Before Plantagenet - Chapter 263
February 1137 - Pau, Kingdom of Aquitaine
A gentle breeze blew through a field as Geoffrey sat on horseback, looking out at the snow covered peaks of the mountains to his south.
It was enough to rustle his hair, and though it felt good at first, it brought a chill to his body, so Geoffrey placed his hat on his head.
All was quiet on that morning, as the king, Prince Alias, and some of Geoffrey’s commanders sat on horseback a mile outside of the town of Pau. Geoffrey had come out to take in the view, and also meet with Mayor Frederic of Saumur. The Pyrenees were a majestic sight, rivaling the beauty he enjoyed along the coast of Brittany. Unlike with Brittany, Geoffrey knew danger lurked somewhere within that picturesque view - the army of Navarra.
“How are their positions, Frederic?” Geoffrey asked Frederic, who had recently returned from a scouting mission.
“Strong,” Frederic answered. “They have prepared positions which will force us to attack up an incline.”
“We’ve done that before,” Knud said.
“Flanking the position will be difficult though,” Frederic cautioned. “The inclines are steep. We will be funneled through an area wide enough to bring a good number to the front, but we will not be able to use the whole of our forces. And it will all be frontal assaults.”
“Charging uphill will not be easy, especially if we must move through throngs of our own men,” Alias noted. But to that Frederic shook his head.
“Charging will be impossible,” Frederic said. “Even when the incline is more gentle, the terrain is broken - rough and uneven. Any charge on horseback will have trouble gaining momentum and power.”
“Then we dismount and attack on foot?” Berard asked. “Like the king had them do against the Bretons?’
“It is certainly an idea,” Frederic said. “We will need the numbers. Their rabble will have an advantage because of their position - it won’t take much training to poke their spears at our men.”
“But it will take stamina and training to overcome that position,” Geoffrey mused. “Which… maybe a third of our men have.”
“I wish I had better news, my king,” Frederic said.
Geoffrey sighed as he turned his gaze back toward the mountains once more. It appeared his ego and bluster had made his situation more difficult than it needed to be.
Against England, it had been Bordeaux falling under a surprise siege and him having to turn around and delay his invasion of the Isles for a time. Now it was news that his enemies had marched north, coming up through the Pyrenees in the east. He received word just weeks after Alias’ wedding, where he had plainly stated his intent to war Navarra to install his brother as duke, making it clear their would-be subjects were ready for him.
Through the south of Gascony they moved, raiding villages and towns before falling back to the mountains, with their efforts coming to a halt in recent weeks in the lands of the Count of Bearn. They had not besieged any castles, but they still had done damage.
And to make matters worse, the Navarrans were not alone.
The Duke of Transjurania, the husband of Geoffrey’s aunt Ermengarde, had also been ready to aid his Navarran allies. Attempts to dissuade his intervention had failed and he had already marched into Aquitaine, coming from the east. While the duke had not stopped to besiege any castles, he had cut a swath through Toulouse, raiding outlying farms as he headed southwest.
“Perhaps next time, we should aim to keep our plans closer to the vest,” Berard had suggested after learning of the Transjuranian’s advance.
Geoffrey’s enemies each had anywhere from 5,000-6,000 men. If they could unite, the pair might be able to bring around 12,000 men to battle. Not only would that be the largest army Geoffrey had ever faced, the king did not have his 18,000 that he took to England at the ready.
Instead, Geoffrey stood with just over 10,000, neglecting to summon the full might of his forces. It was something he did with hesitation, remembering it arguably had cost Herve de Semur his life to not bring his entirety of forces.
But between Duke Adhemar and Bishop Edouard, he’d received word that the vassals of the realm were not particularly pleased with yet another conflict, so soon after spending the better part of two years fighting against England for the royal family’s benefit.
Since Geoffrey was again fighting a war that he swore up and down was for his brother, even if it was with the church’s blessing, the vassals were not thrilled to be giving their lives for his ambition alone. Too much of this, Adhemar warned, could spark discontent, or worse, especially since the English lords were now in the mix.
So Geoffrey had been left to call on primarily his own levy and even with that he had left some reserves in Perche, Cholet and Vendome. Aside from his minor vassals, he only called for his obligations from Duke Simon, Duke Foulquesson and Alberic de Perigord.
He had not even approached Ælfflæd with a demand for England’s levy, figuring that would draw too much ire for a relatively insignificant number of troops. And his wife was still angry with him over banning her from returning to England for now, and taking their children at all.
One advantage to not taking the full complement of his men, however, was that he could draw his forces up quicker. So when the news reached him the Navarrans had crossed into Aquitaine, Geoffrey did not have to take long to meet them.
The downside was this - being uncertain over whether he had the strength to attack a foe that was numerically inferior, but boasted a strong defensive position.
“Have you anything that we could use against them?” Geoffrey asked.
“They are in a hostile land,” Frederic said. “With a little more time, I can find all the passes in the region and we can essentially trap them. If we stop them from raiding, they will either fight their way out… or starve in the mountains.”
“Perhaps we should pray for a storm,” Berard said. “I imagine it would be unpleasant in the mountains.”
Geoffrey eyed the mountains and could not bring himself to smile. It was frustrating, and while Duke Simon’s scouts in Toulouse were keeping an eye on Transjurania, they cast another shadow on Geoffrey’s situation. He wondered if they might strike at Toulouse itself, or might turn on Bordeaux - either one would leave Geoffrey in an unpleasant situation.
“Have your men rest today, and tomorrow take them to scout the passes,” Geoffrey said. “If we can starve them out, then that’s what we’ll do.”
