Do you guys consult for the battle because that seemed like a major battle and I wonder if other posts will reflect that. Very good update thouugh.
Road to Jerusalem. A collaborative AAR.
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The Greeks are so deliciously arrogant. They have no inkling of what's coming now that the ball has started rolling, do they?
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I have to say you're the best Byzantine author in AARland, with respect to all my other beloved EmperAARs. You just do them so well, cynical and idealistic all at the same time.
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I have to say you're the best Byzantine author in AARland, with respect to all my other beloved EmperAARs. You just do them so well, cynical and idealistic all at the same time.
Time for some editor’s fedback and some reader’s comments of my own!
canonized: Thanks for the flowers! Now that you’ve crossed over to our side, more of you later.
General_BT: I applaud your round of applause for the authors, and I do humbly accept my extra applause for editing. And I’d like to point out (once again, I think) that the initiative was canonized’s and the idea for the setup AlexanderPrimus’. But you know that anyway.
Deamon: And I’m The_Guiscard and I approve of your readership and your comment. Thanks a lot.
longlee: Major batles like the one at Lake Ýznik are done by one volunteer who gives an early outline of the events for the other contributors to include in their own writing, so yes, we do in a way consult on them, and yes, the other posts will reflect the battle.
AlexanderPrimus: Your contribution led to very slight awkwardness, but I feel that it was well worth it. Even though I would have rather had the harlots than the meddlesome priests.
canonized: Apart from the writing, there were a full three points I did especially like about your chapter. For once Nikolaus and his errant is lending a suitably sinister slant to the Crusade, and then I feel that you did an excellent job at portraying the atmosphere in the curia and capturing the tone. And finally I’m glad that somebody thought of including the pogroms against the Jews which did follow the calling of the Crusade.
Saithis: First of all, thank you for tackling the task of narrating the major battle. In my opinion, you did exceedingly well – the entire description was believable and suitably gruesome and gritty. The entire narrative was thrilling and gripping, and I liked it how you did not hesitate to kill off your king. Losses make victories only ever more special. Sterling work!
General_BT: I can only echo RGB – you really have a rare talent in getting these Greeks across. The moment the topic of this AAR stood, I have been hoping to get you to give us a glimpse of the Crusade from the other side, and you have not disappointed. Not that I expected you to.
canonized: Thanks for the flowers! Now that you’ve crossed over to our side, more of you later.
General_BT: I applaud your round of applause for the authors, and I do humbly accept my extra applause for editing.
And I’d like to point out (once again, I think) that the initiative was canonized’s and the idea for the setup AlexanderPrimus’. But you know that anyway.Deamon: And I’m The_Guiscard and I approve of your readership and your comment.
Thanks a lot.longlee: Major batles like the one at Lake Ýznik are done by one volunteer who gives an early outline of the events for the other contributors to include in their own writing, so yes, we do in a way consult on them, and yes, the other posts will reflect the battle.
* * *
AlexanderPrimus: Your contribution led to very slight awkwardness, but I feel that it was well worth it. Even though I would have rather had the harlots than the meddlesome priests.
canonized: Apart from the writing, there were a full three points I did especially like about your chapter. For once Nikolaus and his errant is lending a suitably sinister slant to the Crusade, and then I feel that you did an excellent job at portraying the atmosphere in the curia and capturing the tone. And finally I’m glad that somebody thought of including the pogroms against the Jews which did follow the calling of the Crusade.
Saithis: First of all, thank you for tackling the task of narrating the major battle. In my opinion, you did exceedingly well – the entire description was believable and suitably gruesome and gritty. The entire narrative was thrilling and gripping, and I liked it how you did not hesitate to kill off your king. Losses make victories only ever more special. Sterling work!
General_BT: I can only echo RGB – you really have a rare talent in getting these Greeks across. The moment the topic of this AAR stood, I have been hoping to get you to give us a glimpse of the Crusade from the other side, and you have not disappointed. Not that I expected you to.
I'm so very excited to be part of this project . Some of the best writers in all of AARland are all here . Including , as RGB and Guiscard pointed out , our Byzantine Emperor as well the epic scope of Saithis' pen , and the veteran masters of the Crusade crusaderknight and AlexanderPrimus , the (appropriately) middle extreme of Guiscard's excellent Norman writing as well as many others . These past two updates especially have made me very excited to continue working on the project as now we see that the Greeks are up to their own agenda , the crusaders had a great epic victory (although with some sacrifices) and soon the Spanish/Southern French/etc corps will arrive . So fun !
And thank you for the comments folks ! The Ghostcardinal (or shadowcardinal as some of you have started to call him haha =P so wrong !) is going to be fun since I think it'll exemplify the way the Papacy is going to deal with the crusader situation . They want their hand in on this to help out in a ecclesial function (Adhemar) while maintaining a level of control that doesn't require an army (intrigue) while keeping their ethics in line . XD A challenge !
And thank you for the comments folks ! The Ghostcardinal (or shadowcardinal as some of you have started to call him haha =P so wrong !) is going to be fun since I think it'll exemplify the way the Papacy is going to deal with the crusader situation . They want their hand in on this to help out in a ecclesial function (Adhemar) while maintaining a level of control that doesn't require an army (intrigue) while keeping their ethics in line . XD A challenge !
Chapter Seventeen
by crusaderknight
Gruffydd stood on the small hillock which overlooked the site upon which the battle would soon be joined. With him on the hillock were Leopold, Edgar, and Gregorios. As the men prepared for the day’s bloody contest, Gruffydd reflected upon how the Crusade had progressed thus far. Shortly after joining with the Margrave, he had been approached by Edgar, who had introduced him to Gregorios. At first Gruffydd had been wary of the Greek, but Edgar convinced him to let Gregorios come along. The man had survived Manzikert, after all, and he knew a thing or two about Turkish tactics.
Once the Crusaders had crossed the Hellespont, courtesy of Emperor Alexios, the united force had marched south towards Nicaea. While the Crusaders were besieging the city, the army of Kilij Arslan had attacked. The battle had been vicious, and many good men had fallen on both sides. Gruffydd had seen the Danish King, Erik, fall from his horse. This had demoralized some of the troops, and some regiments began to falter. But Leopold’s Austrians and Gruffydd’s Wolves held strong. At one point during the battle, a Turkish spearman had impaled Gruffydd’s horse, and the Welsh leader was thrown to the ground. The Turk loomed over him, about to strike the fatal blow, when a blade suddenly appeared from out of the man’s stomach. The blade withdrew again and the Turk fell to the ground, dead. Behind him stood Gregorios, who spat on his corpse. He then reached down and helped Gruffydd up. The battle remained hard-fought, but the armies of Christendom prevailed. After the battle the Crusaders exulted and praised God. Edgar and his Saxons cheered in victory and awaited the next battle.
Edgar’s Saxons, always ready for battle.
Nicaea surrendered to the Greeks soon after. When at last the city fell, the Crusaders reassessed their situation. Leopold decided that it would be prudent for his Austrians to take the coastal route, through Smyrna and then south through Lesser Armenia. Both Gruffydd and Gregorios agreed, and so the march began. The Emperor actually sent a small contingent of 2,000 Greek soldiers to hold Smyrna after it fell. And so the force of 8,000 men marched along the coast until they reached the Aegean, and from there, southwards to Smyrna. The siege did not last long. There was not much of a garrison there, and when they saw 8,000 men coming to take the city, they quickly surrendered. They had heard of the defeat of Kilij Arslan at Nicaea, and were full of fear. The 2,000 Greeks stayed on to defend the city, and Leopold and Gruffydd discussed where next to turn.
