had sent runners south, to intentionally be caught as they neared Bordeaux. Their message was that Geoffrey had set off for England.
In doing so, Geoffrey hoped to repay the English for springing one of the worst shocks of his life upon him while he was in Brittany.
It had come right as he was about to launch his 18,000 men across the channel. In fact, had severe storms not swept across Brittany in the week before, he would have already departed for Ecgwyn’s lands in Devon.
Instead, the storms he originally cursed proved a godsend, as news of the siege of Bordeaux reached him as he waited out the weather.
At first, Geoffrey was left speechless. Then he did not believe it, wondering if perhaps the English sought to trick him into delaying his invasion of the Isles. But after multiple runners reached him, Geoffrey was forced to realize the English had out maneuvered him and now threatened his family.
And my Boudica, he thought then.
Ælfflæd could not be allowed to fall into the hands of her countrymen. Nor could Prince Guilhem, nor his other child, who he knew neither the name nor sex of yet. Or even his mother. It would be a disaster beyond anything his family had suffered since the loss of Maine and Saintonge well over 70 years before.
Beyond the embarrassment of having his family fall into English hands, it endangered their lives. He doubted they would be harmed, but one could never be certain. And even if they weren’t, there would be calls for him to sue for peace if the English held nearly the entire Aquitaine royal family.
Despite that setback, his uncle, Duke Foulquesson, still argued for going across the channel. His plan was to split the forces, around 9,000 for each army. Geoffrey would go south and he would lead the men in England and promised to “raze Devon until the girl queen was brought before him in chains.”
The visual image was impressive, but Geoffrey refused. He had long been taught not to willfully engage the enemy with less troops than required, and the late Count Herve’s lessons, both in life and death, left him unwilling to challenge that mantra.
Instead he decided to be bold in his own way. Rather than march south in hopes of catching the English but likely just chasing them off, Geoffrey aimed to destroy his enemy once and for all.
He would use their own tricks against them - sailing around and landing south of them in Gascony. Then he would fall upon them at best, or chase them north at worst. Either way it put him moving back toward his goal of his invasion across the channel.
The risk, however, was Bordeaux could fall in that time. But now that it hadn’t, Geoffrey had nearly everything in place to turn this setback into a complete victory… so long as the city didn’t fall in the next few days.
Geoffrey turned and looked back to see his brother Alias along with their cousin, Duke Simon, had made it off the ships and were making their way up the beach to join them.
“Alias,” Adhemar said with a wide smile on his face. “It’s good to see you are safe and sound. I was worried you have been caught in Bordeaux.”
“My brother would never let me miss out on a campaign now,” Alias said. “And I wouldn’t either - if I am to prove myself worthy of Navarra.”
The prince shot a glance to Geoffrey, who couldn’t resist a smirk. Even now Alias was persistent - he would not let Geoffrey forget his promise.
“And you Simon,” Adhemar said. “Not how you expected this to go?”
“Not at all,” Simon said. “But it is teaching me the value of flexibility. A pity it must come under these circumstances… with my father and the king’s family under threat. I have faith though that my father will not let Bordeaux fall.”
“As I told the king, he has not,” Adhemar said. “And now that you all have arrived, the danger is averted.”
“Not until we reach Bordeaux,” Berard noted. “Our families remain in danger until then.”
“Of course,” Adhemar said. “Then, you plan on moving quickly cousin? Not a moment to lose?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “I plan to send one of my commanders, Mayor Frederic, ahead with a small group of scout cavalry to get a better sense of where they stand. Otherwise, I shall only march when I have my entire army off the boats. It will be at least a day.”
Adhemar nodded. He pointed back toward the town behind him, though “town” might have been generous. It was a small group of houses that perhaps could be called a village.
“I have already compensated the village leader for using his house this evening,” Adhemar said. “Those quarters are yours, my king. The rest of your men will likely have to sleep under the stars. This is a small fishing village… not exactly Bordeaux.”
Geoffrey didn’t care. He’d prefer to be sleeping in his saddle, on march to deal with these English once and for all.
But it wasn’t an option. He would be made to wait for relief and deliverance just a while longer.
Four days, he thought. They will be the longest four days of my life.
….
Those four days were met with nearly sleepless nights and bouts of anxiety during the day. Every man who came up to deliver a message was joined with a skip of Geoffrey’s heart, fearing he was about to tell him Bordeaux had fallen.
The stress rivaled when he inherited Aquitaine, and when he feared for his son’s life. For in some ways, it was a combination of both, since he feared for his future, his family’s, as well as the legacy entrusted to him by his father.
But when he and his men were a day out from the city, he received word the English had broken their siege, realizing he was en route. With the city still standing, disaster, for now, had been averted.
However, Geoffrey could not rest on his laurels. Bordeaux was saved, but now he had to act quickly to ensure it never fell under threat from the English again.
He had enacted his plan to send Frederic on a raid and had the idea to send the mayor around the English positions to hit them from the north, in hopes of tricking Duke Osmund into believing that was where Geoffrey was marching from.
It appeared to have worked, for Osmund had moved his army southeast, toward Agen. Geoffrey hurried to get his army into position, aiming to trap Osmund between him and the Garonne River.
The king had pushed his men to their limits, marching them as quickly as he could, for as long as he could, often until the sun had all but set. But it had worked, for Osmund had now been brought to a stop near the village of La Sauvre, 16 or so miles away from Bordeaux, and Geoffrey was opposite him, preparing to launch his attack.
Eager as he was to go at Osmund, his army was exhausted from their hurried march and he was forced to set up camp for the night. In the meantime, he had sent an emissary to his wife’s uncle, offering mercy if he and his men swore fealty to him and Ælfflæd.
The English sent an emissary of their own the following morning, and with a quivering voice, the man told Geoffrey, Berard, Alias, Simon and young Adhemar of Osmund’s reply.
“Duke Osmund and his people will not submit to foreign kings,” he said. “Regardless if they are men or the children of Satan.”
Geoffrey had felt the blood fall from his face at that moment, and the rage bubble up within him. It was not just the rejection of generous terms, but the arrogance to insult him as well.
Children of Satan, Geoffrey thought. I will make them feel as if they walked through the gates of hell.
As much as he wished to rage, Geoffrey instead summoned his council, eager to finalize his plans for battle and unleash weeks of stress and frustration upon those who had caused it.
The military council met in Geoffrey’s command tent not long after, with his commanders, Foulquesson, Berard, Rogier, Frederic and the Dane Knud joined by Alias, Simon and Adhemar. They gathered around a table where blocks were arranged to represent the two armies.
It was on blocks representing the English, where Berard, with Geoffrey’s blessing, focused to begin the meeting.
“We know the enemy has taken up positions with La Sauvre on their left, our right,” Berard said. “They have occupied what little high ground they can find, among some hills. Mayor Frederic confirmed Adhemar’s scouts - they have about 6,000 men.”
“And they don’t already flee?” Rogier d’Uzes asked. “Are they mad? We have thrice their number.”
“The Saxons threw off the Normans, and my countrymen multiple times,” Knud said. “Infighting usually aided them, but they cannot help thinking they are somehow favored by God.”
“We’ve also outmaneuvered them,” Alias added. “They can’t flee, even if they wished to.”
“Surrender?” Rogier asked.
“Refused,” Geoffrey grumbled. “They are fools. But we shall put them in their place.”
Foulquesson shook his head. “They threatened your family and then you offered them forgiveness?”
Geoffrey turned his gaze toward his uncle. “Yes. Defeating them would be glorious. Turning them would potentially break support for the girl queen.”
“You have three times their number,” Foulquesson noted. “Who cares for their support?”
“With all due respect, Lord Foulquesson,” Berard began, “The king wishes to win the peace as well as the war. Bringing the English in with minimum conflict would offer the best hope for the future.”
Foulquesson laughed. “Spoken with all the martial strength of your father, boy.”
“Excuse me?” Berard replied.
“Crush them here,” Foulquesson continued, ignoring the question. “Crush them there. Crush them until they are too weak to lift their heads, much less a finger, against your wife, nephew.”
“And that is what I intend to do,” Geoffrey said. “As they have forced my hand. I will make them so weak they will never consider another siege of Bordeaux… or anything else.”
“Good,” Rogier said. “We do not want them raiding in our rear. It would be no threat to Bordeaux, but not every holding is as well guarded as that city.”
Geoffrey nodded. He aimed to prevent another Aurilliac - but not just in his home. He didn’t want it happening anywhere, under his watch.
“Frederic,” Geoffrey began, “between your raid and our scouts, I’m sure you have much to tell us about their army. What have you for us?”
Frederic nodded. “We believe they have deployed most of their 6,000 before us with just a paltry force around Bordeaux itself. For now the city is safe.”
“I knew my father would not let it fall,” Duke Simon said.
“Your father?” Foulquesson snickered. “Was he up on the walls, puffing himself up like a peacock, to scare the English into doing nothing?”
Simon grew pale. “I… he oversaw the defenses of the city. And it did not fall.”
“The walls stopped the city from falling,” Foulquesson said. “And that the English did not have the men to take it quickly, nor the time to starve it out. Your father did nothing anyone else could not have done.”
“But not anyone did it,” Rogier noted, defending his half-brother. “Guilhem did.”
Geoffrey had no problems with Foulquesson going at Guilhem’s son and brother, potentially driving a wedge between the two families despite their recent marriage alliance. But he had to limit how much infighting took place between his commanders.
“Enough,” Geoffrey said. “You can fight each other after you’ve fought the enemy before us.”
He turned his gaze back to Frederic. “What can you tell us about their army? Their composition?”
“It is mostly infantry - a mix of more lightly armored spearmen of the fyrds and heavy huscarls,” Frederic explained.
“Knights?” Geoffrey asked.
“Few,” Frederic said. “Lighter mounted men, but many fewer than we can muster.”
Good, Geoffrey thought. Adelise has finally done something right.
He had learned the Saxon well-to-do had long done their fighting on foot, for the most part, as axe-wielding heavy infantry known as huscarls. That lack of heavy cavalry left them vulnerable to armies that had many well-trained knights, as Geoffrey’s grandfather had proved at Rouen.
Though the Saxons had enjoyed success in the holy lands, they did so with Norman knights from Sicily at their side. Without them, though stubborn, the Saxons had struggled against the heathens in subsequent wars.
It had left Geoffrey concerned about the Norman participation, as their presence would make his task more difficult. But with Adelise apparently keeping her men out of this conflict, and Aevis unable to provide many knights of her own, Geoffrey felt assured of victory on the day.
It may take a while, he thought, but we will wear them down.
How to wear them down, however, without suffering heavy losses himself, was a point of contention.
