The Squabbling Welsh (CK+)

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This is my first AAR after enjoying reading so many here. I'm playing as the Kings of Deheubarth using CK+. I've lived in Dyfed for a few years, and i've tried to bring out some of the modern speech into the AAR, for better or worse!

Work to be done

‘Sire! Ifan’s up in the North Tower, He say’s he is going to jump off of it!’

‘Righto, I’ll be there in a minute now.’



I follow my anxious courtier and swing a cloak around my shoulders to fend of the cold showers of my homeland. A small crowd is forming in the courtyard trying to see what might happen, but they part to let me through. The winding staircase seems to take an age to get up. My wet feet slip on the smooth planks of the staircase. It’s not easy on my knees either and by the top of the top I’m trying to hide how out of breath I am. I see Ifan, Standing on the top of a crenulations, peering down over the walls to the long drop below.

Still out of breath I walk up next to him.

‘Don’t you come any closer! S, s, Sire’ he stammers out recognising me. I stay quiet for a minute and look down the undulating curves of the Tywi flowing through the green fields like a long silver snake below the leaden clouds.

‘Have you ever left Dyfed Ifan? No, no, of course you haven’t. This here is Gods country, right enough. Even on a day like this where it’s tamping down and were all soaked, it can still take your breath away.’

I glance up at him, and rest my hands on a crenulations. The wind is whipping up my cloak around me and the rain is getting more and more horizontal.

‘You must be freezing up there mun.’ He nods. ‘On a clear day you can just about see Carmarthen from here. You’re from there aren’t you? Your Mam doing alright this winter?’

‘Aye Sire yes, she’s gettin’ by alright’ Ifan hesitantly replied.

‘Good that. Family’s important, gotta keep them close, especially in winter, Must be hard enough to cope with herself and, do you have brothers Ifan? sisters?’

‘Aye, to little un’s, brothers that is. Always hungry! I send her some coins Sire she gets-‘ He cuts off, frowning, and looks back down at the drop.

‘Winter can be harsh, especially to children.’ I don’t want him to think too much of that drop.

‘We’re all sorry Sire, about last winter, terrible thing that.’ The lad even sounds sorry. He glances away from the drop and down to me.

‘To loose you family, it’s- its-‘ I hesitated, remembering. ‘It’s intolerable.’

‘I’m sorry again Sire, I-’ He stopped. Obviously not used to speak to his masters so candidly.

‘Do you want a hand down mun? looks slippery up there.’ I offer him a hand. I’m not going to have one of my spearmen jump to his death from my tower. No more deaths in Dinefwr.

‘You can head to the treasury. Get some silver. For your old Mam, get her and her boys well fed this winter. I’m going to need more young spearmen this year.’

That seems to seem the deal. With a little help the young man slithers down the wet wood and onto the parapet next to me, taking to his knees.

“I’m sorry Sire, it’s my girl see? She got the flux too, and I-‘ He looked up, the black curls of hair reminding so much of what I had lost.

‘Alright boyo, get up. There’s work to be done.’



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I am Meredudd II, by the grace of God King of Deheubarth. I am a king of a single county. I am 56 years old. I am without a wife. I am without a son. This has to change.



Back in my keep I stride up the fire unwrapping myself from the soaking cloak. My half-brother stands next to the fire. He is back from his travels. Seeing me he bows deeply a roguish smile on his face

‘What news?’ I’m not sure I want to know the answer. The rain outside is hardly a good omen.

‘His grace is well, still strong and just in his old age’ I nod. This I know, the Duke of Burgandy is known as the old. Obviously I must endure some theatrics from Rhys.

I stretch my arms out towards the fire and warm up my hands. Seeing I am not playing his game he cuts to the point.
‘He would be honoured Sire, to join his noble house to the glorious house of Dinefwr.’