Gregorios suggested that they move east, to Tralles. Tralles was a small settlement in the southern foothills of the Messogis range. From its vantage point, it overlooked the plain of the Lower Maeander. Tralles controlled the plain, and with it, a crucial connection between Smyrna and the rest of Anatolia. Smyrna was protected on nearly all sides by either water or mountains. But to the south was a small gap, which was the easiest position from which to attack the city. Tralles defended the route to that gap. If the Crusaders controlled Tralles, they would not have to fear the Turk retaking Smyrna’s crucial port.
The Greek’s argument had convinced them, and so they marched. However, upon arriving in the Maeander Plain, they were met with a terrible surprise. Corentin had been among the advanced scouts, and he had returned with a report of a large Turkish army camping just outside the city. Though by comparison to the main Crusader force, the Turkish army was puny, when matched against only 6,000 warriors of Christendom, the Turks had the advantage.
This was the situation which now faced them. Leopold looked to Gruffydd and asked, “How many men did Corentin say the Turk had at Tralles?”
Gruffydd answered, “10,000. And that’s not including the town garrison.”
Edgar shook his head, “We can’t take that. I don’t care if we have my Saxons, the battle-hardened Austrians, the deeply pious Welsh, AND our overly-courageous Breton friend. 6,000 men CANNOT take that many. Especially when the Turk has the terrain. We must turn back. Let them come to Smyrna and take them there.”
“No!” shouted Gregorios. “You CAN take them! You WILL take them! You MUST take them! Edgar, did you not tell me that you swore a sacred oath to GOD? You CANNOT turn back! God will make a way!”
“You are really insistent about this, Gregorios. Why?” asked Leopold.
Before the Greek could answer, Corentin arrived. He saluted and said, “My lords. There is a Greek merchant in the camp. He wants to speak to you. He says it is urgent.”
They looked at Gregorios, and his eyes said two things at once: “Told you so” and “I had nothing to do with it”.
They hurried to the camp. When they got there, the merchant greeted them warmly and said, “Kale Mera!”
The Crusaders looked at each other in confusion. Gregorios said, “It means, ‘Good day’.”
“Ah yes! Ofcourse it does!” said Leopold. Then, he tried to repeat the greeting to the merchant, “Kahl-eh… Mair-uh…”
The merchant laughed, “Close enough! But let us dispense with the pleasantries. I am here on important business. You are here to free Tralles are you not?”
“That was the plan,” said Gruffydd.
“But,” interjected Leopold, “We cannot risk the lives of our men attacking such a heavily fortified position. We will fall back to Smyrna.”
“You cannot!” shouted Gregorios.
Leopold raised his fist at Gregorios and was about to shout back something about how dare a mere Greek raise his voice TWICE to the Margrave of Austria, but he was not given the chance. The merchant said, “What if I offered you a way to take the city from within?”
Leopold let his arm sink to his side, and asked, “How could you do such a thing?”
“I make regular trips into the city,” said the merchant. “They know me there. They know the wares I bring. They rarely search my cart. And if they should, I have ways of convincing them not to. You can sneak ten men in my cart if you want. The Greeks in the city do not enjoy Turkish rule, and especially with Gregorios on your side, I am certain they will join you.”
The three leaders deliberated, and decided it was a viable plan. It was certainly better than turning back. If they could get the entire city on their side, it would save them a lot of trouble.
“I don’t like it,” said Rhodri with firm resolution. “I just don’t like it. I should go, not you, Gruff!”
“No, Rhod,” Gruffydd answered. “We need an actual leader in the city. Someone who can establish Crusader authority in Tralles before the Turk knows what’s happening. That’s either Leopold, Edgar, or myself. Now, enthroned or not, Edgar is a king. His life cannot be risked on something such as this. Leopold is a powerful Margrave. He cannot be risked either. Therefore, I must go. Of the three of us I am the only expendable one.”
“But you’re not expendable, Gruff! You’re the leader of Gruffydd’s Wolves! What good are Gruffydd’s Wolves without Gruffydd? You’ve got your estate! Your men! And Gwen! Don’t forget her!” Rhodri insisted.
“Look, Rhod, its not as if I’m going on a suicide run! I have every intention of living! But should something happen, I am most expendable. Less than one hundred people will be adversely affected by my death. Thousands hinge upon Leopold’s survival. And Edgar has an entire kingdom hoping he will return with Papal favour and liberate them from the Norman scourge!”
“But Gruff-”
“No ‘buts’, Rhod. I’m going. If I should die, its up to you to carry on the Crusade. And if all goes ill, then tell Gwen I love her.”
Rhodri bowed his head, “So be it, Gruff. St. David protect you.”
Gruffydd smiled, “He will, Rhod. He will. He’s watched over me thus far, I don’t think he’ll abandon me now. God would not allow it.”
“I don’t like it,” said Rhodri…
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It was the middle of the night, and clouds covered the moon. The ten men lay hidden under a tarp in the merchant’s cart. Gruffydd and Gregorios led eight Welshmen, ready to help them infiltrate Tralles. The Welsh leader looked over to his Greek counterpart and said, “Okay, Gregorios, there’s more to this than you’re letting on. You are right that Tralles is an important strategic location, and that’s why we did not oppose you. But your insistence puzzles me. There must be something deeper. But what? And don’t lie to me. I know you’ve been to this town before. That merchant knew your name.”
Gregorios sighed, “I was born here. I grew up here. This is my town. That’s why I want it freed so desperately. And that’s why I can guarantee you that the men of the town will rise up and fight for us. Tralles will be ours.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Gruffydd.
“I was afraid you would not have listened to me if you knew I had personal motives,” was the Greek’s answer.
“Gregorios,” said the Welshman, “You don’t need to fear that. I understand. The whole reason I am on this Crusade is for personal reasons.”
“It appears that we are more alike than at first appears,” Gregorios said with a smile.
“Indeed,” replied Gruffydd.
“Shhhh!” hissed the merchant, “We are almost to the gate!”
When they reached the gate, the guard smiled and said, “Perdikkas! It is good to see a familiar face. I hope the Franks did not give you any trouble?”
Perdikkas spat on the ground as he said, “Filthy westerners! They took half my load as supplies! Said it was ‘for the cause of Christ’! And that I would be ‘repaid in the afterlife’! Pah! I am a merchant! I care about the here and now! They robbed me! Damned Franks!”
“I understand,” said the guard. “Do you have anything to declare before entering the city?”
“Just the usual, Sai’id. Foodstuffs mostly. I must hurry. My clients will be angry enough as it is.”
“I must inspect the cart. Make sure the Franks did not hide anyone in your cart.”
“There is no time! My clients will be very angry with me! I promise you, there are no Franks in my cart. I checked myself! Here, take these coins, Sai’id. I promise you, my cart is clean.”
Sai’id took the coins and eyed them, “I guess you are clean. Okay, go in.”
“Thankyou, Sai’id,” said Perdikkas.
Once inside the city, the men sneaked out of the cart, and rushed off to find supporters. Over the course of the night, with Gregorios’ and Perdikkas’ help, they recruited 600 men to their cause. As dawn broke, they stormed the walls, and slaughtered the garrison. The Turkish flags were torn down, and the Turkish army outside awoke with a start. They quickly prepared to lay siege to the town and take it back, when suddenly, battle horns were heard. The Crusaders were attacking!
Gruffydd stands firm and resolute on the walls of Tralles
Leopold looked over the battle field, mounted upon his horse. Behind him stood his Austrian army, still at almost full strength, as they had taken minimal casualties back at Nicaea. And on his flanks were Edgar and his 200 Saxons, and Rhodri commanding the 700 Welshmen. He looked to the city and saw that the Turkish flags were down, and that Gruffydd, Gregorios, and the men of the city were hurling stones and other projectiles down upon the Turkish army.