“They will not make it easy for us,” Geoffrey said. “They know they have a weakness against our knights. I would expect them to form tight groups, with their fyrds nearby to the huscarls.”
“So if we charge them, we will lose many knights,” Alias said. “Even if we break them.”
Geoffrey nodded. “And if we attack them with our infantry, we are unlikely to wear them down easily. It would be best if we can get them to break formation of their own will. Then we can ride them down.”
“They would only break formation for pursuit,” Rogier said. “Or their own retreat.”
“So we must give them reason to pursue,” Knud said. “Feign retreat?”
“Exactly,” Geoffrey said. “I want us to probe their lines and shield wall. We may even engage it, for all we know, they might break under our pressure. But I do not want prolonged fights. I want us to fight, then a hurried retreat. Hopefully they follow. If not, regroup and we try again.”
The king wondered if such a move might draw the ire of his uncle. But Foulquesson did not object, and Geoffrey was free to move onto other matters.
“Uncle, you shall have the left,” Geoffrey said. “Knud, the right. Berard, the reserve. Frederic, ride with my uncle. Rogier, you shall be with Knud.”
“Where shall I be?” Alias asked.
“And me, cousin?” Simon asked.
“Camp, watching the battle with Adhemar,” Geoffrey said. “I can’t afford either of you to be harmed.”
He saw the disappointment in the forms of frowns on both of their faces. Alias seemed especially frustrated, as he shook his head as well.
Geoffrey had strongly contemplated letting his brother take part in the battle. He was 14, and though he had not fully grown into his body yet, he was nearly of age.
Still, given his own plans for his part in the fight, Geoffrey could ill afford to risk his brother recklessly.
“As for me,” Geoffrey began, “I will hold the center, as well as lead our initial charge of knights there.”
That drew a few wide-eyed stares from the group, though Foulquesson slapped the table, saying: “That, nephew, is why I have grown to like you. Your father rarely showed such courage. Take the fight to them. Crush them, personally.”
But while the Duke of Brittany was pleased, some of the other commanders appeared a bit uneasy over Geoffrey’s plans.
“The initial charge?” Berard asked. “I understand your desire, but one of us would be glad to do it in your stead.”
“Agreed, cousin,” Rogier said. “We have a tremendous advantage. There is no need to squander it by gifting these Saxons a chance at you.”
“I am not afraid of them,” Geoffrey said. “And I will not hide from combat. They have taken the war to my home. So I shall take it to them, personally.”
“No one is saying you should remain in camp,” Rogier said. “Just let someone else lead that initial charge.”
It would have been wise. There was no need to risk himself unnecessarily.
But for some reason, Geoffrey felt compelled to do it. They had laid siege to Bordeaux. They had rejected his offer of peace. They rejected him as king.
For once, Foulquesson’s ways felt right. Crush them, and make sure they know who has forced them to their knees.
“My role is not for debate,” Geoffrey said. “Have you all any questions over yours?”
When there were none, Geoffrey dismissed his commanders. Berard remained, so they might discuss things further, but so too did Alias, who told Geoffrey he had something he wished to discuss. The king obliged, dismissing Berard, leaving himself and his brother alone.
“Why did you not let me join you?” Alias asked.
“I take a risk,” Geoffrey told him. “I would not subject you to the same thing.”
“Yes, yes, mother would not let you,” Alias said. “But I am a man in all but age. And even if I could not ride with you in the first charge, I could join one of the later ones.”
“You start to grow hair on your face and you think you’re a man?” Geoffrey asked. “You still are thin. And mother’s height, not mine.”
Alias shrugged. “Men shorter than me have fought. A knight’s work is more than just a measure of strength.”
“So then watch and learn,” Geoffrey said. “There will be battles for you to fight. If not now, then when we go to England. Or Navarra. Or elsewhere. Your time will come brother. Be patient.”
“Always with patience,” Alias said. “I must wait for everything.”
“It is good for you to have,” Geoffrey said. “I was made to wait for this war, was I not?”
“And I still wait for Navarra,” Alias replied.
“Do you really wish to bring that up, now?” Geoffrey replied. “We have discussed why this was more important.”
“Because it shall make you king now and your son eventually,” Alias noted.
“And the opportunity might not be there a year from now,” Geoffrey said. “Navarra will be.”
Alias shook his head. “I know… but you treat me as a babe, Geoff. Even if you took Navarra you said you wouldn’t let me have it until I was 16. You won't let me battle until then either. I don’t need to be coddled. I didn’t think you would be like mother.”
“She’d keep you in the palace,” Geoffrey said. “I’m letting you learn. There’s a difference.”
“Yes,” Alias said. “The difference is you get to do as you please, no matter what is said. And I must sit and nod my head, like a good little boy.”
Alias marched off and Geoffrey rolled his eyes. But then the prince turned back to him.
“You know, you can risk your life for your family,” Alias said. “But I can’t. She’s my mother too, Geoff. I have friends there as well.”
Geoffrey sighed. “Alias…”
“I’ll be in Adhemar’s tent if you need me,” Alias said. “I think I’ll spend the night there, too.”
As the prince left, Geoffrey was left to shake his head. His brother was growing older and wanted more. And the king was beginning to realize he could not hold out much longer in giving it to him.
….
In the late afternoon, the battle began as they usually did, with an exchange of archer fire.
From his position in the center, down at the base of one of the hills, Geoffrey could only see how his part of the battlefield went. And it wasn’t much - Geoffrey’s archers had the disadvantage of height but an edge in numbers. He thought he saw the Saxon archers fall under fire, but the fyrds and huscarls were able to catch most of the arrows with their shields.
Still, with such an advantage in missile troops, Geoffrey saw no need to rush things. He let his archers continue until they had unleashed the entirety of their arrows, figuring whatever casualties he inflicted now would be one less man his army would have to fight later.
Then the word was given for the infantry to advance.
The rabble went first, and Geoffrey had no faith they would be able to do anything against the disciplined Saxon front. But, he hoped, when they broke, the Saxons would give chase.
Meanwhile, as Geoffrey watched his men advance and begin the shoving match with their Saxon counterparts, a messenger rode up to him.
“King Geoffrey,” the messenger began as he bowed while on his steed. “Lord Foulquesson believes he has broken the enemy in front of him.”
“Already?” Geoffrey asked.
The messenger nodded. “His initial infantry attack unhinged the Saxon lines and he ordered the knights forward. They already flee. He requests Sir Berard’s reserve to finish the job.”
Geoffrey didn’t have a great vantage point from his position, so he was left to trust his uncle’s judgment. But while he had some issues with Foulquesson the man, he did think warfare to be his strong suit.
And if he breaks the flank, we can use his force to apply more pressure on the center, Geoffrey thought.
“He shall have him,” Geoffrey said. “Tell Berard the king commands him to join Duke Foulquesson’s assault.”
The man nodded and rode off, and Geoffrey felt his stomach twist a bit. Without Berard’s reserve of knights, it meant he would have to either keep a few of his own held back, or attack knowing he didn’t have anything left to defend himself should the enemy counter.
But before he could even think about that choice, he would need his men to draw the Saxons out. And as he watched the rabble fall away down the hill, he was disappointed to see they had not done that yet.
Still, he was far from surprised, and the Saxons giving no pursuit meant his men could regroup.
This time, Geoffrey’s heavier infantry joined in the assault as well. And as he watched the action unfold, his heavy infantry seemed to be holding the Saxons in place longer. It hadn’t been his plan, but if his more experienced troops, along with the rabble, somehow did break the fyrds, then he could hardly complain.
Perhaps I shall have the success my uncle did, Geoffrey thought.
But eventually, Geoffrey saw his men start to get pushed back. Their line began to buckle and finally it fell apart, as the Aquitaine forces began to fall back and hurry down the hill. It was a bit messy, with some men tripping, falling and rolling down some of the steeper portions, and taking some of their compatriots with them.
Grimacing through the ugliness of the mess, Geoffrey’s eyes widened as he noticed something different this time - the Saxons seemed to be moving forward to pursue.
It appeared to be the spearmen - the fyrds - rather than the huscarls. But that worked well enough for him. Break the fyrds and he’d have dealt with the majority of the enemy in the center.
He felt a jolt of energy surge through him - this was the moment he had been waiting for.
Geoffrey raised his hand to get his knights ready. And, pleased this opportunity had finally presented itself, he intended this to be the hammer blow. He would commit all of his knights to the attack.
The Saxons did pursue about halfway down the hill when Geoffrey’s knights went from trot to full gallop, charging uphill, as they closed the distance the last twenty yards. Coming at them from the flank as to not break their efforts by running into their own men, the horn sounded and Geoffrey, at the front of his men, eagerly smashed his lance into the first loose block of Saxon warriors before him, feeling the wood bend and snap as it found flesh. .
As expected, without the defense provided by the densely packed formation they had earlier, the Saxons had difficulty dealing with even the initial change. Geoffrey could see the Saxon pursuit stop immediately, and the fyrds attempted to rush forward to counter the Aquitaine knights.
Focused on the fight in front of him, as he jabbed his damaged lance at the spearmen before him, who hoped to take him down, Geoffrey could only somewhat decipher what was going on. But the sound of another horn, and the further dilution of the Saxons in front of him suggested his successive waves of charges by his knights were having the desired effect.
But before he could turn his men to the pursuit of his now fleeing enemy, Geoffrey caught sight of a new player heading toward him from the opposite side from which he had charged - opposition knights.
Most were not heavy cavalry. It seemed a motley crew of lightly armored men on horseback, a few men in heavier mail, as well as… camel riders?
Geoffrey had seen camels before - merchants and traders from Africa, the holy lands and beyond sometimes had them in their caravans. But he had never seen them used as steeds in battle before!
Regardless of what they were riding, they were coming, so Geoffrey had no time for admiration. He readied himself, shield up, in case one of the enemy managed to get close enough to hit him.
None did, perhaps because the crowd he drew as a king meant there was no clear path to him. But as Geoffrey and those with him fought their way through the Saxon spearmen, he eventually began to find more and more enemy cavalry in his midst.
Perhaps it was the earlier observation, but he was drawn toward one of the few camel riders he saw. He’d heard tales of them, dressed in foreign garb, scarves around their helmets and faces with curved swords that would glint in the desert sun.
This man was anything but, however. He looked every bit the European knight Geoffrey was, wearing a rounded helmet, mail covering his body, with a broken lance in one hand and sword in the other.
Still, he was an enemy all the same, and Geoffrey urged his horse forward to battle him. The knight caught sight of Geoffrey and rode forward, broken lance and all.
