[Kingdoms AAR] A Land in Rebellion - An English AAR

[Eddard]

The land of Britain has always been one of my favorites even though I have never stepped foot on its soil. So when I got Kingdoms I started Britannia and only briefly glanced at the other campaigns (though I plan to win the Holy Land for the Templars at some time in the future). Having only finished what I found a beautiful campaign with Wales (and also the first time I won a campaign in any Total War game, as I usually abandon them at about the point where it becomes obvious who the ruler of the world will be) I have decided to start a campaign with the most ambitious faction: England. Contrary to Wales, which starts with a few provinces as in a normal TW campaign, the English start with a lot of provinces and two enemies, Ireland and Wales, which would like nothing better than to tear the kingdom apart. That, and the Baron Alliance which will was the nail in the coffin for the English in my previous campaign will probably make this campaign a challenge.

The campaign will be played with M/VH rules, and this AAR will try to retell the most important aspects of my struggle for unification. I will play most battles unless the odds are totally stacked in my favor or if I have to go against some pesky brigands. I will also not play all of the sieges as I find the grind near the town square to be a little boring. However, sieges of great importance will be played, not autocalced.


The next post will describe the first turns and will come within the hour.

[Eddard]

1258

"It's a grim day for England", King Henry thought as he viewed the reports that had come in from the Irish isles in the morning. The commonfolk in Ireland had never been content with the occupation by English forces, and now they had started rebellions, encouraged by the recent advances of the Irish forces. "The situation is dire", the report from Dublin said, "the garrison was attacked twice last week and we lost twenty good men in a fire that destroyed our warehouse. We cannot hold out here for long", the message ended in a plea for retreat, as had the other two messages that he had read the previous day, from Derry and Athenry.

He had made the decision already, but it was tough to recognize to himself that it had come to this. The threat of he Irish was secondary to the much more aggresive Welsh which had a new and ambitious king and the goal of taking what they deemed theirs. He sent for his scribe and started dictating two letters.

"To the garrisons of Athenry, Derry and Dublin,

Dear soldiers, the time will come when we will defeat these Irishmen once and for all, but now we must make a tough decision, to leave to the enemy some of our towns so that we may reinforce a more defendable position. You will take all loyal English soldiers and leave the garrison to head to the safety of the stone walls of Trim, which you will hold with the price of your lives if need be. But before you leave put these wretches to the torch. Do not leave one English building to our enemies. All that you cannot carry, burn. And leave a message on the walls of the town: <<We will return>>.

Your King, Henry III"

The second letter was to his son, and much briefer:

"England needs you in Wales."

He left it unsigned, and then called for his councilors.

"My lords, it is time we taught the Welsh submission..."



1259

"We can do this, men, we can", said Captain Aston to the men gathered around him. "The garrison of Athenry shall take them from behind while we will use the woods as cover and my hobilars as decoy. We must only kill one man and our place in history is well assured."

"This man, he is not easy to kill", lieutenant Gregory remarked. "If I may say so, my captain, perhaps it is best to follow our king's orders and head to Trim. It said nothing about killing any royalty in that letter."

"It said nothing about eating, and getting drunk, lieutenant, and that seems all that you have been doing lately. No, we shall succeed in this, I tell you. The man who kills the king shall have a hundred gold coins, I swear it.".

The plan was simple, the captain thought, as all good plans were. They had spotted the column of the Irish king heading south from Lifford and they had followed them through the snow to woody area. They had two times as many forces as the Irish between the two armies, but what good were pitchforks against heavy armor, and light horsemen against heavy knights? His advantage were the woods, and his archers, which were more numerous than the oppositions'. But how could he pass a chance like this, of a low-born man to lead an army that slays a king?



The Battle of Tyrconnel Forest





"Here they come", the captain thought. The Irish column was boldly looking and advancing as if they were going to a party, not a battle. But they had seen his army, he had made sure of that. "And maybe they have not seen Ralph's", he hoped.




"The king is in the back lines", he saw and lost a little hope. "Perhaps Ralph will get him". But there was no backing out. "Loose!" he shouted to the archers, and then watched as carnage was unleahed around him. The Irish came forward, then stopped, as behind them the English reinforcements came. And then they were divided. The archers headed towards his lines, and the heavy cavalry and the king towards the reinforcements.



"They will not hold. Men, forward! Help our brothers!" And they went forward. Ralph's army was mostly fleeing, he saw, but still archers pummeled the knights which had now turned to the new threat. And his spearmen came, and fought and died. Peasants too, with their pitchforks and his hobilars as well. Two times he charged the king's knights and two times he was repelled. When all hope seemed to be lost and most of his army was fleeing, he looked around him and saw that the enemy had fled as well. Only a unit of Ridire and the king's knights remained from the Irish force.