The Margrave turned to his army, and said, “Men! Brothers! At Nicaea you proved your worth! Smyrna fell before you without so much as one drop of blood being shed! Now, we are called to battle once more! The Turk may outnumber us, but he will not be victorious! Here he lacks the cavalry and the archers he so desperately needs to even the odds, and so seeks to overwhelm us with numbers! But in combat, you are unmatched in all the world! Let us march now to battle! To victory!” Then, raising his sword on high, he shouted, “DEUS VULT!”
The men all raised their weapons on high and shouted, “DEUS VULT!”
Leopold then spurred his horse onwards, and the army marched after him. While some of the Turks brought make-shift ladders they had built and placed then against the walls to assault Tralles and retake it, most of their army turned to face the Crusaders. They gave out a loud war cry, daring Leopold to attack. The Margrave accepted. As soon as he and his guard were in range, he gave the signal. The battle horn sounded and charge began.
The Austrian knights lowered their lances, cried aloud once more their battle cry, “DEUS VULT!”, and spurred their horses onwards straight into the heart of the enemy. The infantry followed suit: spears, swords, and axes at the ready. Leopold and his knights struck the enemy with a loud CRACK! Turks went flying in the air, thrown by the sheer force of the armoured knights colliding with them. Others were crushed by the weight of the horses running over them. Still more were impaled upon lances and then slashed by swords. Leopold and his men fought like wild men, and pushed through the Turkish line, eager to break through to the assaulting troops at the wall.
Just as the Turkish front line was recovering from the knights’ charge, the infantry struck them. Fierce fighting erupted, and men on both sides met gruesome fates under the thrusts of spears and the blows of swords and axes. Blood stained the ground and bodies collapsed. The Turkish infantry tried to hold, but without their horse archers to pepper the Crusader Army, they were weak and vulnerable.
The Turks assaulting the walls were faring better. The men of Tralles were not hardened soldiers, and many began to flee when the Turks brought their ladders to the walls. Gruffydd and Gregorios were able to hold together a small cadre of men, but without armour, they were not going to last long. Thankfully, Leopold and the knights had broken through the main Turkish line, and were now striking the Turkish assault force.
Derrick and Corentin, both having their own horses, were among the Austrian knights. Leopold looked over to them and said, “Get those ladders down!”
Derrick glared at him and said, “There are hundreds of Turks on the walls already! We need to get up there and help Gruffydd!”
“No! Tear down those ladders before more Turks get in the city! We can always assault it after the battle, but the more Turks who get in, the more men will die in the assault!” answered the Margrave.
Derrick spat at his feet and said, “You want those ladders torn down, get your men to do it! I’m climbing up there! Then, from the top I will take out those ladders and save Gruffydd!”
Leopold shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Damn Cornishman.”
Derrick and Corentin dismounted their horses and fought through the Turkish lines. While the Austrian knights took out more of the assaulting Turks and tore down ladders, Derrick and Corentin began climbing one. As Derrick climbed, he caught a Turk by the heel. The Turk looked down, and Derrick smiled. The Cornishman said, “Greetings!” and then pulled on the Turk’s leg, throwing him from the ladder. The Turk let out a scream as he fell to his death. The next man up the ladder looked down and cried something in his native tongue. He began swinging his sword at Derrick, trying to protect himself. Derrick chuckled, and clashed swords with him. With some smooth sword work, he disarmed the Turk, climbed up, and slashed him across the gut. The Turk fell to his death. Similar engagements occurred until at last Derrick reached the top of the ladder. He leapt from the top, onto the wall, and immediately threw a Turk from the wall to his death when the man struck the streets of Tralles.
Corentin was right behind him, and quickly joined him in battle. As they fought their way through the hundreds of Turks on the wall, they caught sight of Gruffydd. Derrick called to him, and began fighting his way even deeper. As the fighting grew more fierce, Derrick and Corentin became separated. Suddenly, Derrick saw Gruffydd fall to the ground after a Turk’s scimitar landed a fierce blow on the Welshman’s shield. He let out a loud war cry and rushed the man, pushing him off the wall. The Turks continued to attack, and Derrick fought them off, single-handed, as most of the Greeks who had stayed on the wall were dead or wounded.
But as the fight wore on, Derrick became tired. He tried and tried to defend Gruffydd, who lay there unconscious, but his fatigue was getting the better of him. Suddenly, a scimitar cut across the back of his head. The Cornishman sank to his knees, blood pouring from his wounds. The Turks looked at him and smiled in victory. But, before the last of his strength failed him, he let out a loud cry, spun around, and thrust his sword into the stomach of the man who had struck him. With his last breaths, he looked the Turk in the eyes, as they both lay on the ground dying, and he said, “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with that, did you?” With that, he died.
Just then Corentin arrived. He stood over Gruffydd and Derrick, refusing to leave them to his enemies. There were still several hundred Turks on the walls, but the rest of their army had been destroyed on the field of battle. They were all that was left. Thousands of Crusaders now surrounded the city. Leopold’s herald blew the trumpet signal that called for a halt to the battle. Even the Turks recognized it, and as they looked around, they realized they were done for. They dropped their weapons, put their hands on their heads, and got down on their knees.
The Turks were then taken prisoner by the Crusaders. They were sent back to Smyrna under escort, to be held there. Gruffydd was awakened from his unconscious state, and quickly rushed over to Derrick’s body. He knelt there and bowed his head. Corentin came over, knelt beside him, and said, “Derrick gave his life to save yours, Gruff. I’ve never seen a man fight like that. It was truly amazing. He even defied Leopold’s orders. That’s why we came here. To save you. Leopold wanted us to let the Turks have the wall, but to stop them everywhere else.”
Gruffydd wept and said, “If you two had obeyed him, Derrick might still be alive.”
“But you would have died,” insisted Corentin. “Derrick knew that your life was more valuable. YOU are the one who binds us together. Were it not for you, none of this would have happened. Derrick was a good man, but he was not nearly as important to the cause as you. Our unit will hold despite his death. It would not have done so if you had died.”
Gregorios came, covered in cuts and blood, and said, “The Breton is right, Gruffydd. We lost a lot of good men today, but they were lives well spent.”
Leopold had just finished climbing the ladder, and looked over the many dead. He heard what Gregorios had said and snorted, “You speak of lives as though they were money! We lost a thousand good men today!”
The Greek stood tall and said, “Yes, a thousand of our men died. And what did it accomplish? I’ll tell you. Tralles is now in your hands. That means Smyrna is secured. The Turk cannot easily take it back. This means that supplied will more easily reach the Crusader armies in the Holy Land. And what’s more, ten thousand Turks are dead! Yes, it is very sad that a thousand of your men are dead. But in dying they took ten Turks with them for each of their own that fell, and they may very well have saved thousands of Crusaders’ lives. So yes, I would say that they were lives well spent!”
Leopold sneered and said, “I just don’t like the way you speak of men’s lives in terms of currency is all. Is that all you Greeks think about? Money?”
“I resent that remark!” shouted Gregorios. “Who are you to judge my people!?”
“Brothers!” cried Gruffydd as loud as he could. “Can we not show some respect for the dead?”
Leopold and Gregorios hung their heads in shame. They apologized to Gruffydd, and moved on. That night there was much mourning among the Crusaders for their losses. The following day, they marched off, singing hymns to God. Only 5,000 men remained. They were ready to reunite with the main force of Crusaders.
crusaderknight is the author of the Byzantine AAR The Morea, a Palaeologid AAR. If you enjoyed his writing aboe, you might also want to give it a try as well. Or maybe his other AAR, The Heirs of King Arthur – A History of Wales, which is brimming with Welshmen.
by crusaderknight
Gruffydd stood on the small hillock which overlooked the site upon which the battle would soon be joined. With him on the hillock were Leopold, Edgar, and Gregorios. As the men prepared for the day’s bloody contest, Gruffydd reflected upon how the Crusade had progressed thus far. Shortly after joining with the Margrave, he had been approached by Edgar, who had introduced him to Gregorios. At first Gruffydd had been wary of the Greek, but Edgar convinced him to let Gregorios come along. The man had survived Manzikert, after all, and he knew a thing or two about Turkish tactics.
