Crusader Kings II AAR - The Crimson Dragon of Britain - Hiatus

[Radzeer]

Great updates!
I like how you select the events you tell, CK II is so deep it is difficult to filter events and characters. Very good stuff, enjoyable for both CK II fans and those that are just getting onto the game.

[Britannia's Finest]

Loved it! Keep it up! I'm thinking about buying CKII so this was a real help - to see how it all pans out!

[Latin Knight]

Loved it! Keep it up! I'm thinking about buying CKII so this was a real help - to see how it all pans out!

Well, if you use Steam, CK 2 appeared on front-page on the first day (today) of the Summer Sale . Its incredibly cheap, don't miss it!

Ok, guys, i'll try to post another update late tonight, i wanted to post yesterday, but things are hectic with this trainee program i'm currently doing in a big Law Firm.

[Chirurgeon]

Well, if you use Steam, CK 2 appeared on front-page on the first day (today) of the Summer Sale . Its incredibly cheap, don't miss it!

Ok, guys, i'll try to post another update late tonight, i wanted to post yesterday, but things are hectic with this trainee program i'm currently doing in a big Law Firm.

I saw that!

[Latin Knight]

I edited my previous post to publish the promised update

Hope you enjoy, for we're just getting started.

[Latin Knight]

Ready for another update? Of course you are!

Llywelyn Cadwganson Mathrafal

Chapter 8: Sins of the son

King Llywelyn I – 1143 A.D.

The ten years that passed after his wife’s coronation were rather uneventful for King Llywelyn I. He, unlike his father and his great-grandfather before him, made only half-hearted attempts to materialize into reality his formal title of “Ard Rí na hÉireann” by conquering what remained of independent Éire, which the Irish themselves used to call the “Free Kingdoms”.

By their own iniciative, the Welsh and Irish vassals of the central regions of the island invaded the land of Connachta. Despite having triumphed over opponents as implacable as the Saxons of Englaland and the Scottish of Alba, these Celt veterans waged a hard-fought war to break the stubborn resistance of the peoples of this kingdom. Nonetheless, by 1142 A.D. Llywelyn formally annexed the region as a new province under the Brythonic Crown.

Llywelyn himself seemed to have tired of campaigning, and tacitly gave the command of the armies to his son Eadmund, who performed the task with distinction. Warlike like his grandfather Cadwgan II, Eadmund was loved by the troops as valiant warrior and a general who understood his troops, knew when to be generous and when to be inflexible, and was seemingly unbeatable in the battlefield. As the years passed, just as the military forces distanced considerably from the warmongering King that conquered Englaland years before, they came to see Eadmund like an almost paternal figure, as soldiers are wont to do, proclaiming they'd follow him to Hell, if he commanded.

Eadmund himself lived his years in an increasingly unbearable discontentment. He was his father’s firstborn, but Llywelyn did little to hide how he favored his youngest son Godwin. While the current aetheling of Englaland received incomparable gifts and prizes, and was cumulated with grand aristocratic titles – such as the earldom of Powys – and granted wealthy baronies spread through their father’s domains, Eadmund was graced by his King with a only a couple castles with some dozens of serfs and unimportant titles.

Eadmund’s frustration evolved into a bitter resentment of his father and half-brother. This sentiment was only aggravated in late 1142, when his father commanded him to get rid of Gwidyr, Ælflaeda’s first son, which she had with Llywelyn’s father, King Cadwgan II. His mere existence was extremely inconvenient for both Llywelyn and Ælflaeda. As his father had been King of Cymru himself, he had a strong claim to Llywelyn’s titles, and, being the firstborn son of his mother, the Queen, he was also in position to demand possessions for himself in Englaland.

The spoiled kid had yet to become an adult, but, with barely 15 years, Gwidyr already consorted with the rabble of the taverns and other rascals and vagabons, patrician sons, with too much money on the pockets and no good sense in the head. One night he drank too much, and proclaimed loudly to his friends, to the wenches and the fellow drinkers that he’d soon extort both his mother and his half-brother Llywelyn to give him titles, and boasted about his due heritage and birthrights.

Llywelyn panicked and, with tacit consent of his alarmed wife – who despised Gwidyr and loved her other child Godwin much more – ordered Eadmund to do the dirty work and make Cadwgan II’s son disappear before the month was out. Eadmund reluctantly fulfilled his duties before his father and hired henchmen to murder the poor boy in his sleep. The story was easily muffled by a rumor that Gwidyr had deflorated a young princess promised in marriage to another nobleman, who, enraged, assassinated him. The tale was convincent enough, and no one suspected of Llywelyn's or Eadmund's hand on the crime.

While congratulated by his father, Eadmund was deeply disturbed by the episode. Not only he had killed an innocent and careless teenager, but fear took hold of him when he realized his father would not shy away of getting rid, even if that meant murder, of anyone who might threaten his own power or his son Godwin’s fortunate heritage as King of Englaland and Cymru.

Eadmund, scared, sailed back to Éire. There he felt safe, surrounded by loyal men and respected and by his father’s Irish vassals. As his heart tortured by a mixture of wrath, frustration and fear, he decided he had enough. He'd claim his birthrights, even if it meant war. Inflamming the hearts of his soldiers was rather easy and, before he could say "rise, my brothers!", there was a legion of furious veterans at his disposal. Eadmund then declared war against his father the King.

While the duke of Mhumhain (Munster) and various earls of southern Éire dearly embraced his cause – being unsatisfied and weary of the distanced royal court in Abberfraw, which they spat as being infested with despicable Saxons and dandy Franks – the lords of Laighin and Mide took a more cautious path, and chose to remain neutral.

Llywelyn took a long time to react. At first, he imagined that the news that his son had rebelled against him were equivocated, that he was, in fact, fighting some peasant uprising. Eventually, the rumors were confirmed, and his heart sank: his beloved son, his firstborn, had declared war against him, and he commanded half the forces stationed Éire. When he finally moved and called his bannermen, heralds arrived with a list of demands from the efiddel: he’d be granted various fiefs to rule in Éire, and Llywelyn would pay a large sum of gold to the troops in the emerald island “a very just reward for their various years of suffering to defend the kingdom against its enemies, to enlarge the extent of the realm and to aggrandize the dynasty’s prestige”.

Despite having the numerical advantage, the campaign was disastrous for Llywelyn’s faction. Eadmund, after so many years, proved to be a very proficient strategist, and in more than one occasion, gravely outnumbered, managed to outmaneuver his father’s forces and inflict severe defeats. This was a rather strange war, as Eadmund didn’t sought to advance beyond his own territory, or assail those neutral Irish vassals nor the Welsh outposts. He simply waited the King to arrive with his main army, and proceeded to defeat him on the battlefield.

In a meadow not far from Cluain Meala (Clonmel), a large royalist force under the earl of Morgannwg (Glamorgan) met Eadmund’s host.

An anecdote tells that, before the battle, the haughty Welsh leader, who had heard tales about Eadmund’s battle champion, called him to do battle against his own cousin, Owain the Bear, an immense and muscled warrior, two-meter tall, the face disfigured by horrible scars, who carried a pike as if it was a toothstick, and boasted to be the greatest swordsman in all of Britain. Eadmund grinned and called forth his own champion, an Irishman who deemed to be descendant of Cú Chulainn, greatest of he Irish folk heroes. The overconfident Cymry soldiers burst in laugh, for this fellow, despite being strong and formidable, was two heads shorter than his fearsome opponent, and Owain's victory seemed as certain as the fact that the sun would rise in the next morning.

Owain the Bear was laughing like a maniac when he hurled himself upon the puny Hibernian champion, wielding his greatsword like a butcher knife, and he was slain with but one thrust of his foe’s blade, which perforated his throat. As the giant collapsed on the grass, bleeding profusely and moaning in agony, the silent Irishman returned to his ranks and Eadmund ordered his troops to form the shieldwall, while the Cymry, baffled, lost all the battle-spirit.

Nameless Irish Champion

The Welsh were soundly defeated. The next month, Llywelyn, suffering gravely with the terrible disease the Franks named Ignis Sacer, or St. Antonius’ fire, conceded defeat and created his son the duke of Mhumhain - for this duke, who had followed the efiddel in war, recently died of camp fever - marrying him to a wealthy noblewoman, and emptied the treasure to pay the “due rewards” to the Celt regiments that supported the uprising.


Eadmund’s happy reversal of fortune, however, would be short lived. Before the year ended, he died. At first glance, those close to him supposed it was an unlucky accident: when the prince and his men hunted in some deep woods, a stray stone - thrown from a slingshot - hit him in the head, and he fell dead from his horse. His retinue, composed entirely of military men, didn't take long to realize the certain shot was perfomed by an experient ranger, who was never found.

Accusations immediately fell on his father Llywelyn, despite his genuine mourning for his beloved son, and these detractors ignored the fact that, not long after the efiddel’s subversion, Llywelyn forgave him. Some dared whisper that it was not his father, but actually his step-mother, Ælfaeda, who had every motive to desire him under seven palms of earth, and hired henchmen to dispose of him. Eadmund had proven to be a very powerful enemy, being such a charismatic leader, the same way Llywelyn deposed Wealtheof, Eadmund could make war to dethrone his half-brother Godwin and take the crown for himself. He lacked a direct claim, obviously, but, as the saying goes, usurped thrones are already stained by ilegitimacy, and, in these cases, might makes right.

Regardless of the culprit, Eadmund Mathrafal was now a corpse in a grave, and Prince Godwin’s succession was now secure from both sides. After his mother’s death, he’d inherit the crown of Englaland, and, after his father died, he’d also become the monarch of Cymru and Éire, and the nominal suzerain over the Lord of the Isles in the lands of the Picts.

In 1148 A.D., the new efiddel of Cymru and aetheling of Englaland came of age.

*****

A decade later, in as the year of 1158 A.D. dawned, Queen Ælflaeda gave her last breath after weeks suffering a delirating sickness.

Her only living son ascended to the throne, his coronation ceremony as King of the Anglecynn was held in the day of Dewi Sant (St. David), the patron saint of Cymru – and one of the most important Celtic saints – symbolically representing his double lineage and affiliation with not only the peoples of the Angles and Saxons, but also with those of the Cymry. The royal court remained in Wiogoracestre, and it was a cosmopolitan place, of courtiers, princesses and patricians of many nations: Saxons, Cymry, Irish, Franks and even Germans.