And then, a shout came, weak at first, but louder and louder until the whole English army chanted, "The King is dead! THe King is dead!" The rest was a blur. His enemies were fleeing, left broken and his own soldiers took him and carried him while yelling "Glory to England! Glory to the Captain!" He wondered whether it was all real.



The next week a letter came:

"Sir Aston Fitzneale, through me the Crown thanks you for your marvelous victory. You are to be knighted and given command of the forts here. Your spearman that killed the king shall be given the hundred gold you have promised him as well. Be safe, brother, and lead your men to the castle.

Maurice Fitzgerald, lord of Trim"



"Sir, what do we do know?" said Gregory?
"Well, lieutenant, it's a long road to Trim. We'd best be on our way."

[CtrlAltDe1337]

Very nice, I'm wanting to play England or Wales when I get Kingdoms (stupid 7 day shipping )

+rep

[Eddard]

I forgot to mention that I'm playing two turns per year since I hate that generals age 1/2 year per year otherwise.

Coming up tomorrow, a clash of two kings in the siege of Montgomery.

[Eddard]

1260

"They are here, my king", the steward announced. He had had difficulties in finding his ruler, and in the end only a gaunt, young priest had managed to help him. "He is asking our Lord for victory", the priest had told him.

The king was in the abbey, praying. "He is young", the steward thought when he saw the lone man that knelt near the altar. The king was already clad in armour, his sword at his hip. He seemed as ready as ever, and focused, so focused that Vortipor had to repeat his words twice before Llywelyn heard him.



"I know they are. I have often dreamed of this day, the chance I needed to behead the dreadful English in one blow. Is he here?"

Vortipor knew who "he" was. Henry lead the army, all of the sentries had said, and the English horns had boomed all day announcing his presence. "Your Grace, he is here. This will be a great day for Wales when you slay him."

"It will be a great day indeed, but for whom I cannot say. Lead all the commonfolk in the houses and lock yourself in too. The city will need some rebuilding after this whatever the result."


The battle of Montgomery



They had not bothered with building siege towers, Vortipor saw from his vantage point in the bell tower. The English had brought six catapults that had started pounding at the city walls as soon as they had been set in place. "God, help us", he whispered when the first breach in the awall came. But then God sent him a sign. The English catapults had caught fire, from the fiery arrows that the garrison in the towers were sending. And one by one, the great siege engines crumbled in front of the walls.



But it was too late, as English troops started pouring through the broken wall. "Too many, Lord, too many", he thought.



He saw the king too, leading his elite cavalry and motivating the defenders. But Henry was nowhere among the attackers, instead he had chosen to sit outside the walls, contemplating his forces.



The day was bloody and a few times the morale of the English had failed, and they had turned to flee the city. But each time this happened, the damned king had rallied them, encouraged them, and sent them back to the fight. And so they fought, until too few of the defenders were left, and Vortipor knew that all was lost. "Yield, my king", he had wanted to shout, but he knew that Llywelyn would not give up, never to the English. And so the moment came when he saw his king impaled upon an English pike and knew that all was lost.



An hour later, they were rounding men in the city plaza. Henry himself had come to see the body of his opponent, and then to interrogate the administration.

Vortipor was chosen from the survivors to formally surrender the city to the victor. He dreaded the task.

"My lord," he said, "Montgomery is yours."

"Your Grace", a grizzled soldier from the bodyguard yelled at him. But now he was determined.

"My king is dead", he said, and the soldier waited for no more. Vortipor hardly felt the sword that went through his belly. "I'll join my king", he thought, as darkness enveloped him.

[Hellbent]

Nice job on this, I just had to try England after reading this awesome AAR!

[Eddard]

Thanks for the praise, guys. The game gets more interesting now as I'm in the red with money and losing more each turn. Hopefully the Scots won't decide to come out and take my northern towns just yet. Now, back to the story.





1260 - winter

The prince knew that he was too late. All across the countryside English refugees were pouring from Morgannwg, most of them women and children whose husbands and fathers had stayed behind to defend the town against all odds. But the few men that had been chosen to safeguard the refugees spoke of dire news, of two huge armies converging on them.

But he had still hoped that he would arrive in time, hoped that his small force was enough to relieve the besieged town. Hoped, until he met the last band.

They were butchered, he thought, when he saw them. What monster could have done such a thing as taking a child's fingers or cutting a woman's ears off? He got the tale from a young girl named Sylvie which had somehow managed to escape the fate of her companions.



