February 1214
Castle Belvior, County of Tiberas
They met in the command tent by flickering candlelight. The war council consisting of Jean of Briene, the Poltiers brothers, the Count of Sidon, the Grandmasters of the Templars and Hospilters, and the irritating Lusingion boy. “My lords, it seems to me we must resolve things and soon.” King Hughes said from the head of the table, the spot Jean had hoped to claim. Alas the sneaky fucker had gotten to the meeting before everyone else, and claimed the place of honor. Jean could have fought him for it, but he had decided to be the bigger man.
“A most astute observation your Grace, the army struggles to find supplies. Meanwhile our enemies grow stronger by the day. The longer we delay seeking battle the more time the Caliph has to concentrate his forces against us.”, said the Grandmaster Guerin. Of late he had been especially sweet on the King of Cyprus. In part it was a reaction to Jean forbidding him from executing the Saracen prisoners taken at Toron. Jean had thought such displays unchivalrous, and wanted to avoid them as much as possible.
Taking on a Jew as a commander had not done him any favors with the Holy Orders as well.
The Count of Sidon made the next suggestion. “We need to wrap up the siege. I propose we fling a child over the battlements every day. By the end of next week they’ll be crawling to us for mercy.”
“I consider myself a just man, but the heretics have driven me to such wroth, that I am liking your plan, my Count of Sidon”, said grandmaster Gurrien.
Count Raymond looked like he was about to gag. His brother Bohemond was furious. “In addition to being barbarous and un-Christian, have none of you stopped to think what the Saracens would do to Christian captives after hearing of an atrocity like this. Like for example, I don’t know my wife and child besieged in Antioch?!”
“They won’t give a dam about peasants”, said Grandmaster Guillame of the Templars with evident exasperation.
“That’s a chance I am not willing to take”, said Bohemond.
“And what weight does your opinion carry my dear Prince”, Balian Grienier spat the last word. “Most of your men, all measly 300 or so are off raiding Jeresh. All you have with you are your personal guard. And I reckon I am worth all three of them.
Jean had heard enough. “All of this is a waste of time. The enemy approaches. Any serious attempt to take Belvior might be foiled by their forces. That is a risk we cannot afford. My scouts report 13,000 marching towards Ceasaria and another 6,000 gathering at Nablus. No doubt they plan to converge and attack us. We should find a suitable position and prepare for battle.”
“All the more important then that we neutralize the garrison in our rear. Unless you are too much of a coward for that, Lord Regent.” Spat Gurrien.
It took all the self control Jean had not to slug the Hospitler in the face. “Grandmaster. The Hospitlers have always fought valiantly in defense of our Kingdom. It is for that reason, and for the tender kindness of my late wife and Queen, that I forgive your trespass. But should you dare to challenge my honor again, I will have no choice but to resort to a duel to settle the matter.” They both knew the Jean was twice the fighter the grandmaster was. That didn’t mean that he would admit to being cowed though. The grandmaster cursed a series of foul oaths. “Well let us see what the true monarch her thinks”, he said gesturing to Hughes.
The King looked around nervously. Jean had to laugh. He had tried to look important without making any decisions. Well now commend fell into his lap. Let the little shit see how much he liked being blamed for everything.
At last he said “Grandmaster, I admire your courage in battle and your zeal in confronting the heathen. However I think Jean has made some observations that cannot be dismissed.
He turned to the war council. “What say you my lords”
The others hemmed and hawed and tried to maintain their pride, but in the end they all reached the same conclusion. An immediate assault was too risky, it was logistically impossible to stay long enough for a proper siege, and Balian Greinier’s suggestion was simply too barbaric to be adopted. The army had to move on, but to where? They left the meeting having made no progress.
Jean decided he’d go to see the Baron of Haifa and the Mayor of Acre, who were in charge of coordinating supplies, as befit their mercantile inclinations.
The explained the grim state of things to him and Jean in turn found himself grousing about the council meeting to them. It was probably because Alphonse had left to command the scouts, it was his report that had informed Jean of the converging enemy forces.