It might have been a mistake for the man, as he could not get much speed with the chaos around them and thus his attempted lance blow was pushed aside by Geoffrey’s shield with ease. And now close in with the knight, Geoffrey’s sword was the ideal weapon, while the knight’s lance was anything but.
It made Geoffrey’s work more tiring than dangerous, as his efforts were to find a way past the man’s shield more than anything else.
But as he worked his way toward the blow that would win him the fight, Geoffrey felt his horse start to buck and twist, wildly - so much so he had to grab the reins. First he grabbed it with his shield arm, but then, after nearly getting stabbed by the broken lance, he realized his mistake and tried to regain control with his sword arm.
Why is my horse doing this, Geoffrey wondered. He’s never given me problems in battle before.
Then he remembered one of his old military lessons where he was taught horses hate the smell of camels. It was something he thought he might need to know if he traveled to the holy lands, but never expected to have to deal with it in Bordeaux.
And that was a problem, for while he had confidence in his fighting abilities, it was another matter to utilize them properly on a horse that was moving in uncontrollable and unpredictable ways.
The knight, realizing his opportunity, tossed aside his lance and drew his sword, all the while Geoffrey did his best to calm his horse down.
In the chaos, Geoffrey then heard something else - the loud screams of a throng of men.
His eyes darted around quickly, to see a mass of men rushing forth. More heavily armored than the spearmen, he realized at quickly it was the huscarls.
It surprised him that they had committed, but perhaps they saw the opportunity with Geoffrey’s cavalry engaged. And Geoffrey now realized his own mistake - in the heat of a battle he appeared to be winning, he had not regrouped his cavalry for another charge. Instead he had gotten stuck in, which placed him and his men in danger.
The camel riding knight from before now seemed far from Geoffrey in mind and body - he had retreated back as the battle was joined by the Saxon infantry.
Perhaps Osmund realizes he should not make the same mistake I have, Geoffrey thought.
But Geoffrey hurried his horse, now under better control, back away from the enemy cavalry. He was joined by many of his knights, but the huscarls fell upon them, slowing their progress.
While the huscarls primarily wielded axes over spears, massed together they could still do damage to slow moving cavalry, hacking at the horses and their riders.
The good news was that Geoffrey soon saw his own heavy infantry had regrouped and rushing forward to join the engagement.
The bad news was the huscarls had swarmed Geoffrey and his knights, spreading around them and boxing them in. Geoffrey’s knights then grouped themselves together, which would slow them, but buy them more time against the horde that had trapped them.
Geoffrey wished he had his broken lance at the moment, but made do with his sword, slashing at any man who came within reach. He hit shields, but also felt his sword hit armor as well as flesh.
Out of the corner of Geoffrey’s eye, he saw a knight of his buckle and then pulled down from his horse. Others around him suffered similar fates. And as he saw a group of Saxons rushing toward him, Geoffrey gripped his sword handle tightly as his stomach clenched in fear.
So he swung his sword wildly. It struck one man and then another, and was enough to get them to stop and regroup. Geoffrey met their eyes, his heart racing, while he dangled his arm back and forth, which held the bloody blade swinging in front of the side of his horse.
They would come again. And he would be ready.
Then, from behind the Saxons, he could see more men coming. Mounted men. And though the sunlight blinded him somewhat, the banners soon showed to themselves to be his men. His knights. His reserve. Berard back from aiding Foulquesson.
The horn sounded and the Aquitaine knights charged. The Saxon lines, not nearly as compact as they sought to trap the king, were caught with their backs mostly turned.
Seeing the opportunity, Geoffrey ordered his knights forward, toward their onrushing compatriots. And eagerly the king picked out the ones he thought had marked him, and made sure his sword found them. One by one the retreating men fell before his blade until he stopped at the sight of fellow knights before him.
Then the king raised his bloody sword and shouted “TO VICTORY!” before he and his men turned and launched their pursuit.
….
As Geoffrey sat on his throne in his camp, he was already growing sore all over.
Between having to keep his shield arm at the ready, getting control of his steed, riding for all this time and, of course, slashing and stabbing his enemies, Geoffrey was going to have difficulty getting out of his cot in the morning.
But for now, he could not have felt more invigorated. More alive.
He had been in battle before. But there was something more about this encounter. He had survived losing control of his horse. He had held back multiple Saxon huscarls at once. He had made a mistake, and yet overcame his error.
The overall result of the battle was no longer in doubt, if it ever was. But how great of a victory was still a question.
Foulquesson had completely routed the Saxon right. And Berard’s assault on the huscarls in the center had done a number there. Knud had taken the longest, though he did have the fewest men, but did eventually break through.
Initial reports back to Geoffrey told him he had destroyed more than half of Osmund’s forces. However, a good amount had appeared to escape, including the Duke of Kent himself.
Not everyone was so fortunate, however.
Foulquesson stood in front of Geoffrey’s throne, as some of his Breton knights forced a man in mail to his knees. Geoffrey did not recognize him, though he wasn’t even certain he’d have been able to pick out Osmund himself at this point.
“Nephew,” Foulquesson began. “A gift for you. The commander of the Saxon right, Æthelræd, a knight from Devon. He was the commander of the usurper Burgheard’s personal levy, and now serves his daughter.”
Geoffrey leaned forward in his throne. For a man who did not hold any lands, nor could count himself among a prominent family, Geoffrey could not have hoped for a better prisoner.
“Do you speak language d’Oc?” Geoffrey asked.
Æthelræd looked at him with brow raised, but he said nothing. So Geoffrey asked him: “How about Frankish?”
Æthelræd remained silent and Geoffrey rolled his eyes. He turned his gaze to Knud.
“You speak Saxon, yes?” Geoffrey asked.
Knud nodded and stepped closer to the king.
“Tell him I was impressed by the Saxon will today,” Geoffrey announced in a loud voice. “Even if in the end, our quality did show through.”
Knud nodded and turned to the man, speaking what Geoffrey could only assume were his words, translated. Æthelræd didn’t say anything to that. Knud then shouted something at him, which prompted Æthelræd to finally say something short back.
“What did he say?” Geoffrey asked.
“He said he wishes no honors for failing his queen,” Knud told Geoffrey quietly.
Geoffrey looked at the man, bound with his hands behind his back. His brow was furrowed and he frowned - but then why would he look happy?
Still Geoffrey could say what he wanted. His men could not understand what Æthelræd had to say. So this performance was more for them than anyone else.
“You have not failed your queen, for your queen lives in Bordeaux,” Geoffrey told him. “And she will be grateful for loyal, determined men such as yourself to help us guide England back toward glory.”
Knud then translated that for Æthelræd, who shook his head.
“I shall never bow before you or your heathen harlot of a wife,” Æthelræd said in Frankish.
Geoffrey’s eyes widened and his stomach dropped. He had been played.
“You do speak Frankish,” Geoffrey said. “You just played dumb.”
A smirk formed on Æthelræd’s lips which just infuriated Geoffrey further. But he knew he had to restrain himself - he would look weak if he lashed out at the man.
“You speak bold words,” Geoffrey said. “But your Duke Osmund promised similar before the battle as well. And while you may not bow, you have been forced to your knees. As your king, if I cannot have the former, I will settle for the latter.”
“You will never rule us,” Æthelræd swore.
“I already do. You’re just slow to realize it,” Geoffrey said. He looked to Rogier. “Cousin, have him taken away. He can spend his time reconsidering his position in the dungeons of my palace.”
Æthelræd was led away and then Geoffrey stood from his throne and looked out at the men gathered.
“That is the insolence we shall deal with,” Geoffrey warned. “They think that their obstinance is enough. They will learn as that one did… it may draw things out. But it will not stop us. Not here! Not in England!”
And as he heard the cheers in response, Geoffrey grinned. He had meant every word. They had delayed him. They had threatened him. They had even scared him.
But they had not stopped him.
He would finish off the remnants of Osmund’s force. Then he would inflict the same upon their country men when he crossed the channel.
And when he was finished, no Saxon, or Norman would ever dare to question his rule again.
May 1134 - Contis, Kingdom of Aquitaine
Geoffrey’s boots hit the water with a splash and he began his trek to the beach. He could feel the brine in his boots, but he didn’t care at the moment, as he also felt the ground beneath his feet.
It was good to be back on land.
When he’d first traveled by sea en route to Rome, it was a novelty. He was curious. Now, he’d had enough of it.
The rocking on the boat was unsettling. So too was the fact that the boat was very much out of his control. Yes, his horse was of its own mind, but he could rein it in. If rough seas or a collision with a rock capsized the boat… there was nothing he could do but pray.
Even this last little bit, hopping on the small row boat to travel the last distance before the shore, was more nerve wracking than he liked. He initially stood, but a wave underneath him nearly knocked Geoffrey off the small boat, so he sat down quickly.
But that was done, at least for now. He could worry about his next boat ride, once his business had been attended to.
Geoffrey trudged through the last few feet of seawater before him, sloshing it up as he pushed his legs forward through the brine, and met up with Berard and Rogier d’Uzes, Geoffrey’s cousin, on the beach.
They were not alone, as many of Geoffrey’s 18,000 men had already made their way off the boats. There was still a great deal to unload, including the horses, so it would be at least another day before they would be ready to proceed.
But as Berard pointed out, their welcoming party had already arrived.
Making sure his mail was adjusted properly, which included yanking a piece of seaweed off his boots, Geoffrey joined Berard and Rogier as they made their way away from the water’s edge and up the beach. Their target was a small group of men in mail themselves, all atop horses.
But as Geoffrey and his group approached, the men all dismounted, and one man, a teenager with reddish-brown hair on his head and a few more poking out of his chin, stepped forward.
“Adhemar,” Geoffrey said. “Cousin.”
The younger Adhemar de Limoges, the third straight of his line to carry that name, bowed.
“Hello my king,” he replied. “Cousin. I’m glad your journey looks to have been uneventful.”
“I had enough of surprise events while I was in Brittany,” Geoffrey said. “Have you any news?”
“Bordeaux still holds out,” Adhemar said. “I have scouts with eyes on the city, and someone is giving me reports every day, so that you would know the situation upon your arrival. It stands still.”
Geoffrey crossed him at that news. Though his relief was quickly replaced by curiosity at his young cousin’s resourcefulness.
“You had the idea to send scouts?” Geoffrey asked.
Adhemar cleared his throat. “Count Centule of Bearn suggested it. I agreed.”
Geoffrey glanced over at the bearded man just to the rear of the younger Adhemar - technically the regent while the duke was away.
“My father did not come with you?” Adhemar asked as his eyes drifted toward the water, where the nearly 200 boats sat just off the coastline.
“He remains in Normandy,” Geoffrey said. “Attending to his duties. He’s not one for battle, so I saw no harm in him remaining.”