Llywelyn was now a bitter old man, who spent his hapless days secluded in the Mathrafal castle – the ancient dynasty seat in Powys, to which he’d relocated after Eadmund’s death, abandoning the large royal court of Abberfraw. He sought no human company, and excepting that of a few servants and of his new wife, a Thuringian beauty, he'd murmur only to his hounds and his pigeons. In this later phase of his life, when the joys of living seemed to have waned, he turned to faith to relieve the miserable sufferings of existence, from the recurrent illnesses and irritating frailties of old age, and the painful remembrance of his Eadmund's departure, just like his predecessor Cadwgan I when his son died.

King Llywelyn never forgot his promise before God - that, if he made his wife and his heir the rulers of Englaland, he’d strive to make the Cymry churches the most beautiful and opulent in the face of the world. In these years of angst and depression, he felt a heartwarming consolation of accomplishment, when he stared at the massive stone temples dedicated to the Savior, which ornamented his realm, from the splendid reformed monasteries of Éire to the colossal and magnificent cathedral of Dewi Sant, located in the city in Dyfed that received the Welsh patron saint’s name. The poets would even call it the "Hagia Sofia" of the west, an exalted jewel in the edge of the universe.

For years he hired the services of Frankish and German architects, stonemasons and artists, who brought to retrograde Cymru the innovative continental techniques – the harmonious pointed arches, lavish stained glasses, tall rib vaults and the wonderful flying buttresses – that allowed for erecting marvels of architecture, only rivaled by the perpetual constructs of the Romans and the sublime gilded structures of Konstantinoúpolis. Those same buildings that a century before were detracted as “stone huts” had been converted into vast basilicas, with pinnacles so high they pierced the heavens.

In the year of 1160 A.D., His Holiness called the Third Crusade, this time not to reclaim the Holy Land, but to save the heartlands of Christendom itself: Italia, which was under threat of the Saracen warlords from Ifrīqiya (Africa), who had overwhelmed the Christian principalities in Sicilia and Napoli, and now raided Latium itself!

Llywelyn, in his old age, had lost whichever desire for glory in the battlefield that nourished his spirit in youth, and had little patience for the fatigues of campaigning. To the shock of the bishops, who urged him to raise the armies like his predecessor Cadoganus Cambriensis and rescue the capital of the world from the clutches of the infidel, apparently Llywelyn decided that he best served God by embellishing His holy places of worship and praying.

Independently of any Celtic intervention, two years later, in 1162 A.D. the Pope in Roma deemed the Crusade successful – the first one to be so – and called for commemoration in all Christian realms, for the land of Sicilia was re-conquered in a joint effort by the faithful soldiers of Italia, mainly from Venezia, Tuscania and Apulia and by the brave warriors of Hrvatska (Croatia), who crossed the Adriatic at once to answer His Holiness’ plea. The Moslems had been expelled and the crosses were again raised in the sacred places.

In June of the same year, King Llywelyn I died, two winters short of completing 70 years of age.

Notes:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Now we're completing 100 years since the start of the campaign, only more 300 to go . Those keen of eye must have realized, in the screenshots showing Ireland, that there is now a blue spot in the northern part, which belongs to Scotland. That's not uncommon in gameplay, sometimes Ireland actually gets unified by some lucky duke, sometimes it gets swallowed by Scotland or, more rarely, by A.I. Wales . I ignored Scottish Ireland in these chapters, but soon enough we'll return to that, don't worry

[Latin Knight]

Llywelyn Cadwganson Mathrafal

Chapter 7: the Welsh conquest of England

King Llywelyn I - 1133 A.D.

At first, the war didn’t go as Llywelyn planned, and, resilient as he was, quickly changed his plans.

His original idea was to march along the Saefern sea, and in southern Britain he’d rendezvous with Eadmund and his mercenaries, who’d come from Defnascir, and the Cornish warbands.

The Channel that separated the island of Britain from mainland Europe, however, was known to be a treacherous and unpredictable sea, as Iulius Caesar himself discovered, millennia ago, when the Romans attempted their first invasion. The same furious sea storms that once wrecked the mighty Italian fleets now impeded Eadmund to cross the strait. Even if he himself wanted, not even the boldest sailor of northern Europe would take his cogs through the booming maelstrom.

The delay of the mercenaries perhaps wouldn’t have been such a problem if the Cornish allies hadn’t been so precipitated. Eager to take advantage of this excuse to plunder the rich lands of Westseaxna, the Celtic raiders advanced well beyond the border that separated the lands of the Englisc from those who claimed to be descendants of Arthwr's followers. The thegns of Defnascir (Devon) and Dorsetescir (Dorsetshire), used to fighting these pesky Cornishmen, quickly assembled the fyrds and effortlessly repelled the adversaries back, like a cat clawing a tiny mouse.

Llywelyn cursed the heavens, as he wanted to act quickly to win victories before the enemy could organize, now, due to his useless allies’ temerity, a third of the southern levies were standing and ready to do battle. He decided to stick with the original plan for the main army: assailing the main settlements of the Saefern valley, from Scrobbesburh (Shrewsbury) to Brycgstow (Bristol). If he could capture these important holdings, he’d secure half of the border regions, and probably convince Wealtheof’s more reluctant allies to defect to his side.

Now he was in a risky position: making fortified cities such as Gleawacestre and Cheltahamm to capitulate would demand time, more than enough time for Wealtheof to assemble his armies and advance against him. The Welsh needed a distraction, something to keep his rival’s faction in complete disarray while they conquered the walled towns.

Llywelyn quickly remembered his father Cadwgan’s words – he was a wise man in matters concerning warfare – to take advantage of the Irish warriors; and that’s what he did. He kept the wildest Irish warband in a short leash, preventing them from preying upon the hapless populace. Until now. These regiments, composed of light-armored footmen and swift riders, were detached from the main army and directed to wreak havoc upon southern Myrce and northern Westseaxna.

And the soldiers from Éire did their task with remarkable distinction, their path of destruction being ample and inexorable all the way from Hereaforda (Hereford) to Grantanceastre (Cambridge). Chroniclers love to refer, in classicizing fashion, that the frightened Englisc must have feared the savage Gaelic marauders like the Romans when Hannibal approached their gates with the dreaded elephants and dark-skinned barbarians. For many decades after this war, Saxon mothers would still invoke the Irish raiders as boogeyman-like figures to frighten their children into obedience.

This time, Fortuna favored Llywelyn. The Saxons and Angles were appalled and reaction less when they contemplated the various columns of smoke that spread through the entire horizon, in every shire, grim evidences of the extent of the devastation caused by the adversary. Whole villages had been torched to the ground, churches had been leveled, all farms transformed in ash.

The Englisc King summoned all the thegns, reeves and earls with their fyrds to Wintanceastre, where he would assemble the army to face the Welsh, who currently laid siege to Cwatbridge (Bridgnorth). However, each lord, perceiving the Hibernian threat as being close to him, ignored the royal call and mustered their personal arms and fyrds to defend against the roving bands.

Fortunately for Llywelyn, his wild dogs were fast, too fast to be successfully pursued. They only did battle when it was favorable, and assaulted enemy camps and villages during the night, shrouded in the darkness and in the mists, and used ploys to attract stray levies to ambush. The Saxon resistance was a failure, and for months these ogres from beyond the western sea continued wrecking central Englaland.

With the enemy attention turned to east of his position, Llywelyn could focus on subjugating the cities of the Saefern valley. He cheered when the notice came that those Englisc levies assembled in Defnascir to repel the Cornish raids now advanced against him, joined in their march by the various armies, led by mail-clad thegns and reeves. This host also ignored the King’s summon and instead decided to meet Llywelyn’s army. His desire was to have a pitched battle, where his men would show their superiority and win a decisive battle.

The advancing army gravely underestimated him. For centuries the Saxons had fought the Welsh, and always prevailed. These so-called Cymry never had been a real threat, like the vikingr or the Normans. They were nothing more than a nuisance, and would be eradicated like vermin.

Their overconfidence would be their undoing, however, and it was too late to retreat when they saw themselves completely surrounded by Llywelyn’s eager Welsh soldiers and Irish warriors. More than a battle, it was a massacre. The fyrds were routed, chased and slaughtered, while those noblemen who were not slain were captured. This Saxon army, which was effectively the main line of defense of Westseaxna west of Wintanceastre, was annihilated, meaning southwestern Britain was entirely at the mercy of its vanquishers.

Llywelyn’s streak of victories greatly increased the confidence of his troops, and, if he barely a year before was treated with a concealed disdain by the military followers – for he was an unproven general – now they openly adored him and raised him on their shields. When Eadmund’s messengers arrived with the news that the Frankish mercenaries had finally disembarked in Englaland and invested against Irlesberi (Exeter), instead of commanding them to join his forces, he decided to maintain the two hosts separate, so as to make a two-pronged invasion of central Westseaxna.

The burhs of the Saefern valley, which had not been under immediate threat since the days of Eadweard the Elder, were not part of King Harold III’s program of massive refortification, which saw many castles from northern Myrce all the way to the Scottish borders built and those already existent re-strengthened. Now, even great settlements like Gleawacestre had fortifications in disrepair, and surrounded by ditches which wouldn’t impede even a cripple from advancing, and their garrisons had been thinned to bolster those of distant strongholds.

After the great victory, all the cities but Gleawacestre capitulated before the besiegers, and their wise decision was tacitly rewarded by Llywelyn when he ordered his men to refrain from pillaging. Instead, he seemed content with receiving a tribute from the surrendered mayors and nobles. Though, the settlements that chose to resist, after being stormed, had their walls razed and their riches looted, with exception of those properties of the Church. More than piety or fear of God’s wrath, Llywelyn choose a very pragmatic policy: the institution was too powerful to be displeased, and he’d sooner or later need support of the clergymen to consolidate his conquest. The Saxon bishops were genuinely shocked to witness rather “clean” plunders and unmolested citizens who took refuge in the temples, like when Alareiks the Goth sacked Roma, and not one church was burned.

Just when the forces in the oriental part of Westseaxna had managed to organize and unite the various units to pursue the Irish bands, these swift warriors retreated all the way back to Hereaforda, and preyed upon the sparse Saxon groups that would assemble near Ceaster (Chester) to invade the homeland Cymru, forcing Llywelyn to retreat and abandon his conquests in the Saefern valley. After frustrating their poorly conceived invasion plans, the tireless Irish cavalry rejoined the main force, which still reveled in the plenty loot of the sack of Gleawacestre.