The Siege of Cardiff



"They came at dawn," the child started, "from both sides of the town, one group with catapults and the other with towers and rams. My brother Rob said he had heard the soldiers say that we were doomed, that there was no chance to win this. But I prayed to God and hoped for a miracle. <<The king would save us>>, I thought. But I was wrong. The captain put the archers on the walls and rounded up his other men in the town square."



"They held them at the town square, but in the end..." She started sobbing.



They had rounded up the remaining men and maimed them, as well as some children. The women, they maimed after they raped them. The prince was horrified of the retelling. Sylvie did not say how she had managed to escape, but the prince needed to hear no more. He had failed, and left Cardiff to be sacked by the forces of this new, cruel, Welsh king.

"Oh, father, what have you done?" he wondered. King Dafydd was not the honourable man his brother had been, but a tyrant and a butcher. He is heirless, he had heard, last of his line and last hope of the Welsh. He was not as skilled a general as Llywelyn, but more ruthless and with the same determination.

"I'll have his head on a pike", Edward swore to himself. It was time he tasted some Welsh blood.



1262

Edward was anxious for this day. Most of the army that had sacked Cardiff was here, he knew, and between he and his father they had less men than their opponents. But the enemy did not expect them. He had feigned a retreat before the mighty Welsh host, and bought Henry's army enough time to arrive. "I will be the hammer, and my father the anvil", he had described the plan to his battle commanders. Timing was the key, timing and dividing the Welsh army. The English had superior cavalry, the Welsh had more archers. This would be no drawn out battle if victory was to be theirs.



The battle of Morgannwg hills



The day of the battle was rainy. It rained with water, it rained with arrows and by the end it would rain with blood. As soon as Welsh drums were heard,

Edward aligned his archers in front of his host and instructed them to pin the enemy down. With him was a group of the best archers in the kingdom, some brigands he had taken from the gallows near Sherwood and to whom he had promised pardon in exchange for service.



The enemy fell for the ruse and divided his forces. While the archers turned to face his own, the enemy axemen and spearmen faced his father's host. Now was the time to attack. Edward led his cavalry forward, and went through the longbowmen like a knife through butter.



Seeing their countrymen flee, the spearmen broke down as well, and soon the less numerous English forces had resorted to gathering prisoners. The enemy army was scattered, and most of them fell captive.



The battlefield was littered with corpses even two days after the battle. They had sent the ransom demand to the Welsh king, even though most of his captains argued that they deserved hanging, not hope. But both he and his father were adamant. "They will ransom them," he thought. "Dafydd will not leave his men for dead".



"Our messenger returns", a man yelled. But soon his cries of joy were silenced as he saw that the man on the horse had an arrow sticking out of his chest.

Edward read the message that came with the dead man:

"Here is your ransom, English dogs, an arrow is enough for you. We have men aplenty, and no need to fill your coffers more."

Edward looked around at his men's faces. All of them were filled with hatred and bloodlust. "I wish I had a mirror now," he thought. "I wonder if my face betrays me." His words came out in a composed tone, though:

"Round them up! Get me a hundred good men and a lot of rope. We have plenty hangings to do before sunset."

[Eddard]

1262 - continued

Lewes of Cheltenham again pleaded for a sally. It was the third time Alan la Zouche said no. He had grown tired of the younger man's lack of patience and of any tactical common sense. Lewes' adoption into the royal family had apparently given the man an overgrown ego. The only tactical maneuver known to him seemed to be the charge.

"They are building their rams now", Lewes started yet again. "If I were in charge I'd smash them now. All of our cavalry would crush them where they stand in a heartbeat."

"Your last heartbeat, if I'm lucky", thought la Zouche, but one could not say that to the prince's son, even to his adoptive son. A joke, it was. Though young, the other man was still older than his "father". "What could Edward have seen in him?"

"We hold, and as long as I am commander of this garrison you will do as I say, when I say." There, he had kept the calmest tone. The prince would not be displeased. "There's not much waiting left", he added. "After all, they have to attack... sometime".



The siege of Chester



It was a fine day for a siege, la Zouche noted. The Welsh were quick, too quick he remarked happily. Their numbers had obviously encouraged their commander, and why wouldn't they? In a similar position, la Zouche would have been almost certain of victory. But then again, he would not have made their mistakes.
The Welsh had built three rams, three thorns in la Zouche's side that could have troubled him. But by some reason unknown to the English, their opponent had decided to use but one ram.



Waiting was the key, the general knew, waiting until the enemy was engaged. His militia needed only hold the gate for a few minutes, and they would, he assured himself. "Or I'll wish I had listened to Lewes". That thought was none too pleasant. But the enemy was predictable this time. They came through the broken gate making a line so beautiful that la Zouche was surprised their commander was even fit to run a circus, much less an army.