Berard nudged him. And as Geoffrey noticed the slight frown on his cousin’s face, he could see why. He had hinted at the older Adhemar’s reputation as a coward. True or not, it was not something anyone wished to hear about their father.
“Give me the latest on the city,” Geoffrey said, changing the topic quickly.
“As I said,” Adhemar replied, “no news. The English, mostly Saxons, sit in siege of Bordeaux. They have made some attempts to battle with the defenders on the walls, but no full scale assault.”
“They must not be able to,” Geoffrey said. “Do you know if they are aware of our landing?”
“Their Duke Osmund believed you had sailed to England,” Adhemar said. “As far as I know, he still believes it.”
That was no accident.
When Geoffrey made his decision to come back south, he hoped to keep the English fixed, rather than have to chase them down across Aquitaine and beyond. So he had sent runners south, to intentionally be caught as they neared Bordeaux. Their message was that Geoffrey had set off for England.
In doing so, Geoffrey hoped to repay the English for springing one of the worst shocks of his life upon him while he was in Brittany.
It had come right as he was about to launch his 18,000 men across the channel. In fact, had severe storms not swept across Brittany in the week before, he would have already departed for Ecgwyn’s lands in Devon.
Instead, the storms he originally cursed proved a godsend, as news of the siege of Bordeaux reached him as he waited out the weather.
At first, Geoffrey was left speechless. Then he did not believe it, wondering if perhaps the English sought to trick him into delaying his invasion of the Isles. But after multiple runners reached him, Geoffrey was forced to realize the English had out maneuvered him and now threatened his family.
And my Boudica, he thought then.
Ælfflæd could not be allowed to fall into the hands of her countrymen. Nor could Prince Guilhem, nor his other child, who he knew neither the name nor sex of yet. Or even his mother. It would be a disaster beyond anything his family had suffered since the loss of Maine and Saintonge well over 70 years before.
Beyond the embarrassment of having his family fall into English hands, it endangered their lives. He doubted they would be harmed, but one could never be certain. And even if they weren’t, there would be calls for him to sue for peace if the English held nearly the entire Aquitaine royal family.
Despite that setback, his uncle, Duke Foulquesson, still argued for going across the channel. His plan was to split the forces, around 9,000 for each army. Geoffrey would go south and he would lead the men in England and promised to “raze Devon until the girl queen was brought before him in chains.”
The visual image was impressive, but Geoffrey refused. He had long been taught not to willfully engage the enemy with less troops than required, and the late Count Herve’s lessons, both in life and death, left him unwilling to challenge that mantra.
Instead he decided to be bold in his own way. Rather than march south in hopes of catching the English but likely just chasing them off, Geoffrey aimed to destroy his enemy once and for all.
He would use their own tricks against them - sailing around and landing south of them in Gascony. Then he would fall upon them at best, or chase them north at worst. Either way it put him moving back toward his goal of his invasion across the channel.
The risk, however, was Bordeaux could fall in that time. But now that it hadn’t, Geoffrey had nearly everything in place to turn this setback into a complete victory… so long as the city didn’t fall in the next few days.
Geoffrey turned and looked back to see his brother Alias along with their cousin, Duke Simon, had made it off the ships and were making their way up the beach to join them.
“Alias,” Adhemar said with a wide smile on his face. “It’s good to see you are safe and sound. I was worried you have been caught in Bordeaux.”
“My brother would never let me miss out on a campaign now,” Alias said. “And I wouldn’t either - if I am to prove myself worthy of Navarra.”
The prince shot a glance to Geoffrey, who couldn’t resist a smirk. Even now Alias was persistent - he would not let Geoffrey forget his promise.
“And you Simon,” Adhemar said. “Not how you expected this to go?”
“Not at all,” Simon said. “But it is teaching me the value of flexibility. A pity it must come under these circumstances… with my father and the king’s family under threat. I have faith though that my father will not let Bordeaux fall.”
“As I told the king, he has not,” Adhemar said. “And now that you all have arrived, the danger is averted.”
“Not until we reach Bordeaux,” Berard noted. “Our families remain in danger until then.”
“Of course,” Adhemar said. “Then, you plan on moving quickly cousin? Not a moment to lose?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “I plan to send one of my commanders, Mayor Frederic, ahead with a small group of scout cavalry to get a better sense of where they stand. Otherwise, I shall only march when I have my entire army off the boats. It will be at least a day.”
Adhemar nodded. He pointed back toward the town behind him, though “town” might have been generous. It was a small group of houses that perhaps could be called a village.
“I have already compensated the village leader for using his house this evening,” Adhemar said. “Those quarters are yours, my king. The rest of your men will likely have to sleep under the stars. This is a small fishing village… not exactly Bordeaux.”
Geoffrey didn’t care. He’d prefer to be sleeping in his saddle, on march to deal with these English once and for all.
But it wasn’t an option. He would be made to wait for relief and deliverance just a while longer.
Four days, he thought. They will be the longest four days of my life.
….
Those four days were met with nearly sleepless nights and bouts of anxiety during the day. Every man who came up to deliver a message was joined with a skip of Geoffrey’s heart, fearing he was about to tell him Bordeaux had fallen.
The stress rivaled when he inherited Aquitaine, and when he feared for his son’s life. For in some ways, it was a combination of both, since he feared for his future, his family’s, as well as the legacy entrusted to him by his father.
But when he and his men were a day out from the city, he received word the English had broken their siege, realizing he was en route. With the city still standing, disaster, for now, had been averted.
However, Geoffrey could not rest on his laurels. Bordeaux was saved, but now he had to act quickly to ensure it never fell under threat from the English again.
He had enacted his plan to send Frederic on a raid and had the idea to send the mayor around the English positions to hit them from the north, in hopes of tricking Duke Osmund into believing that was where Geoffrey was marching from.
It appeared to have worked, for Osmund had moved his army southeast, toward Agen. Geoffrey hurried to get his army into position, aiming to trap Osmund between him and the Garonne River.
The king had pushed his men to their limits, marching them as quickly as he could, for as long as he could, often until the sun had all but set. But it had worked, for Osmund had now been brought to a stop near the village of La Sauvre, 16 or so miles away from Bordeaux, and Geoffrey was opposite him, preparing to launch his attack.
Eager as he was to go at Osmund, his army was exhausted from their hurried march and he was forced to set up camp for the night. In the meantime, he had sent an emissary to his wife’s uncle, offering mercy if he and his men swore fealty to him and Ælfflæd.
The English sent an emissary of their own the following morning, and with a quivering voice, the man told Geoffrey, Berard, Alias, Simon and young Adhemar of Osmund’s reply.
“Duke Osmund and his people will not submit to foreign kings,” he said. “Regardless if they are men or the children of Satan.”
Geoffrey had felt the blood fall from his face at that moment, and the rage bubble up within him. It was not just the rejection of generous terms, but the arrogance to insult him as well.
Children of Satan, Geoffrey thought. I will make them feel as if they walked through the gates of hell.
As much as he wished to rage, Geoffrey instead summoned his council, eager to finalize his plans for battle and unleash weeks of stress and frustration upon those who had caused it.
The military council met in Geoffrey’s command tent not long after, with his commanders, Foulquesson, Berard, Rogier, Frederic and the Dane Knud joined by Alias, Simon and Adhemar. They gathered around a table where blocks were arranged to represent the two armies.
It was on blocks representing the English, where Berard, with Geoffrey’s blessing, focused to begin the meeting.
“We know the enemy has taken up positions with La Sauvre on their left, our right,” Berard said. “They have occupied what little high ground they can find, among some hills. Mayor Frederic confirmed Adhemar’s scouts - they have about 6,000 men.”
“And they don’t already flee?” Rogier d’Uzes asked. “Are they mad? We have thrice their number.”
“The Saxons threw off the Normans, and my countrymen multiple times,” Knud said. “Infighting usually aided them, but they cannot help thinking they are somehow favored by God.”
“We’ve also outmaneuvered them,” Alias added. “They can’t flee, even if they wished to.”
“Surrender?” Rogier asked.
“Refused,” Geoffrey grumbled. “They are fools. But we shall put them in their place.”
Foulquesson shook his head. “They threatened your family and then you offered them forgiveness?”
Geoffrey turned his gaze toward his uncle. “Yes. Defeating them would be glorious. Turning them would potentially break support for the girl queen.”
“You have three times their number,” Foulquesson noted. “Who cares for their support?”
“With all due respect, Lord Foulquesson,” Berard began, “The king wishes to win the peace as well as the war. Bringing the English in with minimum conflict would offer the best hope for the future.”
Foulquesson laughed. “Spoken with all the martial strength of your father, boy.”
“Excuse me?” Berard replied.
“Crush them here,” Foulquesson continued, ignoring the question. “Crush them there. Crush them until they are too weak to lift their heads, much less a finger, against your wife, nephew.”
“And that is what I intend to do,” Geoffrey said. “As they have forced my hand. I will make them so weak they will never consider another siege of Bordeaux… or anything else.”
“Good,” Rogier said. “We do not want them raiding in our rear. It would be no threat to Bordeaux, but not every holding is as well guarded as that city.”
Geoffrey nodded. He aimed to prevent another Aurilliac - but not just in his home. He didn’t want it happening anywhere, under his watch.
“Frederic,” Geoffrey began, “between your raid and our scouts, I’m sure you have much to tell us about their army. What have you for us?”
Frederic nodded. “We believe they have deployed most of their 6,000 before us with just a paltry force around Bordeaux itself. For now the city is safe.”
“I knew my father would not let it fall,” Duke Simon said.
“Your father?” Foulquesson snickered. “Was he up on the walls, puffing himself up like a peacock, to scare the English into doing nothing?”
Simon grew pale. “I… he oversaw the defenses of the city. And it did not fall.”
“The walls stopped the city from falling,” Foulquesson said. “And that the English did not have the men to take it quickly, nor the time to starve it out. Your father did nothing anyone else could not have done.”
“But not anyone did it,” Rogier noted, defending his half-brother. “Guilhem did.”
Geoffrey had no problems with Foulquesson going at Guilhem’s son and brother, potentially driving a wedge between the two families despite their recent marriage alliance. But he had to limit how much infighting took place between his commanders.
“Enough,” Geoffrey said. “You can fight each other after you’ve fought the enemy before us.”
He turned his gaze back to Frederic. “What can you tell us about their army? Their composition?”
“It is mostly infantry - a mix of more lightly armored spearmen of the fyrds and heavy huscarls,” Frederic explained.
“Knights?” Geoffrey asked.
“Few,” Frederic said. “Lighter mounted men, but many fewer than we can muster.”
Good, Geoffrey thought. Adelise has finally done something right.
