[AAR] M2TW: A Sicilian Life

**Viking Prince** · May 16, 2009, 02:56 PM

Author: Junius
Original thread: [SS AAR] A Sicilian Life [COMPLETED]

A Sicilian Life

A Sicilian Life

Chapter 1: Early life to the Siege of Bari

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

I am Boemundo de Taormina, a knight, count, duke, lord and much more besides, in the service of the King of Sicily. I am an old man, I feel like one anyway, and I wish to tell my story.

My life began on the singular island of Sicily, singular in it's beauty, with dusty plains, and high mountains, cool streams and shady forests, calm bays and placid lakes. It is an ancient land, one populated by myths and gods, heroes and legends. I, however, had very mundane origins. I was born to a knight who had arrived with Roger, and who had helped drive out the Saracens. In gratitude, my father, Tristan, had been granted a parcel of land, where he built his estate. It started off as just a wooden keep, the building I was born in, but eventually it was seethed in stone, and a small village sprang up around it. Sicily is hot, but fertile, and I enjoyed my early child among her famed citrus orchards. My father's land, it had belonged to a Saracen noble before him, was decorated by citrus orchards, which I loved to walk among, and pick fruit from when they were in season. However, this wonderful life, lived among the oranges and lemons, with their fresh smell in my nose, and the sun on my face, and sometimes the cool breeze through my hair, all of this was ruined by the return of my father. His horse had fallen and crushed his right leg during a skirmish with some brigands. He could never fight again, and always walked with a limp and noticeable pain for the rest of his life. At the time of his return I was six, and he seemed to want to live all that he could not now accomplish through me. I was to become a page at the estate of one of my father's comrades, a Sir Rodric. His estate was near Syracuse, on the other side of Sicily. I could not imagine leaving my orchards, the places I had grown up, but, after I turned seven, I was sent off to live the life of a knight's page. I could never forgive my father, but we were soldiers, our family, so, eventually, it would have happened anyway.

But this is not just the story of my life. It is the story of Sicily, the story of the two Sicilies. Soon enough, both our fates were to become intertwined. My life as a page was to last five hellish, uneventful years, and I do well to forget them. When I was twelve, I was sent off to Palermo to become a squire to one of the knights of Prince Simone. Here, among the real soldiers, the professional and active knights of Sicily, I would learn the trade. I was taught sword fighting, jousting, how to be a knight, and most of all, riding. I had rode a hobby horse at Sir Rodric's estate, but now I had to ride a big charger, and I loved it. Any spare moments, which were rare, I spent out on the green hills or dusty paths. Soon, out of all the squires at the court, I was the best rider, and I was proud of it. Another lover of riding was Simone's sister, the Princess Matilda. I fell in love with her, with her brown eyes, with her long dark hair, with her walk, and with her body. She was four years older than me, and I was a squire, always dirty with the smell and mess of horses, but I like to think that she liked me. I did not often speak to her, except at the stables, where she kept her horse, and like me, she loved to ride around the country. Sometimes, I saw her smiling or giggling at court, and once or twice her eyes lingered on me. I cherish those memories, nearly above all others.

Alas, I was ripped away from my second love, this time by Prince Simone and his military desires. We were to capture the city of Bari, ostensibly under the control of Constantinople, but it operated as a separate kingdom. This was to be my first military campaign, and though I was to play no part in the battle, I was excited. We left for Naples, from the docks of Palermo, late in the summer of my thirteenth year. We wintered in the ancient city, and Simone took the opportunity to levy more spear men, and hire a band of wandering mercenaries. By the time we marched out for Bari in the Spring, his army numbered over 4,000. When we came into the county of Bari, Simone did not go straight for the city, instead he took his time subjugating small villages and winning the support of the local population. It was late in the campaigning season before he set up camp surrounding the city and keep of Bari. Simone's engineers gathered trees and lumber, and built ladders and a ram with which we, I say we, were to assault the city. The morning of the battle, I dressed Sir Geoffrey in his armour, but that was the height of my involvement. With the other squires, though, I got to see the first parts of the battle unfold from our camp. The spear men tried to capture the walls, with their ladders, but were driven back. The ram, however, broke through the gate, and the bloodied spear men got through that way. When the enemy manning the wall realised that the enemy had gotten in behind them, they panicked. They tried to fight our spear men, but they held firm, long enough for Simone to lead his knights in a charge, breaking the Barians resolve. I could not make out more than that, since the walls blocked my view, but I was able to participate in the parade through the newly conquered town. I led Geoffrey's horse by the bit through the street, eventually into the main square, where Simone distributed booty to his soldiers and mercenaries. I was proud to walk through the city as a conqueror, and I felt that, however much I disliked him, my father would have been proud of me as well.

Chapter 2: Life in Bari to Count of Tunis

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

1,500 men had lost their lives in the assault of Bari, not including those lost among the defenders. Simone set about levying the local population to fill up his ranks. It was mainly the easily replaceable militia, but some of the knights had also lost their life. Roger the ordered his knights, including Geoffrey, back to Palermo, to prepare for an attack on the African stronghold of Tunis. This left Simone with hardly any knights, which were needed to run his newly won city and it's surrounding territory. So, just before Roger's knights left, Simone promoted their squires, including me, to the rank of knight. I was 18, and already a knight in the service of Prince Simone, but we did not have a lot to do. The surrounding area continued in the way they had always done, unexpectedly so, just paying their taxes to a new master.

Though Simone was ten years our senior, we, the squires, soon became friends. I was still in love with horses, and riding, and now without the responsibilities of being a squire, I was allowed the time to hone my skills on the low plains of Bari. Like the rest of his family, Simone had a passion for horses as well. I was frequently found at the castle's stables, and was soon entrusted with the care of Simone's charger. This may have seemed like a job fit for a squire or page, but it brought my close to the Prince, and we often had long conversations about the rearing and breeding of horses. After a month or so Simone, who had been taught some Classical history, but was certainly no scholar, proclaimed me his 'Master of Horse', but he did not realise the power and authority that this title brought me when in discussion or conflict with other nobles. We often went hunting or riding around Bari. It was a beautiful country, on the sea with low, rolling plains, with small scrub plants and rabbits and hares for hunting, and you could see the purple mountains of the Appenians as you looked in from the sea. It was not good farming country, and it lacked the vitality and fertility of Sicily, which I loved so much, I could enjoy Bari, but I could never make it my home. He took to calling me Phillip, after he had learnt want it meant from a Greek tutor, and, since no other 'Squires', the name we are still known as, had earned a nickname yet, I was seen to be the leader and closest to Simone, perhaps I was. He was a likeable, but simple man, who was affectionate, but he was not my closest friend in Bari. That was Giacomo, he was a 'Squire' who had grown up near my father's estate, and often we used to play together as children, but he was not my only friend in Bari. Though I was liked by every Squire, especially those looking for Simone's favour, I was not hated, and I feel that everyone respected me, seeing that I did not intentionally go courting Simone's favour, and that it was a genuine friendship.