"Men, to me!" he shouted and soon the cavalry were racing out the gates. The other two gates.



The first contact drove a group of longbowmen into retreat, but the day was not over by far.



With a grin, la Zouche saw that Lewes had brought his knights from the other gate as well. The impact of the three knight groups charging brought chaos to the Welsh.



It was a sea of blood that his men swam in afterwards. The trumpets in town were gloriously sounding as the English crushed their opponents under their hooves. "Well, Lewes got the charge he wanted. Me, I only wanted some rest."








1263

Beatrice was beautiful, Edward thought, as he saw her enter the great abbey in Montgomery all clad in white. She was smiling too, and that made him happier than anything else.



He had known Nigel even before his father had told him the news, and he liked the man. While Edward had always imagined that his sister would marry into some foreign bloodline, this now seemed more appropriate. "We need to strengthen our people, not others", he thought. "England needs this wedding, especially here, especially now."

Of course, having the marriage in this city was a symbol to the people, that peace would come to these lands, and that this place was as safe a London herself. "Maybe safer", Edward grinned. Of course, none of the guests could miss the dozens of armed guards that stood watch all around the holy place, and the fact that they had each been thoroughly searched before entering. Edward had personally seen to the fact that no weapons except his father's and his own were allowed in the church and he knew all those in the front row personally, as the highest born nobles in the land. And the most loyal.



"And now I pronounce you man and wife", the bishop said. Edward managed to repress a curse. His musings had made him miss most of the ceremony, but he had time enough to see his sister's smile and flushed cheeks as well as his lady mother which seemed ready to cry.

The following feast was glorious, "and too costly", he would have told someone if he had not loved his sister so much. As the guests were leaving he went next to his father. King Henry III was sipping on a glass of wine.

"Your Grace"

"My son, you need not be formal. I have given my daughter away, Edward. I feel old"

"You are not, father."

"I will not give my kingdom away too, you must swear to me, my son, swear."

"Anything you wish, father".

"Swear to me that you will not rest and will not lay down your sword for as long as our enemies still live. I will not live out to see the end of this, but you will. You must."

"I swear it to you, father. And I plan to give you a gift, as well soon... Dafydd's head".

[Eddard]

1263 - winter

Edward's own wedding was less grand than his sister's. For five years now his father had urged him to take a bride and have children, to continue the line.

"Beatrice will have children" Henry had said, "but it is your children that must sit the throne, Edward. Do your duty to the crown."

And he did his duty, by finally accepting the hand of a young maiden named Julia. The girl was beautiful, he had to admit, and in time he might love her. But even through his wedding all he could think about was what his next blow to Wales would be.



"King Dafydd sits alone in his fortress", a note from one of his spies claimed. "Most of his army was at Morgannwg hills." One year and two weddings later,

Edward knew what his next step would be.

"My new bride is not going to be happy", he thought, "if her husband does not live past the first year of their marriage. So I'd better come back alive."




The siege of Caernarvon



The winter was fierce that year, a continuous snowstorm sweeping over Britannia. It was appropriate, Edward thought, an appropriate time to slay a king. The mountain ascent had been difficult, with snow impeding their every step, and where horses and men struggled the great catapults were even more difficult to drag. Ten horses they had lost for that, and twenty-four men lay dead because of the cold. But at last they had arrived, and gazed upon the fortress that was King Dafydd's last refuge.



He was there, the spy they had met in the woods had told him, commanding a garrison of ghosts and empty towers. The king stood alone.



By the time the outer gate was breached by the huge stones fired from the siege engines, the king had retreated into the inner fortress.



Again the great catapults were cranked at pointed at the walls. To Edward the sight of fires rising in the snow brought a view of the hell where he planned to send his opponent.



The battle could not have been long. They had ten men for each Welshman, but still the knights fought like demons, each slaying at least one man before falling, all throwing themselves to enemy pikes in order o protect their king.But when only five knights remained in the plaza, Edward knew his time was close. At his sign his footmen withdrew and soon only his own knights stood in the plaza. He allowed himself a smile before heading towards his enemy.



It wasn't a fair fight. Even though his companions had protected him as best they could, the other man was already bloodied with small cuts all over his body . But this was not a time for mercy. Ten seconds was all it took Edward to find the softness at the joints of Dafydd's armor. A red river of blood came streaming out and Dafydd I, King of the Welsh fell, taking down his horse with him.



