Chapter 5 - The Rogue Prince
The news coming from the South had been grievous. Percy and Avranches had been taken by the pagans and its garrisons had been put to the sword. King Salomon of Brittany and Duke Hugo of Anjou were forced to admit their previous plan of marching straight to Cherbourg could no longer proceed, as by doing so they'd be walking into a trap, where'd they could be caught between the main Viking army at Cherbourg and a smaller one out of the recently fallen fortresses to the South.
Both rulers were well aware that their previous indecision and quarreling had led to their slow pace, and thus the loss of Percy and Avranches fell upon them. Frustrated and unwilling to admit defeat, both Salomon and Hugo finally came to an agreement. They figured whatever forces garrisoned the two southern holdfasts would likely be meager, and thus quick to fall if pressed, especially if the attack came swiftly before they could even send word for help. Thus their new plan came to be: Led by Hugo and Salomon, their cavalry, knights and mounted infantry both, would split from the main army and divide into two mounted contingents, with each galloping fast toward the two lost strongholds to the South. Their hope was to overwhelm the defenders with sheer speed, while the footmen stood to guard the pass to the North, ensuring no reinforcements would aid the defenders by land.
Their plan was sound, yet there was a glaring hole in its foundations. If both the King and the Duke were to head South, the matter of who would lead the main army in their absence remained. Duke Hugo pushed forward his half-brother Eudes, son of the late Robert "the Strong" who fell prey to Haesteinn during a previous raid of his, but King Salomon shot the idea down as Eudes was but a child of 10, a mere squire unfit to lead men, and who if given command may fall prey to anger and seek vengeance on his father's murderer, disobeying orders to stay put.
King Salomon suggested his own brother Riwallon, but the man had been afflicted by camp fever and thus was scarcely able to lead himself to supper, let alone lead a thousand men. His own son, also named Riwallon, had stayed behind at Bayeaux to man the garrison which had recently lost their leader, and thus Salomon was forced to rely on more distant relatives to command in their absence. Many had come forward requesting such position, such as Prince Pascueten of Vannes, Prince Guruant of Rennes, and Prince Guihomarch of Leon, but King Salomon was hesitant to grant either of them such power, as they all were landed gentry with ambition of their own, and thus he feared they could convince the army to join a coup against him.*
In the end they settled for Prince Ridoredh of Nantes. Ridoredh was the only son and sole heir to the previous King of Brittany, King Erispoe I, who had succumbed to an assassin's blade in the midst of church service a decade prior. As Brittany faced war with the Franks and incursions by the Norsemen at the time of his murder, the Breton nobility saw fit to crown Erispoe's cousin Salomon instead of his young son Ridoredh, and thus Prince Ridoredh was dispossessed of his inheritance, lands, and titles, destined to a life in the clergy. It was whispered at the Breton court that King Salomon was a kinslayer, for it was an open secret that King Salomon had sent the catspaw that took Erispoe's life, but as he had bribed most of the nobles and granted vast stretches of land to the church, none dared to question his legitimacy to the crown. Finally a consensus was reached and Prince Ridoredh was selected. King Salomon and his nobles thought Ridoredh weak-willed and thus a safe choice to leave in charge of the foot soldiers, for he had never shown any promise or desire to fight for his claim. Duke Hugo was uncertain of the Prince's ability, but as he was eager to depart for Percy he relented and settled for their choice.
That decision would be their undoing.
Prince Ridoredh stood at a crossroads, of mind and of heart. The weight of his armor pressing on his shoulders, which as of late had grown heavy with doubt. The moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees, casting eerie shadows on the ground. The soldiers had begun making camp, their faces a mix of boredom and worry as their thoughts filled with the battles King Salomon and Duke Hugo were to face at Percy and Avranches.
He thought of his father, a righteous man who had ruled with wisdom and justice, and who dedicated his life to the prosperity of Brittany. The memory of his father’s murder at the hands of King Salomon burned in his heart. The usurper had taken everything from him, and now, he was expected to protect the very man who had caused him so much pain.
Ridoredh’s mind raced. If he stayed, he would be honoring his duty to his kingdom, preventing the King from falling into a trap. But the thought of aiding his father’s murderer was unbearable. Marching north to face the Vikings was a certain death sentence, but the loss of men would be so severe that it would greatly weaken Salomon's hold on the Kingdom, perhaps giving Ridoredh a chance to reclaim his inheritance if he managed to escape the slaughter.