They did not seems surprised at all by the discord of the meeting. “Most of us wanted to take no prisoners, or at least cut that bastard’s head off. We lost a lot of men in the assault. After enduring agony like that, a man deserves vengeance”, said Haifa, who Jean knew had spent the battle at the rear, claiming that he needed to “direct” the siege engines from afar.
Mayor Amedee agreed. “While I would never go so far as harming a child, at least not at first, Sidon is not wrong that a certain display of force might be in order.”
Jean growled. “At least tell me you would have hanged Gurrien for what he did, if he were any other man that is.”
Haifa stroked his beard and got that annoying far away look that men who thought too much often had. “If he were any other man yes, but he is not. We cannot afford to alienate him.”
Jean was about to say that he knew that when a horn sounded. One blast, that was for scouts returning.
A party of knights was let past by the camp guard. They carried the royal banner, and Jean recognized the man at it’s head at once.
“I’m surprised the Saracens didn’t shoot you full of arrows.”
“They tried.” Alphonse removed his helmet. “And as you can see they failed.”
“I’ve missed you good sir”
“And you as well your Grace.” He gestured to a man in the formation. Credit to the Marshall, he was riding to every village to scrounge up men until the enemy were almost upon him. It’s how we found this vital news.”
The man removed his helmet.
Well shit. It was Marshall Yves, who had used his duties as an excuse to make himself scare. His wedding to a Saracen woman and not made him many friends amongst the nobility.
He dismounted and kneeled. When he spoke he did so quickly and with urgency. “Your Grace, there is so much I wish to explain to you, but the matter I have before you is too urgent to be put alongside any lesser concern.”
“Speak of it then”, Jean said gruffly.
“Your Grace, I bring urgent news. The enemy army, all of it, has been seen converging on Haifa. I saw them when I was recruiting from a nearby village. I only barely made it out. Most of the recruits were not so lucky.”
“I can second his account. We found him engaged in a fighting retreat from enemy scouting cavalry. The Marshall and his men fought well.”
“Dam how well they fought, my family is in that castle. I have made improvements since coming into the barony but the truth is that Haifa will not be able to hold for long. We need to march at once.” Arnol’s tone of voice would brook no disagreement, not even from his King.
“It’s not just the Baron’s lands that are at risk. Once they take Haifa, I have no doubt they will try to take Acre and capture the Queen. We can’t let that happen. It would be the ruin of the Kingdom”, exclaimed Mayor Amedee.
“Those were my thoughts exactly. That’s why were rode straight for your camp”, said Yves.
Jean grimaced. “You lords are son keen on forming a response that it seems you hardly need your King”, Jean said with biting sarcasm. He couldn’t let them forget who was in charge.
Even more importantly, he couldn’t let the enemy capture his family. They’d probably treat them courteously, Saladin had always been known to be chivalrous to the wives and children of defeated foemen.
Still, Jean couldn’t take the chance. With a girl so young, they might try to raise her in their faith, maybe throw her in his son’s harem when she came of age. Jean would not allow that to happen to his little girl. He wouldn’t let it happen to Maria’s little girl. He had pledged to protect her and failed. The least he could do was keep her daughter safe.
On a more venal level, a regent who couldn’t protect the Queen would surely be deposed, and that was assuming there was even a kingdom of Jerusalem to rule over, which if Acre fell, seemed highly unlikely.
It was ironic. He had moved the Queen and royal court to Acre to keep them safe, and yet the Muslims had only sent raiders into Jaffa-Askelon, preferring to head through Hebron and bypass the County’s fortified cities and towns.
Jean called an immediate council of war to explain the situation. “Well it seems your plan to just sit and wait for battle has gone to shit, my lord of Breiene.” The grandmaster almost spat the last word. Jean’s resolve though was unbroken.
“You will address me as your grace or I will expel you from this tent.”