The next morning, the snow stopped falling. Edward woke in from his new room in the king's quarters at Caernarvon and went to the balcony. The letter they had found on the table still troubled him:

"King Dafydd,

We accept your most graceful proposal of an alliance and vow to assist you in your current plight as soon as we drive these viking bastards from our lands.

Yours truly,
King Alexander of Scotland"


He looked east, towards the rising sun, imagining that he was looking at London. Instead, all he could see was the outer wall, where a great pike stood holding what remained of the former Welsh leader. Dafydd's head seemed to be smiling at Edward. He smiled back.





Any more comments are welcome guys, as well as any suggestions. Next installment will hopefully see the demise of the Welsh as they have only two settlements left. Also considering starting some chaos in Ireland since I've left the place dormant for now.

[bomberboy]

This is one good AAR nice bit at the end.

[Eddard]

1263 - winter (continued)

The sea trip had been doomed from the start, ever since the message of the enemy's march had come to him. He had tried to be there in time, but he had failed, as a fierce storm had trapped his ships just as soon as they had left port. By the time the storm had died down, and they had resumed course, it was already too late. A Scottish ship informed them soon enough of the tragic news.

"Your King is dead, boy", the elderly Scottish captain told him bluntly. "Best hope you have is that King Alexander hits the English dogs, and hits them hard. But those damned Norwegians keep raiding us. <<The Mistress> barely escaped the pursuit of two longboats. We took refuge in the bay and that's when we saw the fires burning in the fortress. Some fishermen we met said that the English prince turned into a dragon and burned your king with his breath. Others said that he drank his blood using Dafydd's own skull as a cup. Bottom line though, he's done for. And I don't envy whoever comes after him."

Of course, the captain did not know whom he was talking to. It made no difference, he would get respect later, when he'd see the English away from the land he loved.

Another storm followed the meeting, but the coronation could not wait. So it came that Einion became King of Wales in the heart of winter, and he heard the old man who put the new, iron, crown on his head call him Stormcrowned and there on the rocking deck he swore to have no rest until his people would be avenged and liberated.



The year had turned by the time Einion Stormcrowned came back to the shores of his homeland. He wasted no time in dispatching riders to gather whatever men Dafydd had not managed to lose. He was a busy man, and with a kingdom to win back.




1265

Sir Aston sat in a plain tent outside the walls of Dublin. The night was quiet, but he could not sleep in anticipation of tomorrow's confrontation. His actions would light anew the fire of hope in his men. In the last five years he had seen them go from exuberant to desperate, from proud to meek. As the years went by quiet had settled on Trim. The two forts and the castle were manned and defended at all times, and once the Irish had tried to assault one of them with a small force. "That I could have driven off with stones", he thought.

Forgotten was the best word to describe their situation. No ships with supplies had come, no glorious army from the mainland to relieve them, only messages of assurance. His men had eaten the last pigeon that brought them the same "Hold your position for now, reinforcements will be sent soon" message. It tasted like chicken. His men were farmers without a land to farm, hunters without game to hunt and stableboys with scrawny horses. But this day would bring them glory again. "Like when we killed King Brian", his voice had boomed to the men. Their shouts told him he had made the right decision.

The siege of Dublin



He had never been part of a siege before; it was glorious. Even though the men holding the walls had not sworn allegiance to the new king Domnall they were still Irishmen, all of them not worthy of living. They had crowded on the walls, the fools. "Let them see our numbers", he ordered his men, "and let them shiver for a while."



The cowards did not last long. His men drove them from the walls and in the plaza but still they had left a nasty surprise above the broken gate. Aston cringed when he saw two of his few knights engulfed in boiling oil and muttered a prayer for them, but he went on relentlessly.



His men charged the few defenders remaining in the square, who fiercely fought for their lives.



Only when he felt that the enemy were at the point of breaking did he lead his own knights to the central plaza, crushing the pathetic remainder of the enemy force.



The battle was only half won, though. He knew why the king had ordered the Majesty's men to leave this place, the unruliness of the Irish and their stubbornness that made them fail to see their betters. The only weapon he had against that was fear. He called Gregory, now a captain, and the order he gave made the other man shudder:

"Give your men leave of hand, Gregory. I want to see pillage, rape and murder. I want each man who refuses to give all his fortune to us be gutted. Find out who called himself mayor here and have him flayed, then find all of his clerks and hang them. Have their wives and daughters raped in the town square and then feed them to the dogs. These pigs will learn who they are dealing with. I want the survivors to tell tales of this massacre for a generation. And get yourself some hard drink man. You look pale."



The night was alive with fire and screaming, and it was some time until Aston finally fell asleep. When he dreamt, he dreamt of conquest.