There was not much to do in Bari, it was a back water, and this was why I started to read the works of Homer and other ancient writers. There were often Byzantine and Fatimid traders using Bari as a port, and I bought whatever books I could of them. My Greek was bad, but with the frequent readings of Homer, it soon improved. I tried to learn Arabic also, from a slave boy of the castle, but I could never grasp the alphabet. I could speak it very badly, and have used it on occasion to disarm Turk and Muslim diplomats. Simone often wanted them read to him, and I obliged him, since he could not read Greek at all. He always said that he wanted to be Menelaus, a conquering king, and had sneered at my love of Hector, who had lost to Achilles and was not a conqueror. I retorted saying that we still speak his name, and that it is still respected.

A letter soon arrived from Palermo, and it carried the Privy Seal. The letter was from Roger, the king, and it ordered that Simone send knights and militia to fight at Tunis, where a great siege was happening. Simone, however, did not want to leave Bari, he had fallen in love with the city, and some of it's female inhabitants. Nevertheless, he could not disobey an order from his father. In the end, he did not go, claiming ill-health, but he did appoint me to head the small column of knights and archers that left Bari one spring morning. We marched north and east, to the port of Naples, where there were horrible ships to bring us over to Africa, and it was one of the longest, most horrendous sea journey that I have ever had the misfortune to make.

Tunis was a small town, with an impressive keep. It was built on a hill near to where ancient Carthage had once stood, though Tunis was more inland. The force that was besieging the citadel when I arrived with my calvary and was led by Captain Gualteiro. We stayed around the city for six months, preparing for our assault. Like at Bari, rams and ladders were prepared. As like Bari, there was not much for the army to do, and most of our days were spent foraging or just looking after ourselves. To be honest, I felt like Achilles cooped up in my tent, doing nothing. The city also reminded me of Troy, it was built on a hill, surrounded by walls, and a long, rolling plain, meeting the sea. Our wooden ships were staying off shore, it the deep waters, but were sheltered by the bay. My first real taste of battle came after what felt like ten years of waiting in our camp around Tunis.

Gualteiro, the commander of the force, elected to lead the infantry and archers in the battle, while I was to take command of the calvary. Gualteiro thought that he would win the honour and spoils of the day since his battle plane revolved around use of the infantry. In fact, there was hardly any calvary in the army, with only 100 knights present.

Like at Bari, Gualteiro hoped to seize the walls of Tunis, using the spear men. He heard what I said about the use of them at Bari, so instead of splitting them up and trying to take the wall on both sides on the gate, he concentrated his forces. However, they were easily beaten back, and Gualteiro ordered their withdrawal before they were completely destroyed. Instead, we again had to rely on the ram making short work of the gate. Luckily, even though there were many enemy archers raining blazing arrows upon it's wet leather hide, it managed to batter through the gate. There, the enemy lord, a renegade Fatimid noble, was waiting with his desert calvary, from the interior. This was where me and my knights won our glory. We charged through the splintered gate, crashing with our lances into the enemy calvary. They did not have time to escape and soon the enemy lord had fallen. Our spear men, now through the gates, kept the enemy infantry, all preoccupied with repelling attacks on the wall, from coming down and helping. While they were pinned down near the outskirts of the town, me and the Squires rode up and took control of the keep, and won the day.

It was unfortunate that Gualteiro could not enjoy our victory for long, an arrow wound became gangrenous and he died soon after the battle. I, however, at the age of 21, became a count, although of a small and underdeveloped county and town, a count nonetheless. It was my first military victory, and my first major battle, having only fought brigands and petty rebels before that. It was a day to be savoured, and as the orange sun sank into the sands of the east, we enjoyed a feast of beer and beef.

Chapter 3: Life in Tunis

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The years at Tunis were easy ones and they passed slowly. I had an estate outside of the city, but I hardly got to visit it. The Squires had been sent back to Bari, to continue their life under Simone. I did not have a lot of help, therefore, in the running of my county in Africa, and I had often had to work long into the night. Though it was a great honour to receive a letter bearing the Holy See, the task enclosed added an extra burden to my already busy schedule, and strained treasury. The Pope, though he did not write directly he was said to be the origin of the order, wanted the people of North Africa, mainly Berbers, and all either Muslim or Pagan, to be converted to the faith. He asked for my support in this, being the only Catholic lord of Africa, and that I build a seminary and chapel so that priests and missionaries can be sent out to convert the populace. This was no easy task, but I started work on the required buildings. This was an expensive project, but I managed to scrap together enough funds to just about cover it, from my already stretched budget. The building of these religious establishments brought me into a good reputation with the Pope, but the development of the rest of Tunis did suffer as a result. That being said, there was a small, but steady, influx of people to the city. I was able to increase the functions of the keep, including placing a renewed emphasis on trade. This area had been one of the richest in the world, during the times of the Roman Republic, and I hoped that I could generate a trading city to rival that of Carthage, the likes of which had not been seen in this part of Africa since the famous city's destruction. The previous ruler had been preoccupied with increasing his own personal wealth, and had stolen and extorted it from the native population. I had to work hard to encourage the people to start working for their own profit again, as they were now accustomed to it, the profit, being stolen, by the lord in Tunis.

Roads were built around the province, though they were not like the ones that were found in Italy or Sicily, they made it quicker, and safer, to transport goods and it encouraged trade, and thus increased the taxes flowing into the coffers in Tunis. In the city, I provide funding for a tannery to built, hoping to encourage local tradesmen by providing good quality leather and vellum. An off shoot of this was that the castle smiths were able to make better quality armour for any troops recruited in Tunis. I did not tax the locals too harshly, only taking what I felt was a fair amount, and hoped that I was a good ruler for them. I enjoyed a good deal of autonomy from Palermo, it was over the sea, and Roger was not too concerned with what his local lords did, as long as they payed him his tribute, and were willing to fight for him during times of war. Simone and I kept in correspondence, I often reported to him the building projects which I undertook, and of the condition of my orchards on my estate. He wrote, nearly in every letter, of his undying love of this woman or of that one. I did not have much time for a wife yet, but that is not to say I did not enjoy a visit to the local brothel, I just did not have a lot of time for it, and to be honest none of the women of Tunis were of a suitable birth to marry.