Once the Crusaders had crossed the Hellespont, courtesy of Emperor Alexios, the united force had marched south towards Nicaea. While the Crusaders were besieging the city, the army of Kilij Arslan had attacked. The battle had been vicious, and many good men had fallen on both sides. Gruffydd had seen the Danish King, Erik, fall from his horse. This had demoralized some of the troops, and some regiments began to falter. But Leopold’s Austrians and Gruffydd’s Wolves held strong. At one point during the battle, a Turkish spearman had impaled Gruffydd’s horse, and the Welsh leader was thrown to the ground. The Turk loomed over him, about to strike the fatal blow, when a blade suddenly appeared from out of the man’s stomach. The blade withdrew again and the Turk fell to the ground, dead. Behind him stood Gregorios, who spat on his corpse. He then reached down and helped Gruffydd up. The battle remained hard-fought, but the armies of Christendom prevailed. After the battle the Crusaders exulted and praised God. Edgar and his Saxons cheered in victory and awaited the next battle.
Edgar’s Saxons, always ready for battle.
Nicaea surrendered to the Greeks soon after. When at last the city fell, the Crusaders reassessed their situation. Leopold decided that it would be prudent for his Austrians to take the coastal route, through Smyrna and then south through Lesser Armenia. Both Gruffydd and Gregorios agreed, and so the march began. The Emperor actually sent a small contingent of 2,000 Greek soldiers to hold Smyrna after it fell. And so the force of 8,000 men marched along the coast until they reached the Aegean, and from there, southwards to Smyrna. The siege did not last long. There was not much of a garrison there, and when they saw 8,000 men coming to take the city, they quickly surrendered. They had heard of the defeat of Kilij Arslan at Nicaea, and were full of fear. The 2,000 Greeks stayed on to defend the city, and Leopold and Gruffydd discussed where next to turn.
Gregorios suggested that they move east, to Tralles. Tralles was a small settlement in the southern foothills of the Messogis range. From its vantage point, it overlooked the plain of the Lower Maeander. Tralles controlled the plain, and with it, a crucial connection between Smyrna and the rest of Anatolia. Smyrna was protected on nearly all sides by either water or mountains. But to the south was a small gap, which was the easiest position from which to attack the city. Tralles defended the route to that gap. If the Crusaders controlled Tralles, they would not have to fear the Turk retaking Smyrna’s crucial port.
The Greek’s argument had convinced them, and so they marched. However, upon arriving in the Maeander Plain, they were met with a terrible surprise. Corentin had been among the advanced scouts, and he had returned with a report of a large Turkish army camping just outside the city. Though by comparison to the main Crusader force, the Turkish army was puny, when matched against only 6,000 warriors of Christendom, the Turks had the advantage.
This was the situation which now faced them. Leopold looked to Gruffydd and asked, “How many men did Corentin say the Turk had at Tralles?”
Gruffydd answered, “10,000. And that’s not including the town garrison.”
Edgar shook his head, “We can’t take that. I don’t care if we have my Saxons, the battle-hardened Austrians, the deeply pious Welsh, AND our overly-courageous Breton friend. 6,000 men CANNOT take that many. Especially when the Turk has the terrain. We must turn back. Let them come to Smyrna and take them there.”
“No!” shouted Gregorios. “You CAN take them! You WILL take them! You MUST take them! Edgar, did you not tell me that you swore a sacred oath to GOD? You CANNOT turn back! God will make a way!”
“You are really insistent about this, Gregorios. Why?” asked Leopold.
Before the Greek could answer, Corentin arrived. He saluted and said, “My lords. There is a Greek merchant in the camp. He wants to speak to you. He says it is urgent.”
They looked at Gregorios, and his eyes said two things at once: “Told you so” and “I had nothing to do with it”.
They hurried to the camp. When they got there, the merchant greeted them warmly and said, “Kale Mera!”
The Crusaders looked at each other in confusion. Gregorios said, “It means, ‘Good day’.”
“Ah yes! Ofcourse it does!” said Leopold. Then, he tried to repeat the greeting to the merchant, “Kahl-eh… Mair-uh…”
The merchant laughed, “Close enough! But let us dispense with the pleasantries. I am here on important business. You are here to free Tralles are you not?”
“That was the plan,” said Gruffydd.
“But,” interjected Leopold, “We cannot risk the lives of our men attacking such a heavily fortified position. We will fall back to Smyrna.”
“You cannot!” shouted Gregorios.
Leopold raised his fist at Gregorios and was about to shout back something about how dare a mere Greek raise his voice TWICE to the Margrave of Austria, but he was not given the chance. The merchant said, “What if I offered you a way to take the city from within?”
Leopold let his arm sink to his side, and asked, “How could you do such a thing?”
“I make regular trips into the city,” said the merchant. “They know me there. They know the wares I bring. They rarely search my cart. And if they should, I have ways of convincing them not to. You can sneak ten men in my cart if you want. The Greeks in the city do not enjoy Turkish rule, and especially with Gregorios on your side, I am certain they will join you.”
The three leaders deliberated, and decided it was a viable plan. It was certainly better than turning back. If they could get the entire city on their side, it would save them a lot of trouble.
---
“I don’t like it,” said Rhodri with firm resolution. “I just don’t like it. I should go, not you, Gruff!”
“No, Rhod,” Gruffydd answered. “We need an actual leader in the city. Someone who can establish Crusader authority in Tralles before the Turk knows what’s happening. That’s either Leopold, Edgar, or myself. Now, enthroned or not, Edgar is a king. His life cannot be risked on something such as this. Leopold is a powerful Margrave. He cannot be risked either. Therefore, I must go. Of the three of us I am the only expendable one.”
“But you’re not expendable, Gruff! You’re the leader of Gruffydd’s Wolves! What good are Gruffydd’s Wolves without Gruffydd? You’ve got your estate! Your men! And Gwen! Don’t forget her!” Rhodri insisted.
“Look, Rhod, its not as if I’m going on a suicide run! I have every intention of living! But should something happen, I am most expendable. Less than one hundred people will be adversely affected by my death. Thousands hinge upon Leopold’s survival. And Edgar has an entire kingdom hoping he will return with Papal favour and liberate them from the Norman scourge!”
“But Gruff-”
“No ‘buts’, Rhod. I’m going. If I should die, its up to you to carry on the Crusade. And if all goes ill, then tell Gwen I love her.”
Rhodri bowed his head, “So be it, Gruff. St. David protect you.”
Gruffydd smiled, “He will, Rhod. He will. He’s watched over me thus far, I don’t think he’ll abandon me now. God would not allow it.”
“I don’t like it,” said Rhodri…
---
It was the middle of the night, and clouds covered the moon. The ten men lay hidden under a tarp in the merchant’s cart. Gruffydd and Gregorios led eight Welshmen, ready to help them infiltrate Tralles. The Welsh leader looked over to his Greek counterpart and said, “Okay, Gregorios, there’s more to this than you’re letting on. You are right that Tralles is an important strategic location, and that’s why we did not oppose you. But your insistence puzzles me. There must be something deeper. But what? And don’t lie to me. I know you’ve been to this town before. That merchant knew your name.”
Gregorios sighed, “I was born here. I grew up here. This is my town. That’s why I want it freed so desperately. And that’s why I can guarantee you that the men of the town will rise up and fight for us. Tralles will be ours.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Gruffydd.
“I was afraid you would not have listened to me if you knew I had personal motives,” was the Greek’s answer.
“Gregorios,” said the Welshman, “You don’t need to fear that. I understand. The whole reason I am on this Crusade is for personal reasons.”