The grandmaster stood up, showing off his impressive physique. “With what army? Be careful good sir knight. We Hospitlers are not just one of the strongest armies in Outremer, we have friends all over Europe. The fool who angers us would have great cause to regret his actions.”
King Hughes stepped between the men. “My lords, whatever else has happened the reality is that we cannot let Acre fall. My men will march with the regent.” The other lords gave their ascent.
It was no easy thing to move a town of some twenty thousand souls, let alone move it at a rapid pace, and discreetly. They kept a tight formation, with the Templars and Hospitlers holding the front and rear of the column. The made good time, in spite of the difficulties. Still, everyone’s nerves were wracked.
Jean sent Alphonse off to resume his scouting. Before he left, Alphonse advised him to put as much of the army as possible under the command of his loyal vassals. “The Cyrpiots and Hospitlers especially are not to be trusted.” He warned. Jean already knew that, but having Alphonse say it only strengthened his resolve. “
They encountered the enemy host arrayed for battle, having evidently broken off the siege, or having never begun one in the first place. Regardless, they held the high ground on the slopes of Mount Caramel.
Alphonse and the Mayor Amedee rode up to Jean. “We’ve scouted the enemy positions. They number around 13,000.”
“But where are the rest? Jean thought for a bit. “They might be preparing to ambush us.”
Jean would not risk deploying his cavalry just yet, he would need them as a counter if the rest of the Muslim army showed itself. Jean took up a position on a rise behind the battle lines to command the battle.
The infantry formed up into three groups. The first, under Count Raymond, who had insisted on fighting with his men on foot, agains the usual protocol of his rank, was on the left.
The center would be led by the Count’s vassal, the mayor of Tripoli, who was a brilliant strategist and had experience in leading assaults over rough terrain.
He would be assisted in this by Alphonse. Hallel would command Jean’s forces on the right. He would be joined by contingents from the Holy Orders and Cyprus, to make sure he did not defect to the enemy or attempt to spread subversion amongst the soldiers.
Most of the nobles, including Prince Bohemond, and the commanders of the Templars and Hospitlers, would stay in the center and charge when the enemy had been softened up, or if the rest of the Islamic army showed itself.
The entire battle line line moved forward, the skirmishers exchanging fire with the enemy. Occasionally squadrons of light cavalry would rush out and attempt to disrupt the the Egyptian and Turkish light infantry scattered about on the hillside.
The Count of Tripoli ordered his men to halt and form a shield wall, but the formation was sloppy, Jean guessed the men had difficulty with the rocky terrain. In contrast the Muslim force on the left was able to flawlessly repel both arrow fire and the teasing charges of the light cavalry, including the special camel cavalry that Jean hadn’t seen in any European army.
In the center, Alphonse and the mayor played a careful game of cat and mouse with the Captain of the Malmucks, whose banner flew above the battlefield. Both sides fainting and flexibly moving their infantry and skirmishers forwards and back, searching for an opening and covering weak spots.
On the right Hallel was able to repulse all attempts to skirmish with his forces. The strength of the Jew’s shield walls would impress even the Romans of old. Meanwhile his own skirmishers counterattacked to devastating effect, raining arrows down on the lightly armed Ayubid infantry and sweeping their light cavalry from the field. Jean couldn’t help but contain his admiration.
However the attack soon became confused and the formation began to break. Jean cursed under his breath. In his years of soldiering Jean had carefully crafted a commander’s voice. He used that now. “Baron Haifa, I’m leaving to inspect the right. Your in command here. We’ve practiced together, and I trust you not to do anything I wouldn’t do in the same circumstance. Do not disappoint. Am I understood?”
“Yes your grace”, the Baron yelled back, but Jean was already riding furiously for the right. No doubt the others would protest, but he did not trust this collection of green boys to make the right decision. And while the Holy orders were skilled, after their recent quarrels, he had headed Alphonse’s advice and not trusted them with his interests.
He reached the right under heavy arrow fire, where Hallel was in a furious back and forth with a flock of Bishops led by Bishop Aimery of Konstantenia.
