'The Tale of Henry and Edward' CTW AAR
“Its dusty, very dusty”
Edward Pole looked about the courtyard – alongside him Henry Fitzneale, a senior member of the Hospitilers.
“Much removed from Newbury I suspect?”
Edward looked up sharply to meet Henry's eyes; he grimaced as he scraped his finger along an oak table.
“Much”
Edward Pole was son to a rich baron, he had been educated in Newbury, when the First Crusade was called by Pope Urban his elderly father willingly joined the English contingent, he had died however on the crusaders arrival at Cyprus.
Fitzneale leaned towards a court aid, a man native to Jerusalem.
“Where is King Richard de Beauchamp?”
The aid spoke back in his heavily accented Latin.
“He will be with you in a minute, you must understand Tripoli has disheartened our Liege – tell me were your knights of St. John at the battle?”
Henry Fitzneale filled with pride
“They were”
“I trust you did not suffer to much?”
Henry rebutted,
“You can never suffer too much in the willing service of our Lord God”
The aid smiled and turned to Edward Pole, who was still eying suspiciously his surroundings.
“May I ask you the same question?” he smiled towards Edward.
“No. I was in Cyprus – my father was taken ill.”
All were quiet.
“Let us not be sad.”
Richard de Beauchamp, King of Jerusalem, entered the courtyard.
“Which one of you, wish to court my daughter?”
Henry and Edward looked each other up and down, and then looked Richard in the eye.
“I do.” They both said, in stereo.
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“Well, who is more deserving? I can not hand over my beloved Edith on a whim – go on, tell me if your tales of valor!” Richard de Beauchamp looked eagerly at them both.
Edward began to start;
“In 1193, I was present at the battle of Risby.”
Henry looked shocked and turned to meet Edwards smug gaze.
Richard looked most pleased and eagerly pushed for more of the story with an over enthusiastic hand movement.
“It was April…”
“…the Danish had landed and marched inland to a village called Risby, when the Duke of York – Robert of Normandy – learned of this he immediately levied his troops, my father sent me with his levied troops to join the army. The Danish invaders had rallied support in the region, their numbers swelled and now all of Northumberland threatened to revolt in support of the Vikings!”
“Such an Infamous battle” said Richard, the King of Jerusalem.
“And where might you of been Henry?”
Henry looked to his feet.
“I sir was in education in Paris.”
Richard looked disapprovingly at Henry, then returned to Edwards eyes.
“Continue.”
“We marched out to the village and set up camp out of vision of the village, so not to be caught unaware.
Viking scouts, raiding the surrounding farms emerged from thick forest on the camps flanks, our longbows drove them off but it wasn't long before the main force came upon us.
The center engaged - and I tell you me they engaged. It was bloody and sadistic. Although we were out numbered the Danish troops were mainly composed of woodsmen and peasants, ours of Saxon Frydmen, Huscarles and men at arms giving us the advantage in the quality of our men.
After an hour of bitter fighting, with neither side making any ground, Robert of Normandy sounded the cavalry charge - me and my knights charged into the thick of the fighting, all along the line we charged and cut down the poorly armored troops, I felled close to twenty that day.
The length of the battle however took its toll. I was wounded, hacked at."
Edward Pole removed the glove on his right hand, showing all what he had suffered -a large dent on the top of his hand showed where the Axe had struck, the stumps of what were his ring and fore-finger the result of the strike.
"My knights suffered heavily, it was not just the men at arms, many knights were pulled from their horses and set upon with Viking war axes.
The grass was saturated with blood, but alas, we were victorious - and we had saved the crown."
Richard de Beauchamp was impressed, he smiled and spoke quietly, focusing in on Edward.
"That victory was indeed a hard fought one - I did not expect to hear you had been involved in that fight, I was in Rouen at the time. Even I had my doubts that Northumberland would remain Norman!" he clasped his hands together and settled his eyes on Henry.
"And you? What can you tell me noble knight of St. John?"
Henry replied “Thank you my Liege” he stopped,
Henry Fitzneale had no story to tell, this was disastrous, and it was beginning to show.
Edward scoffed, but just before he could get a words end in, Henry begun.
“You could not tell a peasant how bitterly cold the desert is at night and have him believe your words, for once the padding and armour were a bonus on the sandy desert coast of Beirut.”
Richards’s eyes lit up
“The Assault on Beirut?” he said smile wide like a Cheshire cat.
“Yes, the Assault on Beirut”
“My brother, Phillip de Beauchamp, he fought along side you then! Ha! And to think I thought you anxious of blood! Ha! Do continue…”
Henry gave Edward a smile that said ‘One nil’, upon hearing the latter part of Richards sentence Edward gave an equal smile that said ‘One One’.