I did the best I could at Tunis, but it was not what I really wanted to do. I had fallen in love with the idea of being a hero, like Achilles or Hector, and I knew no one gained fame by being an able provincial governor. I wanted real glory, and that was only won on the battlefield. Apart from fighting bandits and brigands, there were no battles to be had in Africa, not around Tunis at all. I looked into the possibility of expanding my, technically Sicilian, dominion to the south. I sent one of the newly ordained priests south, ostensibly to convert, but also to spy, and was finally happy that I got something out of the chapel that I had been practically ordered to build by the Pope. Though on this occasion I was in no position to expand, I had not nearly enough soldiers to garrison Tunis and move against an forces in the south, it was prudent to learn the position of my potential enemies.

When I thought that my military ambitions would have to be halted for an indefinite period of time, a very good and beautiful piece of fortune. Matilda, my crush from earlier in my life, arrived on a ship one day, not entirely unannounced. Simone had been speaking of his sisters tour of the Italian states, and had said that she had stopped on the Genoese island of Corsica, and was intending to stop at Tunis before returning to Palermo. I greeted her with a great feast, and gave her a tour of the growing town. To be honest, I was embarrassed to show her my prized tannery, which was the centre piece of my new Tunis. Though she was a number of years older than the last time I had seen her at Palermo, she, if anything, had aged with increasing beauty. She spent a week in Tunis and Africa. I took her out riding one day, to my estate, and we talked and walked among my citrus shoots. She admired them greatly, astonished to find anything growing in the 'sands' of Africa. I held back from telling her that the soil here was very good for orange and lemon trees.

Her report, for I gather that was why she had stopped, to her father must have been good, for not a fortnight had passed since her departure than a letter arrived from Palermo. It was, of course, from the king. With it came a supply of money, to be spent raising troops and equipping them. He had ordered, in his letter, that these troops be transported to Sardinia to capture the fort there, and win control of the whole island. I was to lead these expedition. I set about as soon as possible obtaining enough men to field a decent army. These men were trained on the fields and plains outside Tunis, while their weapons and armour were made up in the new tannery I had built. When I felt they were finally ready to do battle, they were loaded into the galleys which had been moored in the shallow waters of the Bay of Tunis. Finally I was taste military glory again, though yet another time it was preceded by a dreadful sea journey, with storms and gales, but that was soon forgotten when I made landfall on Sardinia, and prepared my forces for a glorious and honourable victory.

Chapter 4: A rise through the Court

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Sardinia was an island full of nothing good. The land was infertile, and the only vegetation that I saw on my short stay was scrub. The main town of Sardinia was Cagliari, a horrible place, which I don't even want to remember, so suffice it to say it was just like the rest of this little gem in the sea. I ordered my men to quickly take up position around the walls of this town. I sent emissaries to the town council demanding their surrender.

As expected they refused, secure in the thought that their archers and walls could hold back the brave and strong Sicilians. That, however, was not to be the case. After seeing how bad ladders were at trying to capture walls, I ordered my engineers to build siege towers, which could be moved into position and used to unleash all our soldiers at once, rather than the one at a time of ladders, which allowed the defenders numeric superiority and an easily push back the attackers. The building of these towers would, of course, take longer than building ladders, but I was prepared to wait a little longer to be sure of victory. Four months in took in total to prepare the towers. In that time some of the defenders had died from hunger or disease, so our task would be that bit easier.

It was a hot and clear morning when I decided the time was ready to attack. The sun sat like an apple in the east over the now calm seas. I sat on my horse, encased in my iron armour, as all the men dressed for battle and took up their positions. In total, our forces were less then those of the defenders, but I counted on their training and arms to count for something, and the fact that the enemy was completely lacking in calvary gave us the advantage. The towers and ram which had been built were brought up as well, and I gave the order for them to start their slow and lumbering advance towards the tall walls of Cagliari. The citizens and garrison of the town were prepared for our attack. Their archers manned the walls and from their vantage point shot burning arrows hoping that they would ignite and destroy our siege equipment. It was fruitless, as their arrows simply bounced off the wet leather protective hide of the machines, or their fire did not catch. The equipment made it safely to the walls of Cagliari, and our ram started the process of battering down the gates of the town. Then, disaster struck. The archers, who had continued to shoot their arrows, finally got lucky, and one of our towers caught fire, and in a matter of moments was ablaze.

The men inside tried to escape before it collapsed, but unfortunately around half of the men manning it were either burnt or crushed to death by the destroyed tower. This was a major setback, but the other tower was still enact, and the ram continued to do it's job. Soon, the spear men from the other tower had emptied onto the enemy walls, and were cutting down the archers of Cagliari.

Then the gates finally gave way and broke, shattering into a million little splinters, with two pieces of dead wood hanging from broken hinges. The surviving spear men from the tower poured into the town, and quickly engaged the defending infantry. I charged with my calvary through the empty gate way, but instead of charging head on into the enemy, I took my knights around some side streets, and came upon their rear. I shut down my visor, my brow already sweaty from the hot day and the now boiling oven created by my armour. The sounds and screams of battle were muffled, and my eyesight was constricted. All I could see was the back of the enemy infantry. I gathered the reins of my horse in one hand, while I steadied my lance in the crook of my other arm. When I thought that all my knights were readied, I let up a roar and kicked into the flanks of my chestnut charger. He reared forward, his hoofs, and that of the other horses, kicking up dust. As I draw ever neared to melee, I heard the clash and clang of iron and steel grow louder. I leaned down and drove forward with all my weight when I meant the massed men of the battle. I could feel the resistance of flesh and leather, before it finally gave to the unrelenting momentum of horse and rider combined. I quickly trough away my lance, now useless in the general fight, and drew my sword. I leaned up in my saddle, standing on the stirrups, before I drove down with a almighty swing of steel sword. The sound and sight of flesh splitting and bone splintering was at both satisfying and repugnant. Hacking left and right, the Cagliarians quickly broke in fear.

A general route ensued, with my calvary in pursuit, riding down those fleeing men, their bodies being broken under leg and hoof of the huge charging horses. Some managed to escape to the central plaza, in front of the castle. Here, seeing no escape, they turned and fought to a man. We made light work of them, and soon the last defender of Cagliari fell, his armour and arms blood stained and splattered.