“You cannot expect men of god to shed their blood on the orders of one whose people shed the blood fo Christ!” Exclaimed another of Hughes’s Bishops, Henri if Jean recalled his name correctly.
“You are doing so under the orders of Jean of Breine, King of Jeruslum by marriage, who has ordered you to obey me. Defying me is defying him, and I think you both know the usual punishment for desertion on a battlefield.”
“You dare speak such words to a priest of god Christkiller!”, exclaimed one templar Knight, who drew steel. Jean raced up and blocked the blade with his sword.
“What’s your name Sir?”
“My father called me Aimery, Sir”, spat the Templar.
Well this will make things mighty confusing.
(picture.)
“Well, Sir Aimery. Any scratch you make on my commander, I will personally inflict on you tenfold.” Jean shouldn’t have cared one whit what happened to the Jew. But it had been a long and bloody day, his nerves were frayed, and he would not tolerate the disrespect of having a commander he chose be gutted by his own allies.
Bishop Aimery spoke first. “Your Grace”, my apology for the impasse. We did not want to trouble you”
“Well you did a fine fucking job of that”, Jean spat, like a common soldier.
“I understand your needs as a king, to find quality commanders I mean. And unlike some here”, he glared at his colleague and at the Templar knights. “I do not hate Hallel, in fact I think him a fine soldier. But he is not a Christian, and the fact remains that until he is baptized, he remains unfit to lead Christians into battle.” The priest exhaled a breath. Jean got the sense that he was not used to defying authority figures. The common soldiers didn’t seem to mind Hallel, but it was clear that the’d lost the respect of their leaders, who were men Jean needed.
Should I really buckle to some ranting fanatics in the middle of a battle.
Hallel spoke through gritted teeth. “Your Grace, it would appear that I have lost the confidence of those I command. I can’t hope to lead them if they do not wish to be led. I request that you relieve me.”
He’s falling on his sword for me. “I accept your offer Hallel.” He turned to the Bishop. “Do not disappoint me. Continue the attack.”
He bowed. “Yes your Grace.”
Jean returned to his horse. “Hallel you come with me.”
“I am in your debt”, Jean declared as they kicked there horses into motion.
“I will remember that”, Hallel replied.
Riding back to the center, he witnessed a commotion. The Mamlucks had launched a devastating charge, forcing the center group off the hill. The light infantry rallied and stood firm. Jean knew this was Alphonse’s work. The common born knight had a way with infantry that even an expected commander like Jean couldn’t help but envy.
Jean watched in horror as the banners of the cavalry receded.
That son of a whore means to leave me to die. But they did not flee. They wheeled around to the right, where a gap had formed between Alphonse’s troops and those in the center. It was a reckless move. The charge could easily scatter, or hit their own men. But the King was young and hot headed and no doubt though himself invincible.
The charge took the enemy center in the flank, sending it to flight.
The die was cast. Jean rode up to Baron Arnol who was pale in the face. “Your Grace, I tried to stop them, but the King said..”
“Never mind what the Lusingion boy said, we’ll deal with that later. Send whatever reserves we still have to the right.
Infused with new reinforcements, the right surged forward. The enemy must have thought Jean’s left was weakened, because he sent his left flank’s light cavalry forward. Jean hastened to the left with his personal guard. H was concerned that the left might have collapsed, but Count Raymond had halted them to devastating effect.
“Mind if I join you my lord Count”, he asked courteously.
“It would be my honor your Grace”, Raymond said with a laugh.
The enemy line was broken. Unable to reform on the high ground, the outcome was inevitable. Jean couldn’t tell which broke first, the center or the right, but in the end it hardly mattered. The enemy was swept from the field
Cheers rang out from the battlements of Castle Haifa. Banners of the Knights Templar and Hospitiler, as well as the royal sigil were easy enough to find. A red drape was festooned with a cross to make a hasty banner of Tripoli. Jean spied an battered and worn old old shield with the quartered red and lilies on blue of Antioch, probably from the third Crusade being held aloft. So it seemed not even Bohemond’s minor contribution had not been forgotten. For a time it seemed all the old quarrels had been forgotten. King Hughes clasped arms with Alphonse and complimented his valor, while Alphonse returned the sentiment.