Geoffrey took one last look at the mountains and then motioned for his group to make their way back toward the castle that sat on the south bank of the nearby river.
“You know they wait for us,” Berard said. “They have to know we are present. They don’t run, so they may want us to attack them.”
Geoffrey was silent to that. Berard was trained as he was - both knew that any commander worth a damn would only give battle if he felt assured victory. If the Navarrans were willing to fight, they felt supremely confident they would win.
And despite the success Aquitaine’s men had in war, and dating back to Anjou before them, Geoffrey knew he could not take this lightly. They had shown signs of struggle in Brittany, even if they had overcome them. And this was a larger army than they’d faced there, with a strong defensive position. Caution was warranted.
As they neared the castle, Geoffrey could see a small group of men had ridden out just out ahead of the fortifications. Coming closer, the king saw the group was headed by his cousin Rogier, who had command of the camp. That gave Geoffrey pause, but that was countered by the sight of Prince Guilhem and Berard's son Savarics, which brought a smile to the king’s face.
When he decided to take Guilhem, who would turn nine next month, Geoffrey decided to entrust him to some official duties, acting as a page. And sure enough, as the king approached, Guilhem rode out to the head of the men, with Savarics and Rogier in behind.
“Father,” Guilhem began. “Duke Simon has said he has an important message for you. It is about the men led by the Duke of Transjurania.”
Geoffrey smiled. “Did he say anything else?”
“No father,” Guilhem said.
To that Geoffrey nodded. “Let us return to the castle then and see what our cousin has to say.”
While he was pleased at how his son was performing as a page thus far, he left nothing to chance, always having someone with him to hear the message as well. In this case, that person was Rogier, who Geoffrey leaned in close to in order to double check Guilhem’s work.
“Was there anything else?” Geoffrey asked.
“No,” Rogier said. “The prince spoke as much as Simon said. But Simon was concerned, however, and only wished to speak directly with you.”
“Perhaps Transjuranian forces lay siege to Toulouse?” Berard asked. “They were last spotted headed in that direction.”
“He likely wishes to pull men off to relieve the siege,” Knud said. “Or have you go battle them for him.”
“Or they head to Bordeaux,” Geoffrey added, just recounting his many fears with an enemy unchecked in his rear.
Wars not going exactly to plan was something Geoffrey had been slowly introduced to over the past half-decade. From Herve’s death in Huelgoat, to the English surprise attack on Bordeaux, to some of the initial struggles he had capturing Lydford, Geoffrey found himself having to adapt often. He had succeeded well enough to those challenges so far, but every new surprise left him wondering if perhaps this time, he would find himself unable to accomplish his larger goal.
And the possibility of being forced into some decision with Toulouse, and with it Poitou, or being caught in a compromising position between two armies was not something that left him feeling comfortable.
They rode back to the castle, overlooking the Gave de Pau, a river which flowed from the mountains to the south. Pau itself was far from the largest village Geoffrey had seen, but had settlements on both banks of the river. It seemed inconsequential enough, though Alias claimed he knew someone who he believed was from there. But since his brother had lost track of the man’s whereabouts, Geoffrey was simply left to shrug it off.
The castle was where Geoffrey had made his residence, along with his commanders and the prominent ladies traveling with the army. His mother Marguerite, chief among them, knew to stay out of his way, so she said nothing as Geoffrey made his way through the main hall and back toward a small chamber which served as the strategy hall.
There he found Duke Simon, along with Princess Aines, standing over a map of the region. The pair were frequently together thus far during the trip, with Geoffrey finding it annoying. While he had agreed to do this, both as a test for Aines and to appease Duke Simon, the more he saw his sister, the angrier he got.
Why should a woman who plotted to kill my son be allowed anything but a drafty convent, he found himself often wondering. He regretted being talked out of it in the years before.
But cancelling the betrothal now, just months before the union was to go ahead, was a fine way to have his powerful cousin angry with him, along with his mother, not say anything of other lords of the realm. So he was left to stew, and watch, to see if Aines would give him a reason.
At the moment he simply grunted at her: “Aines. Out.”
She frowned and gave a look to Simon, as if to ask for his intervention. Which just annoyed Geoffrey further, since his underage vassal of a cousin was in no position to do such a thing.
“Aines, my dear, your brother will want to hear the message with his commanders,” Simon said.
“As I said,” Geoffrey began, “Aines, out.”
Lowering her head, the princess made a quick walk from the chamber and back out to the main hall, leaving Geoffrey to shake his head at her as she did so. He then glanced at his son, who stood close to him - Guilhem had never been told directly of the plot against his life, but he had probably heard murmurs of it.
“Forgive me, cousin,” Simon said. “She was curious as to our situation. As she is to be my wife, I just wished to inform her.”
Geoffrey simply eyed his cousin. He didn’t doubt her curiosity, but it was his job to send her away, reminding her what her place was.
But then Geoffrey guessed Simon was currently incapable of that. He was clearly infatuated by her looks, to the point where Alias said he had the look of a “puppy” following her, while Berard chastised him to Geoffrey as a “lap dog.” It was surprising only that it was the rare time Berard and Alias agreed on anything.
And Geoffrey wasn’t sure which he liked less - the prospect of his uncle Guilhem using Toulouse like his fief… or Aines doing it.
However, Geoffrey did have one less family problem to deal with on this campaign. As the commanders all gathered around the map, though there was one notable absence - Duke Foulquesson.
The Duke of Brittany had told Geoffrey he intended to complete the conquest of his duchy by finishing off the Count of Penthievre. Initially, Geoffrey was on the verge of forbidding it - he wanted Foulquesson’s men for Navarra.