Only after these applauded triumphs Llywelyn decided to follow the vestiges of the ancient Roman road that connected Badum (Bath) to Wintancestre, and finally merged his force with that of his son Eadmund, comprised of the continental mercenaries.

Together this army, perhaps the largest force the Britons had ever assembled since the battle of Mons Badonicus, marched to the very capital of Englaland.

Lunden was doubtlessly the biggest city in the island of Britain, but its heart was Wintanceastre, the old capital of Westseaxna. It was not where the archbishopric of Englaland was located, nor where the coins were minted, also not a great trading hub, not even where kings were crowned, for, since Eadweard I, they had been anointed and crowned in Cyningestune (Kingston-upon-Thames). Nevertheless, it was there where the royal court was established, and where the living kings resided and where the dead kings rested, to be awakened in the Day of Judgement. Victory could only be achieved by its capture.

They had marched by the ancient Stones (Stonehenge) built by the elder people before the arrival of the Romans not far from Searesbyrig (Salisbury) when Llywelyn was informed that the royal army, finally assembled, had come to meet them in battle.

The two armies clashed near Wiltunsburh (Wilton).

The Englisc army was numerous, led by Wealtheof himself, roughly outnumbering the combined Welsh, Irish and Frankish host, being composed of two thousand men-at-arms, and countless fyrdmen and conscripts.

At first, the clash didn’t go well for the Britons, as their Germanic foes prevailed in heavy infantry. The fyrd was rather disciplined, and formed a packed shieldwall, holding the ground even as the savage Hibernians shrieked and hurled javelins. The terrible Huscarls, with their bearded axes that in the past cleaved the skulls of the Danes, of the Norwegians and the Normans, now maimed and slaughtered the Celts.

The Celts clearly prevailed in skirmishes, as their Irish light ranged troops, be it at foot or on the horse, were the best at what they did, and mowed down the enemy dense formation with volleys of darts and missiles. The Welsh bowmen impressed various peoples of Europe and Asia during the First Crusade, when, under Cadwgan I, they unhorsed even the speedy Turkish cavalrymen with their barbed arrows.

While they could spend the entire day showering the fyrds with their arrow barrage, the mailed men-at-arms behind the shieldwall, resisted and steadily advanced, while the Cambrian and Hibernian formation wavered. Before they could be overwhelmed, Llywelyn used his trump card.

Most Breton cavalrymen still fought in the old way, as the ancient Roman equites fought millennia ago, their preferred tactics were hurling missiles to create gaps in the enemy lines, briefly engaging in melee and feigning retreat. Other peoples, like the Aquitanians, attacked parallel to the weakest part of the shieldwall, using the lances over-arm or simply throwing them, to immediately assault with melee weapons and mow down the infantry. Finally, there were those who charged at the infantry, but only if it was lighter armored and non-professional, as the army would almost surely disintegrate before the impact, and the horsemen would capitalize on the disorder to eliminate the fleeing soldiers.

No cavalry in Europe would have the temerity of instigating their horses to run at fastest speed to penetrate a compact and dense block of shields and spears, especially if the infantry was trained and disciplined. No cavalry excepting that of the Franks. The Frankish knights ride their warhorses as if they were riding the wind, the compact wedge of mail and lances developed a tremendous shock power and smashed the enemy with such an irresistible force it could bore a hole in the walls of Babylon!

The right flank of the Saxons disintegrated almost instantly, like glass shattered by a hammer, and Llywelyn knew he had won. The staunch resistance of the royal guardsmen avoided the capture of the defeated King of the Anglecynn, but only delayed the inevitable triumph of the foe.

With such an amazing victory, Llywelyn did not fail to capitalize on it, and detached a significant force under his chancellor Hrodbeort, his best general, and under his son Eadmund, to lay siege to Wintanceastre, while he himself would pursue the remnants of the royal army before they could reorganize.

Instead of retreating back to the heartlands, inexplicably the battered Saxon regiments made a forced march due northwest, aggregating sparse units of fyrdsmen and survivors from the previous Welsh conquests in the Saefern. Only later Llywelyn discovered that a considerable reinforcement army was coming from Ceaster and the central lands, running south to meet the royal forces.

The reorganized Englisc army’s probable salvation was making a stand in one of the various fortified burhs, the largest and most formidable one being Brycgstow. Just before they could reach the safety of the palisades and ramparts, however, the Celts smashed their rearguard, forcing them to fight in the flooded plains of southwestern Britain.

This time the King of Cymru and High King of Éire had a clear numeric advantage, and easily overcame the forces of the Englisc sovereign.

Then, the victorious army turned back and went to the heart of Westseaxna, to encircle the ancient walled capital of Ælfred that not even the mighty Danes or the stalwart Norwegians succeeded in occupying. Whereas in previous occasions the defending garrison’s resilience had prevailed, now the Welsh, Irish and Frankish indomitable soldiers trounced, storming the ramparts and forcing the defenders to surrender.

By late September, earl Eanhere and all the northern lords declared support for Æflaeda’s cause, sealing Wealtheof’s defeat. He personally scoured the heartlands of Britain, followed only by his trusted bodyguards, demanding that his vassals summoned all forces available, with the intent of forming another large army to expel the Celts back to their foggy forests and dark hills. By this time, the contrary faction’s victory was all but evident, and he could muster only a few tired soldiers.

Llywelyn’s men, despite completely beating the Saxons, were also tired, and desired only to commemorate and drink, and return home with the huge spoils. Thus, the clever monarch approached the fugitive rival with a diplomatic compromise: Wealtheof would abdicate the throne, but would retain all his below-kingship titles and his vast properties in Westseaxna, including the lordship over Wintanceastre itself - Ælflaeda's court would be established in Wiogoracestre (Worcester), a stronghold close to Cymru from where she could rule over her effective demesne of Myrce - that is, everything that did not belong directly to Wealtheof or Eanhere.

Wealtheof, perplexed by the rather fair terms, and not desiring to test Llywelyn’s – or Ælflaeda’s – resolve anymore, hesitantly accepted the agreement, laid down his arms and disbanded whichever forces he still commanded.

In Christmas 1133, Ælfaeda was annointed and crowned the first Queen of the Anglecynn in Cyningestune, like her father Harold III and her predecessors before her.

Notes:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

CK 2 is a grand strategy game, despite the fair complexity of its battles, in comparison to previous titles such as EU3 or Vicky 2. CK 2's battles are much more elaborated, featuring various different modifiers, and now the 1.06 added a very important feature: Martial commanders' traits provide bonuses or penalties to the morale and overall performance of the military force. Nevertheless, it can never compare, in the tactical aspect, to TW games - just like those games can never hope to achieve the complexity of the campaign, in what refers to diplomacy and province management.

In my previous AAR, my favorite part was describing battles and putting those awesome screenshots you took in slow-mo, with knights crashing at infantry and taking the poor peasants off the ground . I hope the absence of battle-pictures didn't make the description a bit dry... after all, this is a Campaign AAR, not a Battle AAR, right?

[Chirurgeon]

fascinating map. I hope RTW2 has that many provinces. I haven't started playing yet even though I bought the game(CK2 not RTW2 ). www.fraps.com is what I use for screenies and videos. Its very easy to use. Great update. So many suspicious deaths!

[Gandalfus]

Is this a new beginning or the end?

[Latin Knight]

fascinating map. I hope RTW2 has that many provinces. I haven't started playing yet even though I bought the game(CK2 not RTW2 ). www.fraps.com is what I use for screenies and videos. Its very easy to use. Great update. So many suspicious deaths!

Yes, i mostly use Fraps as well, but for those mapmode screenshots, the game itself does the finest job. About the suspicious deaths, well, those were dangerous times to live, right , one day you woke up and got killed in some hunting accident...

Great updates!
I like how you select the events you tell, CK II is so deep it is difficult to filter events and characters. Very good stuff, enjoyable for both CK II fans and those that are just getting onto the game.

Thanks! Yes, i have hundreds of screenshots of the campaign, separated in folders according to each ruler i played. It's a tough job to select only a few of them to capture exactly the moment i want for the story. Regarding battles, this is harder, as i spend some time checking images in the internet to capture the flair of a conflict, as CK II has only those "statistics" and "results" screens.

Is this a new beginning or the end?

A new beginning, i say. The end is far, my friend! The last post was just to point out the changes in the rest of the map, by no means the campaign is finished - i intend to go all the way to 1452 A.D. Deus Vult!

[Chirurgeon]

haha yes a "hunting accident" Wrong arrow at the wrong time....oops!

[Latin Knight]

Godwin Llywelynson Mathrafal

Chapter 9: Tis so much to be a king, that he only is so by being so

King Godwin I - 1162 A.D.

An ancient Germanic proverb states: “Sovereigns are made by oaths”, meaning that one can only be considered the ruler if he can count upon the oaths of fealty of those men who sworn to obey him and follow him in battle. The same principle, obviously, is extended to every nobleman, the king, who depends upon his dukes, the dukes, upon his counts, all the way to the lowliest knight; such is the nature of vassalage and lordship.

Men are like wolves, which prey upon each other. Thus, laws are made by rulers to create order and security. Sovereigns are made by oaths, and kings make laws. Thus, if men won’t obey their vows, there can be no rulers; without rulers, there won’t be laws; without laws, there is only chaos.

Llywelyn’s corpse was barely cold when the British isles were engulfed in the chaos of war, for those vassals who had sworn to obey the monarch rose in rebellion. In Éire, a century of Welsh domination barely diminished the Irish people’s desire for independence. The Welsh governors and earls remained loyal to the Crown, but their effective power was exerted only in the provincial capitals and main strongholds, while the vast hinterland remained untamed. The Irish were always restless, but sometimes a more charismatic warlord managed to unite some warbands and, instead of a mere nuisance, presented a real threat to the foreign rule. This time, it was in Connachta, a region which was annexed barely a generation before, and whose people still remembered the taste of freedom.

Godwin, however, could do little to help the loyal vassals in Éire who pleaded the suzerain to send reinforcements, for he had his own rival to deal with.

Harold Wealtheofson, grandson of Harold III, mustering large forces from his demesne in Westseaxna, declared war against Godwin the Usurper, son of the Englisc hag and of the “goat-lover” from Wealas. Wealtheof had died of pneumonia years before, and, in the decades after his deposition, seemed content with his position as a mere vassal of the Crown. His ambitious heir, however, deplored this state of things and, as soon as Llywelyn died, he invaded King Godwin’s territory.