I let out a slow sigh of relief. It had been a gamble even though our two houses had much in common. Burgandy was caught between the grasping lords of the Normandy on one border and the pressing masses of Flanders on the other. I knew how Duke Robert felt. The King of Gwynedd on my Northern borders and the rebel counties of Glamorgan and Gwent on my east. Allies need to be chosen carefully.

‘What is she like Brother?’

‘Constance? She is a fair maid indeed, kind, gentle and just. Like her Father, and you, well apart from the gentle bit. She will be on her way in the New year.’ I begin to smile, it is a strange feeling these days. With a wife comes the chance to build a new legacy, one that was taken from me last year and one to ensure the future of my house.

‘Well done brother, you have done well. You deserve a fine reward. We must speak with Ceneu the Steward. We need to build our fortunes for this coming year. Much must be done. Is Madog back yet?’

‘I think so, I heard him bellowing at the men on my way up here. As for my reward brother, I think I may have got that sorted for myself.’

Something about his tone makes me pause. I put down the goblet I was about to drink out of to celebrate the good news.

‘Oh yes?’

‘Well, with all the marriage going on, I thought It would be a good idea if I-’

‘Who Rhys? I cut him off. Angry. Rhys had never made good matches for himself in the past.

‘Relax brother! I wouldn’t bring shame to the house! I’m marrying a princess!’ A sly little smile plays across his face.

‘Who Rhys?’ I raise my voice. The second son, the half brother marrying a princess?

‘Oh no one we know, she is the third daughter of the king of Denmark.’

‘Denmark? Christ Rhys mun! Are we allied to the Danes?

 

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To Win a Kingdom

To win a Kingdom

‘Archers forward!’ I cried, my voice nearly being lost in the turmoil surrounding me.

‘Get moving you dogs! Forward! Get up there!’ Madog’s voice boomed out. He ran forward pushing and striking the unlucky bowmen who were closest to him.

They moved forward, their own captains calling out the order to advance. In front of them, across the damp valley floor was the army of Glamorgan. Their archers were already forward, hugging the riverbank. They looked like they would take a lot of shifting. No wonder our boys didn’t want to advance.

‘We should have em’ Sire, two to one I reckon.’ Madog was back, looking up at me with a grin on his face.

‘They chose the ground though’. I looked across the valley. It was narrower than I would like and no doubt the land next to the river would be far to wet for my cavalry. At least there weren’t any trees on the flanks, no surprises waiting for me once I’ve committed the men.

‘Can’t have everything Sire! Nice enough for them to come out and welcome you to your land!’ Madog was far too cheerful. This was to be his first war. My marshal had spent most of his time fighting off small raiding parties, and leading retaliatory attacks. Now would be his chance to prove his mettle.

For a year I had my steward Cenau building up the treasury ready for war. The counties of Glamorgan and Gwent were traditionally within the kingdom of Deheubarth. I aimed to bring back this tradition. Glamorgan was first on the list.

Have you ever seen archers loose in a battle? The arrows look like huge clouds of starlings except they only move in an arc. An arrow storm some call it. It’s pretty silent but very dangerous. When the arrows come down they are impossible to see, if they are coming down right on top of you. So many brave boys look up at the arrows as they come down. It’s usually the last thing they see.

It normally comes down to numbers. Which side can put more arrows into an area first. You don’t aim for individuals; you just try and get your arrow to hit the area where the other side is standing.

Luckily our boys had the numbers. Madog was right. I had counted Glamorgan’s levy over and over, and we did have them about 2 to one. All the taxes for the last year had been saved. I had sent the word out I was looking for mercenaries, and I had hired a band of them. Rough men; scum every one of them. But they would get the job done. They held the centre of my line and had doubled the size of my host.

I was on the right flank, leading the boys from Dyfed. And it was time to charge.

Our archers had done their job; even the cover the riverbank offered could not outweigh the number of shafts falling on the men of Glamorgan. They would be my vassals soon, and rightfully so. But first I must teach them who is their rightful king.

