Apulian Camp
4 JULY 1068
Bohemond watched as the prince of Capua's envoys rode out of the Apulian camp, at a gallop lest they be detained by over-zealous guardsmen who had watched them negotiate for two days with increasing pompousness. The horsemen dissappeared down the Appian Way towards the city and the camp of their enemy that no doubt was just as active tonight as his own; tonight had been the end of Serlo's ultimatum for peace, tomorrow there would be battle.
Some of the lords were apprehensive; they did not expect to fight what turned out to be two companies of Venician mercenaries, nearly 100 trained crossbowmen and a troop nearly as many Swabian swordsmen led by a monster of a man called Gunter, who's father had fought at Civiate. Those, coupled with Richard of Aversa's own retinue of nearly a thousand would make for quite a battle.
Serlo had already sent dispatches to Benevento for reinforcements, but they would arrive late for the battle all knew. Now there was nothing to do but trust in the strengh of arms and God, Bohemond had told the men he'd spoken with at dinner that night.
On the morrow, it had been decided that Serlo would deploy his main force in the center of the field across a broad front lined with spearmen and foot sergeants mailed in chain much as his knights. Behind them would stand the few archers they had mustered, and the dismounted knights with sword and shield would stand inbetween the two, ready to rush to the forefront when the enemy closed.
On the wings would ride the knights, divided equally on the left and right flanks with some 150 knights and as many sergeants on each side. Serlo and Bohemond would ride with the Ducal escort knights, and Bohemond was strictly forbidden to take part in any fighting, but to watch the battle unfold to study its manoeuvres and tactics.
* * * * *
05 JULY, 1068, Dawn
The Battle of Capua
The sun's pink light crested the snowy mountains distant and illuminated the eastern horizon . A thin mist hung low on the plain, droplets of condensation covered the tall grasses and the armor and weapons of the gathered hosts. Crickets could be heard chirping, unawares of the rancor that was soon to be unleashed in this palce.
In the distance, the early morning light glittered on the forest of spears and lances of the Capuan army and its allies. They had deployed themselves across the Appian Way, with their center and right flank heavy with the Swabian mercenaries and swordsmen in bright tabards and mail. The line stretched out a good few hundred meters beyond that with spearmen and sergeants, with Richard of Aversa's cavalry on the far left and himself with his knights in the center. Behind them were assembeled his archers, mostly untrained, but a fearsome force was present in the Venician crossbowmen who stood ready to unleash a shower of piercing bolts.
Across the distance the Apulian army was assembling in the dawn mists, and Serlo had set up his command post near a small copse of trees that overlooked the plain and the road. In this center the Ducal knights were armored and ready astride their destriers who stood eager to gallop across the field, stirring restlessly. Here too Bohemond was, mounted on his own chestnut stallion, watching with great anticipation. He was armed and armored for protection but would not be participating in the battle, and the knights around him were under strict orders to protect his life at all costs.
The Apulian cavalry cantered slowly into a long line facing the Capuans, the knights moving their steeds into precision formations practiced for years and years, their lances held easily in mailed hands, banners flying from the tips. They were moving at a slow, steady march, yet still the ground thundered from their hoofbeats.
In the line, men did the last minute things soldiers do before a battle. The nervous habits of checking equipment common to all ages, the buckling of straps, the adjusting of helmets or sore spots in the armor, the slow, methodical cleaning of one's weapon or shield. The sergeants and men-at-arms, the common soldiers, all stood in the line with spear or sword ready to face whatever survived after the charge of the heavy cavalry.
In the rear, the Apulian archers had already strung and tightened their curved bows, for they would begin the battle with the duel of missles common to warfare in the era. They stood back from the main line, and most of them could not even see the enemy. Their sergeants stood ahead, however, in positions of observance and could call back carefully ordered distances and fire orders to their formations. Each man carried a leather quiver with thirty barbed arrows, but by the time the battle was joined each man would be lucky to fire half of that number. They were not experts, most of them hunters or simply men who could afford no other weapon but the bow. Drilled for a few days, now they could preform the rudimentary aspects of military archery, but would carry a battle by no means.
As the cavalry finished its march into formation, the priests conducted their prayers over the formation and gave men their graces. Serlo rode toward the line of archers and gave the command to their lieutenant to commence their barrage.
"Archers!" Echoed the call along the line, repeated by the sergeants.
They drew an arrow and readied it, aiming upwards as their leaders gave the distance. "Loose!" Came the command, and the field echoed with the thrum of dozens of shafts flying into the air that is unforgettable once heard.