While his mother had the royal court in Wiogoracestre, Godwin preferred the more central location of Cofentreo (Coventry). Harold marched directly from Wintancestre, at the head of three thousand spears, to the crown seat, ignoring the various cities and forts on the way. Apparently he imagined a quick, glorious campaign that would undo his foe.

Nowadays, historians claim that Harold’s uprising was doomed from start, and are quick to point the mistakes that resulted in his defeat. However, at principle, Godwin’s situation seemed dire: he ruled effectively only a fraction of Englaland, corresponding to the ancient realm of Myrce and East Engla. The Nordanhymbran dynasty – earl Eanhere and his many kinsmen – still ruled everything north of Leidecestre as if it was a separate kingdom. If they had thrown their lot with Harold, Godwin would face a war on two fronts, and would be easily overwhelmed by the combined forces. However, the setentrional warlods did no movement, and one traveller in the north would be puzzled by the apparent tranquility, so detached from the war that ravaged the south. Their apparent disinterest concerning the “southern affairs” proved to be much more beneficial to Godwin than to Harold.

Harold, if expected that his fairly strong claim to the throne would rally all of Godwin’s vassals to his cause, was terribly disappointed. No one came to join him, and Godwin summoned his Saxon fyrds and coaxed the sullen Cymry vassals to provide troops.

Godwin won a single, but decisive victory near the burh Oxanforda, taking Harold prisoner, thus ending the war not long after it started.

Then he divided the army, sending one fraction of it under his Maerscalc to Éire, to assist the local governors against the rebels. At the head of the rest of the army, he paraded through Westseaxna, taking his time to encircle the main settlements’ walls and exhibit Harold and various southern Saxon earls in shackles, not properly to humiliate them, but to make a display of power.

And indeed, the impression he made on the citizens of Wintancestre was unforgettable: his men, of various nationalities, in all the panoply of war, marching, singing their hymns and clanging the spears and swords on the shields, a thunderous sound that made the earth shake. After the Saxon vassals bowed their knees and pledged fealty, Godwin went to Lunden – which was de facto in his defeated rival’s demesne – and, like the ancient Roman generals, marched in a triumphal spectacle through the main avenues. It was before the putrid waters of the Temes, where some old Roman ruins still stood, that he announced to be the sole King of the Anglecynn, of the Cymry and the na hÉireannaigh (the Irish).

By 1165 A.D., the realm was in peace again. Godwin now had two grave concerns that threatened the safety of his reign.

The first was the necessity of producing a male heir. He had only a daughter, Gunhilda, the heir-presumptive. The King had grown frustrated with his previous wife, a Saxon noblewoman whose name has been forgotten in the records, and divorced her to contract matrimony with a younger and more voluptuous woman.

To the discomfort of the priests and to the amusement of those courtiers whose boredom can only be cured by gossip, Godwin I followed exactly his father’s footsteps and chose to marry his own step-mother. As Queen Ælflaeda (Godwin’s mother) had been married to late King Cadwgan II and later married his son, King Llywelyn, so did the German princess Inge, who had been Llywelyn’s second wife, now, would be wife to King Godwin I.

However, while Llywelyn deeply loved Ælflaeda and only had eyes for her, Godwin was made of a different fiber. He espoused Inge Salian because of her prestigious birth – she was daughter of the Römisch Kaiser, successor of Karolo and Otto – but had no true love for her, and, to be fair, monogamy irritated him. While he was quick to impregnate his new Queen, he would also seek various other women to warm his bed, and the courtiers would have a hard time keeping track of his many affairs, from the high-born mistresses to lowly wenches.

In that year Gunhilda came of age, and, to the King’s disappointment, Inge gave birth to yet another daughter, named Gytha.

*****

The other matter that preoccupied the crowned prince was a direct threat on his life. Not long after he was crowned, when Llywelyn was still alive and King of Cymru, King Godwin I of Englaland rode on horse with his retinue under an ancient stone bridge, and an immense rock collapsed from the arch and almost crushed him alive. It was not an accident, as they soon found out, but the would-be assassin was never found.

In the same month Harold declared war for the throne, another attempt on his life happened while he slept in a roadside tavern, and some cloaked goon put a venomous snake under his sheets. Godwin only lived to see the next day because apparently the serpent found tastier the flesh of the whore that shared the king’s bed. The agony wails of the prostitute alarmed the guards and this time they managed to capture the culprit.
After a rapid torture, the thug confessed to be working under pay of some Frankish lesser nobleman. Godwin, furious, would not have it. After executing the henchman and his own guards for the failure in protecting him, he sent his own lackeys to Francia.

As Harold’s rebellion came to a close, his agents had returned, bringing the terrified man before him, spirited away from the safety of his manor in the middle of the night, dragged to the coast and the Channel, and delivered to the King. They didn’t even need to torture him to hear the shaken lad desperately confess that he was merely enforcing higher commands. To the astonishment of the listeners, the far-reaching conspiracy apparently was headed by none other than the King of the Franks himself!

Determined to get deeper, Godwin oversaw the establishment of a network of spies beyond the Channel. Soon enough, the Englisc King came in contact with many disgruntled elements of the Frankish monarchy, of which the most notable one was bishop Hildebert of Hellín, one of the court’s clerics. Godwin and Hildebert formed a convenient communion of interests, and, under the latter’s supervision, they built a secretive conspiracy against the nominal overlord of Francia, King Guillaume I, known as the “Cruel”.

Hildebert, who was the master of spies of the Frankish crown, and thus acknowledged all the courtly intrigues, explained to an increasingly enraged Godwin how he had actually survived at least five attempts against his life – being that only two of them actually came close to murder him, that one on the bridge and the one involving the snake.

Now, Godwin was an ill-tempered person, prone to surges of fury. The unraveling of the plot awakened his wrath, and he almost broke the timber table with his fist, in blind rage. King Guillaume I was supposed to be an ally of his! He was Godwin’s brother-in-law, for his wife, Eadhild Mathrafal, was one of King Llywelyn I’s daughters from his first unhappy marriage. What reasons could he have to plan and see through this vile attempts of murder, striking him in the shadows like a craven?

At first Godwin suspected that Guillaume had been wrapped in the web of his half-sister’s perfidy, who arguably had reasons to desire Godwin dead, but Hildebert dismissed this theory, and was dully convinced that his liege acted in his own personal interest. Hildebert cautiously remembered that King Godwin’s throne was not secure, as his mother was a deplored usurper, and this gave a pretext to vent King Guillaume’s desire to intervene in the affairs of Englaland – supposedly he had grandiose plans of conquering the Isle of Tin, and fantasized of someday claiming the throne of the British realm, perhaps for his Saxon wife or even his own son, also named Guillaume, who was Godwin’s nephew.

It actually made sense. If Godwin was killed, succession would be chaotic: his daughter Gunhilda would struggle against powerful rivals and ambitious pretenders, especially from the remnants of the former royal Godwin dynasty. With the kingdom broken apart in civil war, it would be the perfect moment for a Frankish intervention. Perhaps it would happen that some weaker elements of the Saxon aristocracy would invite this foreign continental monarch to support his party, as it happened often in the politics of the era.

Very well. Godwin would show how implacable an enemy he was, and would pay in kind. Just as Guillaume I tried to see him murdered through his insidious plots, so would the Englisc monarch get rid of the Frankish one in the shadows of deceit.

Hildebert grinned and assured that, with King Godwin’s support, their conspiracy would certainly succeed. It would not be difficult to find people willing to join the plot: perverse Guillaume lived up to his agnomen, being a sadistic and oppressive despot, whose derangements antagonized many lowly and highborn subjects.

After bishop Hildebert returned to Francia to spin his webs of intrigue, King Godwin decided to do his own part in bringing the ruin of his enemy, by supporting his own enemies.

At the time, when Guillaume turned his attention to Tolosa and Aquitania, where the Occitan lords rose in rebellion, the powerful duke of Vlaanderen also declared war, and proceeded to ravage the crownlands, and summoned his allies to help.

Since the reign of Harold III the Englisc and the Flemish withheld a durable friendship. At first it began as a convenient political alliance against a common foe, the Normans, but, throughout his, Wealtheof’s and Æeflaeda’s reigns, many agreements and pacts between these nations strengthened the bond, so that now Flemish dignitaries had their own embassy in the Saxon court, their traders flocked to the insular fairgrounds and set trading posts along the British coast, and, most importantly, hundreds of knights owned estates in Britain and served in the Englisc army, mainly in the prized cavalry regiments, direct vassals of the Crown.

No one was surprised, then, when King Godwin I sent many warships, soldiers, mercenaries, and supplies and weapons to further the Flemish revolution, and their war effort was prolonged and achieved more success than originally expected.

It was in late 1166 A.D. that bishop Hildebert communicated to King Godwin I that the time for Guillaume to depart from this world had come.

The envoy of the Frankish bishop joyfully explained the stratagem that ended the King of the Franks’ reign: Guillaume was lured by the conspirators to hunt in some deep woods far from Paris, with only a handful of guards and his lordly retinue. A rumor was deliberately spread that the ancient forest was home to old spirits and mythical beasts, which only enticed the King’s curiosity – for he boasted to be entirely immune to fear.

Godwin could help but laugh when he listened to the next part, an ingenious ploy of bishop Hildebert: he acquired various oysters from Breton seas that produce some oily substance that makes objects gleam with an eerie luminescence during the night. Then he fetched a pair of child prostitutes, gorgeous girls of emerald eyes and golden hair, and coated them with the oil, and paid them to dance naked in the forest during the night, as if they were elves or night spirits.

The perplexed Guillaume alone caught sight of these girls during a dark moonless night, and bishop Hildebert himself approached the king, masterfully faking fright, and explained that, in previous eras, the woods were inhabited by fairies who granted wishes and otherworldly pleasures. Guillaume, an extremely superstitious man, needed nothing more to convince him to lonely penetrate in the pitch-black wildwood, chasing the ethereal images.

Hildebert returned to the camp concealing his smile, for by now his King Guillaume had been reduced to nothing more than a bloodied corpse butchered by a gang of hired mercenaries hidden in the trees.

The next morning the crowned cadaver was found, and the spooked men at first guessed it had been some wild wolves, or a bear, but they all crossed themselves when one someone claimed it had been fiends or demons.