I was sitting on my Warhorse, the finest horse in Dyfed. I had been in the saddle all my life and enjoyed every minute of it, unlike my Half-Brother. Wearing a maille byrnie again though, that was not something I was enjoying. Everything between my shoulder blades and my lower back ached like the devil, but I wasn’t going to let anyone else know that. Madog had said the aching goes away after a few days, after you get used to it. A glare had stopped any more talk like that. My helmet was heavy too, but no man should go to war without a helmet, especially a king.

I’m no good at inspiring speeches and luckily Glamorgan robbed me of any opportunity. His cavalry was moving forward to drive off my archers, and it was working.

‘Come on my boys, forward! We’ll be in Cardiff by tomorrow!’ Not a good speech as I said. I punctuated it by kicking my heels into my horse.

I could hear my knights following me even through my helmet and the thick cap underneath it. I didn’t want to glance back. Didn’t want to make it look like I had to check if they were following me. The sound of the hooves pounding into the turf was enough.

The ground really was to wet by the river. Great clods of earth were being thrown up. We veered to the right to match Glamorgan’s horse. Seeing us charge they had moved to meet us, ignoring the archers to face the bigger threat.

The sound of the hooves beating into the earth was like the devils drums. I risked a glance to my right. Next to me was one of my men. Ieuan I think. Hard to tell in a short glance. Helmets rob a man of his individuality, making a knight look less than human.

That’s what I was charging at. A rough line of men trained to fight from horseback. Knights. It seemed like there was a lot more of them than when I started this charge.

I moved up to a gallop. I brought up my shield and hunkered down behind it. I picked my man. I lowered my lance.

It was like being hit by the fist of God himself. My lance took the man in the neck. My arm was rammed back into my side as the point tore through his coif, half taking of his head. My lance broke apart into a thousand splinters.

A moment later my shield crashed into me nearly taking me out of the saddle. There wasn’t any time to feel anything. A knight with red and white chevrons on his shield came for me with an axe. I brought up my shield and tried to wheel my horse around. I was clawing at my scabbard trying to draw my sword as he hammered into my shield, cleaving great holes into it. It finally came free and I swung at the man. Big wild blind swings. All I was hitting was his shield.

A massive impact through my head forward, smacking my mouth into my shield rim. I tasted my own blood. The axe man took a swing at my head that sat me back up in my saddle. Truly dazed I took an even wilder swing that missed his shield utterly, and got the man in the fingers of his axe hand. He seemed to scream, but I couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears. I felt two huge blows on my shoulders and I kicked in my spurs, forcing my horse forward. I jabbed my sword forward at the axe man and caught him under the rim of his helmet. I pulled my sword out of the ruin of his face before I lost it as we moved apart.

My horse pushed between two more men from Glamorgan. Both were already trading blows with my men. I went for the one on my left. Swinging across my body into his neck as he faced away from me. My sword bit deep into his maille and I swung again and again. Wrenching it clear I swung it in a huge arc into the side of the other man. My sword twisted in my grip as it glanced off his body. He turned in his saddle to face me and I barely got my sword up in time to stop his wild blows. The brute nearly wrenched my blade from my grip as he hammered into me. He flinched as one of my men smashed through his shield and he struck out at him. I took my chance and tried to make a horizontal cut at his neck. He was so fast. A moment after striking my man he was back at me. He got his sword up just in time and deflected my blade down with his pommel. He didn’t have long to gloat though is I tore my sword down into his lap. It couldn’t glance off his maille there. He howled out and I felt my sword jolt as I jabbed it into his mouth.

Two knights from Glamorgan were in front of me, pushing through the melee. They still had their lances and were stabbing out at me. I brought my shield up but it was in tatters. I managed to parry one of their stabs before they were tacked out of the saddle my more of the men of Dyfed.

Through the crush of men I could see many more men in Dyfed’s yellow than the red and white of Glamorgan. My knights quickly surrounded me.