[zznɟ ǝɥʇ]

Great AAR, keep it up!

[Otherside]

Just make sure u keep edward alive hes kick ass when he goes on the crusade and returns with a sick army i used it with some more templar cav and some cannons to kick the **** out of the scots with 2 other armies hard fight tho i had to take on about 5 heavy stacks including wallace those scots arnt like the slippy irish with those dam missle cav they take u on head first

[Eddard]

1265 - winter

The prince had been praying and fasting for two days. "He needs his wife", she had tried to convince the priests, but they had formed a wall in front of the chapel and no matter how much she had tried they would not budge to let her through. She hated them all, now, the tall bishop with a grey-white beard that had come bearing the letter, the rat-faced monk who called himself "Brother Marcus", the fat Welsh priest that had served the chapel before the siege and "by the grace of God" had been allowed to remain in this holy place, but above all she hated the Pope. She could imagine him, all dressed in white sitting upon some throne, which in her mind was like the old throne the Welsh king had sat in that she had seen burn in the great hall of the castle.

From his throne the Pope wrote death sentences, sending men to their deaths in some unholy, godless land far towards the rising sun. She had heard bards sing tales about the glorious crusades, of Richard the Lionheart and his victories there, but the truth she had learned from an old guard at her father's castle.

"It is a hellish land, my young lady", he had told her. "The sun fries you the whole day and blackens your skin, and the non-believers swarm out to hit you when you least expect them. I was a squire to some knight that had thought to win renown there. All he won was an arrow through the eye and I spent two years of my life carrying his damned bones to English soil. Always kept his oaths, poor Graham. Never loved rain half as much before that."

And that sick, white old man had the nerve to send here husband to THAT? But he'd listen to her, only if she could get through to him, find him, talk to him.



It was the dusk on the third day of his fast that her prince finally left the chapel. Julia was in their chambers when he came. He had lost weight, she saw, and he looked weakened and doubtful. In that first second that she saw him Julia knew what his decision was.

"You are going, aren't you?", she asked, still hoping fore some miracle to come.

"It is my duty to the Faith. My love..."

"If you love me, you will stay. You'll give me a child and we'll stay on our lands and raise him to be a worthy king."

"We will have a child. When I return. My mind is set, my love. I have prayed and the Lord has given me my answer. I must go the Holy Lands for the good of all Christendom."

"England needs you."

"England needs a king, and for now, she has one. I will return."

"Liar! I need you more than England, more than the Pope, more than all of Christendom. Damn them all."

"I will be king someday my love. And a king must have duty and honour, and faith."

"And love?"

"And love..."

She refused to go to London while he was away. "I will remain here, as I have grown fond of these walls and their whispers. If you don't return, Edward, I swear to God I'll follow you to Hell and back."

"My heart is yours forever, my love", were his last words as he boarded the ship painted with a large, golden, cross. And soon a chilly wind carried her husband away, to the lands where either glory or death awaited him.






1266

The king had heard the soldiers whisper of his heir's defeat and dreaded the message that would soon come to him. "Another of our line dead", he thought, "killed by these dogs and mongrels which call themselves English." The land would need a new heir sooner rather than later, as this gave common folk assurance that the kingdom would not descend into chaos. Some kingdom he ruled, though, two towns and a few villages scattered through the forest, and an army composed of hunters and peasants. The English were to blame for all, and most of all their thrice-damned Henry who had killed Llywelyn and with him the hope of the Welsh.

It came as a great surprise when the scouts announced him of the arrival of a ragged band of knights, led by a very young man with a sad face that could belong only to one man. A dead one.

"Gronw!", he roared, "you live! The rumors were false then. Tell me, did you defeat our nemesis perchance? Do you bring me the head of king Henry in your bag?"

"The only head I bring is my own, my king, and it is by the mercy of king Henry that I still have one."

"Come, tell me."



The battle of Montgomery Forest



"We sought to surprise them in the forest, even though their forces were far more numerous. For two months they had hunted us through the snow, and in the end we had nowhere to run. I saw the king align his men in front of our forces in three battle lines. When they headed towards us, their archers went to our left flank, still seemingly unaware of our own longbowmen's threat. I gave the order to fire."



"But we were too few and they too many. Their infantry hit us hard on the center while their knights went through our exposed left flank and charged my position. I killed a few English myself and my sword was bloody by the end of the fight."



"Our valiance could not save us though. When my whole army was in flight I turned to run as well, fully knowing that the English had light horsemen that could catch up to me. But when I looked back I saw them laughing and waving us off. They left me alive, my king. Why, I could not tell."