But Foulquesson agreed to provide his obligations, so long as Geoffrey gave him leave to lead the remainder of his men against the child lord. While the duke was still a valuable commander, Geoffrey could do with a war where he didn’t have to deal with his gruff personality, which had only grown worse as his body withered. Thus the king allowed it, and Foulquesson remained in Brittany, while his men came south.
And since Geoffrey guessed Simon didn’t have good news for him, he was relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with his uncle’s snark, or grandiose boasting of how he’d have whipped both Navarra and Transjurania three times over by this point.
“My son tells me you have news for me, cousin,” Geoffrey said. “So, what is it? The Transjuranians, I presume?”
Simon nodded. “They have moved past Toulouse and head in this direction.”
“They did not try to lay siege?” Knud asked.
Simon shook his head. “They never had any intention. It does not appear they carry siege equipment.”
“They could still assemble them,” Alias said. “But if they head past Toulouse… do they head towards Bordeaux?”
Simon shook his head. “No. As I said, they head in this direction.”
“How far are they from here?” Geoffrey asked.
“Three or four days,” Simon said. “Maybe five or six if they are held up by weather or something else.”
Geoffrey turned back to Frederic. “Did you get any indication the Navarrans realize we’re only a day and a half away?”
Frederic shrugged. “I did not see any. But I also would be surprised if we simply got the drop on them. We are over 10,000 strong and surely they had scouts in this town that told of our arrival, just as Duke Simon has scouts informing him of Transjurania’s progress.”
Geoffrey scratched the stubble on his face as he looked at the map. “They expect their allies to arrive. Either they will join their forces, or they plan to swoop down from the mountains to attack us as Transjurania does."
“The castle will block them,” Berard noted. “We can battle the Transjuranians, while the Navarrans are held here.”
“If the Navarrans intend to fight here,” Geoffrey noted. “But there are two other points the Transjuranians can cross and they are not nearly as well guarded as this one.”
“So we contest that crossing,” Rogier suggested. “And isolate the Transjuranians before the Navarrans can aid.”
“They’re almost certainly in contact,” Knud warned. "They might move as soon as we do."
“Even if they’re not,” Geoffrey began as he continued to stare at the map, “They have to have scouts scattered in the county. They’ll know the Tranjuranians are coming, and they’ll also know if we go to meet them.”
“The risk is great,” Alias conceded. “Do you think this was their plan?”
“I don’t know,” Geoffrey said. “But at this point it doesn’t matter. I suspect they realize the opportunity.”
“We still may outnumber them,” Rogier said. “And we must not forget, we have the blessing of the church and God with us. He will see us through.”
“I think we should be wary of placing all of our faith in God,” Alias warned. “Plenty of men have believed themselves blessed only to find they were gravely mistaken at the most inopportune time.”
“Do you doubt your brother?” Rogier asked. “Especially as he fights for you?”
“I just argue not to take any chances,” Alias said.
“And I will not,” Geoffrey said. “I have little intention of engaging both armies at once.”
“Should we withdraw?” Mayor Frederic asked. “We could fall back and call forth the rest of your levy.”
Geoffrey looked over the map. He was not ready to attack the Navarrans yet, given their defensive positions and the mountainous terrain.
But if he fell back, and allowed the link up to happen, then he would have to call up his men and his vassals’, causing more problems. Yet if he were defeated now, he’d have to call up those men anyway, and do so having the mystique of an army that had not been defeated in over half a century shattered.
“Frederic,” Geoffrey said. “You mentioned finding some passes. Are there any that will let you get somewhat close to the Navarran flank and rear?”
Frederic shrugged. “Not many. There is nothing good on the left of their position. My men did discover a path along the right of their position, but it is only good for horses for so far. So we could not charge down it.”
“But you could move quickly?” Geoffrey asked. “Then dismount and reach their lines by foot?”
Frederic seemed hesitant to reply but eventually did nod. “It won’t be easy, but yes, I think it’s possible. But I do not think we could take 10,000 men through there?”
“It won’t be 10,000,” Geoffrey said. “About 150. 200, knights and sergeants.”
“I don’t understand,” Alias said.
Geoffrey sighed and moved the blocks into position.
“The enemy will likely deploy along the incline Mayor Frederic described earlier,” Geoffrey said. “They will be disadvantaged in men, but with our men having to push up the rough terrain, we will have difficulty in dislodging them. However, if we were to get into their flank and rear, we could press them on two sides. Once we break their right, can press forward on the center and left from their flank.”
“Roll them up like a baker does his bread,” Berard said.
Geoffrey nodded and then looked at Rogier. “When is the earliest we can move?”
“If we hurried, perhaps today, but we would not get far before darkness,” Rogier said. “Most likely the morning is our best bet.”
Geoffrey counted on his fingers. “A day and half, if the weather is good. And Simon, you’re certain our uncle, the Duke of Transjurania, is three days away?”
Simon grimaced and Geoffrey’s stomach twisted. The young duke replied: “If they make good time… then maybe two? I think it’s unlikely, but… I am uncertain.”
It was cutting it too close. If he had any delay, or the Transjuranians made good time… or both, he could be the one who ended up getting attacked on the flank and rear. And if he could not break through, he would find himself up against two armies in short order.
He was tempted to reluctantly give the order to withdraw, and then summon forth the rest of his levy. It would be a bit of humiliation - everyone would know he’d made a mistake. But it was better than a defeat.
His heart racing, Geoffrey struggled to find the words to give the order. And as he tried to get them out, his eyes fell on the small block representing his cousin’s retinue, as well as the eastern ford where the Transjuranians were likely to cross to come to the Navarrans aid.