He had learned the Saxon well-to-do had long done their fighting on foot, for the most part, as axe-wielding heavy infantry known as huscarls. That lack of heavy cavalry left them vulnerable to armies that had many well-trained knights, as Geoffrey’s grandfather had proved at Rouen.
Though the Saxons had enjoyed success in the holy lands, they did so with Norman knights from Sicily at their side. Without them, though stubborn, the Saxons had struggled against the heathens in subsequent wars.
It had left Geoffrey concerned about the Norman participation, as their presence would make his task more difficult. But with Adelise apparently keeping her men out of this conflict, and Aevis unable to provide many knights of her own, Geoffrey felt assured of victory on the day.
It may take a while, he thought, but we will wear them down.
How to wear them down, however, without suffering heavy losses himself, was a point of contention.
“They will not make it easy for us,” Geoffrey said. “They know they have a weakness against our knights. I would expect them to form tight groups, with their fyrds nearby to the huscarls.”
“So if we charge them, we will lose many knights,” Alias said. “Even if we break them.”
Geoffrey nodded. “And if we attack them with our infantry, we are unlikely to wear them down easily. It would be best if we can get them to break formation of their own will. Then we can ride them down.”
“They would only break formation for pursuit,” Rogier said. “Or their own retreat.”
“So we must give them reason to pursue,” Knud said. “Feign retreat?”
“Exactly,” Geoffrey said. “I want us to probe their lines and shield wall. We may even engage it, for all we know, they might break under our pressure. But I do not want prolonged fights. I want us to fight, then a hurried retreat. Hopefully they follow. If not, regroup and we try again.”
The king wondered if such a move might draw the ire of his uncle. But Foulquesson did not object, and Geoffrey was free to move onto other matters.
“Uncle, you shall have the left,” Geoffrey said. “Knud, the right. Berard, the reserve. Frederic, ride with my uncle. Rogier, you shall be with Knud.”
“Where shall I be?” Alias asked.
“And me, cousin?” Simon asked.
“Camp, watching the battle with Adhemar,” Geoffrey said. “I can’t afford either of you to be harmed.”
He saw the disappointment in the forms of frowns on both of their faces. Alias seemed especially frustrated, as he shook his head as well.
Geoffrey had strongly contemplated letting his brother take part in the battle. He was 14, and though he had not fully grown into his body yet, he was nearly of age.
Still, given his own plans for his part in the fight, Geoffrey could ill afford to risk his brother recklessly.
“As for me,” Geoffrey began, “I will hold the center, as well as lead our initial charge of knights there.”
That drew a few wide-eyed stares from the group, though Foulquesson slapped the table, saying: “That, nephew, is why I have grown to like you. Your father rarely showed such courage. Take the fight to them. Crush them, personally.”
But while the Duke of Brittany was pleased, some of the other commanders appeared a bit uneasy over Geoffrey’s plans.
“The initial charge?” Berard asked. “I understand your desire, but one of us would be glad to do it in your stead.”
“Agreed, cousin,” Rogier said. “We have a tremendous advantage. There is no need to squander it by gifting these Saxons a chance at you.”
“I am not afraid of them,” Geoffrey said. “And I will not hide from combat. They have taken the war to my home. So I shall take it to them, personally.”
“No one is saying you should remain in camp,” Rogier said. “Just let someone else lead that initial charge.”
It would have been wise. There was no need to risk himself unnecessarily.
But for some reason, Geoffrey felt compelled to do it. They had laid siege to Bordeaux. They had rejected his offer of peace. They rejected him as king.
For once, Foulquesson’s ways felt right. Crush them, and make sure they know who has forced them to their knees.
“My role is not for debate,” Geoffrey said. “Have you all any questions over yours?”
When there were none, Geoffrey dismissed his commanders. Berard remained, so they might discuss things further, but so too did Alias, who told Geoffrey he had something he wished to discuss. The king obliged, dismissing Berard, leaving himself and his brother alone.
“Why did you not let me join you?” Alias asked.
“I take a risk,” Geoffrey told him. “I would not subject you to the same thing.”
“Yes, yes, mother would not let you,” Alias said. “But I am a man in all but age. And even if I could not ride with you in the first charge, I could join one of the later ones.”
“You start to grow hair on your face and you think you’re a man?” Geoffrey asked. “You still are thin. And mother’s height, not mine.”
Alias shrugged. “Men shorter than me have fought. A knight’s work is more than just a measure of strength.”
“So then watch and learn,” Geoffrey said. “There will be battles for you to fight. If not now, then when we go to England. Or Navarra. Or elsewhere. Your time will come brother. Be patient.”
“Always with patience,” Alias said. “I must wait for everything.”
“It is good for you to have,” Geoffrey said. “I was made to wait for this war, was I not?”
“And I still wait for Navarra,” Alias replied.
“Do you really wish to bring that up, now?” Geoffrey replied. “We have discussed why this was more important.”
“Because it shall make you king now and your son eventually,” Alias noted.
“And the opportunity might not be there a year from now,” Geoffrey said. “Navarra will be.”
Alias shook his head. “I know… but you treat me as a babe, Geoff. Even if you took Navarra you said you wouldn’t let me have it until I was 16. You won't let me battle until then either. I don’t need to be coddled. I didn’t think you would be like mother.”
“She’d keep you in the palace,” Geoffrey said. “I’m letting you learn. There’s a difference.”
“Yes,” Alias said. “The difference is you get to do as you please, no matter what is said. And I must sit and nod my head, like a good little boy.”
Alias marched off and Geoffrey rolled his eyes. But then the prince turned back to him.
“You know, you can risk your life for your family,” Alias said. “But I can’t. She’s my mother too, Geoff. I have friends there as well.”
Geoffrey sighed. “Alias…”
“I’ll be in Adhemar’s tent if you need me,” Alias said. “I think I’ll spend the night there, too.”
As the prince left, Geoffrey was left to shake his head. His brother was growing older and wanted more. And the king was beginning to realize he could not hold out much longer in giving it to him.
….
In the late afternoon, the battle began as they usually did, with an exchange of archer fire.
From his position in the center, down at the base of one of the hills, Geoffrey could only see how his part of the battlefield went. And it wasn’t much - Geoffrey’s archers had the disadvantage of height but an edge in numbers. He thought he saw the Saxon archers fall under fire, but the fyrds and huscarls were able to catch most of the arrows with their shields.
Still, with such an advantage in missile troops, Geoffrey saw no need to rush things. He let his archers continue until they had unleashed the entirety of their arrows, figuring whatever casualties he inflicted now would be one less man his army would have to fight later.
Then the word was given for the infantry to advance.
The rabble went first, and Geoffrey had no faith they would be able to do anything against the disciplined Saxon front. But, he hoped, when they broke, the Saxons would give chase.
Meanwhile, as Geoffrey watched his men advance and begin the shoving match with their Saxon counterparts, a messenger rode up to him.
“King Geoffrey,” the messenger began as he bowed while on his steed. “Lord Foulquesson believes he has broken the enemy in front of him.”
“Already?” Geoffrey asked.
The messenger nodded. “His initial infantry attack unhinged the Saxon lines and he ordered the knights forward. They already flee. He requests Sir Berard’s reserve to finish the job.”
Geoffrey didn’t have a great vantage point from his position, so he was left to trust his uncle’s judgment. But while he had some issues with Foulquesson the man, he did think warfare to be his strong suit.
And if he breaks the flank, we can use his force to apply more pressure on the center, Geoffrey thought.
“He shall have him,” Geoffrey said. “Tell Berard the king commands him to join Duke Foulquesson’s assault.”
The man nodded and rode off, and Geoffrey felt his stomach twist a bit. Without Berard’s reserve of knights, it meant he would have to either keep a few of his own held back, or attack knowing he didn’t have anything left to defend himself should the enemy counter.
But before he could even think about that choice, he would need his men to draw the Saxons out. And as he watched the rabble fall away down the hill, he was disappointed to see they had not done that yet.
Still, he was far from surprised, and the Saxons giving no pursuit meant his men could regroup.
This time, Geoffrey’s heavier infantry joined in the assault as well. And as he watched the action unfold, his heavy infantry seemed to be holding the Saxons in place longer. It hadn’t been his plan, but if his more experienced troops, along with the rabble, somehow did break the fyrds, then he could hardly complain.
Perhaps I shall have the success my uncle did, Geoffrey thought.
But eventually, Geoffrey saw his men start to get pushed back. Their line began to buckle and finally it fell apart, as the Aquitaine forces began to fall back and hurry down the hill. It was a bit messy, with some men tripping, falling and rolling down some of the steeper portions, and taking some of their compatriots with them.
Grimacing through the ugliness of the mess, Geoffrey’s eyes widened as he noticed something different this time - the Saxons seemed to be moving forward to pursue.
It appeared to be the spearmen - the fyrds - rather than the huscarls. But that worked well enough for him. Break the fyrds and he’d have dealt with the majority of the enemy in the center.
He felt a jolt of energy surge through him - this was the moment he had been waiting for.
Geoffrey raised his hand to get his knights ready. And, pleased this opportunity had finally presented itself, he intended this to be the hammer blow. He would commit all of his knights to the attack.
The Saxons did pursue about halfway down the hill when Geoffrey’s knights went from trot to full gallop, charging uphill, as they closed the distance the last twenty yards. Coming at them from the flank as to not break their efforts by running into their own men, the horn sounded and Geoffrey, at the front of his men, eagerly smashed his lance into the first loose block of Saxon warriors before him, feeling the wood bend and snap as it found flesh. .
As expected, without the defense provided by the densely packed formation they had earlier, the Saxons had difficulty dealing with even the initial change. Geoffrey could see the Saxon pursuit stop immediately, and the fyrds attempted to rush forward to counter the Aquitaine knights.
Focused on the fight in front of him, as he jabbed his damaged lance at the spearmen before him, who hoped to take him down, Geoffrey could only somewhat decipher what was going on. But the sound of another horn, and the further dilution of the Saxons in front of him suggested his successive waves of charges by his knights were having the desired effect.
But before he could turn his men to the pursuit of his now fleeing enemy, Geoffrey caught sight of a new player heading toward him from the opposite side from which he had charged - opposition knights.
Most were not heavy cavalry. It seemed a motley crew of lightly armored men on horseback, a few men in heavier mail, as well as… camel riders?
Geoffrey had seen camels before - merchants and traders from Africa, the holy lands and beyond sometimes had them in their caravans. But he had never seen them used as steeds in battle before!
Regardless of what they were riding, they were coming, so Geoffrey had no time for admiration. He readied himself, shield up, in case one of the enemy managed to get close enough to hit him.