Both of the Grandmasters agreed Jean had picked the right place to seek battle.
The gates of Haifa castle swung open in triumph, inviting the victorious arm to rest and revel. The keep itself was not nearly large enough accommodate the entire army. A few lords and knights entered while the majority pitched their tents outside, or else took up quarters in the town.
The castle itself was nothing impressive. A stout keep with a view overlooking a small town with a well developed harbor. Jean assumed the efforts at refurbishment had been courtesy of the current Baron Haifa, who was displaying his castle to the gathered grandees.
“It’s not much, certainly not compared to what it once was. I thank the first Crusaders for taking this castle for Christ, but alas, I fear they were a bit overzealous in their destruction of the old town.”
Bishop Henri could not abide this insult upon the Crusaders of old. “This city teamed with Christkillers and money changers. What was done was righteous.” Amery the Knight could not resist joining in. If anything any true Christian should regret the fact that any escaped, and that those who died did so by the sword, and not the flame. Unless you are a heretic lover like our good Baron Monsinguard. My understanding is that she is not of Latin blood.”
Haifa rounded on him. “I am a man of god, be thankful for that or you’d be flat on your ass. But do not presume to insult me or my lady wife in my castle or I swear I shall give you a thrashing worse than the horrid things you no doubt like to do to alter boys. She is a Maronite Christian she took the Latin rite when we wed. No man can question her piety. As for your other complaints, since when was it a crime for a lord to wish his dominions be rich and prosperous.”
Hallel laughed. “I suppose you think I’d be able to help improve your lands.”
“Would you?” The Baron asked earnestly.
Hallel laughed. “In the past I would have lied and said yes, taken your gold, and run off. But your Frankish honor must be rubbing off on me. So I will confess, I have little say where my people choose to establish themselves. That said, your business sense, and keen ability to administer justice, should go a long way to brining back Haifa’s lost prosperity.”
They were feasted courtesy of Arnol’s wife, the lady of Bursa of Haifa. She was a plain tan woman who looked much like the servants that waited upon them, both in her physical appearance and in the modesty of her dress.
“I prayed for deliverance and I see my prayers were answered. Praise god,”
“Praise god”, the men said in agreement.
“Was our son frightened?” The Baron asked.
“Little Adalbert is fine. He didn’t really understand what was happening. He will be so happy to see his father.”
King Hughes seemed to be lost in thought.
Baron Arnol turned to his wife. “Do we have any news for any of these noble lords?”
The lady tapped her fingers together and twitched. “I..I..” Her husband took her hand with a gentleness that surprised Jean. “Take your time love.” He turned to the other nobles apologetically.
“Oh yes, I cannot believe I forgot this, I am sorry your Grace. A letter arrived from Cyprus. It was about your wife.”
The King was anxious. “Are she and the baby well?”
She smiled. “More than well, you are most blessed your Grace. But I believe you should read the letter yourself.” She sent a servant to go fetch the letter.
“Did you here any news from my wife, from the Queen?” asked Jean.
“Yes my King regent, your wife and daughter have reached Acre safely. Things seem to be going well, though I was told their was some turmoil related to cats.” Jean pushed that bit of lunacy to the side.
“Did she say anything about her condition?”
“Her condition.”
Jean sighed. He couldn’t be subtle around a dimwit. “Is my wife with child?”
“I’m sorry your Grace, but if she is it was not mentioned in any of the letters sent here. Though she did mention some trouble with cats.”
Jean didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.
The servant returned with the letter. The King read it with a smile on his face. When he finished, he threw the paper to the ground. “It was twins all along. I am the father of two beautiful little girls.”
“Condolences your grace.”, said Grandmaster Guillame.
The king found that amusing. “Condolences. My good sir you are mistaken, I am the happiest prince in Christendom.”