“Simon, how strong is the group shadowing my uncle’s forces?” Geoffrey asked.
“Near five hundred,” Simon answered.
“I need them to contest the crossing to the east of here,” Geoffrey said. “Prevent them from fording the river and reaching the Navarrans.”
Simon blanched. “You… you wish them to attack a force that’s nearly ten times their number?”
“I need them to delay the enemy,” Geoffrey said. “Just as they did when uncle Foulquesson came to their aid against the English.”
“So you want them to hold up Transjurania, while you arrive to attack them?” Simon asked.
“No, I want them to hold up Transjurania while I attack Navarra,” Geoffrey said. “I believe if we can rout the Navarrans here, their allies will turn back for a time and the road to Pamplona will be open. And if they do not, we will hold a strong defensive position and can rout them.”
“What if they attack here?” Simon asked.
“They won’t,” Geoffrey said. “The castle will prevent that. And moving to the west of here to cross will take too long. They have to cross there.”
“So you are to send my knights to die?” Simon demanded.
“I need a delay,” Geoffrey said. “They need not fight to the last man. But I need a day. Give me a day, Simon, and no more questions - I will give you my sister.”
Simon’s eyes widened and he fell silent for a moment. His eyes drifted to the map, clearly focused on the block representing his retinue. Then he looked up at Geoffrey.
“I will give you as much time as you need,” Simon said.
Geoffrey smiled. “Good.”
Simon bowed. “I will leave at once.”
But the king held up his hand. “Don’t get any ideas, cousin. Your father would be furious with me if I let you run off to such a place. Place the man you trust most in command. You will stay here, at this castle.”
Simon frowned and again looked at the map. But he did not argue.
“How will we fight?” Berard asked.
“As I said,” Geoffrey said. “We engage them from the front while Frederic takes a group of knights and sergeants to the rear. They are the hammer, our frontal assault is the anvil.”
“You trust the rabble to hold long enough for that work?” Knud asked. “I would caution against it.”
“I agree,” Berard said. “Perhaps let me take the knights of the reserve to add backbone to the line.”
It was what Geoffrey had done before in Brittany, ordering Berard’s brother Alberic to shore up his line. But here, Geoffrey didn’t want that.
“That will spread you thin,” Geoffrey said. “I prefer you provide steel where our situation is the weakest. We can’t know that until we engage.”
“Mayor Frederic had command of the left flank,” Alias said. “Who will command it if he leads the flank attack?”
Geoffrey knew his brother was hoping for the honor. But this battle, and the flank he would be the weakest initially was not the place for an inexperienced commander.
“I will go and hold the rabble in place,” Rogier promised. “Mayor Frederic, you will have as much time as you need to win the day.”
Geoffrey had no problem with that. Rogier had performed admirably when Herve had fallen at Huelgoat. And he believed that Aquitaine’s forces were God’s chosen - which meant he would fight with a fervent belief.
“I can do it,” Alias said. “You fight for me. Let me fight for you.”
“You will be with me,” Geoffrey said. “In the center.”
Geoffrey then dispatched Toumas de Najae to lead the initial fight to join with Knud’s attack on the right, to complete his assignments. And after he did, he could see his commanders did not have their usual smiles and energy.
They think this will fail, Geoffrey realized.
It gave him further doubts and a voice in his head told him to swallow his pride and retreat. Call forth the rest of his levy. He would deal with the discontent of his vassals later.
If I let them link, 12,000 men will wreak havoc on my countryside, he realized. I will be forced to fight them anyway… and it will not be easy then either. But if we win today…
Geoffrey turned his gaze to the commanders. “I know this has risk. It is not the type of battle we are taught to fight. But we do not always do as we are taught. Or as we are told.”
He looked at each of them - though Rogier, Toumas and Frederic held pretty spotless records, Knud and Alias certainly did not. And Berard was not afraid of questioning Geoffrey’s orders.
“As my cousin Rogier says, we place our trust in God,” Geoffrey said. “And know that should we win, we will have ourselves a famous victory, the likes of which Alexander and Caesar would be proud of, to say nothing of my father and grandfather.”
“Hear hear!” Alias said as he raised his cup to him. The others followed suit.
Geoffrey didn’t really have any doubts they’d follow him. But he wished to see the confidence in their faces once more, and it seemed to do the trick.
Which was good, because Geoffrey himself was far from certain over whether this would work.
….
Geoffrey’s sleep that night was restless. And the night after, as they closed on the Navarrans, he barely slept at all.
Doubts continued to linger - for he truly did subscribe to the idea one should not give battle unless certain of victory. Which meant the longer he doubted himself, the worse his worries became, in a vicious cycle.
It left him thinking about a withdrawal even more. But having come this far, he could not bring himself to do it. It would damage the morale of his commanders and soldiers. And it would likely anger Simon, who’s potential sacrifice of his retinue would be for nothing but the whims of an indecisive commander.
Once he’d given that order… he’d committed himself. For better or for worse.
It left him a bundle of nerves as he rode out to see the Navarran position that late morning. They were at elevation, but there was an area of flat land around a mile wide in between two slopes. That area held a village, which had been where the Navarran commanders had made their residence before joining their men on the steeper of the two slopes.
Geoffrey was able to view them from the gentler slope opposite them, while his men gathered around the village below. There was a mix of trees and open area, and it was among a denser set of trees that Frederic’s path around the enemy position lay. Overgrown and hardly maintained, it was not something he and his men would move quickly through, even on horseback. But Geoffrey saw no real alternative, given the strength of the Navarran position.