‘Sire, Sire, are you alright?’ One of my men was shouting out at me, leaning out of his saddle close to my ear so I could hear.

I stammered out a reply. Truly I was dazed and confused. I was surprised to be alive. The knight reach down and pulled out a broken lance that was embedded in my saddle. It had barely missed by thigh.

‘We’ve drove them back Sire, but their infantry is advancing, we need to make way for our boys.’ I nodded my reply. The knight reached for my reigns and turned my horse around. As we moved back I could see my infantry moving forward. The mercenaries were in the centre and my standard was in the right flank. No doubt that was Madog below it, striding out in front of the lines eager to show his boys how it was done.

One of my men was offering me a new shield. I sheathed my sword and tried to get the remains of my shield off my arm. It was in three parts held together by its leather rim. It had saved my life countless times. In the corner was a lance head, buried right through the planks with a short length of haft still attached.

Glamorgan’s host was moving forward in one large block. Madog seemed to be taking Dyfed’s men forward much faster than the mercenaries, who seemed not at all eager to join the fray.

Glamorgan’s levy kept the river to its right flank keeping it relatively safe from being overwhelmed by the greater numbers of my host. The flank opposite Madog was not so lucky however. He seemed to have widened the line to begin to encompass their shield wall. If Madog could get his men behind their shield wall he would take the day. Glamorgan would have to stretch their lines very thinly to stop this, which would make breaking their shield wall a much easier prospect.

To counter this it seemed like their host split into two. The larger one going straight for the mercenaries in the centre and a smaller group going for Dyfed’s men. If they could break our boys then they would be able to pin the mercenaries up against the riverbank and that would be that. They were gambling their fate on winning the fight on the flank and it seemed my rightful vassal Cadwgan was going to try and personally tip the odds, judging by the large Glamorgan banner being carried toward my men.

With a great cry the lines met. The sounds of hundreds of spears slamming into shields filled the valley. Me were screaming and shouting and dying. It was time to move.

I took my knights forward and to the right. Ready to charge in now their infantry was locked in place by my own. We moved slowly, picking are way forward along the sides of the narrow valley. All the while I had my eyes locked on the combat. It was difficult to see how things were going, but it looked as if my banner had pushed forwards considerably into their lines.

Our boys seemed to be pushing them back. Then, at the centre all my plans started to fall apart.

The sounds of a horn being blown filled the air with its mournful noise. While out right flank had pushed forward deep into the enemy our centre had stayed still as soon as the lines met. Now it was slowly slipping backwards.

‘Sire, look, look!’ One of my knights had noticed it as well, and was pointing as our highly paid mercenaries started to break. In ones and twos, then bigger groups they peeled off from the back of the shield wall, and in moments they had completely broken. Men were streaming away from the battle tossing the weapons aside and running. My heart felt like it had fallen to my stomach and I felt sick. Why weren’t they standing? We had the numbers and were beating them on the flanks! All they had to do was stand!

A few men tired to cross the river and were bogged down in its muddy banks.

I stood in my stirrups and drew my sword.

‘Well then boys bach! Looks like we’ve got to show these mercenaries how to do it!’ I pointed at Glamorgan’s army, now chasing my mercenaries.

‘Lets have a go at them before they forget they are loosing this fight shall we?’ I dug in my heels and charged.


The funny thing about banners is that they only work on sunny, windy days. On days like that the light wind catches them and stretches them out. They look like a proud man puffing out his chest, displaying himself to the world. The light streams through them and they seem to glow. Your heart lifts at the sight of them.
Banners on a calmer day though, they don’t look so good. When the sun is hiding behind the clouds, and the rain has dulled everything down, all you get out of them is the odd half-hearted flap. You’re left with a damp mess on a stick.
That’s what my banner looks like, a mess of yellow and red on a stick. It isn’t lifting my heat to look at it now.