Whatever was the cause, King Guillaume I of the Franks was dead, and Godwin gave a breath of relief, at last. The successor, Guillaume II, would have no time to meddle in the affairs of Britain like his father did, for the realm of Francia imploded in a succession crisis. Hildebert made sure that all the Frankish co-conspirators were assassinated as well: the secret of their late king's gruesome death went to the grave with them.

King Godwin I, however, was entirely mistaken if he imagined this was the last time during his reign that a foreign power would intervene in his realm. And his iron will and determination to set himself above the other crowned heads of Europe set a chain of events that would forever change the balance of power in the continent.

Notes:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Don't know if anyone missed pictures detailing the murder plot for King Guillaume. Actually, his in-game assassination was different, as you can see by the actual screenshots of his death :



I thought of some ways to conciliate this death with the narrative, but couldn't convince myself that a King, with his royal elite guard and extensive retinue, would be slain by highwaymen while travelling on the a cart in the road. Unfortunately, CK 2 assassination events, differently from those videos in Med2 - which were especific to each person murdered, the priest, the Pope, the general, etc. - are rather generic for all characters, and don't differentiate if the victim is an Emperor or a simple courtier, for example, which sometimes gets nonsense in context. So i prefered to invent what i imagined to be a more interesting death for the French King.

In fact, to say the truth, until now i'm puzzled by the fact that Godwin was victim of this murder plot headed by the French king. It had apparently no reason, and i invented some story to make it verossimile. And, as i couldn't make the damned king stop his cursed plotting (that meant i had to convince his co-conspirators, one by one, to stop helping the plot - which sucks), i decided the best way to finish it was simply murdering him before he did it to me . It worked like a charm.

[Chirurgeon]

wow thats a great update. Love the murder plot! How original. Fantastic job sir! So are you going to war with France? It sounds like you have enough going on with the isles as is. Will you use the Flemish allies to aide you?

[Latin Knight]

wow thats a great update. Love the murder plot! How original. Fantastic job sir! So are you going to war with France? It sounds like you have enough going on with the isles as is. Will you use the Flemish allies to aide you?

Thanks! I found it pretty original, as well.

Well, war with France, not... not yet , friend. For most of this campaign, and i'll try to explain that on next chapters, i maintained a kinda "isolationist" policy, which frankly i believe fit the context of Anglo-Saxon monarchy. Differently from their successors, the Norman and Plantagenet dynasties, which were aggressive and expansionist (i.e. invaded Wales, Scotland, warred with France... well, for more than a hundred years), the Saxon rulers were much more "quiet" and respectful of the established borders - well, to be fair, for the most part of their history they were to busy fighting amonst themselves (before the unification of England), or, after this, too busy not being destroyed by the Scandinavians to actually become an expansionist power. Anyways, in game, as of now i have no motive to war with France, and, in this game, you need Casus Belli to wage war, or the option "declare war" is greyed out.

About the Flemish alliance, well again i got some historical inspiration from the Anglo-Flemish relationship during the Middle Ages, and, to say the truth, the fact Flanders was warring for independence during the time i chronicled was completely coincidental. If it had not been this duchy, i'd have probably used another one which was rebelling against the French King (trust me, France is often at civil war) for the same narrative purpose.

[Radzeer]

Great update and a nice cliffhanger! Good work with the assassination.

[Latin Knight]

Godwin Llywelynson Mathrafal

Chapter 10: The Priest and the Knight

King Godwin I - 1169 A.D.

Godwin’s reign overall was characterized by intensive internal strife, despite the fact that he spent most of it asserting the deteriorated royal authority – for the mighty vassals from southern Englaland vastly increased their local power in during the previous governments, of his own mother and of Wealtheof.

He was obliged to overwhelm the independent-minded and warlike spirit of the Irish lower nobility; From the start of his reign he acquired the enmity of the stalwart Welsh aristocracy, who openly abhorred him as a “filthy Saxon scum”, and resented his apparent favoring of the native Englisc nobility; and even reasserted his domain over various Scottish fiefs, such as Gallobha and the Lordship of the Isles, which meant clashing with the nominal Pictish overlords. Breaking with the unofficial “splendid isolation” policy that the Anglo-Saxon monarchs usually followed, Godwin I had plenty of campaigns in the continent, his purpose was strengthening the ties with his allies, mainly in Breizh (Brittany) and in Vlaanderen.

Like both Kings names Cadwgan before him, Godwin had the reputation of a fierce military man, and always concluded treaties in position of superiority, imposing his own victory conditions. Notwithstanding the fortunate comparison to Cadwgan II, who was at heart a soldier, Godwin had the mind of a shrewd politician, who actually considered war was the most effective and legitimate way of imposing his will, but he was mindful of the importance of diplomacy and wielded it cunningly when it was convenient. He knew how to imitate the fox and the lion.

However, it was not the war against the various peoples of Britain and of Francia that would be remarked in the chronicles of his reign, but rather the war against the Church. And this was a war in everything but the name: its soldiers and lieutenants were the priests and bishops; the battlefields were the synods and councils; the currency was political influence; and the victor, secular or ecclesiastical, would claim the supremacy over the Church affairs.

Lacking a tenth of his father’s religious fervor, King Godwin I was not what one would consider a pious man, and, like many princes of his era, he saw the temples and monasteries not solely as spiritual institutions, more than that, they were also immensely rich social and entrepreneurial corporations, manipulating voluminous sums of wealth and possessing numerous private estates, no different from feudal lords with their fiefs and serfs.

For this reason, no ruler could not afford to leave this power uncontrolled, and went to great lengths to influence the elections of bishops and abbots in his domain. Also, the lay aristocrats responsible for the founding of monasteries and abbeys, as de facto proprietors, claimed a large percentage of their revenues, so it was a very lucrative investment, and a convenient manner of expanding their families’ influence, by placing relatives in positions of power, mainly bishoprics. Indeed, a serious confrontation between the Papacy and the Teutonic Imperial monarchy was sparked over the issue of the ecclesiastical investiture – traditionally the secular leaders appointed the higher clergymen, but the Pope intervened and decreed that he solely had the power to invest bishops and superior presbyters in the offices.

Specifically in Englaland, in those three hundred years from the coronation of Ælfred the Great to the reign of Godwin I, the influence, political presence and fortune of the Church had magnified tenfold. Kings usually didn’t intervene in its affairs, and were content with placing churchmen bureaucratic and administrative positions.

Godwin’s reign saw this changed, and he started intervening, from the remotest parishes to the grand minsters of the metropolises. He’d directly appoint or influence in the placement of bishops, prelates and vicars. While the enraged churchmen were quick to point that he wanted to confiscate the riches of the Holy Temple, in fact the King’s policy was even more ambitious and far-sighted, he sought to limit various privileges, especially regarding the judicial customs, by restricting the ecclesiastical courts’ jurisdictions.

Two events happened in the time that aggravated the controversy and inflamed even more the conflict between the crowned prince and the priests.

The first was the extremely suspicious death of the King’s most outspoken adversary: the Archbishop of Cantwareburh (Canterbury) himself, named Beornraed.

The highest church authority in Britain, successor of St. Augustine of Cantwareburh, went to the mass and gave his furious sermon, calling Godwin I the “Antichristus”, the “Enemy of God” an various insults. His speeches became increasingly more exacerbated and directed at rousing the rabble against the tyrant who was hell-bent in the destruction of the Holy Church of Christ.

One cold autumn night, the deacons found Beornraed dead in his bed, the sheets drenched in his blood, and his corpse impaled by the bedroom luster, which feel upon him in his sleep. Evidences of sabotage were found, and eyewitnesses claimed they saw a shadowy figure leaving the bishop’s room at night and, only a few moments later, a shriek of pain broke nocturnal silence and Beornraed was a corpse. Accusations of murder were all directed at King Godwin, who didn’t seem a even a little disturbed by the cleric’s gruesome death, and was quick to replace the unconvinient opponent with a partisan of his.

The second event was the sudden appearance of a rabble-rousing preacher in southern Eoferwicscīr (Yorkshire). This man, known only as Ealdmund, was a skilled orator, and his rants attracted the attention and adoration of the common folk.

However, his venomous speeches were not directed against the King, but against the Church itself, for the reverend accused the clergymen of various sins; he deemed the organization headed by the Pope corrupt and malevolent; as he professed his dreaded visions of the Apocalypse and the destruction of the impious Church, he exhorted people to return to the way of life of the first Christians, of humility, piety and charity. Peasants and burghers alike bowed to the sermonizer and disposed of their riches, vanities and established a haven in a ruined church-village - destroyed by the Norwegians decades ago, and completely abandoned - not far from Gagneburh (Gainsborough).

The schimatic sect multiplied greatly when an outbreak of a terrible plague ravaged Leidecestrescir (Leicestershire), and people began to believe in the prophecies about the ending of the world - even more than that, reports of miracles of healing performed by Ealdmund attracted pilgrims from all the corners of the island, who now considered him a living saint, empowered by the Holy Spirit and who received visions of God.

Arguably, the surge and fast spread of his anti-clerical “heresy” alarmed more the ecclesiastic cupola in Roma than the most disruptive of King Godwin’s reforms. The earl of Lincolnescir (Lincolnshire) was exhorted by various bishops of the neighboring shires to send the thegns to arrest the preacher for heresy, but the aristocrat refused, babbling that he feared the so-called "prophet", just as his thegns, reeves and soldiers would not raise swords against him, whispering that had indeed some kind of supernatural power, even it was not provenient from God. Ealdmund's origins were completely shrouded in mistery, and rumors spread that he was a messenger of God, a diabolic magician, a charismatic and convincing lunatic, or even all of it simultaneously.

By summer 1169 A.D. - as King Godwin would not care about magicians or heresies and simply rejoiced with the happy news that Queen-consort Inge was pregnant - a Papal delegation was received in the royal court of Bedanforda (Bedford).

The talks extended for days, but, to the mission members’ frustration and despair, it soon became evident that King Godwin I was an authoritarian and prepotent prince, like Biblical King Saul, and would not change his policies and interferences in the Clerical affairs even if displeased the head of the Church itself. The only compromises he seemed inclined to accept were those much more favorable to him, and peremptorily dismissed the more neutral proposals of the Romans.

The Apostolic Nuncio, the chief of the delegation, was a man of serious diplomatic sensibility and a master of statescraft, thought his profound experience had taught him how to deal with imperious and uncompromising princes, but Godwin surely lived to his popular epithet “Iron King”. Like the hardest of metals, he was more likely to break than to bend, sometimes he appeared to adopt an unreasonable posture just to upset the Italians.