The victory was won, but the day was not finished. Their were still wounded men on the field. I ordered a field hospital set up, to deal with those Sicilian injured. The unscathed men were tasked with scouring the streets and walls of Cagliari looking for wounded defenders, and killing them so that they would not suffer long from their wounds. The castle was not rich, in decorations or loot, but I commandeered the treasury. Apart from that and looting of the dead corpses, no stealing was to take place, and I put my men on a short leash, so that none would act rashly. I was tired after the battle, and went up to the lords old bedroom. Their I ordered my squire to remove my blood encrusted armour and clean it. I also ordered some hot water and towels brought up, and I cleaned myself of the grime and dirt which had gathered during the battle. When I finished that, and had put on a linen suit, I went down to the stables to check on Caccia, my faithful charger. I gave him oats and patted him for a job well done. The stable hands knew that I wanted my horse well looked after, and had cleaned and brushed him after the battle. I told them to get the farrier and re-shoe Caccia, whose iron hoofs had suffered during the day. I then went back to my room, where some fruit and bread was waiting for me, along with a goblet of wine. I invited my lieutenants for a toast, and a short discussion of the battle. We were all tired, and the meeting did not last long. After a short while they all returned to their quarters, and I fell asleep.

I did not stay long in Cagliari, it was worse then a sea voyage there. Instead I left a packet of orders with an able clerk of mine, a Marco D'Annuzio, with clear instructions on how to develop the settlement. I also left enough money to start up the tax collection services and the initial building projects. I returned to Palermo, i had not seen Sicily in over five years, and was happy to return. Though I wanted to go home to my mother at my father's estate, I had to stay with the king and deliver my report on Tunis and Cagliari. He was happy with how I had managed Tunis, and with my report of the battle of Cagliari and what instructions I had left. He held a feast in celebration where he appointed me Duke of Cagliari, a title I have never cared for much, given what I thought of the town. Present at the feast, seated beside me in fact for it's duration, was Matilda. We got along well that night, and she was as beautiful as ever. We laughed and joked, and I genuinely enjoyed the evening, a rare event as I never did enjoy court occasions much. News from Naples, where Simone had now based his court, was that he had married a Sicilian noble women, daughter of one of Roger's knights, a Guida de Mortetusco, a most ravishing beauty whose reputation had reached even my ears in Tunis. Roger then asked me about my marital status, and said when I replied that I had no wife, that he must find a suitable woman for his ablest general. I was flattered at the compliment, and said that I would be most gracious. Matilda's laugh draw both, Roger's and mine, attention to her, and soon we were deep in conversation again.

The next day, before I set out to visit my mother and father, Roger approached me with news that he wished me to marry Matilda. I was astonished, I never thought that I would even come into discussion about her marriage. He noted how well we got on the last night, and said that he wanted to honour both me and his family by joining us together. I accepted, as one only can, and postponed my journey for a day. I spent that day with Matilda, and we walked around the corridors and gardens of Palermo castle, we talked and fell in love, or should I say I fell in love with her again. I spoke of my admiration of her while I was a squire, and she replied that she had, in fact, noticed that little horse obsessed boy watching her. We slept together that night, and I left the next day.

My father's estate was as beautiful as ever, especially in the mid-autumn sun. I toured the orchards and told my mother all my adventures. That night, while we were eating a dinner with all the local important magistrates, I announced my engagement, and was congratulated heartily by all. My father could hardly belive that he would be soon related to royalty, and though he was an old and hard man, he cried, out of pride and love, and my hatred of the man finally melted there. I spent a couple of days on the estate, before returning to Palermo with my father. There, both fathers organised the dowry and marriage arrangements of their children. The ceremony, it was decided, was to happen in Palermo, before I left again for Tunis. The next week, in fact, it took place, officiated by the Sicilian cardinal.

The ceremony was grand, and so was the feast afterwards. Given it's short notice, a great deal of nobles managed to come from Italy, and there even was a representative of the Papal States, and of Venice.

We, my new wife and I, stayed in Palermo for a few days, before I finally took her by sea, now a more enjoyable form of transport with my fresh bride to keep my company, to my burgeoning town in Africa. As it came into view over the horizon, the tip of the keep built on the hill, I was happy now with my life, perhaps the happiest I had been since my childhood among the lemon and orange trees.

Chapter 5: Family Life

Spoiler Alert, click show to read:

Life in Tunis leapt along. It was an expanding town, and I had a lot of administration to see to, but I did not neglect my wife. Soon enough, in fact, we were expecting our baby. A midwife was sent over from Palermo, along with a wet nurse, and I got some men to work on a room for the little soldier, as I was sure it was going to be a boy. The nine, ever expanding, months passed soon enough, and it was with great anxiety that I received the news, out on a farm nearly fifteen miles from Tunis, that Matilda's water had broken and she was entering labour. It was all over, however, when I got to the keep. I rode the road back to Tunis as fast as I could, my little entourage kicking up dust into the setting summer sun. Five hours it had taken, and at the end a baby boy, wrapped in swaddling. I, of course, got to name the brute, and he was christened Alessandro soon after the birth.

Alessandro was left in the care of his wet nurse, and I got to know his mother again, she had been kept away from me for a few weeks prior to his birth, lest her expansive size detest me. The administration of the castle and town I could trust to my small army of clerks, who I had train in the operation and governance of the town. Life clipped along, and with a family and wife to distract me, my thoughts of military conquest were soon relegated to the back of my mind.

My small estate out of Tunis was also growing. It had been a couple of years since I had planted the orchard, and it was giving us it's first fruits. Alessandro had been moved, in a carriage with his mother, from the noisy and polluted town to the country, a much better enviroment I felt for the raising and recuperation of a mother and son.

My small pastoral life as a gentleman farmer was soon broken up, however, from more news bearing the Royal Seal. It seems the Genoans had angered or annoyed Roger in some way, more likely however, was that he was just using the diplomatic angling as an excuse to grab much prized Genoan land, like the island of Corsica and the Northern Italian ports. It had become an open secret that Roger wanted to unite Italy as one kingdom, and eventually refound the Roman Empire, an ambition shared, more than likely, with many leaders, both great and petty. It was in this way which I was called back to Tunis to raise troops for an invasion of Genoan territory. As the most succesful Sicilian general, having taken two cities, I was to command the main force, though I was not much enlightened about what my mission was to be truly be.