“It appears that we are more alike than at first appears,” Gregorios said with a smile.
“Indeed,” replied Gruffydd.
“Shhhh!” hissed the merchant, “We are almost to the gate!”
When they reached the gate, the guard smiled and said, “Perdikkas! It is good to see a familiar face. I hope the Franks did not give you any trouble?”
Perdikkas spat on the ground as he said, “Filthy westerners! They took half my load as supplies! Said it was ‘for the cause of Christ’! And that I would be ‘repaid in the afterlife’! Pah! I am a merchant! I care about the here and now! They robbed me! Damned Franks!”
“I understand,” said the guard. “Do you have anything to declare before entering the city?”
“Just the usual, Sai’id. Foodstuffs mostly. I must hurry. My clients will be angry enough as it is.”
“I must inspect the cart. Make sure the Franks did not hide anyone in your cart.”
“There is no time! My clients will be very angry with me! I promise you, there are no Franks in my cart. I checked myself! Here, take these coins, Sai’id. I promise you, my cart is clean.”
Sai’id took the coins and eyed them, “I guess you are clean. Okay, go in.”
“Thankyou, Sai’id,” said Perdikkas.
---
Once inside the city, the men sneaked out of the cart, and rushed off to find supporters. Over the course of the night, with Gregorios’ and Perdikkas’ help, they recruited 600 men to their cause. As dawn broke, they stormed the walls, and slaughtered the garrison. The Turkish flags were torn down, and the Turkish army outside awoke with a start. They quickly prepared to lay siege to the town and take it back, when suddenly, battle horns were heard. The Crusaders were attacking!
Gruffydd stands firm and resolute on the walls of Tralles
Leopold looked over the battle field, mounted upon his horse. Behind him stood his Austrian army, still at almost full strength, as they had taken minimal casualties back at Nicaea. And on his flanks were Edgar and his 200 Saxons, and Rhodri commanding the 700 Welshmen. He looked to the city and saw that the Turkish flags were down, and that Gruffydd, Gregorios, and the men of the city were hurling stones and other projectiles down upon the Turkish army.
The Margrave turned to his army, and said, “Men! Brothers! At Nicaea you proved your worth! Smyrna fell before you without so much as one drop of blood being shed! Now, we are called to battle once more! The Turk may outnumber us, but he will not be victorious! Here he lacks the cavalry and the archers he so desperately needs to even the odds, and so seeks to overwhelm us with numbers! But in combat, you are unmatched in all the world! Let us march now to battle! To victory!” Then, raising his sword on high, he shouted, “DEUS VULT!”
The men all raised their weapons on high and shouted, “DEUS VULT!”
Leopold then spurred his horse onwards, and the army marched after him. While some of the Turks brought make-shift ladders they had built and placed then against the walls to assault Tralles and retake it, most of their army turned to face the Crusaders. They gave out a loud war cry, daring Leopold to attack. The Margrave accepted. As soon as he and his guard were in range, he gave the signal. The battle horn sounded and charge began.
The Austrian knights lowered their lances, cried aloud once more their battle cry, “DEUS VULT!”, and spurred their horses onwards straight into the heart of the enemy. The infantry followed suit: spears, swords, and axes at the ready. Leopold and his knights struck the enemy with a loud CRACK! Turks went flying in the air, thrown by the sheer force of the armoured knights colliding with them. Others were crushed by the weight of the horses running over them. Still more were impaled upon lances and then slashed by swords. Leopold and his men fought like wild men, and pushed through the Turkish line, eager to break through to the assaulting troops at the wall.
Just as the Turkish front line was recovering from the knights’ charge, the infantry struck them. Fierce fighting erupted, and men on both sides met gruesome fates under the thrusts of spears and the blows of swords and axes. Blood stained the ground and bodies collapsed. The Turkish infantry tried to hold, but without their horse archers to pepper the Crusader Army, they were weak and vulnerable.
The Turks assaulting the walls were faring better. The men of Tralles were not hardened soldiers, and many began to flee when the Turks brought their ladders to the walls. Gruffydd and Gregorios were able to hold together a small cadre of men, but without armour, they were not going to last long. Thankfully, Leopold and the knights had broken through the main Turkish line, and were now striking the Turkish assault force.
Derrick and Corentin, both having their own horses, were among the Austrian knights. Leopold looked over to them and said, “Get those ladders down!”
Derrick glared at him and said, “There are hundreds of Turks on the walls already! We need to get up there and help Gruffydd!”
“No! Tear down those ladders before more Turks get in the city! We can always assault it after the battle, but the more Turks who get in, the more men will die in the assault!” answered the Margrave.
Derrick spat at his feet and said, “You want those ladders torn down, get your men to do it! I’m climbing up there! Then, from the top I will take out those ladders and save Gruffydd!”
Leopold shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Damn Cornishman.”
Derrick and Corentin dismounted their horses and fought through the Turkish lines. While the Austrian knights took out more of the assaulting Turks and tore down ladders, Derrick and Corentin began climbing one. As Derrick climbed, he caught a Turk by the heel. The Turk looked down, and Derrick smiled. The Cornishman said, “Greetings!” and then pulled on the Turk’s leg, throwing him from the ladder. The Turk let out a scream as he fell to his death. The next man up the ladder looked down and cried something in his native tongue. He began swinging his sword at Derrick, trying to protect himself. Derrick chuckled, and clashed swords with him. With some smooth sword work, he disarmed the Turk, climbed up, and slashed him across the gut. The Turk fell to his death. Similar engagements occurred until at last Derrick reached the top of the ladder. He leapt from the top, onto the wall, and immediately threw a Turk from the wall to his death when the man struck the streets of Tralles.
Corentin was right behind him, and quickly joined him in battle. As they fought their way through the hundreds of Turks on the wall, they caught sight of Gruffydd. Derrick called to him, and began fighting his way even deeper. As the fighting grew more fierce, Derrick and Corentin became separated. Suddenly, Derrick saw Gruffydd fall to the ground after a Turk’s scimitar landed a fierce blow on the Welshman’s shield. He let out a loud war cry and rushed the man, pushing him off the wall. The Turks continued to attack, and Derrick fought them off, single-handed, as most of the Greeks who had stayed on the wall were dead or wounded.
But as the fight wore on, Derrick became tired. He tried and tried to defend Gruffydd, who lay there unconscious, but his fatigue was getting the better of him. Suddenly, a scimitar cut across the back of his head. The Cornishman sank to his knees, blood pouring from his wounds. The Turks looked at him and smiled in victory. But, before the last of his strength failed him, he let out a loud cry, spun around, and thrust his sword into the stomach of the man who had struck him. With his last breaths, he looked the Turk in the eyes, as they both lay on the ground dying, and he said, “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with that, did you?” With that, he died.
Just then Corentin arrived. He stood over Gruffydd and Derrick, refusing to leave them to his enemies. There were still several hundred Turks on the walls, but the rest of their army had been destroyed on the field of battle. They were all that was left. Thousands of Crusaders now surrounded the city. Leopold’s herald blew the trumpet signal that called for a halt to the battle. Even the Turks recognized it, and as they looked around, they realized they were done for. They dropped their weapons, put their hands on their heads, and got down on their knees.
The Turks were then taken prisoner by the Crusaders. They were sent back to Smyrna under escort, to be held there. Gruffydd was awakened from his unconscious state, and quickly rushed over to Derrick’s body. He knelt there and bowed his head. Corentin came over, knelt beside him, and said, “Derrick gave his life to save yours, Gruff. I’ve never seen a man fight like that. It was truly amazing. He even defied Leopold’s orders. That’s why we came here. To save you. Leopold wanted us to let the Turks have the wall, but to stop them everywhere else.”