None did, perhaps because the crowd he drew as a king meant there was no clear path to him. But as Geoffrey and those with him fought their way through the Saxon spearmen, he eventually began to find more and more enemy cavalry in his midst.
Perhaps it was the earlier observation, but he was drawn toward one of the few camel riders he saw. He’d heard tales of them, dressed in foreign garb, scarves around their helmets and faces with curved swords that would glint in the desert sun.
This man was anything but, however. He looked every bit the European knight Geoffrey was, wearing a rounded helmet, mail covering his body, with a broken lance in one hand and sword in the other.
Still, he was an enemy all the same, and Geoffrey urged his horse forward to battle him. The knight caught sight of Geoffrey and rode forward, broken lance and all.
It might have been a mistake for the man, as he could not get much speed with the chaos around them and thus his attempted lance blow was pushed aside by Geoffrey’s shield with ease. And now close in with the knight, Geoffrey’s sword was the ideal weapon, while the knight’s lance was anything but.
It made Geoffrey’s work more tiring than dangerous, as his efforts were to find a way past the man’s shield more than anything else.
But as he worked his way toward the blow that would win him the fight, Geoffrey felt his horse start to buck and twist, wildly - so much so he had to grab the reins. First he grabbed it with his shield arm, but then, after nearly getting stabbed by the broken lance, he realized his mistake and tried to regain control with his sword arm.
Why is my horse doing this, Geoffrey wondered. He’s never given me problems in battle before.
Then he remembered one of his old military lessons where he was taught horses hate the smell of camels. It was something he thought he might need to know if he traveled to the holy lands, but never expected to have to deal with it in Bordeaux.
And that was a problem, for while he had confidence in his fighting abilities, it was another matter to utilize them properly on a horse that was moving in uncontrollable and unpredictable ways.
The knight, realizing his opportunity, tossed aside his lance and drew his sword, all the while Geoffrey did his best to calm his horse down.
In the chaos, Geoffrey then heard something else - the loud screams of a throng of men.
His eyes darted around quickly, to see a mass of men rushing forth. More heavily armored than the spearmen, he realized at quickly it was the huscarls.
It surprised him that they had committed, but perhaps they saw the opportunity with Geoffrey’s cavalry engaged. And Geoffrey now realized his own mistake - in the heat of a battle he appeared to be winning, he had not regrouped his cavalry for another charge. Instead he had gotten stuck in, which placed him and his men in danger.
The camel riding knight from before now seemed far from Geoffrey in mind and body - he had retreated back as the battle was joined by the Saxon infantry.
Perhaps Osmund realizes he should not make the same mistake I have, Geoffrey thought.
But Geoffrey hurried his horse, now under better control, back away from the enemy cavalry. He was joined by many of his knights, but the huscarls fell upon them, slowing their progress.
While the huscarls primarily wielded axes over spears, massed together they could still do damage to slow moving cavalry, hacking at the horses and their riders.
The good news was that Geoffrey soon saw his own heavy infantry had regrouped and rushing forward to join the engagement.
The bad news was the huscarls had swarmed Geoffrey and his knights, spreading around them and boxing them in. Geoffrey’s knights then grouped themselves together, which would slow them, but buy them more time against the horde that had trapped them.
Geoffrey wished he had his broken lance at the moment, but made do with his sword, slashing at any man who came within reach. He hit shields, but also felt his sword hit armor as well as flesh.
Out of the corner of Geoffrey’s eye, he saw a knight of his buckle and then pulled down from his horse. Others around him suffered similar fates. And as he saw a group of Saxons rushing toward him, Geoffrey gripped his sword handle tightly as his stomach clenched in fear.
So he swung his sword wildly. It struck one man and then another, and was enough to get them to stop and regroup. Geoffrey met their eyes, his heart racing, while he dangled his arm back and forth, which held the bloody blade swinging in front of the side of his horse.
They would come again. And he would be ready.
Then, from behind the Saxons, he could see more men coming. Mounted men. And though the sunlight blinded him somewhat, the banners soon showed to themselves to be his men. His knights. His reserve. Berard back from aiding Foulquesson.
The horn sounded and the Aquitaine knights charged. The Saxon lines, not nearly as compact as they sought to trap the king, were caught with their backs mostly turned.
Seeing the opportunity, Geoffrey ordered his knights forward, toward their onrushing compatriots. And eagerly the king picked out the ones he thought had marked him, and made sure his sword found them. One by one the retreating men fell before his blade until he stopped at the sight of fellow knights before him.
Then the king raised his bloody sword and shouted “TO VICTORY!” before he and his men turned and launched their pursuit.
….
As Geoffrey sat on his throne in his camp, he was already growing sore all over.
Between having to keep his shield arm at the ready, getting control of his steed, riding for all this time and, of course, slashing and stabbing his enemies, Geoffrey was going to have difficulty getting out of his cot in the morning.
But for now, he could not have felt more invigorated. More alive.
He had been in battle before. But there was something more about this encounter. He had survived losing control of his horse. He had held back multiple Saxon huscarls at once. He had made a mistake, and yet overcame his error.
The overall result of the battle was no longer in doubt, if it ever was. But how great of a victory was still a question.
Foulquesson had completely routed the Saxon right. And Berard’s assault on the huscarls in the center had done a number there. Knud had taken the longest, though he did have the fewest men, but did eventually break through.
Initial reports back to Geoffrey told him he had destroyed more than half of Osmund’s forces. However, a good amount had appeared to escape, including the Duke of Kent himself.
Not everyone was so fortunate, however.
Foulquesson stood in front of Geoffrey’s throne, as some of his Breton knights forced a man in mail to his knees. Geoffrey did not recognize him, though he wasn’t even certain he’d have been able to pick out Osmund himself at this point.
“Nephew,” Foulquesson began. “A gift for you. The commander of the Saxon right, Æthelræd, a knight from Devon. He was the commander of the usurper Burgheard’s personal levy, and now serves his daughter.”
Geoffrey leaned forward in his throne. For a man who did not hold any lands, nor could count himself among a prominent family, Geoffrey could not have hoped for a better prisoner.
“Do you speak language d’Oc?” Geoffrey asked.
Æthelræd looked at him with brow raised, but he said nothing. So Geoffrey asked him: “How about Frankish?”
Æthelræd remained silent and Geoffrey rolled his eyes. He turned his gaze to Knud.
“You speak Saxon, yes?” Geoffrey asked.
Knud nodded and stepped closer to the king.
“Tell him I was impressed by the Saxon will today,” Geoffrey announced in a loud voice. “Even if in the end, our quality did show through.”
Knud nodded and turned to the man, speaking what Geoffrey could only assume were his words, translated. Æthelræd didn’t say anything to that. Knud then shouted something at him, which prompted Æthelræd to finally say something short back.
“What did he say?” Geoffrey asked.
“He said he wishes no honors for failing his queen,” Knud told Geoffrey quietly.
Geoffrey looked at the man, bound with his hands behind his back. His brow was furrowed and he frowned - but then why would he look happy?
Still Geoffrey could say what he wanted. His men could not understand what Æthelræd had to say. So this performance was more for them than anyone else.
“You have not failed your queen, for your queen lives in Bordeaux,” Geoffrey told him. “And she will be grateful for loyal, determined men such as yourself to help us guide England back toward glory.”
Knud then translated that for Æthelræd, who shook his head.
“I shall never bow before you or your heathen harlot of a wife,” Æthelræd said in Frankish.
Geoffrey’s eyes widened and his stomach dropped. He had been played.
“You do speak Frankish,” Geoffrey said. “You just played dumb.”
A smirk formed on Æthelræd’s lips which just infuriated Geoffrey further. But he knew he had to restrain himself - he would look weak if he lashed out at the man.
“You speak bold words,” Geoffrey said. “But your Duke Osmund promised similar before the battle as well. And while you may not bow, you have been forced to your knees. As your king, if I cannot have the former, I will settle for the latter.”
“You will never rule us,” Æthelræd swore.
“I already do. You’re just slow to realize it,” Geoffrey said. He looked to Rogier. “Cousin, have him taken away. He can spend his time reconsidering his position in the dungeons of my palace.”
Æthelræd was led away and then Geoffrey stood from his throne and looked out at the men gathered.
“That is the insolence we shall deal with,” Geoffrey warned. “They think that their obstinance is enough. They will learn as that one did… it may draw things out. But it will not stop us. Not here! Not in England!”
And as he heard the cheers in response, Geoffrey grinned. He had meant every word. They had delayed him. They had threatened him. They had even scared him.
But they had not stopped him.
He would finish off the remnants of Osmund’s force. Then he would inflict the same upon their country men when he crossed the channel.
And when he was finished, no Saxon, or Norman would ever dare to question his rule again.
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What a great (though unsurprising) victory, and excellently told! I do hate it when king and emperor-level rulers fail to assign the competent commanders that they presumably have lying around in preparation for important battles, though. It happens much too often in CKII.
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now, that was a victory, but an incomplete one... I am looking forward to the next war council, where, I hope, Geoff II will depart to England with 14.000 men and the rest left behind to catch and destroy the survivors... for now it is the moment to invade, but sadly he can not leave those Saxons unchecked...
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As ever, I'm impressed with how you can maintain the drama and suspense for what in game terms was almost certainly a one-sided battle
The English are smashed, and with barely a dent in Aquitaine's own forces. They might be capable of some harassment and maybe sieging down an outlying castle or two, but the threat to Bordeaux should effectively be over now, and the invasion can begin in earnest.
Alias's impatience is a matter of some concern. Some of his behavior might simply be down to teenage bluster, but then this family is notorious for being unable to take "No" (or even "Later") for an answer. Definitely worth keeping an eye on him in the future; even if he wouldn't overtly betray Geoffrey and the others, he might end up doing something rash or otherwise inconvenient not far down the road...
The English are smashed, and with barely a dent in Aquitaine's own forces. They might be capable of some harassment and maybe sieging down an outlying castle or two, but the threat to Bordeaux should effectively be over now, and the invasion can begin in earnest.
Alias's impatience is a matter of some concern. Some of his behavior might simply be down to teenage bluster, but then this family is notorious for being unable to take "No" (or even "Later") for an answer. Definitely worth keeping an eye on him in the future; even if he wouldn't overtly betray Geoffrey and the others, he might end up doing something rash or otherwise inconvenient not far down the road...
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Lol try hard much.
Quite ironic, considering the fate of the first one. What's even more ironic of course is that this Adhemar is not even descended from the first one. Gay and caste. You know if he were to die without issue Geoff would get Gascony, at least I assume that's how it works.
Boy, your father is dead and buried in the crypt at Bourdeaux.
Great use of strategic deception by the King.