One misty and cool spring morning, with dew on the small buds of the orange trees, I saddled up my horse, the ever depandable Caccia, and said goodbye to my small son, and my newly pregnant wife. I hugged and kissed my young family, and felt for the first time that fatherly terror that I would not return to see my son walk, or my wife grow old. The king wanted me to fight, and fight I would, but that was not to be my chief passion anymore, my mind was more focused on surviving.

Chapter 6: The Battle at the Maritime Alps

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We, me and my army, moved in land after landing quietly on a stretch of ancient coast near the bend where Italy grows from the Alps and the Po flood plain. It was quiet, the only sound being the chirping crickets in the hot late afternoon sun. I was happy to finally have firm soil under my feet again, the last time I felt the security of Mother Earth was on that wretched little island of Sardinia, where we had stopped to resupply and take on board some extra troops. With me I had several regiments of archers, though these were unlike the Sicilian Muslims who had fought with me before. They were just levied peasants, more akin to poaching game, than practising at the butts. Along with the archers, I had funds enough to recruit some local cross-bowmen, and as well as these mercenaries, I hired some bands of mace-men and spear-men. My army was roughly half Sicilian troops and half Italian mercenaries. Luckily, the Italians are famed for their mercurial habits, and as long as I kept the mercenaries well paid, I was guaranteed of their loyalty. Corsica had been my main goal, but Roger, still reigning from high walled Palermo, had other ideas. He wanted a quick strike against the Genoese homeland, and had ordered me to sail to the coast there. The old man was not to be questioned. It seems he wanted to assert his authority over the petty merchantmen before his inevitable death. The Pope, influential, especially in Italy, was firmly on our side. It seems Roger, a smart and cunning ruler, had quietly been slipping gold into the hands of the Pope in Rome, so he found no objection in our war.

I did not have long to wait before I had to form up the lines for battle. It seems the Venetians, who we were not friendly with at the time, were also at war with Genoa, probably coveting some of their lucrative trade lanes, and had thought that the Genoese had brought us into their war as allies. A small force, under the Venetian general Alessandro Selvo, was marching through Genoan land, close to where we were. Our respective scouts had spotted both armies, but I was not willing to engage with the neutral force. Not long after I had got the report with respects to the Venetian force, Alessandro approached our camp. It was dawn, with the sun yet to appear over the hills. It was the height of summer, so it was not often that I was awake to see the sunrise, and most of my men were in their tents as well. The sentry came running to my tent, reporting the sighting of an enemy under arms approaching. Not one to tolerate, or ignore, such an insult, I had the trumpeter sound the reveille, waking the men and calling them to arms.

We had pitched camp on top of a small hillock, on the eastern side of the Maritime Alps. I formed up the army in three lines. The archers were placed out in front, and, with the height advantage, began raining their dark arrows on the Venetian levies. Alessandro must have had a bad report, since he had attacked me with a small force, only half his troops. When he saw the full size of my force, he must have sent a runner off, requesting nearby troops to join him. I saw this as a dust cloud, coming from the plain to the north-east. I knew this was a chance to strike a blow against the Venetians, since we were now on an unstoppable path to war.

The archers, and the cross-bowmen, continued launching their deadly arrows at the Venetians, while I positioned my spear-men in a crescent on the hillock, ready to charge and encircle the enemy. I rode with my horsemen, their were very few of us, to a position to our left, ready to charge in and sweep up the engaged enemy. Alessandro knew what I was up to, and readied his own bodyguard to charge my unit. Uphill that was going to be a struggle, and I kicked my steed into a gallop. No further order was necessary, my knights knew what was up, and in an instant the air was full of the sound of iron hoofs, and of clods and divots of earth.

My lance splintered as it unhorsed a Venetian horseman. I tossed it aside, and unsheathing my sword, hacked at the dismounted man. My sword bit into his neck, between his helmet and plate armour. Blood spluttered from the wound, and I jerked my blade upward, dislodging it, and allowing the unfortunate man to fall to the ground, soaking it with his red life blood. The momentum that we had charging down the hill had obviously given us the upper hand. Several Venetian riders had already been killed, and although there were some bloodied and injured Sicilians, all of my knights were still fighting. A group of spear-men, having seen the charge by Alessandro had broken off from the main battle line and had come in behind the Venetians.

With their arrival, Alessandro's group. Too late, it seems, as Alessandro was pulled from his horse by one the spear-men and taken prisoner. He was marched off as quickly as possible to the camp, I could not let as valuable a prize go unprotected, or open to the dangers of battle.

I reformed my horsemen, all still alive, and steadied them for another charge downhill, this time into the flanks of the unsuspecting Venetian infantry. With my lance broken, the same had happened to most of my unit, I had raised my sword, that swung it forward as I shouted the charge. Again the thundering sound of horse and rider charging, sword singing through the air, voice raising a roar to the heavens, filled my steel helmet, and I was overtaken by the spirit of battle. Hacking and slashing, sweat filled my eyes. I could hardly see, the sun had risen during the course of the engagement, and was dazzling through the small slit which allowed me my now compromised view of the battle. I could just about make out the retreating and routing shapes. I ripped my helmet from my head, and flung it down. Wiping my eyes, I could see a group of Venetian cross-bowmen. I wheeled my horse around, gathering to myself my retinue. I pointed, mail fisted wrapped around a bloodied and notched sword towards the pavaise men. For the third time we charged. This time my senses were un-hindered, not being shielded behind the steel helmet. I saw the fear on the faces of the Venetians, that sudden gasp of terror, the uncontrollable panic. I felt myself reviled by my lack of feeling. It was as if the god of war had taken over. I was a passenger, a spectator to my own actions, slashing at men's faces, relishing the feel of sword on skin. Still I rode, chasing down those brave enough to flee. Their bones broke under the iron hooves of my heavy charger, and I was still in a uncontrollable blood rage.

My sense and reason only returned to me when there were no more enemies to kill, and the battle won. The reinforcements had arrived mid-battle, and had joined the Venetian line. They had routed, along with the other Venetians, when my knights and I charged their flank. The battle was won, but the war only begun.

I surveyed my troops and the battlefield that evening. Some men had fresh dressings on. More than likely they would succumb to their injuries, probably they would die from an infectious fever, or gangrene. The lucky ones, around nine hundred of my original thousand, were assembled, and began the unenviable task of sorting the dead, stripping them, and then burning the corpses. Burying would have taken too long, the cadavers would have time to fester and spread disease. That night, as I washed and ate, the stars were hidden by the smoke and ashes of the dead rising to heaven. I slept uneasily, with dreams of the battle, and of headless, limbless corpses rising from the ground.