Days became weeks, and the Papal envoys completely failed to get significant results. Even worse, King Godwin refused to persecute the Aldemundian heresy (as they called it in Roma), and seemed content with leting it spread like a wildfire though the midlands of Britain. The suspicious diplomats were alarmed by rumors and messages from sympathetic Saxon bishoprics “of the genuinely faithful, who prayed for the ruin of the Antichristus” – allegedly the heresiarch Ealdmund was actually a royal agent, some charismatic priest handpicked from the King’s retinue who was entrusted with the mission of detracting the Holy Church and thus indirectly convince Englisc populace of the correctness of Godwin's reforms, which furthered his political design.

The patience of the apostolic heralds exhausted, and they decided resorting to threats. The same tongues that previously spoke softly and with diplomatic caution now talked of serious penalties, of interdiction against those clerics loyal to the wrongful King, and, at last, menaced the nobles and the monarch himself with excommunication if they failed to upheld the mandaments of the Pope.

For a moment, they believed Godwin would comply with the ultimatatum, that the Iron King would yield. To their shock and utter dismay, however, he rose from his throne, a giant glittering in the regalia and purple clothes, the eyes burning with an all-consuming rage, and proclaimed, in thunderous voice, that he’d not have a bunch of sissy Italian dandies - including the wine-stench slob they called the head of the Roman Catholic Church - decide how he, the King of the Anglecynn, of the Cymry and of the na hÉireannaigh, would rule his own realm.

In his grave vocals he wrathfully mocked the previous assertions of the envoys, that the Saxons owed a great debt to Roma, since Pope Gregorius Magnus himself was responsible for the mission, hundreds of years before, that started the conversion and baptism of the then pagan Englisc people. Without Papal intervention, they would probably still be heathens doomed to burn in Hell after death! Instead, King Godwin recalled loudly and furiously about how Pope Alexander II – and spat at the name pronunciation – gave Duke Guillaume the Bastard of Normandie various blessings and the Standard of St. Petrus to invade the realm of then King Harold II, when the entire kingdom was under threat of destruction by the Norwegians.

In his dramatic conclusion, Godwin proclaimed that nor he, nor any of his subjects, owed anything to the Italian dogs, and declared a schism from the Catholic Church, declaring that he did not recognize Pope Marinus I as the legitimate leader of the congregation of the faithful. To the perplexity of the Roman envoys, he called forth his court chaplain, bishop Ælaf of Llandaff, who, according to the latest rumors, was slated to become the new Archbishop of Cantwareburh, and declared that now he recognized him as a pious and true Christian man, who should be the head of Christendom.

During the next weeks King Godwin I made official this new state of things by issuing a decree, which was posted in the main cities’ town squares and in the cathedral’s doors, declaring that Ælaf, now named Coelestinus II, was the only legitimate Pope. That meant, to the terrified astonishment of the Roman envoys, that the status of bishop Marinus of Roma as successor of St. Petrus was now questioned by some barbarian king from the remotest reaches of the world. There had been various of these so-called Antipopes before, like the infamous Anastasius Bibliothecarius, but, until now, none of them had been "created" by a Catholic king – only by the universal auctoritas of the Basilei Rhomaiōn (Byzantine Emperors) of old – as if the Pope was a mere vassal of the Englisc crown.

*****

In February 1170 A.D. Queen Inge gave birth to a son, healthy and strong like his father, a child of red hair named Sælræd ætheling, heir to the three kingdoms.

A joyful King Godwin I called for commemorations in the entire realm. In the Celtic kingdoms, as people were getting used to call Éire and Cymru, the King himself hosted the traditional festivities, like Bardic circles, martial competitions between the clans, even hosted in Gleawacestre a Frankish-styled tournament (which was replete of Flemish and Frankish knights, as the Saxon horsemen wouldn’t even know what they were doing). In Wintancestre there was a great summer fair, with attractions, circuses and entertainers being called from the continent, and the plebs applauded loudly when the King paraded with his Housecarl bodyguard in glittering armor and his majestic retinue.

But the greatest event in that would mark this year in history was the Great Feast hosted by the King in his recently built Great Hall near Bedanforda.

There was also a great hunt organized to catch a famed black boar that inhabited the woods near Northāmtūnescīr (Northampton). The King would boast that he himself speared the ferocious creature and claimed its life.

The King summoned all his vassals, from the great dukes and vicars that governed the realm in his stead to the small barons and lowly bishops. They boasted it was the most lavish feast ever hosted in the islands of Britain, and the chroniclers of more poetic inclination say that not even the feasts in the great hall of Heorot had been so bountiful of mead and wine, and of venison and boar. Tongues from different peoples and nations now spoke merrily in an environment of amiability and camaraderie.

This year, indeed, would end with King Godwin I being deemed by his subjects and fellow sovereigns as Magnus – the Great. Cymru had only seen one king referred as such, Cadwgan II, just like Englaland, whose only monarch with the honorific was Ælfred.

Now, he had prevailed over the Church and secured the succession of his dynasty by producing a male healthy offspring. However, the greatest challenge for the great King was yet to come, that meant facing the most powerful families in all of Britain, his own vassals - curbing the influence of the mighty dynasty that descended from Earl Godwin of Westseaxna, and destroying the dominion of the Nordanhymbrian family, who ruled all the fiefs and castles between the Rivers Nyn (Nene) and the Tuidi (Tweed).

Notes:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

For those who don't know, i'll explain a bit about how "Antipopes" work in CK2. There are two kinds of Investiture Law: Papal - whose only benefit is that you'll be default have higher relations with the Pope - and Free Investiture, which is much better: it gives your vassals an opinion bonus, allows you to effectively tax the bishoprics and to nominate sucessors to your current bishops - usually your relatives or courtiers. Also, Free Investituture allows for the creation of an Antipope, if your bishop likes you more than he likes the Pope, and its benefits are: automatically lifting of excommunication sentence from the Pope and it allows you to divorce more easily.

The downside is that for every month that an Antipope merely "exists" the moral authority of Catholic religion diminishes by 0,10%, so that's about 1,2% a year of deterioration. That sucks, well, because low moral authority means heresies will appear and spread more often, and Antipopes can't be easily get ridden off: if you kill one, he'll be automatically suceeded. There is only one way of getting rid of him and allowing for the moral authority of the religion to grow back: every antipope gets a strong claim to the Papacy, so you must press his claim (that is, war with the Pope) and install your pretender in Rome as the new Pope. Does that means we're getting a Saxon Pope in the future? We'll see

[Latin Knight]

So, this next chapter i wrote all at once, but it got really big. At first i thought of posting all of it, but then i imagined it would be better to break it in parts, especially considering the narrative is kinda fractioned. So, overall, its one Chapter to finish King Godwin I's arc, but separated in three parts.

Godwin Llywelynson Mathrafal

Chapter 11 - Wars of the Iron King

Part I - The Deception

King Godwin I -1176 A.D.

In 1176 A.D., King Godwin I was completely ruined, besieged by unforgivable enemies in a remote castle in the wilderness, wound in battle. Some even claimed he was already dead.

During the spring and summer he had campaigned in Breizh at the behest of his Breton allies, against the Franks and the Normans. In early August he suffered a decisive defeat in the battlefield and was maimed. He run like a beaten dog to the safety of an ancient hill fort, but was besieged by his vanquishers. Now, he was probably dead, be it by the rampant disease that consumed his army or the infected wounds.

His only son and heir, Sælræd, was a frail and sickly child, stricken with pneumonia and currently under the care of the King’s most loyal men in the fortress of Northāmtūn (Northampton).

Wealtheof Haroldson, grandson of the deposed King Wealtheof I and son of the rebel Harold (who had died in the dungeons), the earl of Westseaxna and Sumorsæte, raised the totality of his forces, and, like his father before him, declared war on the crown, bent on claiming the throne of his disgraced predecessors and restoring the legitimate royal dynasty of Earl Godwine.

The revolter made no haste, he’d surrender the most important royal castles – Northāmtūn, Bedanforda, Coffentreo and Wiogoracestre – one by one, and marched slowly, so his allies from Suthseaxna and Cent could catch up with the main column. The total coalition force counted about thirty two hundred spears and a few bands of light horsemen to harass the militia and devastate the countryside.

Wealtheof Haroldson’s host was preparing to besiege the burh of Buccingaham (Buckingham), his men heavy drunk from beer and mead – as only insane men go to the battle sober – and singing about how King Wealtheof II would crush the goat-loving, pox-cursed Welsh dynasts. His heart pumping of emotion - for in his dreams he fantasized about the Mathrafal dead, all of them - a dust-covered messenger came riding from the south, and screamed that a vast army, headed by a very-alive King Godwin I, devastated the heartlands of Westseaxna.

The vast royal army, about five thousand strong had sacked Werham and plundered the main holdings of Dornsæte. Right now the raiding brigades transformed the productive farmlands in ash while the main army laid siege to Yleceastre (Ilchester).

Wealtheof, who, until now, thought he was in completely control of the situation, absolutely panicked. His homeland, the town, burhs and parishes he was designed to protect from harm were now at the mercy of the enemy. He could not conquer for himself the Kingdom of Englaland if he lost his own domain, so he abandoned whatever dreams of restoring his dynasty’s former glory; his own survival was at stake.

But how, how it had happened? His spies and agents inside the royal court had all informed him that King Godwin had been crippled and probably perished in the continent, his army torn to shreds by the Franks, and now he suddenly appeared on his back, his host intact, and in perfect health. The castles in the royal demesne that he supposed to be defenseless were in fact garrisoned by numerous soldiers, and he'd take various seasons to reduce all of them - the clock ticked against him.

Various events that transpired in the previous two years were all part of King Godwin’s ingenious and far-reaching stratagem to destroy Wealtheof and his southern allies. This Earl of Westseaxna was his most powerful vassal in the south, and a potential thorn in his side. As long as the Godwine dynasty still had power and could raise armies, they would be a threat to the Mathrafal rule, the King knew it. The former royal dynasty, deposed by his father and his mother, was still extremely influential in Englaland. Not only they had various castles and properties, and the support of the Witan, also various southern noblemen, from Defnascir to Cent, would willingly rally under Wealtheof’s banner if the chance appeared to destroy the Mathrafal, those cursed Welsh knaves.