As Frederic had promised, there were steep inclines on the Navarran flanks - with their right, Geoffrey’s left, practically a cliff. It meant the only way past them for most of the army was up through the center, where they were formed up with spearmen and shields.
The slopes were fairly close together, so Geoffrey could both view his army advance fairly well from his position, and also ride off to join them when he was ready.
The battle started with Geoffrey alongside his commanders as they watched the two armies form up skirmishing lines. It was almost comical the disparity in troop numbers - Geoffrey’s archers came forward in a wide front across the Navarran line, while his enemies were congregated in what looked like a single line mostly concentrated in the center.
What was less amusing to the king was how poor the exchange was going for his men, given their massive advantage in numbers.
The Navarrans could shoot farther, which meant the Aquitaine troops were forced to advance under fire to close to a distance where their arrows would have an effect. And the effect was muted due to the difficulties in shooting at elevation - many of their arrows found either the ground in front the Navarrans or fluttered harmlessly overhead.
They tried to limit the damage by approaching in a very loose formation, but it still was an exchange which Aquitaine was coming away worse for.
“We should just launch our spearmen forward,” Knud told him. “We will come out the worst from this.”
“We need time,” Geoffrey told him. “You saw the path Frederic must travel. If all goes to plan, we will engage their front, get them dug in, then he will emerge from their rear and hit them.”
And if I can ask my cousin’s men to buy me time, then I can ask my own, Geoffrey thought.
He had to give his archers credit as they stood there and took the pounding, perhaps heartened by the fact that even if they were falling, the number of Navarrans was not that great and shrinking, slowly but surely.
Eventually the exchange was forced to come to an end due to a lack of ammunition. The two sides exhausted their supply of arrows and had resorted to shooting what had been directed at them back at their enemies. But the Aquitaine shots tended to result in arrows that were outside of the reach of the Navarrans, and the Navarrans themselves were reduced in number to the point where they didn’t return enough fire for Geoffrey’s archers to return fire causing it to simply peter out.
Geoffrey ordered his commanders to their position to prepare their assaults, while he looked on at the results of the skirmish. He saw lots of Navarrans had fallen in front of their lines - perhaps half of their original number of archers. But there appeared to be more dead on his side, some falling where they stood, and others falling down the slope.
It was an ominous sign - perhaps that he was to win this engagement, but at a high cost.
Geoffrey crossed himself and then looked to his brother and Berard, the two commanders who remained, since Alias was to command the later wave in the center and Berard the reserve.
“I’m off,” Geoffrey said. “Berard, if you hear nothing of me, you have leave to take the reserve where it is necessary. Alias, since you cannot charge effectively, take our dismounted knights and advance them if you see the center waver, or if you see us make a breakthrough. Understood?”
Berard nodded. But Alias shook his head.
“Geoff, don’t go,” he said. “Let me go in your stead. I can lead the first attack.”
“That is my position,” Geoffrey said. “Out of the question.”
“You need to be here,” Alias argued. “From this vantage point you can see the battle unfold. And direct men to go where they are needed.”
“I normally do as I have done here,” Geoffrey said. “See the early stages and then once everything is set into motion, join the fray.”
“I’ve heard,” Alias said. “But this is different. What if one of the lines falters while you are engaged?”
“I trust Berard will know what to do,” Geoffrey said as he looked at his friend.
“No offense to you, Berard,” Alias began, “but Geoff, you are king. It should be your decision. Your judgment. No one else’s, especially as this fight may well sit on a knife’s edge.”
Berard shrugged. “If he wishes to go so badly, I say let him. If he struggles, then you can ride off then to aid him.”
“You won’t have to deal with my mother if something happens to him,” Geoffrey said. “I realize taking her was a mistake - she’s on edge, fearing one of us shall suffer our brother’s fate.”
“Battle is battle,” Berard said. “It can happen to any of us.”
“You don’t understand,” Alias said. “We fight against Iberians. My mother has come to believe the superstition that those who come to Iberia from the north are doomed to suffer a curse.”
“What nonsense is this?” Berard asked Geoffrey.
“My brother died in Iberia,” Geoffrey explained. “And King Philippe and King Hughes both essentially lost their kingdoms for their heirs as a result of war with Valencia. She thinks it may all be connected.”
“I thought you complained your mother believed your brother was called to heaven because he was 'too good' for this world,” Berard said.
Geoffrey shook his head. “My mother is worried about her sons, so she believes whatever suits her fear.”
“But you will heed it?” Alias demanded. “If I am to go second anyway, why not let me go first? It would be more effective for you to be able to watch and react.”
“The men can use my bravery,” Geoffrey said. “And this is safer for you. I will not let mother and father down by allowing you to die foolishly.”
“I am plenty brave,” Alias said. “I am not worried about mother’s ‘curse’ For even if it were true, we are not in Iberia. We are in Aquitaine.”
Geoffrey smirked at that.
I can’t hide him. If he is to be duke, he will need to fight. Come what may.
Taking a deep breath, the king said: “Go. Fight well, keep your shield up and don’t do anything foolish. I need you to hold them, not break them. And if you need aid, send for it. I will come.”
Geoffrey turned back to his knights. “Protect my brother with your lives. You hear him - he is not wanting in valor. But we all know a man eager to prove himself may risk himself. Do not let him.”
“We shall protect Prince Alias as we would you, my king,” said Carles, one of Geoffrey’s knights replied. “Prince Alias, we await your lead.”
Alias smiled broadly and looked at Geoffrey. “Thank you brother. You will not regret this.”