The next day, another beautiful warm summer day, Alessandro was brought to my tent. We had captured some one hundred, including the relation of the Doge, who had either been incapacitated or who had thrown down their weapons. I was faced with a hard decision. Either I could let them go, and risk them facing my army again, or I could kill them, in cold blood. I was scared of my lack of feeling in the battle the previous day, and I wanted to make up for it, somehow. I talked with Alessandro. He was a young man, near the same age as myself, early thirties or so. We talked over a breakfast of bread, milk and cold meats. He, like me, had a young son, a wife, a family. I had always tried to distance myself from my enemies, imagine them as mere animals, not as fellow human beings. Now the reality came crashing down on me. The men I killed yesterday, they had families, farms, sons and daughters. I was disgusted with myself. I had sent untold tragedy the way of countless individuals, countless humans. I had relished combat, sought it out even. Now I tried to remember how many people I had killed, but I could not. The number was too great. The suffering I caused must have been unbearable, and yet I was praised as a hero for it, given the hand of the king's daughter. I knew, as all soldiers knew, that they, those I had killed, would have as soon as struck me down as look at me. It was small reconciliation. I cried. I covered my face with my cloak, but still the tears rolled down my face, still the sickness, the disgust I felt, came. No one was there to comfort me, Matilda was in Tunis, my friends embarrassed for me. I cried alone, only Alessandro in my company. He tried to reassure me, strange coming from a person I would have killed yesterday, and, to be honest, it helped. We talked, I of my life growing up, and of my battles, and he echoed them with similar tales.

That night we had a feast, tradition, though I did not feel much like it. Alessandro was my guest. I made sure all troops, Sicilian and Venetian, had some meat and beer. I retired early, and slept badly again.

The next day I sent the Venetians of their way. I stripped them of arms, but otherwise left them unmolested. I had made a friend in the most unlikely of places. I watched as the column, dust rising behind them, slowly crept along towards Milan. I knew I would probably face some of them again in battle, but I would never forget what I had felt the day prior. No longer would I seek out combat, it would be a last resort. My men were important to me, but now so were those of the enemy. Sure, I was to kill again after that day, I did not swear of combat and become a priest, but, afterwards, I felt a respect for my enemy, I never forgot that they were as human as I.

**Viking Prince** · May 20, 2009, 04:53 PM

Author: Junius
Original thread: [SS AAR] A Sicilian Life [COMPLETED]

A Sicilian Life

Chapter 7: Letters from Home

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Our cumbersome baggage train slowly moved in land. Several days it took us, snaking across the maquis countryside, the bush country. The summer sun steadily rose in intensity, until we were no longer able to travel through the mid afternoon, but had to break and seek shelter in the shadows of our carts. The land, as we crept towards the northern mountains, steadily became more fertile, more verdant. We stopped by babbling streams, who, just descended from the lush peaks, had yet to converge and create the large rivers that watered the land. Our navy, under Admiral Soldini, had won numerous victories up and down the coast. Unburdened by numerous trade lanes which it did not have to protect, Soldini was able to concentrate his ships and galleys and take out the small fleets of Genoese and Venetian ships which patrolled no longer the coast. I was able to receive reinforcements from Sicily, more spear-men and some archers, and along with them, they brought letters from Palermo and Tunis.

My Dear Boemundo,
I have more great news for you. After you left, I discovered I had fallen pregnant again. This is a joyous occasion. Alessandro is growing up strong, and is excited about having a little brother to play with, and to teach. He is certain, as am I, that it is going to be another strong little boy. I cannot wait for you to come home and meet him, when he comes.
Spring has turned to summer here, and the winds has brought numerous sand storms from the interior. I have given up Tunis for now, preferring to live on our estate nearer the coast. The physician says that this will be better for both the unborn and the mother.
Alessandro listen gleefully to stories of his father. When in Tunis he stays near the barracks, and the old soldiers are enamoured with him, though they would never admit it. They tell him stories of his heroic father, first through the gate at Caligari and Tunis, and the small battles you had with the desert people. Afterwards, he goes out with the other young boys and plays soldier. He will grow up into a good fighting Sicilian, I am sure of it.
My father has made arrangements for squireship. He is to be sent to Syracuse, to join the court there, but not for a couple of years, as he is still too young to start his formal training.
Palomino has foaled, it is another colt, but it will be gelded soon. It is too be broken in next season, and it should make a good mount for Alessandro when he is older.
That is all for now my love, I hope that this letter reaches you in good health and safety. I look forward to your return, and pray that it comes soon.
Lady Matilda.

The letter, as doubtless any father could have told you, warmed my heart. It brought my out of the fit of depression I had felt ever since the battle with the Venetians. News from home, especially for a campaigning soldier, is always welcome, as it gives a brief escape from the toil and trouble of a fighting, and let's the recipient, for a brief time, imagine all is normal, and they are at home again. The other letter, from King Roger, was less welcome.

Lord Taormina,
I greet you in the full knowledge that you will not let your King or kingdom down in your current situation. I have heard rumours of a Venetian attack, from my spies around Italy, and warn you to be on your guard. Your main mission shall remain the seizure of Genoese territory, on the mainland, and the ultimate dismantling of their foreign holdings.
To this end, I have sent several fresh bands of spear-men and archers.
However, if open hostilities are declared on you by the Venetians, I give you my full and honest permission to act in any way you see fit, to achieve the aims of destroying our enemies ability to wage war. I have allocated further funds for the recruitment of mercenaries, should you need to hire extra troops.
I wish you well in all your battles, and know that you will serve me well, as you have done many times in the past.
Your lord and king,
King Roger

The letter contained nothing new, but it did allow me the justification to march on Milan, a major city held by the Venetians. I knew that if I could capture this settlement, I would damage, nearly beyond repair, their ability to attack either us Sicilians or the Genoese. Even though we were still at war with the Maritime Republic, as it was known, I had sent some merchants to talk with the local Genoese authorities about a possible peace. With reports coming from these agents suggesting that peace was near, I continued my march north and east, away from Genoese holdings, towards the ancient city of Milan, the Venetian stronghold.

Chapter 8: The Battle of the Lombard Plains

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We snaked through the low fertile hills of Lombardy, along the road from the coast to Milan. It was getting late in the campaigning season, we had entered September and the weather was beginning to turn. No longer did we march under the beating hot sun, but often we were watched by high storm clouds.