King Godwin couldn’t even be sure of who was truly loyal to his government and who supported the Godwine dynasty’s claim. If he were to root them out, not only he’d inevitably incur in various acts of tyranny that probably would alienate his truly loyal men, but would take too much time to get rid of them one by one. So he devised a plan to force Ealdorman Wealtheof to declare war upon him and galvanize a coalition of all those who opposed him, and then he’d smash them all in one strike.

The way was making Wealtheof believe that he was completely ruined somehow, and that his son Sælræd would not live to be King. So, he send men of his trust to infiltrate Wealtheof’s court, disguising as deserters who desired to serve the Saxon earl. Thus, they promised they’d spy on the royal court and make (completely false) reports about the internal affairs.

A very well elaborated deception was crafted that King Godwin had been urgently called by the Breton princes to help them against the invading Normans and Franks. The King of the Anglecynn, as the supposed spies told Wealtheof, was confident in victory and sailed with his personal army, leaving the royal seats and estates under-strength. Earl Wealtheof, believing every word, was even recommended by the masquerading assignees to invent some story so he’d not have to send his troops to the royal fyrd – then he’d have full strength to practice the coup – and he argued that the Cornish were raiding his borders and he could not leave his lands unprotected.

King Godwin, in creating this complex fiction, composed by a genuine network of agents designed to various tasks, was assuming great risks. After all, Wealtheof could have seen through the various irregularities and inconsistencies in the stories and conclude he was being cheated on. If even one of the agents decided to tell the truth or actually join Wealtheof’s side, the entire plan would spiral downwards. However, none of this happened. The secretly scheming Earl failed to detect any flaws, and was so enticed and euphoric with the prospect of destroying the rival family that he readily believed every tales Godwin’s operatives invented.

He imagined his heart stopped beating for a moment when the unexpected notice came from the continent – heralded by one of his spies, of course – that King Godwin’s force had been utterly destroyed, beyond any recovery, and that his hated liege was hiding, wounded, in a remote location. The King’s infiltrated agents happily announced that this was the hour, and urged him to summon his forces and call all his allies. The royal physician, who Wealtheof believed to be secretly working for him (except he was an integral part of Godwin’s master plan against the West Saxon ealdorman), confided that the ætheling was almost dying of pneumonia.

This, summing it up, is how King Godwin the Great masterminded and executed his farce to undo the current head of Godwine dynasty. He indeed sailed to the continent, and the Breton lords had truly called his help against the Franks, but that series of skirmishes and quick engagements hardly could be called a war. At most, Godwin lost about a couple dozen men, and, when his fraudulent intermediaries divulged him that Wealtheof had hungrily gulped the bait, the King’s army voyaged back to Westseaxna.

Wealtheof’s inferior forces were easily defeated by the experienced strategist his enemy was. As if one decisive victory wasn’t enough, Godwin mopped up the remnants of the main army before they even had a chance of reorganizing.

Completely defeated like his father Harold, Wealtheof surrendered, just like the other southern patricians who had supported the rebellion. The highest-ranked nobles’ unenviable fate would be spending the rest of their pitiful existences in the dungeons.

Most of them would probably have desired death penalty, but the King, as it was the custom of the times, only ordered dead those of lowly standing in the aristocracy: insignificant reeves and knights, who were given an exemplar execution – tortured and mutilated before death – such was the punishment for treason against the monarch.

[Latin Knight]

Godwin Llywelynson Mathrafal

Chapter 11: Wars of the Iron King

Part II - The Great Game in Hibernia

King Godwin I - 1179 A.D.

In 1179 A.D., King Godwin I had Antipope Coelestinus divorce him from his wife Inge. A convenient story was forged that the disgraced Queen was infertile – having past childbearing age. Godwin, iron hearted, dispassionately expelled her to retirement in a remote palace.

There was never much love between them, and, to be fair, marriages were political affairs, and Inge’s usefulness as a means of cementing an alliance had ceased to exist a couple years after they married. The Salian dynasty had lost power in the Römisches Reich (HRE), for her father, Kaiser Heinrich V, had been deposed by the von Zaringen dynasty, and lost any vestige of influence in continental Europe.

He was getting old and desired a younger wife who could provide him more sons. So he married a gracious damsel named Sarolt Árpád from the far-away lands bathed by the River Danube, which these people, known as the Hungarians, called Magyarország (Hungary).

King Godwin’s choice seemed very fortunate: not long after the young princess was deflowered, she was carrying a child.

The King succeeded in diminishing every vestige of power the Godwine dynasty still had in Westseaxna, leaving them in effective control of a rump domain, and purged all inconvenient earls and thegns in southern and eastern Englaland, replacing them with men of his trust, who’d be loyal only to his dynasty.

If in his youth he had seldom travelled to Éire and Cymru – only going to the ancient sacred places like Mathrafal and the hill of Tara to be crowned, respectively brenin y Brythoniad and Ard Rí na hÉireann and participating in the most important traditional festivals – now he spent years campaigning in the emerald island, not only reaffirming the authority of the Englisc crown over all these untamed lands, but also advanced in the independent northern reaches and steadily continued the policy of his ancestors Cadwgan I and II of subjugating the Irish.

To his surprise he clashed with Scottish warbands. In recent decades, somehow the Kings of Alba, when not busy fighting the rebellious clans and warlords of this featureless waste they called Pictland, apparently envying the Welsh domination in Éire, decided also to intervene in the island.

Even more aggressive than the campaigns of the two Cymry Kings named Cadwgan, those Scottish incursions, headed by then King Dabíd mac Lulach a Muirebe at first wavered before the staunch resistance of the remaining independent peoples, but the resolve of the ambitious Pictish monarch of expanding his domain, unleashing all the savagery of the highlander tribes, slowly overcame the opposition.

Thus, these decades of disinterest of the Mathrafal rulers in Hibernia opened space for colonial competition from the Scots.

Now, not only the Saxons and Cymry would have to share the island of Britain with this cursed race of red-haired barbarians, but also this other great island in the western part of the North Sea.

Perhaps it was all an exaggeration: the Scottish hold was even less strong than the Saxon one. Nevertheless, it seemed that the Crown of Alba now exerted a more centralized power than it had ever done, especially compared to the almost absolute autonomy the vassals grooved on in the early reign of King Lulach I.

The current King of the Scots, Raibeart mac Dabíd a Muirebe, was young, fearless and even more ambitious than his father Dabíd and his grandfather Lulach before him. His charisma and diplomacy managed to keep the vassals at bay, allowing for adventures in Éire. Apparently he had little to no interest in the sparse and miserable archipelago of the Innse Gall (Hebrides), which was nominally under his overlordship, and decided the lands of Hibernia were much more desirable.

Even the tenuous peace that made possible the coexistence of these two regional powers competing for hegemony in Éire became impossible to maintain as King Raibeart himself mustered a royal army and sailed to the new colony for further conquests, even if it meant direct conflict with the Englisc and the Welsh. He aggressively penetrated in the hinterlands of the Saxon dominion, razed villages and farmlands, captured not a few forts and plundered the native monasteries, where the riches were concentrated, all while leaving the Welsh strongholds and the gubernatorial demesnes untouched.
This blitz demanded response from King Godwin, who was planning a war to break the power of the Nordanhymbrian family and currently campaigned in Cymru – for the Welsh vassals had fin4ally decided to materialize their hatred against the Saxon overlord and rose in full-scale revolt.

The mighty King, now in company of the youthful ætheling Sælræd, who had recently come of age, finished dusting off the rebellious elements – which meant the almost complete erradication of a native Cymry government in the descendants of Arthwr, as the local nobility was rooted out like weed and rapidly substituted with a Saxon aristocracy, more to the King’s taste.

King Godwin I was the Anglo-Saxon warlord that triumphed definitely where even the famed heroes of legend such as Ælle and Cerdic had failed, by conquering ancestral and mystical Wēalas, land of Hywel Dda, of Rhodri Mawr and of Gruffydd ap Llywelyn.

Tireless Godwin was in no mood for commemorations, however, and his eyes blazed with fury when he sailed with his multi-national veteran army of Saxons, Welsh, Irish, Flemish, Bretons and Franks, disembarking on Duibhlinn and marched north to teach a lesson to the haughty Pictish prince, who called himself King – and Godwin’s men mocked that even a mangy dog could call himself “king” in that God-forsaken waste.

And, indeed, it was like a spanked dog with the tail between the legs that Raibeart mac Dabíd flew from the invincible enemy army when he saw it, covering all the horizon, their helmets glittering in the sun, and their spears clanging in the shields, the thunderous sound summoning forth the dreaded ancient gods of war that imbued men with bloodlust and battle-rage in the old eons.

Needless to say, the Scottish suffered a bitter defeat, near the settlement of Ard Mhach (Armagh) – the burial place of famous Ard Rí Brian Borúma – and were repelled back to the safety of their colonial strongholds in Éire. King Godwin would not have it, and exterminated whatever stray bands his army found, and took no prisoners. Even the captured noblemen were gruesomely executed as common criminals – or better, as the barbarians they were – as to show what little patience he had for these philistines.

In 1188 A.D., King Raibeart of Alba conceded defeat, and called King Godwin for peace talks in the Scottish fortress of Dún Pádraig (Downpatrick). There, Godwin demanded reparations and it became established, before God and men, that the Crown of Alba held suzerainty over all the lands north of Dún Dealgan (Dundalk), which once belonged to the tribal kingdom of Ulaidh (Ulster), and all the rest pertained to the Englisc-Cymry monarchy.

The cursed Pictish King barely returned home, and again incurred in Godwin’s enmity by warring with him. This time he conducted a series of raids against the border regions in mainland Britain, ravaging the fiefs of Cumbraland, Nordanhymbraland and Gallobha. Some raiding parties on ships make quick amphibious attacks – perhaps some vestiges of vikingr blood still course in their veins – and preyed upon defenseless coastal towns in the Ellan Vannin and sailed as far as Lonceastre (Lancaster) for plunder.

This, minus the seaborne attacks, was exactly how they behaved for centuries, or better, for millennia, for even the Romans had to withstand this cursed menace, but they at least had the resources to build a wall to isolate the savage wilderness of Caledonia from the civilized parts of Britannia. The wary northern Saxon earls simply swallowed it, as they did since the first Angles and Saxons settled in the island, bitterly knowing that their King, now resting comfortably in Oxanforda, wouldn’t care a bit about the ravages of the Scots. To their genuine surprise, they were mistaken.