The finest horse in Dyfed is dead. I’ve been hobbling around leaning on a spear I took of a dead boy from Glamorgan. I feel tired to the bone and I can’t put much weight on my right leg. I don’t remember what happened to it.

We had broken Glamorgan’s army against the river. It wasn’t a great slaughter, but it took a bloody long time. most of them had ran after what happened on the right flank. Madog had cut a bloody swathe through Glamorgan’s household troops. He had taken their banner and brought me Cadwgan’s head. After that they didn’t have much fight left in them.



We had driven the army from the field and killed Glamorgan’s ruler. He should have been my vassal. He should be taking a knee and swearing everlasting allegiance to me, but he is dead. Glamorgan has a new ruler now, Cadwgan’s son. A boy of fourteen holed up in his father’s castle. That’s where we have to march, once I’ve found and beaten some sense into that captain of mercenaries.



A rider comes toward me, wearing my colours, he is stopped by some over eager household knights. They circle me like sheep dogs. A battlefield is never a safe place.

‘Sire! Sire! I bring news from Dyfed! Your wife Sire!’ the man shouts, pushing through my men.

I stop. An icy hand grips my heart. News from Dyfed, about my wife. Not again, not more bad news. Not on a day like today.

‘Sire, she is pregnant!’



Fate truly smiles upon me! A future for my house! A child to win a Kingdom for.

 

[GreatUberGeek]

Good AAR! An interesting start you have there. I must recommend this to my friend TheChalk.

 

[TheChalk]

Excellent AAR. Good to see conquests in full spring.

 

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Come on Marredudd, you can’t die yet!

Come on Marredudd, you can’t die yet!

I spent Christmas outside Cardiff castle, starving the place out. I had called my council and my vassals to the siege, to celebrate the birth of Christ together. By then my Vassals levies had been raised for a good few months. After a Christmas feast and a few coins for their troubles I would send them back to their homes.

I had needed them for that long to build the earthworks and siege castle surrounding Cardiff Castle. This would keep my men safe from attack and offer some protection from the worst of the weather. It would also stop Glamorgan from being able to do too much trouble if they sallied out.

I had built a magnificent long hall, well within sight and smell of the castle. The smell of roasting meat and chestnuts would hopefully show the men inside the castle what they were missing out on, and what would be theirs if they accepted me as their rightful king.

The Bishop of St David’s had held mass outside. His breath looked like steam as he led us in prayer. We had it out in the open. I had invited the young lord Rhys to join us in celebrating the birth of Christ, but he declined. I had offered him free passage and promised no harm would come to him. I had hoped if he had joined us he would see the benefits of being a true and just vassal but still nothing. Madog, my ever-dependable marshal had caught my eye in the service and gestured at the castle walls. Standing on top of one of the crenulations was another priest, seemingly leading men inside the castle at prayer. He seemed to be trying to out do my bishop. It must have been the devious Bishop Tudwallon. He was leading the troops in Cardiff due to Rhys’ age and he had refused every attempt at negotiate a surrender from the boy.

After the mass I gave gifts to my vassals. For the Bishops of St David’s I had a fine silver goblet set with jewels and embossed with the image of St David. For Cenau the Mayor of Carmarthen I gave him a cold chain as a mark of office. I rode out to the castle to give Rhys a gift, accompanied by a banner bearer and Madog.

I rode dressed as a king, in a fine tunic, fur edged cloak and a thin golden crown. Madog was in his maille and was carrying Rhys’ gift, wrapped in a cloak across his lap. He had doffed his helm and coif to show we had come in peace, but he had it hanging loosely from a strap on his saddle.

We approached the gatehouse and were challenged before we got too close.

‘Who goes there?’ cried out a thin high-pitched voice.

We halted and Madog called out in his battlefield voice, ‘His Grace, Maredudd third of his name, King of Deheubarth and Lord of Dyfed, wishes to speak to Lord Rhys of Glamorgan to give a gift celebrating the birth of the King of Kings.