We came within sight of Milan around a dozen miles from the rich city, when my scouts came in reporting that a regiment of spear-men were marching from behind us. They had been shadowing us for a while, and it seems that they wanted to stall us until the main garrison from Milan could march out and engage us. Evidently they did not want to fight in the streets, where important businesses could be damaged. Obviously it was a strategy endorsed by the powerful merchants of the city. I knew we had an inferior number of men than the Milanese, who were ruled by the Venetians. I had hoped that we could reach the city, and siege it, but I could not let a force, however small, remain behind us, so I ordered my army to form up and engage.

It was a dark day. There was going to be a storm that night. Though I did not know it then, it was to be a god send. My forces, at this stage, consisted of roughly of half mercenaries and half Sicilians. We had several bands of crossbow-men and archers, with some of mace-men, and the rest of spear-men, excepting my unit of experienced knights. The missile troops quickly peppered the enemy, and then my spear-men engaged. I then brought my knights around to their rear and charged. They broke quickly after that.

Unfortunatley, the time it took for us to dispatch the enemy who had come up behind us, the Milan garrison had taken to the field. There was no time to retreat from the vastly superior force. I only had 800 men, while Marcantonio, the duke of Milan had taken his entire army of 1,400 to the field. I reorganised my force, in the short time available, into a crescent shape. I hoped to lure the vast bulk of the Venetian force into the center, and then close it up, eliminating a lot of their men from the fighting, and nullifying their numeric superior. They sent their crossbow-men out first, and softened up my men. I let my archers return fire, but I did not immeadiatly charge with my knights. This was perhaps the biggest mistake I made that day. They had more archers than me, so, after the initial trade of arrows, they were, by far, the better off. I finally charged, thinking that any chance of the Venetians infantry attacking me, alone, was better than letting the archers continue. The charge broke the archers, but it did bring the bulk of the Venetian infantry into the fray. I retreated behind my line of infantry before the Venetians could catch my fast calvary.

My plan, as I have said, was that the Venetians would charge the centre of my line, allowing the flanks to close and surround them. They did not take the bait, and this was the end of the battle, even though my men were to hold their ground and like lions for an hour or so hence.

I tried to rescue the day by charging the exposed flanks of the Venetians, but they held firm. Out of my many knights who had started the day, many had died through the repeated charges. Me myself had picked up several flesh wounds, but was OK to continue. But soon the line started to break and crumble. Even though I tried to rally my men, my personal presence in the middle of the fighting certainly lifted their spirits, this was not enough. The left flank broke first, and then the Venetians rolled up the. The day was over, and it was lost.

I was in the midst of the fighting when I recognised that it was so. I turned and steered my horse trying for a way out. My heart was pumping, full of the thrill of battle, and that is the only reason I can see that I escaped what surely was to be an inglorious fate, as a bruised and battered corpse on the bloody field.

As it was, I was skewered in the leg by an opportunist spear-man. I managed to flee though, and was helped away by the only surviving member of my retinue, Lucomo.

The storm hid our escape. The heavens opened, and it felt like the second flood had come. Strewn across the country side, I managed to gather some of my men together, and organise the survivors into the semblance of a fighting force. Night fell, or at least it became darker. We camped out that night, our baggage train had fled before the battle was done. I did not mind, if got back to the coast it could send for our fleet. The night in the open air was not good for my wound, which woke me during the night. There was a burning sensation in my thigh, the spear had pierced deep and the bone was visible. It was just above my knee, on my right leg. Without Lucomo I could have never managed to get back to the coast, where, as I thought, the ships were waiting, ready to ferry us back to Sicily. The hundred men, out of the eight hundred, were tired, hungry and bloody. The mercenaries left us, and took their pay, and slipped back among their native people in the countryside. They would rest and recoup over the winter, reconstitute themselves as a fighting force.

I hardly remember the sail back to Sicily. I was delirious with fever, the wound having become infected. Drifting in and out of consciousness I was stretchered ashore. We had apparently made landfall in Palermo, though it was to be a few days, and constant attention from the court physician before I was to know that. I was bed ridden for a month. I can safely say that that was what saved from the rage of Roger. He had risked nearly half his forces, including garrison troops, on this gamble, to take land in Northern Italy. It was his expressed desire to see the peninsula united again. Seven hundred men had perished, and I was nearly among them. It was this perceived commitment that saved me, and allowed me to keep the titles I had earned previously. After a month in Palermo I was fit enough to walk around. I spent a lot of time in the barracks and stables, though I could not ride yet. I wanted nothing more then to sail back to my new home, Tunis, where my family, including one new born, and hopefully healthy baby was. The seas however were not co-operating, and I had to be content to it out the winter in Palermo, where I poured over military treaties and books, imagining what I could have done differently in Lombardy.

Come spring, I was fully fit, as fit as I was ever after my wound anyway. I stood on the dock, watching my possessions being loaded up on the boat. I had one summer back in Tunis, before I was required back in Palermo to lead another expedition against the Northern Italians. But my mind was not on future military conflicts, it was only concerned with seeing my growing family again. I looked out over the sea, and was ready to see it now for what it was, not a monster seeking to swallow me up, but it was something, a potential route that could lead to anything.

Chapter 9: Recuperation and Revenge

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I was at my home in Tunis, enjoying the company of my growing family, when a letter reached me from the king. I had only been back a few months, and only barely able to ride again, so I was sure that it could not be another summons to war. Simone, Roger's son and heir, was more than likely going to lead the next army, after my defeat at the hands of the Venetians, although I was fully expecting, and expected, to take part in any upcoming campaign as well. The news contained within the dispatch was more heart warming that a call to arms. It seems that the Pope, though still loyal to Roger, did not like the war that was going on between the Genoese and ourselves. The Papacy was known to be hostile to Venetian expansion, especially towards Rome and the Vatican, so a war between the two other Italian states would only benefit Venetian aims. Recognising this, he sent a letter to each of the leaders of the Genoese, their Doge, and our King. He urged them to stop this bloodshed, 'of Catholic brothers', and so negotiations were opened, with the Pope as mediator. They were quickly resolved, as both states recognised the growing power of Venice, now not just content with a trading empire, but desiring a territorial one as well. It came as no surprise then that Sicily and Genoa had declared peace. It was a welcome relief, though I thought then that we would surely come into conflict once again. The training of troops continued, as did the forging of weapons, but now their goal was not as murky as it had been. All things pointed to an epic war with the Venetians.