Gruffydd wept and said, “If you two had obeyed him, Derrick might still be alive.”
“But you would have died,” insisted Corentin. “Derrick knew that your life was more valuable. YOU are the one who binds us together. Were it not for you, none of this would have happened. Derrick was a good man, but he was not nearly as important to the cause as you. Our unit will hold despite his death. It would not have done so if you had died.”
Gregorios came, covered in cuts and blood, and said, “The Breton is right, Gruffydd. We lost a lot of good men today, but they were lives well spent.”
Leopold had just finished climbing the ladder, and looked over the many dead. He heard what Gregorios had said and snorted, “You speak of lives as though they were money! We lost a thousand good men today!”
The Greek stood tall and said, “Yes, a thousand of our men died. And what did it accomplish? I’ll tell you. Tralles is now in your hands. That means Smyrna is secured. The Turk cannot easily take it back. This means that supplied will more easily reach the Crusader armies in the Holy Land. And what’s more, ten thousand Turks are dead! Yes, it is very sad that a thousand of your men are dead. But in dying they took ten Turks with them for each of their own that fell, and they may very well have saved thousands of Crusaders’ lives. So yes, I would say that they were lives well spent!”
Leopold sneered and said, “I just don’t like the way you speak of men’s lives in terms of currency is all. Is that all you Greeks think about? Money?”
“I resent that remark!” shouted Gregorios. “Who are you to judge my people!?”
“Brothers!” cried Gruffydd as loud as he could. “Can we not show some respect for the dead?”
Leopold and Gregorios hung their heads in shame. They apologized to Gruffydd, and moved on. That night there was much mourning among the Crusaders for their losses. The following day, they marched off, singing hymns to God. Only 5,000 men remained. They were ready to reunite with the main force of Crusaders.
crusaderknight is the author of the Byzantine AAR The Morea, a Palaeologid AAR. If you enjoyed his writing aboe, you might also want to give it a try as well. Or maybe his other AAR, The Heirs of King Arthur – A History of Wales, which is brimming with Welshmen.
Hmmm.
The crusaders sure are wasting their forces, but that's to be expected. Nicely done, though.
The crusaders sure are wasting their forces, but that's to be expected. Nicely done, though.
this one of the best ideas out there and it is one of the best written AARs out there.
Chapter Eighteen: Donnchad
by Hardraade
Following the great victory at Lake Ýznik and the subsequent fall of Nicaea, the Irish contingent had followed the main Crusader army across Anatolia with the destination being the city of Antioch. The crossing had been terrible. The heat was unbearable and their retreating enemy had made sure to leave the land ahead of them nearly devoid of food and
water. The graves of men who had collapsed on the march or died of thirst marked the path of the Irish force.
The army had paused at Heraclea and from there Donnchad had been faced with a choice. The main body of the Crusader force was intent on reaching Antioch by going east around the Anti-Taurus Mountains. However, a small group of was opting to pass through the Cilician Gates to the south. Once through, they would march on Tarsus and take what supplies they could before turning east and marching through the Belen Pass just north of Antioch. While this second route was much shorter, it also had the potential to be the most difficult as it required crossing two narrow mountain passes that could be blocked by the enemy. Also, it depended on the Crusader force traveling this route actually being able to capture Tarsus, the defenses of which were not known.
After weighing his options carefully Donnchad had decided that his men could not make the long trek around the mountains in their present state and opted to join the force moving south which seemed to be chiefly made up of Frenchmen. After a three day march they had reached the Cilician Gates and found them undefended. Thanking God for their good fortune, Donnchad and his Irishman had moved through the pass and emerged on a plain north of the city of Tarsus known as the Cilicia Pedia. It was there that he was finally confronted by the Turk.
Donnchad sat atop his horse gazing across the open field that separated him from the enemy. He figured that they were likely the main part of the force assigned to defend Tarsus and had likely been on their way to block the Cilician Gates only to find that the Crusaders had already made the crossing. Donnchad turned to his left and looked over to Brian who was glaring at the Turks with a look of pure hatred. He asked him, "What do you think their numbers are?"
"Around five thousand. The numbers favor us.", answered Brian.
"But only barely.", muttered Donnchad. Brian nodded his head and remained silent. Donnchad looked back toward the enemy and sighed. This was not a battle that he wanted to fight. Be that as it may, however, he had no real choice. His army was in poor condition and desperately needed the supplies of food and water that were held in the city. Before he could have those supplies, he needed to smash through the Turkish force in front of him.
Donnchad turned his horse around and rode back through his lines. Some of the men cheered as he passed and he acknowledged them with a wave of his hand. Most of the men simply looked grim and hardly noticed his passing at all. He guided his horse through the ranks and continued on until he came upon the spot where the commanders of his army were waiting for him.
Before him stood four kings of Ireland and the son of a fifth. His eyes touched upon each of them in turn. They seemed to have formed three separate groups while waiting for him to join them. Murchadh O'Brien, whose father ruled over the Fifth of Munster, was standing close to Ruaidri O'Connor. O'Connor ruled over the Fifth of Chonnacht and was an old ally of the O'Briens. The two kingdoms had fought together against Donnchad's bid to unify Ireland, only bending their knees to him a few short years ago, and out of habit he decided that he did not like seeing them in such close and private conversation.
Standing across from them, as if in direct opposition, were Tadg O'Neill and Muirdertach mac Gilla Patraic. The two men ruled over the Fifths of Ulaid and Leinster respectively, and were good friends of Donnchad's. Tadg was speaking to Muirdertach, but he barely seemed to be listening. He was staring down at the ground and standing with and uncharacteristically slumped-looking posture. His youngest and favorite son had fallen in battle against the Turk at Lake Ýznik and the grief of it weighed heavily on him. Donnchad knew that his friend would forever blame himself for allowing his son, a boy of not net seventeen, to join the Crusade that had ended up taking his life.
The last of the five stood alone and off to the side as usual. Trian was King of the Manx and as such was Gall Gaidhel. As a result, most of the "true blooded" Irish nobility looked down their noses at him. For his own part, Donnchad tended not to discriminate against Trian personally or the Manx in general. After all, being as how his family hailed from Ireland's eastern coast, it would not have been out of the question for him to have some Scandinavian blood flowing through his veins as well.
Donnchad ended his silent observation of the men and dismounted. Tossing the reigns to an attendant, he moved to join them. As one, they turned in his direction and bowed deeply. Though they were powerful men and kings all, Donnchad was their king- the Ard Rí na hÉireann. Before Donnchad could speak, Tadg took a slight step toward him and said, "We are prepared and await only the order to attack. The Frenchmen have sent word that they are ready to do their part as well." He said the last part as if he seriously doubted it.
Donnchad gave him a tight nod. He noticed that they were all looking at him expectantly and suddenly realized that they expected him to say something. He frowned, no doubt they hoped to hear something suitably rousing before joining battle with the enemy. No being much for making speeches, Donnchad shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another before finally saying, "May God's will be done."
The five men shared a brief look with one another before bowing to him again and dispersing to take up positions at the head of their own troops. Donnchad walked back to the line and positioned himself in the center of the line amongst the men from Dublin. To either side of him more than 6,000 Irishmen stood ready- all on foot. There would be no thunderous charge of heavy cavalry as there had been at Lake Ýznik this day. Donnchad's army had only a very small cavalry contingent and it was used only for scouting purposes. The only sizable cavalry force to hand was the Frenchmen, but they were light horse and not well suited to a direct charge. Their job would be to ride down the Turks once the Irish had put them to flight. Either that or try to cover their retreat if the battle went the other way.
Donnchad felt Brian and the rest of his personal guard take up positions just behind him. When battle the was joined they would stay close to him and give their lives to see him through safely. Brian came to stand beside him and Donnchad asked him, "What do you think? Shall we be victorious this day?"