Then the prince looked to Carles and the others. “Men! Forward!”
Shaking the reins of his horse, Alias galloped forward down the hill. Geoffrey’s heart was in his chest as he watched his brother go - knowing that in a short time he would dismount and take his place among the ranks of the soldiers. No steed or anything special to protect him besides his armor, which admittedly better than anything the rabble could manage.
Immediately, Geoffrey had regrets.
“I don’t like this,” Geoffrey told Berard. “I should not have let him go.”
“He’s not you,” Berard conceded. “But he needs to prove himself worthy of what you wish to grant him. And as I said, if he falters, you have the men you were ready to give to him for the second wave. And myself, of course.”
“I still hate just watching,” Geoffrey said. “I should be at the front, leading.”
“There’s still time for action,” Berard said. “I do not think this battle will be decided in short order.”
In that Geoffrey wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. He hoped Frederic would arrive quickly, once Rogier had engaged that part of the Navarran force. But if he didn’t… then he needed his forces to hold. The battle becoming a slog was probably for the best.
The Aquitaine forces marched up the slope, slowly. Geoffrey could hear men on both sides shouting and chanting, even from his distance. As they neared the lines, Aquitaine men had to step over the bodies of their dead archer comrades, and then their Navarran counterparts, who had moved several paces ahead of their spearline to engage in the earlier skirmish.
At the last moment, the Navarrans did charge down to engage with their spearmen and rabble. The extra momentum would give them an advantage, Geoffrey realized, and they made sure to maintain their lines well enough that the steepness on their sides prevented them from being flanked. If Aquitaine wanted to break them, they’d have to win a shoving match uphill, or manage to force the line at an angle where they could get to the exposed spear arms of the mass of humanity before them.
On the Aquitaine left, the king watched as Rogier led the men forth. It was that flank he worried the most about, since Frederic had taken a majority of the knights and sergeants in order to ride around the flank and rear. There were still some left with Rogier, but most of his forces were rabble, so he was left to use his knights and sergeants along with his personal charisma to hold long enough for Frederic to make it to the rear.
Still Geoffrey took no chances. He had Berard’s reserve on that side of the battlefield, ready to march quickly to stiffen the line if needed. But at least in the early going, Rogier was holding fast, doing his job of pinning the Navarrans for Frederic’s attack… should it arrive.
Meanwhile, Alias’ push in the center also fought to a standstill, which calmed to Geoffrey’s nerves - if his brother had fallen, the assault would break. If it continued, he was likely still doing well.
The right, however, was looking concerning. While the others were holding after a good bit of fighting, Knud’s assault was beginning to buckle and waver. If it collapsed, Geoffrey wondered if the Navarrans might pursue or hold back. If it was the former, he could send Berard’s reserve to counter charge and possibly destroy their line. If they held back, then they might shift men over to the center and shift the balance against Alias.
He continued to watch for minutes, perhaps longer. And the situation did not change, Rogier and Alias holding, Knud’s line slowly being forced back.
“I could go to Knud’s aid,” Berard suggested. “For either way, it seems that part of our struggle could use some extra punch.”
Geoffrey knew he was right. Unless the Navarrans were simply static when Knud’s attack fell away, problems would arise from defeat there.
But Geoffrey also knew committing Berard would mean he would be without reserves should Alias need help - or more likely, Rogier’s attack began to rapidly crumble. And Rogier’s attack was the key - to hold the Navarrans in place so Frederic could fall upon them from the rear.
He still had his own men with him, and the ones he had readied for Alias original second attack in the center. He could shift them left, but they weren’t as numerous as Berard’s reserve.
The king’s heart raced as he feared a mistake here could undo his grandiose plans. But if he did nothing, there were two ways it could fall apart, especially since there would be a delay in Berard riding to the reserve and then marching them up the incline to the aid of whoever needed it.
“Go to Knud,” Geoffrey said. “Hold their men in place. God be with you.”
“And you Geoff,” Berard said.
The pair crossed themselves and Geoffrey watched Berard ride off. Then a few minutes later, he watched as the reserve began their march up toward the right, as Knud’s line buckled. As the reserve neared, the right actually broke, as Geoffrey had feared.
But the Navarrans were light in their pursuit, perhaps because of discipline or perhaps because they saw the additional men moving forward to reinforce. Either way, the Aquitaine right stabilized, and the situation returned to a status quo.
Geoffrey’s eyes fell to the center, where Alias’ attack seemed to hold well enough. And as Geoffrey watched, he wondered if perhaps his brother was actually doing more than holding the line but actually making progress.
Or perhaps my eyes are influenced by my heart, Geoffrey thought, worried and hopeful of his brother.
Then on the left, Geoffrey did notice a bit of a buckle from Rogier’s men. They seemed to be losing ground, and the king’s heart again raced. He glanced quickly at the right again, as if to confirm Berard could not send aid. Then back to the left, as he saw the similar weakening and push back of the line that he witnessed with Knud.
They are going to break, he realized.
Again he considered moving forward with what he had left - which might be enough to fully stabilize a collapsing flank.
Maybe if I take the archers too, he thought.
They aren’t armored and have short swords, but they are numbers.
It might be necessary to give any backbone he could to Rogier. On the other hand, if he rushed forward - he might be running right to the edge of a cliff that was collapsing underneath.
The Navarrans opposite Rogier came forth to press their attack with more vigor than those fighting Knud’s men. But despite initially seeing men fall back, Geoffrey watched with wonderment as the line suddenly held.
Rogier is a miracle worker, Geoffrey thought.
His bravery must inspire, as it did at Huelgoat when Herve was….