Things continued so for a while. It was roughly four months after that last letter from Palermo, confirming peace with the Genoese, when the sentries spotted a black sailed galley approaching the nearby port of Tunis. I knew it was bad news, something about black sails screams bad news, before the sack clothed, ash strewn haired men disembarked. The news they delivered was grave indeed. King Roger, after a long and successful reign, had died. The bells of churches across Sicily were muffled, and prayers were offered by all the monasteries and abbeys of Roger's kingdom. Prince Simone, now King Simone, was still in Neapolis, at least he had been when the messengers, some minor nobles, had left the port at Palermo. He had been coronated, and had named his heir. Simone only had daughters, and he had no siblings of suitable sex or age, so, in a surprising move, had named me heir. I was honoured, Simone still remembered our friendship, we had not seen each other in several years. I was not expecting to inherit the throne, a suitable member of the royal family would have come of age by then, but this move did show that Simone was a capable ruler. If he died before one of his family was able to become king, he had effectively stopped any in fighting or chance of civil war by naming an heir, or regent. The years in Neapolis must have done him some good.

I took a boat to Neapolis, to meet with Simone. I felt that a king and his heir should at least meet once in their reign. I felt that together we could also formulate a strategy, and make the kingdom of Sicily a great and feared nation, among the many states of Europe. So, it was on a warm, but blustery, day in mid-August when I stepped on board the newly named galley Roger and sailed up over the wine coloured sea, and over the horizon to the metropolitan city of Neapolis.

I arrived a week later, after a horrible journey. I could hardly sleep with the incessant rocking and rolling of the waves on the ship's hull. When I did get to sleep, I was often woken moments later by the creaking of the hull, which I felt must spell doom for my voyage, and that the Roger would surely sink. It was because of this journey that I did not arrive in Neapolis in the best of health. I must have looked like death, pale and sweaty, and I am sure Simone at first feared for my health. I was weak as well, I could hardly keep anything but the plainest meals down. But an good evenings meal on the solid earth would do me the world of good. I excused myself from the king's presence, he had come down to greet me on the docks, having seen my banner far out at sea, and had accompanied me to his residence. I was very tired, and sick, so I did not get a good look at him this time, and I ask that you excuse the exclusion of a description of him. I, nevertheless, retired that night, and only had a small meal in my quarters to regain some strength.

The next day, I was able to talk more with Simone. He was older now, approaching his mid-forties, yet he had kept his blond hair. He stood tall, taller than I, but was still slim and atheltic. His blue eyes did not have that mischevious sparkle anymore, but had settled into a knowing and caring look. He took me around his private gardens, and we caught up on all that had happened since we had last met. We had an enjoyable afternoon, talking and walking around the pleasant gardens. He had laid on a feast for that night, as was expected when such a guest as I, he had said, visited. I blushed, it was not often that I had been praised in such high words, and by such an old friend as well.

The feast that night was attened by all minor and major Sicilian nobles from the Italian mainland. When the wine flowed, and it flowed liberally, we sang songs and tried to one up each other with war and battle stories. There were knights there who I had not seen since my youth, as one of Simone's company. The high ceilings of that wooden hall rang all night with our laughing and shouting. Though I did not often over indulge, that night I did, and I don't remember the half of it. The next morning, afternoon even, I woke up with a ringing headache. That night the discussion was more serious. Simone, me and the few select nobles that made up the king's inner court discussed what his foreign policy was to be. It was decided that night that we should continue our war against the Venetians, and that we should look to expand our holdings in North Africa. I was again tasked with leading the expedition against the Venetians. This time, however, we were going to march up the spine of Italy and take the Venetian holdings before eventually sieging Milan and Venice with a secure supply route back to our holdings. The major town on the Eastern side of the Appenines was Ancona, and it was to be the goal of that second Venetian expedition.

I gathered troops, from Bari, Palermo, Neapolis and Tunis. It took a year for all the troops to assemble, a time I spent training some more in Neapolis and recruiting some local mercenaries. When all was ready, I marched out of Neapolis with nearly 1,300 men at my back. It was the largest army gathered by the Sicilians. The march north was uneventful. There were no bandits or small patrols of Venetians, and we reached the hinterland of Ancona without being troubled. That was when my scouts reported in about the several small armies of Venetians, led by minor captains, that were guarding the area outside of Ancona. I decided that it would be better to drive away these small bands of troops, so that they would not pose a threat when we settled in to siege Ancona. We lined up for battle, but messengers from these small armies must have been sent to Ancona, for Barbus Selvo, brother of Alessandro, marched out with his large garrison to help these men. All in all the forces gathered by the Venetians that day number 1,050 or so. Barbus, however, had a considerable more amount of calvary, especially heavy knights, so that made up for his small disadvantage in numbers.

The Battle of Ancona

The battle was fought on a undulating plain outside the settlement of Ancona. There were no forests or anywhere to spring an ambush from, so I lined up my men in the conventional manner, with archers out in front to pepper the approaching enemy, and then retreating behind the spear-men, where they can continuing menacing the enemy from that relative protection.

The enemy approached under the fire from the Sicilian archers, until they reached the lines of my spear-men. The Venetian infantry engaged along the full line, while their calvary tried to flank, from my right.

I sent extra spear-men to see them off, and supported them with my mailed knights. I did not commit my bodyguard, as I was waiting for the right time. The lines of infantry shifted along the whole front, but overall, my Sicilian infantry were having the better of it.

With the routing of the Venetian calvary, I brought my knights around behind the lines of the Venetians, and charged them in the rear.

This broke their ranks, and the battle was effectively over. The rest of the day was spent mopping up the Venetians, taking them prisonner or dispatching those that did not see sense.

When all was added up, we had put 950 Venetians out of the fighting, either captured or killed, while I lost 350 men. It was a good victory, and one I felt which absolved me from my earlier defeat against the Venetians.

With this victory, Venetian resistance in the area was destroyed. A small remnant of the Venetians, including Barbus Selvo, their commander, managed to make it back to Ancona, but the rest of the Venetians routed, more than likely they returned home to their farms. I marhced my tired army to the gates of Ancona, and surrounded the city. There were only a very few defenders, and I was resolved to capture the key city as soon as possible. However, I wanted to give my men a rest, the spear-men had fought long and hard against the Venetian line, and deserved this respite.

Chapter 10: The Storm Breaks

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