In 1191 A.D., the Fourth Crusade was called by the Pope, this time not against the Saracen filth in the Middle East, but against the Berber scum from Tamurt n Leqbayel (Kabylie) in northern Africa, who had conquered the Christian state of Aragón.

King Raibeart was now a man who had commited many sins, and was tempted by the prospect of answering the Papal summon and thus guarantee his entrance in Heaven. His more fanatical clerical councilors appealed to his Christian piety, remembering that no King of the Scots before had departed on Crusade. This, and the prospect of collecting rich plunder in the wealth lands of Hispania, convinced him to muster a great army and go on the holy mission.

For the first time in his life, he marched through Saxon territory in peace, and forbid his men to prey upon the populace. As he met old King Godwin in Coffentreo, they concluded a pact of friendship, so that the Englisc would leave Scotland in peace, and he bought many ships to cross the Channel in Hamptunescir (Hampshire) and follow through Gaul to the Crusade target. Raibeart mac Dabíd believed Godwin was too old and tired to care about war anymore, and trusted he’d fulfill the terms of their recent agreement.

Indeed, King Godwin fulfilled a part of it, by providing maritime transport to the continent, but, as soon as the Scottish troops lost sight of the white cliffs of Albion, Godwin shredded the document of the treaty, assembled a big, but mobile force of soldiers in Ceaster and, joining with his northern vassals, invaded the Lallans (the Scottish Lowlands), wreaking havoc in the most fertile and wealthiest part of the kingdom of the Gaels. He was only felt satisfied after sacking and torching the important cities of Dunbar and Eidynburh (Edinburgh) and leaving every farmland on that side of the marches blighted of ash and the skies darkened by smoke.

On his return, King Raibeart was warned that he’d have to find ships in Francia willing to sail the entire circuit of the coast of Britain as far as his own kingdom, because if he put even one of his feet in Englisc, Welsh or Irish soil again, he’d be utterly annihilated.

Notes:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

It seems there are no more independent countries in Ireland, i was too busy with my own affairs and the Scottish were quick and conquered whatever was left, damn. But that's ok, soon enough they'll learn their lesson. Also, just to point out, there was NOT an actual war with Scotland in Godwin's reign, i just invented it purely for storyline purpose, guess it actually made more sense than if it had really occurred.

About the Crusade, this one i also didn't take part, but the Christian A.I. won. In Chapter 12, i'll show who was the happy winner . It was totally unexpected, i must say, i thought France would triumph and they'd have a continuous stretch of blue land from the Pyrenees to Cordoba, but some lucky from Eastern Europe fared better and put an interesting wedge between "French France" and "French Spain".

[Latin Knight]

Godwin Llywelynson Mathrafal

Chapter 11: Wars of the Iron King

Part III - The war to end all wars

King Godwin I - 1192 A.D.

The realm was in peace in 1192 A.D., and, with 60 years of age, all King Godwin, desired was to consolidate the power of his dynasty and make succession safe for his son. King Godwin I the Great, he alone had triumphed over so many enemies, completely broke the power of the aristocracy, subjugated the Church, became adored by the common folk and made his kingdoms wealthy. He increased the fame and prestige of himself and his family by making the Saxon armies victorious in countless battlefields: in Francia, in Breizh, in Vlaanderen, in Pictland, and so forth.

And now, he prepared for the last – and perhaps the most difficult campaign of his life. One last enemy remained, which he should have destroyed so many years before. The Nordanhymbrian dynasty, whose patriarch was Earl Swæfræd of Lonceastre, and whose brothers, sons, nephews and cousins ruled in Cumbraland, in Nordanhymbra, in Cestrescir (Cheshire) and in Eoferwicscir, and had countless marriage ties and political alliances with various earls in Hereaforda, Warwick, Gleawacestrescir.

The extent of their dominion only expanded since the days when Knut was the King, and, since the reign of Harold III, they were indisputably more powerful than the royalty itself.

King Godwin I knew, since the beginning, since he was crowned, that he’d never truly be the King of all Englaland until the day he reduced to nothing the northern supremacy.

This time there would be no stratagems. Godwin could even feel that Swæfræd and his relatives knew that the time of reckoning had come. The King made his only son Sælræd – of whom he was deeply proud – the ealdorman of Sumorsæte and the Lord of Wintancestre, which meant he’d have a secure powerbase in the case Godwin perished.

In that year of 1192 A.D., Englaland was divided in two halves when King Godwin attacked Swæfræd, using the pretext of an alleged insult against the Crown. Perhaps Godwin didn't even need a pretext, Swæfræd and his familiars knew it was just a matter of time before a strong king would rise against them to end their independence. Truly, they nostalgically remembered those days when the fiefs of the north were genuine kingdoms, and, after the recurrent failure of the Englisc kings of uphelding the true meaning of the suzerain-vassal relationship, which meant the liege would protect those who swore the oath of fealty, didn't want some dandy southern aristocrat to determine what they must and what they must not do. No, earls of the north joined forces to oppose the advance of the so-called King of the Anglecynn.

King Godwin I had mustered the largest force he’d ever command: the total numbers of troops raised reached almost eleven thousand soldiers, with the same combine arms formula that won most of his battles in the past, using the talents of various peoples: Cymry longbowmen, Irish light skirmishers and medium-infantry, Breton ranged horsemen, mainly Saxon heavy infantry, with the Gesithas and Huscarls in the frontline, Flemish and Frankish mailed knights, and hired companies of Scottish, Frankish and German mercenaries to bolster the infantry.

Godwin would march at the head of an army seven thousand strong, together with the ætheling Sælræd, following the ancient Roman road that connected Cirencestre to Eoferwic.

The governors in Éire and Cymru, according to the instructions they received from the King, now had their hosts, numbered about five thousand men, assembled in Powys, would besiege the important fortress of Ceaster and, upon its capture, follow the road leading north to take Lonceaster.

The royal army took its time in the shires of Warwick and Ledecestre, it was the times for those nobles decide if they’d be loyal to the Mathrafal or throw their lot with the Nordanhymbrian dynasty. Most of them were wise and obeyed their sovereign.

In Stamforda, however, they met opposition, and stormed the burh during a dark night in which some treacherous citizens opened the gates to the besiegers. They then devastated the steads of Lincolnescir as far as Botolphston (Boston), and turned back west, taking no prisoners.

As they approached the greatest burh in the region of the Trent valley, Snottengaham (Nottingham), they met a formidable force under Earl Sigebeorht of Nordanhymbra, Swæfræd’s younger brother. However, there was no battle, for Sigebeorht, apparently only making an assessment of the royal legion, marched back west to join with his sibling’s army, leaving Snottengaham to fend the assailers for itself.

The great burh and the nearby hill fort were arguably the best defended in this region that once belonged to the kingdom of Myrce, but the King’s men undermined the walls, breached the gates and butchered the garrison. The shire reeve was formally fired and then executed.

It was when they prepared to besiege Deoraby (Derby) that Swæfræd and his sons finally brought their total force, of fifty five hundred battle-hardened men from the north, descendants from those brave heroes that for years resisted the onslaught of the Norwegians. Those warriors, who had many scars from their constant warfare against the savage Picts, now grimly advanced in shieldwall formation against the royal army.

The battle was a defeat for King Godwin, perhaps the greatest defeat he had suffered in his life. The heavy cavalry of the Franks and Flemish attacked too soon – and even the indomitable knights can’t break down a disciplined shieldwall of men-at-arms – and were repelled with grievous losses. Despite this setback, Godwin might still have counted on the slight numerical superiority to win.

The sturdy northmen, however, fought well and resisted in firm formation for most of the day. The sun was obfuscating the vision of the royal troops, blazing in the western skies, when defeat became a reality, for old King Godwin, to raise the morale of his troops, scoured the battlelines on his puissant steed, protected by his retinue bodyguard. His horse gave a false step and he fell, passing out for a moment. His tired men thought he had been slain and, disheartened, broke formation.

The actions of Sælræd and the lieutenants failed to prevent or control the rout, only when Godwin himself mounted his horse again and took off the helmet that the running troops rallied under the King’s banner. This only prevented the destruction of the army, but the day had been claimed by Swæfræd’s host, so the battered royal army retreated to the safety of its encampment.

Notwithstanding the victory, Swæfræd suffered many losses and decided to abandon this ground and retreat to a more favorable position. His failure to completely destroy the invading force, however, would be his undoing.

King Godwin reorganized the forces and received reinforcements from the Celt army that yet besieged Ceaster. This stronghold was a complex of fortifications made by both Saxons and Norsemen upon the ruins of an ancient Roman castrum. Even a medium sized garrison which knew how to take advantage of the formidable defenses could repel the attempts of storm by a much larger army, so the King had given clear orders not to try taking the fortress by force. So, needing far less regiments than a total of five thousand to starve the garrison, the besieging generals detached twenty hundred to reinforce the royal army.

Bolstered and with renewed confidence, the King’s host pursued Swæfræd, and fought him in August. A great battle happened in Ceasterveld (Chesterfield). This time the army of the Nordanhymbrian warlords was decimated.

The remnants of the northern army were scattered, and King Godwin, tired, decided it was better to continue north and besiege the main holdings of the Nordanhymbrian family, which were Eoferwic and Lonceastre. At first the monarch hoped that, after Swæfræd’s defeat became clear, that the burhs surrender without resistance. He overestimated these citizens’ love by the King, however, and they preferred to close their gates and man the walls.

The battle confident ætheling convinced him to hand a fraction of the army to chase the vestiges of Swæfræd’s legion before they could reorganize. In the last great pitched battle of this war in some hills not far from Newsteada, Sælræd won a victory and slew Earl Sigebeorht.

Eoferwic had just been captured by the bravery of the royal army when ætheling Sælræd returned to his father’s company, congratulating him as the greatest King the world had ever seen, for even Arthwr Mawr, Ælfred and David would bow before his lord father’s triumphs.

It was with the remembrance of his achievements that King Godwin the Great died in his bed on the palace of Eoferwic, in a rainy morning of September, in the 1194th year of the Incarnation of Christ.

[Chirurgeon]

wow just wow. That was epic!! Must have taken a long time to work that up! Your originality and attention to detail as well as ambiance is second to none. Keep up the good work. How much has the world map changed since you last showed it? What a great battle that must have been right at the end of the king's rule. Congrats on page 3!