Geoffrey tried not to think about that - especially since he did not bring his full army to this fight either.
But the line’s integrity was not as strong as Geoffrey hoped, and it soon began to buckle once more. And Geoffrey decided then he would need to commit himself to reinforcing it with what little men he had left in reserve - himself and his own guard.
However, then Geoffrey saw something else. Men coming forth from the Navarran flank and rear on Rogier’s side. And a smile came to the king’s face, as he realized it was the attack by Mayor Frederic, arriving just in time.
Sure enough, the Navarran assault on Rogier suddenly slowed and then stopped as their men were forced to deal with the attack on the rear, undertaken by knights and sergeants - a stronger group on a whole than the rabble infused group Geoffrey’s cousin commanded.
But even those rabble were able to make a difference when their opponents were caught between two armies and partially encircled. Rogier’s men stabilized again and began to make gains.
Geoffrey’s lips formed a broad smile. In the center, Alias’ continued to make small gains. The sudden infusion of Geoffrey himself, and his guard would probably shift the balance there too. If most of the Navarran line collapsed, those opposite Knud and Berard would be forced back.
It was time - Geoffrey raised his arm and had his men ride down towards the center. Then they dismounted, pulled forth their shields and spears and marched their way forward, eager to join in the day’s glory.
…..
As night fell on the battlefield, Geoffrey stood among the tents and extinguished fires of what had been the Navarran camp.
His soldiers eagerly helped themselves to whatever supplies and valuables they could find, which wasn’t that much, but still better than nothing. And they made use of the camp, as well as the town below, as they celebrated their victory raucously with songs and chants that probably could have been heard for miles.
For Geoffrey it was a relief as much as it was happiness. Frederic’s attack had destroyed the Navarran right, and between he and Rogier turning on the center, along with Geoffrey himself adding more weight to Alias’ attack, that part of the Navarran line had been crushed as well.
Only the Navarran left, opposite Knud’s right, managed to escape in good order, pulling back before the Aquitaine left and center could wheel and trap them against the steep-drop off on their own flank.
The only downside was since Geoffrey’s knights and sergeants had dismounted, and were exhausted from the fight, they were in no shape to launch a pursuit.
In the morning, they rode out on any paths suitable for horseback, and went by foot on those that weren’t. Some stragglers were found, with mixed results. If the Navarrans held anything of value, they were captured to be ransomed. Some who weren’t wealthy but had some valuables were let go in exchange for what could be sold. And those who could offer nothing were killed on the spot.
Geoffrey guessed about half the Navarran army escaped. While it wasn’t a complete victory, however, it badly weakened his opposition.
And news soon came from Simon, indicating his men had been defeated, but news of Geoffrey’s victory here had caused the Transjuranians to break off their march and fall back to the mountains in the east, fearful of Geoffrey turning on them.
But Geoffrey had little intention of doing that right away, for another mountain engagement was not something he desired. Instead, he marched his army back to Pau, to plan his next move.
“The Navarran army flees back toward Pamplona,” Simon reported when they returned to the castle along the river a few days later.
“What of Transjurania?” Geoffrey asked.
“They have headed off to the east,” Simon said. He traced a circular path around the Pyrenees to the southeast. “Perhaps to await their allies in Aragon or Catalonia.”
“Let them,” Berard said. “We will take Pamplona before they either reach us, or make it back to Aquitaine.”
“I agree,” Geoffrey said. “They cannot stop us from reaching the heart of the boy king's lands. We have them… it is only a matter of time.”
He paused for a moment to look at the map and the block representing Simon’s men. Then he glanced toward his cousin.
“Simon, tell your men they have the thanks of their king for their bravery,” Geoffrey said. “And let it be known I am sending them my share of the haul taken from the Navarran camp as a reward.”
Simon’s eyes widened. “Most gracious of you, cousin.”
It was and wasn’t, since Geoffrey was handing over his share, but he neither needed it, nor was it that much. There was more value in show of the act, rather than the loot that made it up.
“And one more thing,” Geoffrey said. “You can have my sister’s hand. You have leave to take her with you back to Toulouse.”
Simon’s eyes widened for a moment before a smile came to his face. He then bowed before Geoffrey.
“Thank you,” he said. “I swear that I shall treat her as a queen.”
“Treat as duchess,
not a queen,” Geoffrey said. “For that’s
all she shall be. Understand?”
Simon grew pale and then nodded. A nervous grin came to his face. “Of… of course, cousin. My king. It was only a phrase and I did not mean to…”
His voice trailed off and Geoffrey eyed him. So too did all the commanders present, as well as Prince Alias. Finally Geoffrey simply replied: “Good.”
“I… I shall beg my leave so I might tell her the news,” Simon said. “We depart from here once we are certain the Tranjuranians have left our lands.”
Geoffrey nodded and Simon backed his way from the area, the king watching him as he did so.
“Generous of you,” Berard said. “I might have made him twist in the wind a bit longer.”
“I extracted what I could from him,” Geoffrey said. “His household knights died to help win us a victory. If I went back on it after that… he could easily rally support against me. I have to take my chances.”
Geoffrey then plopped himself down in a chair as servants entered the area to pour wine. The commanders took their cups and stood around him.
“So then to Pamplona next?” Knud asked.
Geoffrey nodded. “Simon has the right idea to wait a few days to see what Transjurania does next. But assuming they do go east and then south, we turn west towards the boy’s main holding.”
Taking a sip of his drink, Geoffrey finally let loose a smile. And raised his cup.
“We have won a great victory,” he said. “It was no easy thing driving them off. Or even the will to fight it. But we did, and not just have won the battle, but I think even the war itself - thanks to your bravery and resolve.”