Brian nodded his head and his eyes shone as he replied, "We are the right hand of God. The heathen cannot stand before us."
Donnchad looked away from him. His friend had always been a deeply pious man, but since they had taken the Cross his piety had been steadily shifting towards a kind of fanatical zeal that Donnchad found unnerving.
Brian handed Donnchad his shield and he gripped it firmly in his left hand. He checked the battle axe hanging from his belt before drawing his sword. He held it aloft for a long moment before letting fall to his side and striding toward the enemy. As one, the Irish line began moving forward at a slow walk. Archers loosed volleys from behind them that arched through the air before falling among the Turks. Soon, the Turks were responding in kind and men began falling among the advancing Irish. Donnchad's bodyguard surged forward and raised their shields in front of him. An arrow found one of them and he fell. Donnchad stepped over his body and continued forward. Once the Irish line drew close to the enemy, Donnchad drew air into his lungs and bellowed, "Fág an Bealach!"
6,000 voices repeated the battle cry in unison as the Irish warriors surged forward and smashed into the Turkish line with tremendous force. To Donnchad, the whole of the battle became the few feet immediately around him as he hacked and slashed at the enemy. A Turk swung a sword at his head and Donnchad blocked the blow with his shield and ran his sword through the man's stomach. No sooner had he withdrawn the blade than another enemy warrior came at him with a short spear. He sidestepped quickly, but tripped over a body and fell to the ground. The Turk advanced on him and raised his spear only to be cut down by members of Donnchad's bodyguard.
Donnchad got back to his feet and launched himself back into the swirling chaos of the battle. A Turk was hacking at the shield of a Dubliner and Donnchad stabbed him through the side. He fell and Donnchad pressed on, cutting down several more Turks as he advanced. Though he could see no farther than the struggling mass of bodies around him, Donnchad got the impression that the Turks were being pushed back steadily. Generally the Turks were poorly armed and armored compared to the Irish and they were paying dearly for it.
In the chaos of a melee battle battle lines tend to dissolve and Donnchad was reminded of that the hard way when he felt the blade of sword bite into his left shoulder from behind. Pain raced down his arm as he turned to face his attacker who was already swinging his sword again. Donnchad met the Turk's blade with his own and the blow was deflected with a clang of steel on steel. The Turk pressed the attack and Donnchad deflected the next blow with his shield. He thrust his sword toward his opponent's face and the Turk stumbled back. Donnachad rushed forward and plowed into him with his shield. The Turk fell and Donnchad pinned him to the ground with his sword.
When Donnchad turned from the corpse and back to the battle he saw that fighting continued only in small pockets. The Turks had broken and were fleeing the field. Donnchad looked to the north and was gratified to see that the French horse was moving toward him in order to pursue the retreating enemy. At the sight of the oncoming horsemen, the few members of the enemy force still fighting broke off and began to flee. The battle was over.
Donnchad looked around him slowly. Discarded shields and weapons as well as bodies covered the field around him. Most of the bodies he saw were Turks and he allowed himself to hope that his own losses were not too high. Now that the battle was over, many of his men were going about the business of checking the Turkish dead for valuables or cutting the
throats of the wounded and then checking them for valuables. He cast his eyes around and spotted Brian tying a strip of cloth around a wounded Irishman's arm. Donnchad waited until he had finished before walking over to him and saying, "Get messages to my commanders that they are to form their men up immediately and continue south to Tarsus. Each of them is to leave a small contingent behind to retrieve any useful arms and equipment and bury the dead."
Brian raised and eyebrow and asked, "All of the dead?"
Donnchad shook his head. "No, just ours. Leave the Turks to the scavengers."
Brian smiled fiercely and nodded before gathering a group of messengers to pass the order on. Within a few hours, the exhausted but exuberant Irish force was on it's way south to Tarsus. The French cavalry rejoined them soon after and they continued on to the city together. The heaps of Turkish dead they passed on the way gave evidence to the zeal with which the French had pursued the enemy after the battle.
By the time that Donnchad and his men reached the ancient city, what was left of it's meager garrison had fled after hearing of the bloody destruction of their counterparts and the Crusaders found the gates of the city open to them. The ready submission of the city did not,
however, save it from the Crusaders who thoroughly looted it over the course of the next several days.
Though the loss of more than 800 men on the Cilicia Pedia was sobering, when Donnchad left the city four days later he did so with an army that was high in morale. The fact that they had been able to get a long and comfortable rest and were fully laden with supplies of food and
water(not to mention the riches of Tarsus) had worked wonders. Donnchad turned them east to the Belen Pass and they marched off in high spirits to join the rest of the Crusading army at Antioch.
Hardraade is the author of the Irish AAR Of Men Great and Small. If you enjoyed his writing above, you might want to give it a try as well. Or else his Victoria AAR An Irishman’s Story or his Hearts of Iron 2 AAR Return to Glory.
by Hardraade
Following the great victory at Lake Ýznik and the subsequent fall of Nicaea, the Irish contingent had followed the main Crusader army across Anatolia with the destination being the city of Antioch. The crossing had been terrible. The heat was unbearable and their retreating enemy had made sure to leave the land ahead of them nearly devoid of food and
water. The graves of men who had collapsed on the march or died of thirst marked the path of the Irish force.
The army had paused at Heraclea and from there Donnchad had been faced with a choice. The main body of the Crusader force was intent on reaching Antioch by going east around the Anti-Taurus Mountains. However, a small group of was opting to pass through the Cilician Gates to the south. Once through, they would march on Tarsus and take what supplies they could before turning east and marching through the Belen Pass just north of Antioch. While this second route was much shorter, it also had the potential to be the most difficult as it required crossing two narrow mountain passes that could be blocked by the enemy. Also, it depended on the Crusader force traveling this route actually being able to capture Tarsus, the defenses of which were not known.
After weighing his options carefully Donnchad had decided that his men could not make the long trek around the mountains in their present state and opted to join the force moving south which seemed to be chiefly made up of Frenchmen. After a three day march they had reached the Cilician Gates and found them undefended. Thanking God for their good fortune, Donnchad and his Irishman had moved through the pass and emerged on a plain north of the city of Tarsus known as the Cilicia Pedia. It was there that he was finally confronted by the Turk.
Donnchad sat atop his horse gazing across the open field that separated him from the enemy. He figured that they were likely the main part of the force assigned to defend Tarsus and had likely been on their way to block the Cilician Gates only to find that the Crusaders had already made the crossing. Donnchad turned to his left and looked over to Brian who was glaring at the Turks with a look of pure hatred. He asked him, "What do you think their numbers are?"
"Around five thousand. The numbers favor us.", answered Brian.
"But only barely.", muttered Donnchad. Brian nodded his head and remained silent. Donnchad looked back toward the enemy and sighed. This was not a battle that he wanted to fight. Be that as it may, however, he had no real choice. His army was in poor condition and desperately needed the supplies of food and water that were held in the city. Before he could have those supplies, he needed to smash through the Turkish force in front of him.
Donnchad turned his horse around and rode back through his lines. Some of the men cheered as he passed and he acknowledged them with a wave of his hand. Most of the men simply looked grim and hardly noticed his passing at all. He guided his horse through the ranks and continued on until he came upon the spot where the commanders of his army were waiting for him.
Before him stood four kings of Ireland and the son of a fifth. His eyes touched upon each of them in turn. They seemed to have formed three separate groups while waiting for him to join them. Murchadh O'Brien, whose father ruled over the Fifth of Munster, was standing close to Ruaidri O'Connor. O'Connor ruled over the Fifth of Chonnacht and was an old ally of the O'Briens. The two kingdoms had fought together against Donnchad's bid to unify Ireland, only bending their knees to him a few short years ago, and out of habit he decided that he did not like seeing them in such close and private conversation.