"Thank God for it, not Henry. You'd be wise to remember who you must fight."

Later that day Einion Stormcrowned sat alone in his tent sadly thinking about the day's events. 600 Welshmen lay dead near Montgomery and all he got was his cowardly heir back. His only hope came from the Highlands, where rumors were that a new champion had come forth, a man that had sworn to lead the Scots to freedom and safety from the threat of the English.

"Help us Lord", he prayed, but his sight was not turned eastwards, but to the north, from where the cold winds came each winter. And hopefully a
new hero.

[Eddard]

Great AAR, love the why it is told by the actual characters, keep it up.

If you know where I got my forum name from then you know whose works inspired me to tell the tale this way.


I do plan to take it to the end, as I have lots of spare time for the next two weeks. Next update will include a new battle in Ireland and a very special confrontation near Montgomery.

[Eddard]

An early update, but I felt that the battle after this one deserves a post of its own.

1267

The Irish had cheated Aston and for the first time his forces had had to face defeat in this bloody land. They had marched up the southern fort and besieged it without any warning. The fort, which had already suffered another attack a few years back, was undermanned, but Aston had been certain that they would make it there in time.

He had hoped to take a back road, to fall behind the Irish army at catch them unawares, but when they got to the site all they could find was horror. The fort's huge gates stood open, and beyond them he found a sea of black. Only after his archers had killed two dozen of them did the crows bother to leave, still circling the fort in hope of a later meal.

"Bury these men", Aston ordered. "But be done by dusk. Tomorrow we ride back as fast as we can. I think I know where they went."



The battle of Dublin



The countryside was burning by the time Aston's forces arrived near the city. The Irish had laid their path clear for all too see. "They will pay for this", he vowed as he hastily arranged his men into battle lines. It would be the same as that bloody forest battle eight years before, only this time there was no king leading the Irish.





His troops were eager for the fight, and even those traitorous mercenaries he had hired two days before seemed restless. He had ordered his men to keep close watch on the native troops, but hiring them was necessary to get the job done, and he could take no risks, with his wife and unborn child in the besieged city.



The Irish had taken refuge on the top of a hill, foolishly thinking that the high ground would save them. "It might have", Aston thought, "but not against me." He guided his troops up the slope, into the thick of the fighting.



What followed was a general rout and a massacre. By the end of the day, they had lost one man for every ten they had slain, and the battlefield was littered with corpses. The prisoners were dragged to the city walls and hanged. "Leave them for the crows", he ordered before guiding his steed to the gateway.



Aston Fitzneale entered Dublin as the victorious Roman generals of old.



The people cheered him as he went through the streets, but behind the cheers he knew fear was still buried deep within their heads. The fiery night that the Butcher of Dublin had ordered was still the source of many tavern whispers. The few Irish "patriots" that the militia had caught plotting a month before he had left the cities had had their tongues cut and nailed to the door of the tavern where they had started their plot. Amazingly the number of patrons in the "Ten Tongues Tavern" had increased since.

His victory march over, Aston headed home. His butler awaited him in the door with a grave face.

"Sir, your wife..."

"What's the matter, Chester? Where is she? Did something happen?"

Chester led him to the balcony on the first floor where his wife awaited him in an armchair.

"Rufus, meet your father", she told the baby she carried in her arms.



He took him, and held him in his arms, and spoke to him gently. When the baby had fallen asleep he went to his wife, and starting kissing her passionately.

They stayed awake long after that. At least for a night, Aston Fitzneale was no longer a soldier, but a father and a husband.

[Eddard]

1268

Einion Stormcrowned had left his councilors baffled when he had proposed his move. "Madness, Your Grace", the treasurer had spoken and "folly", Prince Gronw whispered. But he was king, and his will was law. They set out to Montgomery on a rainy day, leaving the shores of the sea for the rolling hills that awaited them inland. As they went there force grew, as farmers grabbed axes and joined their band. By the time they had reached the English lands, his army numbered a thousand and five hundred warriors from all over Wales, with second force of about as many trailing a few days' march behind them.

There were less than a thousand soldiers in the city since Henry had left, his spies had informed him, and his hopes were high. If he could take the city before the other king returned, he could hold the walls with half the men that an attacking force would need. And he knew that once he had liberated Montgomery, his army would grow to at least double size, both from his own reinforcements and from the local populace.

About a day's distance from the city, a horn sounded in the distance, and then another and another.

"The defenders must have rallied from the city", he told his men. "We have twice their number! We'll crush them!"

But as they arranged into battle lines and drew closer and closer, Gronw started shaking.

"It's him", "King Henry is back."