“God was on our side,” Rogier insisted. “I know he guided me. I think 10 men fell around me. I felt the wind of a strike against against my ear. A spear point managed to penetrate my mail, but it was stopped from my heart by my leathers and the wooden cross round my neck.”
Geoffrey smiled and raised his cup to that. Given Rogier’s seeming skill to turn reverses into moments of great success, he had little reason to doubt his cousin had stumbled his way into God’s graces.
“Perhaps you have a point,” Geoffrey said. “We move well together. It is as if we are guided by some link, or perhaps God himself.”
Mayor Frederic shook his head. “Perhaps God works through you, my king. For this has been your work. Your father won himself many battles, but such a movement was not something he would do with ease. Nor would he have taken such a risk. We were brave, but we were in a position to be brave because of your plans.”
“A flanking maneuver is hardly anything,” Geoffrey said.
“But the willingness to adapt,” Frederic said. “Using your knights as you do. The way we pinned their stronger troops as we did and used a route others may not have considered. That was your genius,
your gift, my king. It is something to be proud of.”
“I agree,” Berard added. “And you showed boldness in your decisions. Even a fine plan can fall apart if the right man is not there to guide them through difficulty. We had that today.”
“And you had the trust in me to lead the assault,” Alias said. “Willing to put aside your ego for the good of the battle. For the good of the realm.”
“It’s no surprise to me,” Knud said. “I trained you. I always knew you had it in you.”
“Hail to our king,” Rogier said. “A more brilliant a strategist the realm has not seen!”
They all cheered to that and Geoffrey felt flush, almost embarrassed. And yet, he also could not deny his pride. Yes, he outnumbered the Navarrans, but that alone did not guarantee victory, especially against such a defensive position. It took skill, patience and foresight to achieve the victory he did.
Brilliant strategist, Geoffrey thought.
My grandfather would be proud. My father… perhaps a touch jealous. And my brother… he would smile, just as Alias does.
….
That evening, Geoffrey stood alone in the bed chamber of a local merchant.
The relief of his victory having washed over him, he had to move onto the next stage of the plan. So he arranged a meeting with a merchant to provide some supply for his men to supplement their raiding of lands while they laid siege to Pamplona.
The merchant, Pierre, had been eager to aid the king anyway he could and naturally agreed to the deal. And as a sweetener, he was willing to let Geoffrey borrow his house for the evening.
The king imagined the merchant was surprised to be asked such a request - Geoffrey claimed he wished for a more cozy abode for a night as opposed to a drafty castle. But it was more for privacy, the reason for which opened the door and entered the chamber at that moment. Geoffrey smiled as Ana dropped the hood of her cloak and then shook free her hair.
“You summoned me, my king?” she asked with a sly grin.
After Geoffrey chuckled she hurried over into his arms, and planted a wet kiss on his lips.
“You missed me then?” Geoffrey asked.
“I was terrified for you,” Ana said. “Word had spread about how you were attacking a dangerous position.”
“Word?” Geoffrey asked. “You mean my mother fretted.”
“And I joined her!” Ana said. “Between you and my brother, I feared for what might happen!”
“It was fine,” Geoffrey said. “As you see.”
“Yes, I hear you are quite the… what was it… brilliant strategist?” Ana asked.
“My mother again?” Geoffrey asked.
“Berard,” Ana said. “He was not quiet in his praise of you. But then most are impressed.”
The sound of that made Geoffrey smile again. “Are you not?”
“I always knew you were brilliant,” Ana said. “But I am as equally impressed that you convinced the merchant to give up his home to you.”
“It is only for a night,” Geoffrey said. “I wanted to be alone with you.”
“And Rogier and Frederic with Berard in the hall?” Ana asked.
“They know to be quiet, as your brother does,” Geoffrey said. “Alias… I didn’t want him to know.”
“You should have sent him to the camel,” Ana said.
“He earned a reprieve for a few nights after the battle,” Geoffrey said. “It’s the least of what I could do.”
Ana smiled and pressed herself close to him.
“You should let your wife go back to England so I could have you all the time,” Ana said.
“She will go,” Geoffrey said. “But I can’t do anything rash… no matter how tempting. Besides, you are here. She is not. That is all that matters.”
“Do you love her?” Ana asked.
“Not like I do you,” Geoffrey said. “I don’t think she could appreciate this… as you do.”
Ana kissed him once more, and he pulled at her clothing.
He had refrained from this while he was fighting for England, and when he was with Ælfflæd. But he had his needs, and the queen was back in Bordeaux, pregnant, and unable to be touched as often as he'd like. After she gave birth, she would not tolerate coming south - she would want to go back to England.
And, he wasn’t lying to Ana when he spoke of appreciation. Would Ælfflæd care if Geoffrey had won a victory like this? Maybe… if it saved her from peril or won her a kingdom. But otherwise?
Ana always cared. Ana was always impressed by his success. She was always impressed by him.
And after the plaudits he had just earned, Geoffrey could not help but feel it was no less than he deserved.
Notes:
1. Was riding without my editor this time. My wife had some semi-emergency surgery, which went well and she's thankfully home recovering. But she's unable to follow the text at the moment and give feedback. Hopefully she'll be good for the next chapter and hopefully this chapter was still OK.
2. As you can see, Transjurania forces were somewhat close. I painted them a touch closer than they got but CK2's battles last for weeks, rather than hours. So had Toulouse not been there to intercept, there's a solid chance they'd have arrived to join the fight. Given it was in mountain terrain, it could have resulted in defeat.