“The village had recently been captured by a small band of 2000 Muslims, of course my order could not allow this, we pleasantly requested the town be handed over for the safer passage of pilgrims…of course our request was denied – be it down to the unsavory reputation we Christian crusaders have of pillaging or be it down to war games – the leader of the Order, Sir Stanley Cromwell, mustered close to 1600 men – crusader mercenaries made up a large section of our forces, 300 dismounted knights along with 100 mounted knights also joined – and of course the 175 Knights of St. John.”
“This battle was were you gained your prestige was it not?” said a much more calmer Richard de Beauchamp
“Yes it was my Lord. Sir Cromwell marched us out of camp at sunset; we arrived at Beirut at midnight or their abouts.
The Saracen army was grossly disproportionate to the size of the village, they gathered in the center, and the battle, like most, began in earnest with a short skirmish between the archers.
Of course, Sir Cromwell committed the crusaders and dismounted Norman Knights first, wanting to save his cavalry for a final decisive blow.
Although outnumbered we thought nothing of it, and clawed our way into the heart of the village, our Christian Saracen archers fired into the thick of the enemy, their volleys deadly and precise.
The infantry battle was bloody and extremely demoralizing, I tended to some of the wounded as they were took out of the mêlée.
Many of them had been wounded in the neck and stomach, where the armour was weakest - I am not proud to say the combination of the cries from grown men, blood, organs and sand made me ill.
Before I could question the battle Sir Cromwell ordered us to our horses, for a decisive charge. I grabbed my lance; I felt for my sword, I looked to my enemy.
Sir Cromwell raised his sword, and as he fell it, he shouted, for all to hear
‘To Christendom and good service willing, we will fight in our Lords name, God wills it!’
And with that a ferocious roar cried out among our ranks, I found myself shouting at the top of my lungs words I had never intended nor thought to say.
The charge was glorious; we crashed into the back of them, when our lances splintered we drew our swords and with righteous fury we struck them down.
We had turned the tide of the battle, our infantry, close to defeat and wavering had been invigorated by the charge.
They fought to the last the Saracens, brave and skillful as they are in the skills of war, they underestimated our spirit.
I had the prestige of dueling with the Saracen Captain, Ibu-Ahlm, and taking his head – Im sorry King de Beauchamp, unlike Edward I have no battle scars to show, nor do I have the head of Ibu-Ahlm with me.”
Richard chuckled, and glanced at Edward to check his reception to the joke – Edward was less then happy.
King Richard of Jerusalem looked up to the clear blue sky.
“It’s a beautiful country, spoiled only by the wars that have torn this Kingdom of Heaven apart…you would do well to look for peace with my daughter at your side. I have made no decision yet, Edith will remain by herself for the time being – it is getting dark, please my mind is not yet made, and you are both chivalrous men. Ha! Such trivial matters, I do hope it shows no reflection on my life.”
Henry laughed, Edward seeing Richard had intended for this reaction began laughing with him.
Edward rose from his seat.
“Thank you for accepting us into your court noble Liege, I will take my leave from your presence as you request.”
Henry heartily jumped up
“As will I King Richard.”
They bowed and left the courtyard, leaving an aging King Richard to ponder his decision, and the fall of Tripoli.
Richard sat in his study, before him a map of the Levant. A knock at the door
“You may enter.”
It was Edith, Richard de Beauchamp had always been shocked at the sheer beauty of her, it was not generic beauty, it was unique beauty. Her attractiveness was a curse apparently; the priest said she had been burdened with her face – as a test of will and faith.
“I do wonder Edith were you get your beauty from”
His daughter laughed
“Clearly not from my father, tell me what are you doing?”
“I am deciding Edith, whether or not Jerusalem is worth it.”
Edith nodded her head slowly, she understood why, she understood and knew more then the men and women of the court.
“Are the lives of the people who life here worth it?”
Richard smiled slowly.
“Yes they are, the Muslims, the Jews and those damn Christians-”
Edith laughed.
“All worth it?” she said
“All worth it” he replied.
She turned sombre and serious all of a sudden
“Was Tripoli worth it Father?”
The King of Jerusalem looked defeated, he spoke softly
“No, Tripoli was not worth it.”
“What did happen at Tripoli?”
Richard debated it in his head, whether to tell her, he chose to spare her the details of the battle.
“All you need know is this, the city was lost and a great deal of heroic fighting was done.”
Edith looked to her feet
“And of my suitor, Lord Tostig, what of him?”
Richard hugged his daughter
“He died in the service of his people, not God, but for his people.”
Edith did not cry a great deal, her tears rolled down her pale face, but she did not weep, such was the integrity she had.
“Am I to die a spinster?”
Richard smiled at what his daughter just said.
“Let me tell you about Henry Fitzneale and Edward Pole”
Edith rolled her eyes, her cheeks still wet with tears she smiled
“Oh please do noble King of Jerusalem!”
they laughed together as father and daughter. For a brief moment in time, they were back in Yorkshire - away from the threats and war of the Levant.
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