Very lucky. Some would say god favored them. I'm surprised Geoff didn't bring that up, given how superstitious and religious he is.
Geoff probably could have won the day with 9,000, and gotten a head start on the invasion. Still, best not to take chances.
God bless Herve.
He seems to have a good relationship with his father. I wonder what he thinks of his mother, or for that matter, the fact that his mother was screwing the king. He's old enough to have heard the rumors.
Geoff is a really clever general, like really good.
But what about women?
Oh great I remember Knud's still alive. On the bright side Geoffery is letting the young dukes and the prince into his council. You know ever since Ancel the King has been very good and grooming the next generation of leaders under his care. If he can hold out until the old guard dies off he should have a very loyal vassal base from which to draw his inner circle.
They are Saxons, they are stubborn.
That takes some guts on Beard's part. Mind you he is right. But it still takes guts to stand up to Foulquesson.
For all his personal faults, Geoff really is a good king. I doubt his father or Foulques would have cared that some border keep got sacked.
Divide and rule at it's finest.
So the Duchesses are finally proving useful, even if they haven't joined in the fighting yet.
The kids table.
A role fitting for a king.
He's baaaaack! For some reason that reminds me of that Adam Driver sketch. Although technically Foulques would be the one to fit it best.
Awww that's sweet of him and very brave. Still, Geoff is right to keep the Prince out of battle.
So stupid. When you are outnumbered three to one you stay in a defensive position. I can see why you were unimpressed with Osmond.
WTF? Are those mercenaries? Does England still hold territory in the Levant. I'm pretty sure it was all given to the rump Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Will the King meet the same fate as his late brother?
And he survived what his brother did not.
Now that is unfair. Sure elf is treasonous, but she is a Catholic and has stayed loyal to Geoff, in spit of his rampant adultery. At least get her crimes right.
Oh things are about to get dangerous.
Overall a good chapter. I confess I rarely get all that invested in battle chapters. In almost every AAR the player usually outnumbers his enemy and is destined to win. It's hard to give them real dramatic stakes.
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Geoffrey has achieved a glorious, if somewhat expected victory. Still thanks to the good leadership of he and his generals he managed to do it with very little in the way of casualties. Perhaps Geoffrey will split off a small force of maybe 4,000 to keep the remaining English in check while he embarks on his invasion of England proper. You always do a fantastic job writing, but I especially enjoy how you write out battles....
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I’ll read and comment on the latest chapter probably tomorrow (my time), but in the meantime ...
And it will take you a couple of years to a) realise it, or b) believe it, or c) finally accept it. Probably all the above, in sequence. With much parent-child angst in between.
Before you know it they’ll be old enough to think it’s some tame thing their quaint parents want to watch!
And it will take you a couple of years to a) realise it, or b) believe it, or c) finally accept it. Probably all the above, in sequence. With much parent-child angst in between.- 1
I thoroughly enjoyed the battle scene. You played it well considering we knew the outcome. However, it is these battles that can be a great victory at a terrible cost (as I found it in Ireland once upon a time). When Geoffrey was surrounded I was thinking oh no not the personal battle event. Those never seem to go well. I was relieved to see it turned out differently.
Now Geoffrey got his victory it is time for him to crush Osmund once and for all. Without an effective army England is a few sieges away from defeat.
I do hope we find out where those camels came from
Now Geoffrey got his victory it is time for him to crush Osmund once and for all. Without an effective army England is a few sieges away from defeat.
I do hope we find out where those camels came from
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Wow, Osmund really doubled down on his obstinance. Looks like the Saxons are going to be even harder to get onboard with this whole enterprise than it already seemed.
Time to buy Elf a chariot to complete the Boudica image. Can't help but bow down if you've been run over by a war wagon, after all.
Time to buy Elf a chariot to complete the Boudica image. Can't help but bow down if you've been run over by a war wagon, after all.
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You only lost 250 men!!! I felt like that Huscarl counter-charge might have done more damage to the numbers of your Knights...but I guess that was just good storytelling
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The genuine threat and tension was, of course, in the lead-up to the battle when Bordeaux remained under siege. The battle itself was a slaughter, but there is always danger when the King is in the front line. And gaining that trait was useful, but also led to the vignette of Geoffrey’s’ direct’ involvement in the battle, and nicely done it was.
If that was the bulk of the English forces, then their ploy to take Bordeaux may have been bold, worrisome for a while and maybe their only chance of being able to prevail, but has ultimately delivered them into his hands.
If that was the bulk of the English forces, then their ploy to take Bordeaux may have been bold, worrisome for a while and maybe their only chance of being able to prevail, but has ultimately delivered them into his hands.
This was of course the smart strategic play, but if this was the English main body, perhaps 12,000 to deal with them and 6,000 to start raiding and reducing England itself could have been risked: they could always retreat to the boats Viking-style if a larger enemy force appeared. But still, done is done and this was the safest option.
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Response to this post from 16th February
Well one knew from the start something was going to happen. It was only a matter of what. And in doing so we get a nice bookend of the update, it starting where it began. It does, however, remind me of some of the ways a serialised story can employ techniques that would be harder to pull off in a novelised story. This update starting at its end point would not, I think, work in a novel. It would seem disruptive to the overall flow. In a serialisation though this update is more wholly its own complete entity.
Geoffrey is starting to show the benefit of some of his experience in talking to the young lads. It shows that, faults and mistakes and silly decisions, he is learning. There is also something quite poetic about him imparting a lesson, and now himself realising he has further lessons yet to learn himself.
And as for Herve ... he died as he lived, in service to this family of devilish rakes and mischief-makers. Solid, dependable, and with a simple loyalty that would be so easy to mock - except such mocking would slide off him to no effect. Even in his death he uses a store of his last words to bolster the family he has served all his life: The realm is in fine hands.
I swear though, at this rate Gilles really will be the last of the old ones still left alive.
Well one knew from the start something was going to happen. It was only a matter of what. And in doing so we get a nice bookend of the update, it starting where it began. It does, however, remind me of some of the ways a serialised story can employ techniques that would be harder to pull off in a novelised story. This update starting at its end point would not, I think, work in a novel. It would seem disruptive to the overall flow. In a serialisation though this update is more wholly its own complete entity.
Geoffrey is starting to show the benefit of some of his experience in talking to the young lads. It shows that, faults and mistakes and silly decisions, he is learning. There is also something quite poetic about him imparting a lesson, and now himself realising he has further lessons yet to learn himself.
And as for Herve ... he died as he lived, in service to this family of devilish rakes and mischief-makers. Solid, dependable, and with a simple loyalty that would be so easy to mock - except such mocking would slide off him to no effect. Even in his death he uses a store of his last words to bolster the family he has served all his life: The realm is in fine hands.
I swear though, at this rate Gilles really will be the last of the old ones still left alive.
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Response to this post from 3rd March
In some respects young Geoffrey's relationship with Ælfflæd echoes that of Foulques with Beatriz. I don't want to push the point too much, but they too had a cycle of break-up make-up break-up make-up - yet through it all grew to value and at least come to some measure of understanding. I wonder if that will end up being the path that these two will end up following, rather than that of the older Geoffrey and Marguerite.
It is hard to feel overly sorry for Geoffrey here - after all this is the harvest that he has sown, but it is equally hard to no feel some sympathy for the poor devil. He's acting much like his father and grand-father (and indeed, somewhat better than his father). He is striving to do what is right.
Something I have thought of is that Geoffrey often cares of Aquitaine, and he thinks his father did stuff "for Aquitaine". This is a very rosy view of his father - the elder Geoffrey almost always acted firstly and always for himself. For the elder Geoffrey Aquitaine was himself, there was no sense of duty something other than himself - such a duty as his son feels to Aquitaine would be quite alien to the elder Geoffrey (though he might say different in public - as the young King knows he comes from a family of liars).
Digression aside, Geoffrey does make a genuine effort on many occasions to try and do right. His personal morals are ... lax, shall we say - but even though he frequently ends up hurting people (like his Queen) he is never motivated to hurt people. It is a very interesting dynamic.
In some respects young Geoffrey's relationship with Ælfflæd echoes that of Foulques with Beatriz. I don't want to push the point too much, but they too had a cycle of break-up make-up break-up make-up - yet through it all grew to value and at least come to some measure of understanding. I wonder if that will end up being the path that these two will end up following, rather than that of the older Geoffrey and Marguerite.
It is hard to feel overly sorry for Geoffrey here - after all this is the harvest that he has sown, but it is equally hard to no feel some sympathy for the poor devil. He's acting much like his father and grand-father (and indeed, somewhat better than his father). He is striving to do what is right.
Something I have thought of is that Geoffrey often cares of Aquitaine, and he thinks his father did stuff "for Aquitaine". This is a very rosy view of his father - the elder Geoffrey almost always acted firstly and always for himself. For the elder Geoffrey Aquitaine was himself, there was no sense of duty something other than himself - such a duty as his son feels to Aquitaine would be quite alien to the elder Geoffrey (though he might say different in public - as the young King knows he comes from a family of liars).
Digression aside, Geoffrey does make a genuine effort on many occasions to try and do right. His personal morals are ... lax, shall we say - but even though he frequently ends up hurting people (like his Queen) he is never motivated to hurt people. It is a very interesting dynamic.
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Yeah, the drama was never going to be over whether we won the battle. It was over there was people would die in it, which seems to happen regardless of battle advantage.
If I am to mount a defense of the English commander choice, it's that Ecgwyn is drawing from a limited pool. She only has her lords themselves, and her tiny court to draw from. That's made even smaller when you consider over half of her lords are women and ineligible. Seriously, Adelise, Aevis, Maud, the Duchess of Northumbria and the Countess of Cornwall outnumber her male lords by quite a lot. And those male lords need to make up her council. So Osmund might really be the best she can do, since unlike a human player, she won't go and recruit men to join her court just to command.
It was a nice victory, but Osmund does still have an army which is strong enough to cause problems. It must be dealt with.
As for splitting the army, that will be addressed next chapter.
As ever, I'm impressed with how you can maintain the drama and suspense for what in game terms was almost certainly a one-sided battle
The English are smashed, and with barely a dent in Aquitaine's own forces. They might be capable of some harassment and maybe sieging down an outlying castle or two, but the threat to Bordeaux should effectively be over now, and the invasion can begin in earnest.
Alias's impatience is a matter of some concern. Some of his behavior might simply be down to teenage bluster, but then this family is notorious for being unable to take "No" (or even "Later") for an answer. Definitely worth keeping an eye on him in the future; even if he wouldn't overtly betray Geoffrey and the others, he might end up doing something rash or otherwise inconvenient not far down the road...