Already the Capuan formation was marching foward, it seems Richard was not one to stand in place when action could be taken. He had decided on the offense, to seize the initiative in this engagement.
The Apulian Archers
Bohemond's steed was restless as movement commenced across the field. He stood up in his saddle to get a better vantage, and was sure to study the movements of the units and formations. Richard wasted no time, already his knights were moving into a wedge and steadily crossing the field. Behind him his lines moved in good accord to close the distance as arrows rained around his men, catching the unlucky through a shoulder or leg and throwing them to the ground in agony. Many more of the shafts struck shields or glanced off mail or simply flung into the ground. Men were already screaming in fear, and some horses had been hit by arrows and were struggling to keep their footing.
The metallic crunch of Richard's army on the march was a fascinating sound to Bohemond, and he was awestruck by the power these two men held over their respective hosts, Serlo and his opponent.
Bohemond's Vantage Point
Serlo watched the battle as it unfolded before him with a masterful eye, Richard was no tactician and was resorting to brute force. He calmly issued orders to his runners who carried his messages up and down the line as the arhcers continued to fire one arrow after the other. Soon the fire was returned by the Capuan archers across the field, and arrows began to strike the front ranks of footmen. The crossbowmen had not been moved yet, oddly. A horn was heard across the field and Serlo could see Lord Richard waving his sword and his knights began an all out charge across the plain.
They moved into two columns and spurred their horses into a thunderous gallop, lances lowered. Dust kicked up behind them and rose in great clouds as they rode directly towards the center of Serlo's main line. What bravado, he thought wryly. On his orders, the front ranks lowered their longspears and prepared to receive the charge. Men shook as they tried to control their fear watching the knights approach, their lances gleaming in the dawn light.
Richard Charges the Apulian line
With a thunderous crash the Capuans broke on the spearmen like a wave hitting the rocky shore and horses crashed into bloodied speartips. Men were swept aside like dolls as the cavlary stampede through them, and soldiers tripped over their dead companions left and right as they struggled to retain their footing. Spears were shivered and lances broken as each struck home, riders were flung from their horses violently only to be stabbed as they lie on the ground with broken limbs. Horses screamed like men and men screamed like horses.
Serlo shouted orders left and right as chaos erupted in the Apulian line. He struggled to keep good order in his ranks and yelled the fear of God himself into his men to hold in place. He ordered the archers to contine their barrage and sent messages to the knights on the flanks to sweep in and charge the Capuan center, cutting Richard off from his force. The dismounted swordsmen and sergeants were ordered forward to charge the Capuans, and all rushed forward with battle cries and raised weapons, to stab, claw, pull men from their horses and empty their bowels with sword and spear.
The battle was joined truely as the bulk of the opposing forces met in the clash of steel on steel and the press of bodies. The cacophony of the engagement was deafening, the din of metal, the flight of arrows, the screams of the wounded and terrified. Richard's Swabian swordsmen fought like devils out of some northern mythology, and swung their heavy two-handed swords like giant clubs that split men and horses asunder, armor and all. The grasses were stained red with blood as the reaper enjoyed his work that morning and the flower of youth of two regions were cut down.
Richard's horsmen cut through the main line and began to engage the defenseless archers who were cut down like dogs and began to flee for what else could they do. Serlo drew his sword and ordered the Ducal guards into a counter-charge to hold off the Count of Capua's advantage. Two of the knights swung round to guard Lord Bohemond.
"Lord, ride this way, it is not safe here," one said, his voice muffled by his helm.
Bohemond and the two knights galloped back through the copse of trees, Bohemond looking over his shoulder as he did to catch glimpses of the carnage that was still unfolding. The din was swallowed up as they rode into the forest and shadows fell around them for the sun had still not fully risen.
Bohemond did not even suspect as the club struck him in the back of the head and lights flashed before his eyes. He slumped in the saddle with a groan and fell to the earth in a metallic crash of armor on the dirt. His horse neighed and walked off.
The other knight turned around and mouthed "What the hell are you--" as he drew his sword half-way, a dagger appeared from nowhere it seemed in his unprotected throat and a gout of blood sprayed out across his tunic. His sword had not yet been drawn when he fell out of his saddle and collapsed to the earth.
Alexius removed the masked helm, and tossed it aside. Dismounting, he walked to the unconscious Norman lord and with a smile began tying his hands with a fine, silken rope.
I, too, wonder if Bohemond can get some justice or if he is doomed to be disinherited.