The battle of Montgomery



The clouds were pouring heavy rain into the field of battle as King Einion surveyed the battlefield.



He had expected the English to hold position and wait for reinforcements, but the dogs were eager to meet his army and headed towards his line. A brave move, but maybe a recklessness that he could exploit.



Einion felt courage and hope rush into him and sent his steed forward towards the enemy. The king crashed into the enemy lines and sent a few of the flying through the air. An enemy arrow grazed his armor but failed to penetrate; a spear tip almost caught his horse in the neck but he managed to stab the spearman before that.



A thunder of horse hooves announced king Henry's charge right into the rear of Einion's group.



The light infantry caved first, then the archers. Soon, most of his countrymen had fled the battle.



And it was not long before King Einion I stood alone against his enemy. He saw Gronw's horse fall somewhere on the right flank, and knew then that he had to escape to save the dinasty. For the first time in his life, king Einion fled.



For a short while he thought he would escape, but his armor slowed his horse and there was no cover to find. He heard riders behind him, and then he felt his horse stumble and fall.

"They want me alive" was his last thought before he fell. The ground rushed to meet him.






"My king, here is the list of captives", said Nigel. The king's son-in-law had joined in the force that had sallied from the city but had not arrived in time to take part in the battle. His rested troops, however, served for gathering the prisoners, all except for two which had remained under the supervision of the king's bodyguard.



"You've been drinking again", said Henry.

"Just celebrating our victory, Your Grace. The men speak that you are the greatest king of England in all time."

"Compliments don't soften me up. My daughter deserves a good man. A sober one. Make sure you are that."

"what shall we do with the prisoners? I expect Your Grace will want to march them to London?"

"No, we shall do it here, in their land. It is fitting."





The great plaza in Montgomery had never before seen such a great crowd. In the last three weeks the city inns had filled with people from all over the kingdom, from highborn lords to simple knights, and many a commoner had spent his last penny just to see the day.

The executioner stood grimly at the edge of the scaffold sharpening his axe. Henry himself had made sure there would be two axes, one for the prince and one for the other king. The ceremony had to go without fault today, and he was just the man to do the job. Commoners knelt to nobles and nobles knelt to kings, but in the end both nobles and kings knelt to him. Commoners lucked out on that too; they got the rope.

He was kind of excited at the prospect; he had never beheaded a king before. He had come to hope it, when Edward had taken him with his army against Caernarvon. The prince had chosen him especially for his talent and precision; he prided himself on only needing one strike, even for the thickest neck. He was to behead Dafydd when the city fell, Edward had told him, but the king had died during the attack, which left little need for an executioner. Edward had had Dafydd's head cut out with a saw instead of an axe. But the executioner's stay in Caernarvon had not been without its rewards. Three minor Welsh nobles had conspired to kill the princess Julia. Had Edward not been away, they would have probably got much worse. In his absence, though, they got the axe.

The order had been set before, first the prince and then the king. The executioner felt cheated somewhat. If the order were reversed, he had established, he'd get two kings instead of one.

The prince was shivering when he was brought to the block, and had even taken a blindfold. But he was man enough to stand still and not endure the humiliation of being restrained. The cut was clean and sent the prince's head rolling far away. "Too much enthusiasm for me", thought the executioner. Still, he'd learn from his mistake.

When the king knelt to the block, the executioner's blood was pumping. He felt all eyes on him; the king, the high lords, the commoners, all waiting for a perfect strike.

The stroke was masterful, the arc of the hit perfect, and the result poetry to the executioner's eyes. The king's head stood at the foot of the block, his eyes gazing into the sky. Cheers came from the crown, first lower, then louder and louder. A man in the front row was writing something on a parchment, while another had just finished a rough picture of the event. In the painting the kneeling king wore a crown and a blindfold, though the real one had worn neither.



The historian's writing interested him less, as the executioner had never learned to read nor to write. He went back to the block to recover his axes. The first had a chip in the blade; it could still be used for chopping trees, perhaps, but not for his line of work. The second, however, seemed undamaged.

For the first time, he allowed himself to hear the crowd. Their shouts had grown louder and louder until every man in Montgomery was chanting:

"Long live king Henry! Long live the king!" and then another shout replaced the first: "The rebellion is over! Long live the unifier!"



The executioner examined his good axe. It payed to be ready, especially in his line of work, and he felt that his services would soon be required again. There were always traitors when a king was around. He began sharpening his axe again.

[Riggsie15]

Great AAR, love the why it is told by the actual charaters, keep it up.

[Rilee]

Excellent AAR. One of the best i have seen
I hope you take this one to the end

[Hellbent]

Ireland next?

Great update!