Thanks. I do have some drama when I play those fights because, as the battles with Herve and Foulques the Younger show, easy victories don't necessarily mean everyone gets out OK. So you'd never know when Geoffrey might end up getting cornered and killed, even with a big advantage. With him also gaining the "direct leader trait" it was a good chance to play with that drama.
That said, yeah, it was a rout. I do think the heavy cavalry disadvantage does hurt the English, since the major damage is done in the secondary phase. They'd have lost anyway, but their army composition is not good for fighting Aquitaine/France.
When it comes to familial relationships, I do try write them differently so it doesn't come off as familiar. But Alias/Geoffrey *is* a different relationship because they're fairly close in age. Geoffrey I was old enough to be his brothers' fathers. Geoffrey I and Agnes were close in age, but that was also quite different. And Foulques didn't interact with his full blooded siblings much.
But Geoffrey II and Alias are both young men, and both still, in some ways, coming of age. (Alias is obviously not of age yet, and Geoffrey is still in his early 20's.) So it's a very different dynamic, where sometimes they are bound to butt heads. As you note, this is not a family that has excelled in patience and usually boasts some strong personalities.
I am trying to get Alias development in where I can. I think I'll have something regarding him in a few chapters.
Lol try hard much.
Quite ironic, considering the fate of the first one. What's even more ironic of course is that this Adhemar is not even descended from the first one. Gay and caste. You know if he were to die without issue Geoff would get Gascony, at least I assume that's how it works.
Boy, your father is dead and buried in the crypt at Bourdeaux.
Great use of strategic deception by the King.
Very lucky. Some would say god favored them. I'm surprised Geoff didn't bring that up, given how superstitious and religious he is.
Geoff probably could have won the day with 9,000, and gotten a head start on the invasion. Still, best not to take chances.
God bless Herve.
He seems to have a good relationship with his father. I wonder what he thinks of his mother, or for that matter, the fact that his mother was screwing the king. He's old enough to have heard the rumors.
Geoff is a really clever general, like really good.
But what about women?
Oh great I remember Knud's still alive. On the bright side Geoffery is letting the young dukes and the prince into his council. You know ever since Ancel the King has been very good and grooming the next generation of leaders under his care. If he can hold out until the old guard dies off he should have a very loyal vassal base from which to draw his inner circle.
They are Saxons, they are stubborn.
That takes some guts on Beard's part. Mind you he is right. But it still takes guts to stand up to Foulquesson.
For all his personal faults, Geoff really is a good king. I doubt his father or Foulques would have cared that some border keep got sacked.
Divide and rule at it's finest.
So the Duchesses are finally proving useful, even if they haven't joined in the fighting yet.
The kids table.
A role fitting for a king.
He's baaaaack! For some reason that reminds me of that Adam Driver sketch. Although technically Foulques would be the one to fit it best.
Awww that's sweet of him and very brave. Still, Geoff is right to keep the Prince out of battle.
So stupid. When you are outnumbered three to one you stay in a defensive position. I can see why you were unimpressed with Osmond.
WTF? Are those mercenaries? Does England still hold territory in the Levant. I'm pretty sure it was all given to the rump Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Will the King meet the same fate as his late brother?
And he survived what his brother did not.
Now that is unfair. Sure elf is treasonous, but she is a Catholic and has stayed loyal to Geoff, in spit of his rampant adultery. At least get her crimes right.
Oh things are about to get dangerous.
Overall a good chapter. I confess I rarely get all that invested in battle chapters. In almost every AAR the player usually outnumbers his enemy and is destined to win. It's hard to give them real dramatic stakes.
One of the traits I've tried to show with Geoffrey (and it pops up here twice) is he tries to be showy, like his father. But in both cases, it shows why he's not quite at his old man's level. Doesn't mean he's bad at it, but he doesn't quite grasp the concepts as well as Geoffrey I did.
It's true young Adhemar's traits don't bode well for an heir. But if he's keeping with tradition, his wife will have an affair with a powerful lord and probably end up having that guy's kid anyway.
You are correct when it comes to inheritance. Geoffrey is next behind Adhemar the Younger. In this case, it's actually due to his maternal side. If Adhemar has no heirs, it reverts to his father's sisters, and their children. Since Duke Adhemar's oldest sister was Aines de Poitou, and her eldest child is Marguerite, and Geoffrey is her oldest legitimate living child, he's second in line for Gascony.
Yeah, when it comes to splitting the army, I have the advantage of seeing how much the English have because I can look at Ecgwyn. But Geoffrey can't, and he'd be hesitant to split his army after the mess with the Bretons and Herve.
Knud's in a weird spot where the king still trusts him to lead troops but also can't keep him around in his inner circle. So I imagine Knud is basically traveling around Aquitaine, doing busy work for Geoffrey but doesn't spend a lot of time in the palace any more.
Berard's stood up, somewhat, to Geoffrey before. So he would with Foulquesson. Of course, the duke doesn't really care. He's dealt with Alias before, and Alias was probably more dangerous to run afoul of.
Geoffrey's been shaped by his early experiences. I suspect if he didn't meet the midwife in Aurilliac, he probably wouldn't have cared about it. But her death affected him, and combined with Herve giving advice and now being dead, had a profound impact on Geoffrey. But... I suspect his attitude may well be different toward other places.
I think you said that I like writing Foulquesson. I did have fun with him in this chapter. There's also an element of him being less restrained, both as he gets closer to the inevitable but also the removal of the one person who could command as much respect as him - Herve.
I think Alias' bit here is a good counter to how Marguerite feels about herself. She feels she's essentially destroyed her relationship with her children, but her children don't necessarily feel the same way. They may not be affectionate with her, but they all still care about her. But in my experience dealing with someone who has depression, it can be very hard to see that. And Alias has less resentment toward Marguerite than Geoffrey does, since she is not meddling in his affairs nearly as much.
I don't think they had any good option, but basically, I imagine Osmund would defend, hoping for an opportunity to counter attack. Reflecting on what I've read about Hastings, they could have won the battle had they remained disciplined and defensive. That said, the numbers a bit more even than they were here.
On that note, I did keep the English very Saxon because in this history, the Normans were never able to hold real control over the lords. So I feel like they kept their culture and their style of fighting, especially since they had success with it in the Holy Land, regardless of whether Sicily almost certainly helped a lot.
Not mercs. England lost a lot of Jerusalem, but they still hold some territories on the coast. It's a weird split because Ælfflæd's nephew "holds" Jerusalem, but yeah, that's where I assume those camel knights came from. If you look at the battle picture, it's not a lot, like seven, but they were there. So I had to mention them!
The accusation hurled at Ælfflæd is unfair and wrong. But it's not new. She spent seven years in Tunis, and other English prisoners *did* convert. (I think a daughter of the Duchess of Northumbria did). The accusation has dogged Ælfflæd ever since her return, and is a good reason why she found herself ostracized upon her return. Even the conversation with Burgheard hints that he believes she might not truly be Christian anymore. And of course, that she has had issues with the pope doesn't play in her favor either.
Suffice to say, now that they're fighting her, that talk is only going to grow even louder. It's cruel. It's wrong. But it's there. And it may not go away easily.
Some writers do really vivid battle chapters. It's not my thing, so these tend to be a struggle to actually write, even if the results have been good. As noted above, the more recent CK2 updates really do make it more likely your characters have adverse results in battle though, so easy victories can still be costly. Foulques the Younger obviously shows that. So that usually is where the drama is. I think that works too... I think his death and Herve's were both surprises.
Geoffrey was fortunate with his general being good. It allows me to stick Berard there because Geoffrey's playing favorites, all while not really harming my chances.
The split of the army will be discussed in the next chapter.
Thanks! I really don't enjoy them, in truth, but sometimes they are important. Couldn't skip out on the battle to save Geoffrey's family!
I’ll read and comment on the latest chapter probably tomorrow (my time), but in the meantime ...
Before you know it they’ll be old enough to think it’s some tame thing their quaint parents want to watch!
Don't rush things! My kid is already growing up too fast in some ways.
I thoroughly enjoyed the battle scene. You played it well considering we knew the outcome. However, it is these battles that can be a great victory at a terrible cost (as I found it in Ireland once upon a time). When Geoffrey was surrounded I was thinking oh no not the personal battle event. Those never seem to go well. I was relieved to see it turned out differently.
Now Geoffrey got his victory it is time for him to crush Osmund once and for all. Without an effective army England is a few sieges away from defeat.
I do hope we find out where those camels came from
Yep. That's the one thing that always keeps things interesting. You never know when you might just get a bad event, which I think is far more common in CK2 than it ever was in real life. But then again, pitched battles are more common in CK2 than they were in this period.
You're right England is in a bad place for this war. But sieges can take a while.
The camels were from England's holdings in the holy lands. Kingdom of Jerusalem kept some, but there are definitely some English lords with holdings there.
He should have just come on over! But of course in CK2 that's not possible, so I had to write him refusing. Given Geoffrey's sure to learn about his previous demands to Ælfflæd, might as well go all in. If I could have, I would have stripped him of Kent and given it to Ælfflæd, who actually has a claim for it through her mother. One thing I wish you could do in CK2 was press claims for wives even if they are not "part" of your realm, or make wives part of your realm. Because Henry II did absolutely press Eleanor's claim on Toulouse. So why can't Geoffrey press both Ælfflæd's claim on Kent and her claim for England? But if I did one, I couldn't do the other because she's not in my realm any more.
Ha. Ælfflæd would agree. But Geoffrey... well see next chapter.
You only lost 250 men!!! I felt like that Huscarl counter-charge might have done more damage to the numbers of your Knights...but I guess that was just good storytelling
Thanks! Yeah it wasn't a battle with heavy losses. Still, 11 knights fell! You don't need to lose a lot of people if those people you lose are the wrong ones! And this AAR has a history of losing the wrong people.
Yeah, you have it right there. There's always a danger and because he gained the direct leader trait, I was going to place him in the front. I actually tried to take the conversation and put it in, but it didn't fit well with the scene, so I just left the card in.
It was the English main body, but Geoffrey couldn't be fully certain of that. And yes, it has, in some ways, made things easier. Rather than having to chase the English all around the island, it's smashing them in Aquitaine, where they can't really reinforce, and then sailing across the channel to finish the job.
There will be a split of the army in the future though.
To all: we're looking at another Wednesday update. That might just become the new update day for a while, unless I can get ahead a bit in the writing. The next chapters also are less on the war, which becomes rather siege heavy at this point, and more on certain characters and events. I also plan to have a bit of a "world" update, as there are some interesting happenings going on. I think that will be in three chapters.
In the meantime, I hope things remain well with you all. Thank you for your continued support, as your views, commentary and feedback remain one of the best parts of my week!
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