“But your Grace, I was told you were hoping for a son.”
“And so I was, but I reckon two princesses are worth one prince. Besides, Alix is happy and healthy and their is nothing to stop us from trying for more once the war is done.”
Jean couldn’t help but scowl. It was robbing salt in the wounds. At their wedding Jean had thought he’d gotten the better deal. Yet now the King of Cyprus had two twin girls and a pretty wife who adored him, while Maria lay beneath the ground, and had left him with only one measly daughter.
If only it had been a son, then I could have claimed Cyprus. But it seemed God had decided to test him.
Grandmaster Guerin stood. “Well your Grace, I would like to give you one last blessing. I will be writing to the Pope, requesting that he make you overlord of Outremer”
Jean leapt to his feat furiously. “He has no right to the Kingdom of Jerusalem.
The Grandmaster laughed. “His father was King, unlike yours. Amery the Second was one of the best. He held off the Saracens and gave these lands order and justice. Great dynasties have been made from less. Maybe your daughter will be allowed to remain as his vassal. All I know is that the Holy Land needs the leadership of a true King and not some up jumped tourney knight.”
“What of the rights of the old nobility to reclaim their titles??”, Balian Grienier asked.
The Grandmaster laughed. “They lost their rights when they let god’s holiest Kingdom fall into heretic hands. They brought their plight on themselves through their decadence, and I see no indication the current lot are any different.”
Jean turned to King Hughes. “Your grace, you must refute this, immediately.”
The whole room was silent. Finally the king spoke. “I am but a man, and kingship is decreed by god. I will follow the precedent of Charlemagne and leave the decision to the Pope and the High Court of Jerusalem.”
Jean laughed. “Comparing yourself to Charlemagne, you are a humble one.”
The King lost it at that. “Go fuck yourself Breine, I won this damm battle for you! The least you could do is give me some dammed respect. Though I suppose expecting you to act like a King is too much. You after all are just a mere consort.”
Jean stormed out of the room. “I can’t believe I thought you a man of honor”, Alphonse spat at King Hughes, before following Jean.
Mayor Amedee ran after them.
Jean stomped all the way to the stables in a rage fueled haze. “Prepare the men, we’re leaving.”
The Mayor seemed like he wanted to say something, but demurred.
Grandmaster Guillame came running after them. “If you wish to keep your Kingdom you will listen to me!”, he called. That got Jean’s attention.
“I know you are angry with the Hospitlers, and you have a right to be, but you cannot separate your force from the rest of the army. We still do not know where the rest of the Egyptian army went, or when their reinforcements will arive. If we are to win this war we must stay together. At least until our reinforcements arrive.”
“And in exchange?” Jean knew the young Grandmaster was right, but wanted to get some reward for all his hard work. The Templars were a strong force, they could prove useful to him in many ways.
Guillame sighed. “In exchange for working nicely with the others, I will keep the Templar order bound to Jeruslum for the duration of this Crusade.”
Jean scowled. It wasn’t the reward he was hoping for.
“He’s right, said Alphonse. If nothing else, doing so would allow us to keep a watch on the King of Cyprus.”
Jean sighed. He deserved so much better. The traitors deserved to be punished. But right now he was in delicate straights and had few options.
“All right Grandmaster, we’ll do it your way.”
Note: So that was my first battle chapter and boy was it rough. Sorry for the delay, I just moved back into college and was also having difficulties writing battle scenes. School is going to be really demanding. I have to write a BA thesis, Read Anna Karenina for a Russian literature class, and write a paper on that, take a class on the French revolution and Napoleon, which involves multiple essays and if you can believe it an AAR for Napoleon total war, and create a Portfolio for a final English class. Considering my difficulties with battle scenes, and my schedule, future instalments will be delayed and I might change this story to be more of a history book AAR. You will still get plenty of characterization, my model would be George RR Martin's Fire and Blood. I am however still committed to finishing the Crusade arc in the conventional style by the end of this semester. Wish me luck.