There was a pregnant pause. A few moments later the gate opened just enough to let a rider through. A thin man riding a gaunt horse slipped through and the gates slammed shut after him.

‘The Lord Rhys is indisposed and the only wish he wishes from you petty king, is to be rid of your obnoxious presence’. It was the Bishop Tudwallon, his scrawny face drawn into a scowl.

‘Have a care priest, you speak to your King’ growled Madog.

‘Bishop Tudwallon, I have a gift for your lord, on Christmas day to celebrate the birth of Christ. Pray keep a civil tongue in your head if you intend to keep it.’ The bishop thrust out his chin and narrowed his eyes at me.

‘And what is this gift?’

I gestured at Madog and he unwrapped the gift. It was Rhys’ father’s sword taken in battle a few months before. I had had the scabbard remade with fine red leather and set with gold fittings. Both the heraldries of Glamorgan and Dyfed were embossed onto it to show the two counties would be linked together. It was a fine gift.

‘You offer back as a gift what you stole from the corpse of his father?’

‘Bishop, this is his sword. I give it back to him to show I trust him; so Rhys has the power to protect his lands and to serve his liege lord. This sword is a symbol of his lordship over Glamorgan. It is given from a King to a Lord in the oldest of traditions to create a bond between us. I would give it to Rhys and end our hostilities and celebrate Christmas together.’ I sounded tired and old. Not as convincing as I had hoped.

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I still had the sword by the end of February. It was propped up against the end of my bed. A reminder of why I was here. Tudwallon would not accept it. Saying the Lord Rhys wanted no gifts from me and had commanded me from his lands. Not the best of negotiations. So we went back to waiting them out.

In truth I did not know how long I would be able to wait. The cold weather of the winter had only got worse. Two feet of snow lay outside and I felt awful. I hadn’t been able to get out of bed for a week and I felt like my time had come.



My half Brother visited me. ‘The old Rhys’ as some called him. He did not look happy.

‘I hate horses. Nasty buggers. Stink to high hell and bite you as soon as look at you.’ He said, entering my chambers. ‘You alright mun? You bloody rough’.

I felt terrible, but I had to talk to him. If I died the Kingdom could easily fall. Rhys was no warrior and was not much younger than I, and my wife Constance had still yet to give birth. I sat up in my bed and started a coughing fit that seemed to last forever.

‘Finished?’ Rhys asked, as impertinent as ever. He had pulled up a stool and sat next to me.

‘That bloody river at Machynlleth flooded again. Had to go all the way to Borth to get past. It does that every year. Why don’t they fix it up, make it stronger or something?’ He paused for breath.

‘Rhys, when I die, you need to-‘

‘Bleddyn sends his regards! Wished you well in both your health and your siege. Lets hope he wished a bit harder eh? He said he would be glad of a good Welsh ally in the south. Unite all those little counties I think he said, or something like that. In case the English get uppity. Present a strong Wales he said. Ha! Have you heard what’s been happening over the border mun?’



‘England was invaded! Apparently Edward died in autumn last year right, and you know Earl Harold? Jumped up son of Godwine? He had himself crowned the same day as Edward’s funeral like. Well William of Normandy, he didn’t like that, what with him thinking Harold would help him get the throne as Edward had wanted. So he was all set for invading!’

‘Before that could happen though, the King of Norway invaded! It was all chaos in England for a few months they tell me. Somehow Harold fought of the Norwegians in the North and the Normans in the south in a matter of a few months.’

‘Rhys, we need to talk about what will happen-‘ I tried to interject.

‘Oh no one knows what will happen brother, because as soon as Harold drove off the invaders Mercia rebelled. See they never liked the Godwins and now they are all up in arms, and some place called Northampton has rebelled as well. It’s all go mun let me tell you.’

‘Rhys Mun! if I die, you need to make sure that-‘

‘Come on Marredudd, you can’t die yet, you still have so much to do’.