Standing across from them, as if in direct opposition, were Tadg O'Neill and Muirdertach mac Gilla Patraic. The two men ruled over the Fifths of Ulaid and Leinster respectively, and were good friends of Donnchad's. Tadg was speaking to Muirdertach, but he barely seemed to be listening. He was staring down at the ground and standing with and uncharacteristically slumped-looking posture. His youngest and favorite son had fallen in battle against the Turk at Lake Ýznik and the grief of it weighed heavily on him. Donnchad knew that his friend would forever blame himself for allowing his son, a boy of not net seventeen, to join the Crusade that had ended up taking his life.
The last of the five stood alone and off to the side as usual. Trian was King of the Manx and as such was Gall Gaidhel. As a result, most of the "true blooded" Irish nobility looked down their noses at him. For his own part, Donnchad tended not to discriminate against Trian personally or the Manx in general. After all, being as how his family hailed from Ireland's eastern coast, it would not have been out of the question for him to have some Scandinavian blood flowing through his veins as well.
Donnchad ended his silent observation of the men and dismounted. Tossing the reigns to an attendant, he moved to join them. As one, they turned in his direction and bowed deeply. Though they were powerful men and kings all, Donnchad was their king- the Ard Rí na hÉireann. Before Donnchad could speak, Tadg took a slight step toward him and said, "We are prepared and await only the order to attack. The Frenchmen have sent word that they are ready to do their part as well." He said the last part as if he seriously doubted it.
Donnchad gave him a tight nod. He noticed that they were all looking at him expectantly and suddenly realized that they expected him to say something. He frowned, no doubt they hoped to hear something suitably rousing before joining battle with the enemy. No being much for making speeches, Donnchad shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another before finally saying, "May God's will be done."
The five men shared a brief look with one another before bowing to him again and dispersing to take up positions at the head of their own troops. Donnchad walked back to the line and positioned himself in the center of the line amongst the men from Dublin. To either side of him more than 6,000 Irishmen stood ready- all on foot. There would be no thunderous charge of heavy cavalry as there had been at Lake Ýznik this day. Donnchad's army had only a very small cavalry contingent and it was used only for scouting purposes. The only sizable cavalry force to hand was the Frenchmen, but they were light horse and not well suited to a direct charge. Their job would be to ride down the Turks once the Irish had put them to flight. Either that or try to cover their retreat if the battle went the other way.
Donnchad felt Brian and the rest of his personal guard take up positions just behind him. When battle the was joined they would stay close to him and give their lives to see him through safely. Brian came to stand beside him and Donnchad asked him, "What do you think? Shall we be victorious this day?"
Brian nodded his head and his eyes shone as he replied, "We are the right hand of God. The heathen cannot stand before us."
Donnchad looked away from him. His friend had always been a deeply pious man, but since they had taken the Cross his piety had been steadily shifting towards a kind of fanatical zeal that Donnchad found unnerving.
Brian handed Donnchad his shield and he gripped it firmly in his left hand. He checked the battle axe hanging from his belt before drawing his sword. He held it aloft for a long moment before letting fall to his side and striding toward the enemy. As one, the Irish line began moving forward at a slow walk. Archers loosed volleys from behind them that arched through the air before falling among the Turks. Soon, the Turks were responding in kind and men began falling among the advancing Irish. Donnchad's bodyguard surged forward and raised their shields in front of him. An arrow found one of them and he fell. Donnchad stepped over his body and continued forward. Once the Irish line drew close to the enemy, Donnchad drew air into his lungs and bellowed, "Fág an Bealach!"
6,000 voices repeated the battle cry in unison as the Irish warriors surged forward and smashed into the Turkish line with tremendous force. To Donnchad, the whole of the battle became the few feet immediately around him as he hacked and slashed at the enemy. A Turk swung a sword at his head and Donnchad blocked the blow with his shield and ran his sword through the man's stomach. No sooner had he withdrawn the blade than another enemy warrior came at him with a short spear. He sidestepped quickly, but tripped over a body and fell to the ground. The Turk advanced on him and raised his spear only to be cut down by members of Donnchad's bodyguard.
Donnchad got back to his feet and launched himself back into the swirling chaos of the battle. A Turk was hacking at the shield of a Dubliner and Donnchad stabbed him through the side. He fell and Donnchad pressed on, cutting down several more Turks as he advanced. Though he could see no farther than the struggling mass of bodies around him, Donnchad got the impression that the Turks were being pushed back steadily. Generally the Turks were poorly armed and armored compared to the Irish and they were paying dearly for it.
In the chaos of a melee battle battle lines tend to dissolve and Donnchad was reminded of that the hard way when he felt the blade of sword bite into his left shoulder from behind. Pain raced down his arm as he turned to face his attacker who was already swinging his sword again. Donnchad met the Turk's blade with his own and the blow was deflected with a clang of steel on steel. The Turk pressed the attack and Donnchad deflected the next blow with his shield. He thrust his sword toward his opponent's face and the Turk stumbled back. Donnachad rushed forward and plowed into him with his shield. The Turk fell and Donnchad pinned him to the ground with his sword.
When Donnchad turned from the corpse and back to the battle he saw that fighting continued only in small pockets. The Turks had broken and were fleeing the field. Donnchad looked to the north and was gratified to see that the French horse was moving toward him in order to pursue the retreating enemy. At the sight of the oncoming horsemen, the few members of the enemy force still fighting broke off and began to flee. The battle was over.
Donnchad looked around him slowly. Discarded shields and weapons as well as bodies covered the field around him. Most of the bodies he saw were Turks and he allowed himself to hope that his own losses were not too high. Now that the battle was over, many of his men were going about the business of checking the Turkish dead for valuables or cutting the
throats of the wounded and then checking them for valuables. He cast his eyes around and spotted Brian tying a strip of cloth around a wounded Irishman's arm. Donnchad waited until he had finished before walking over to him and saying, "Get messages to my commanders that they are to form their men up immediately and continue south to Tarsus. Each of them is to leave a small contingent behind to retrieve any useful arms and equipment and bury the dead."
Brian raised and eyebrow and asked, "All of the dead?"
Donnchad shook his head. "No, just ours. Leave the Turks to the scavengers."
Brian smiled fiercely and nodded before gathering a group of messengers to pass the order on. Within a few hours, the exhausted but exuberant Irish force was on it's way south to Tarsus. The French cavalry rejoined them soon after and they continued on to the city together. The heaps of Turkish dead they passed on the way gave evidence to the zeal with which the French had pursued the enemy after the battle.
By the time that Donnchad and his men reached the ancient city, what was left of it's meager garrison had fled after hearing of the bloody destruction of their counterparts and the Crusaders found the gates of the city open to them. The ready submission of the city did not,
however, save it from the Crusaders who thoroughly looted it over the course of the next several days.
Though the loss of more than 800 men on the Cilicia Pedia was sobering, when Donnchad left the city four days later he did so with an army that was high in morale. The fact that they had been able to get a long and comfortable rest and were fully laden with supplies of food and
water(not to mention the riches of Tarsus) had worked wonders. Donnchad turned them east to the Belen Pass and they marched off in high spirits to join the rest of the Crusading army at Antioch.
Hardraade is the author of the Irish AAR Of Men Great and Small. If you enjoyed his writing above, you might want to give it a try as well. Or else his Victoria AAR An Irishman’s Story or his Hearts of Iron 2 AAR Return to Glory.
The_Guiscard has kind of disappeared (I haven't heard anything from him in months) and it died out with him. I still have some outlines sitting around somewhere.
well i know it died ou with him but if anyone has ideas then maybe they can post ti them selves and maybe the AAR could contuine you with only some of the members left and we kill off the writr's characters that don't return. just and idea and even though my writing isn't that good i would voluniteer to write about someone