He turned to the three peasant brothers from Coutances who had safely guided their armies across the marshes of the Cotentin, and who he invited to share on his fire for the night. There they sat against the flames, fending off the familiar cold of the lands they considered home, lands they had fought and bled for against the Vikings, lands he knew they would follow him into battle for.
Henri was the oldest of the three, and their undisputed leader. A friend to all, a pious Christian, and a man fierce enough to face any obstacles in his path. He had led the reconstruction of their village after a brutal sack by Haesteinn and Hjalmar.
Louis was the second oldest, a a fierce man more at home in battle than by the hearth. Robust of body and easy to anger, quick to act before giving any thought to a problem. He had served as part of the garrison of Bayeaux, and thus had grown intimate with the ways of war.
Leon was the youngest of the three present. He was snakelike, slender, and sly. Secretive. Ambition flared in his eyes. He could always be found sharpening the small dagger that he liked to hide under his sleeve.
There were two other brothers, albeit they had remained back home to guard their half-restored village.
Eudes the fallen monk who had fathered bastards on half the townswomen, and
Baudouin the frail and melancholic younger brother who was forced to stay behind, lest he eagerly marched to his death in an attempt to rectify his cowardice of years prior. They also had an uncle
Loup and his two sons
Raynaud and
Godefroy, the first a bishop and the second a warrior akin to Louis. There were two sisters as well, but the three brothers only spoke of
Orianne, the youngest of their sisters and who all the men at the village wanted to marry, hesitant to speak of the older one, as if recalling a painful memory.
"Tell me Henri, if you were given the chance to inflict vengeance on your enemy, even if it cost your own life, would you do it?" Ridoredh asked, his voice heavy with emotion. Not expecting the Prince to inquiry into his thoughts, Henri was taken aback and began to think of a response. Nobles thought little about the smallfolk, and even less about their thoughts. Henri began to think of a response the Prince would like to hear, rather than what he actually wanted to say, as was befit of his station. Before Henri could reply however, his younger brother Leon answered in a mischievous tone. "I would seize the chance milord, and never let go. After all, men like us rarely get such opportunities. I would joyfully go to my death if it meant paying back in kind."
Louis punched his younger brother in the arm for giving such a brash answer, but smiled nonetheless, pleased with Leon's answer. Henri apologized for Leon's insolence in speaking out of turn, but the Prince only nodded, finding in that peasant boy Leon a kindred soul. Ridoredh took a deep breath, finally pulling the weight off his shoulder. “We march north,” he declared, his voice resolute. “We will face the Vikings and let fate decide our path.” A worried look appeared on Henri's face, as he feared the consequences of disobeying the King's orders. Timorous to speak out, Henri almost whispered at the prince. "Milord, if I may, your uncle, the King—" Anger flushed in Prince Ridoredh's face. Thundering with rage, he screamed at Henri. "The
King," and he said that with derision,
"has gone South
boy, and
I command here! If you wish to keep your tongue you'll be wise to remember that, before you DARE question my decisions again,
boy," and he spoke that last word as an insult, infantilizing Henri, putting the older peasant back in his low place.
Before resting for the night, the Prince met with his personal retinue. A band of warriors loyal to the memory of his father numbering a few more than a hundred men. He commanded them to return to their homesteads, claiming he needed to save his strength for the real battle to come against his uncle. He did not wish to shed their blood in the futile battle to come, and so they scattered in the night, leaving before dawn, promising to reform when the Prince called again.
As the first light of dawn broke, confusion erupted across the camp as the soldiers heard of Ridoredh’s new, unforseen plan. "There's been a messenger in the night," Prince Ridoredh spoke the lies dismissively to everybody, and to nobody, speaking at the air more than at his host. "The King and Duke claimed great victories at Percy and Avranches. The bulk of the enemy army has fallen or fled. We must now deal the coup de grace!" And so the army moved with purpose. The air was thick with tension, with each step bringing them closer to the Viking settlement of Cherbourg. Ridoredh rode at the front, with the Coutances brothers at his side, leading the way. His eyes fixed on the distant hills where the enemy lay in wait. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and determination. This was not just a battle for survival, but a quest for vengeance against King Salomon, the man who had taken everything from him.
As Henri was quick to explain to the Prince, their host had long been spotted by Haesteinn's scouts, and a great army had gathered outside the walls of Cherbourg, the Viking leaders surely aware of their numerical superiority. The clash came swiftly. The Norsemen, fierce and unyielding, met Ridoredh’s forces with a ferocity that shook the ground. Swords clashed, shields splintered, and the cries of the wounded filled the air. Ridoredh fought with a fury born of years of pent-up rage. His blade cut through the enemy ranks, each strike a step closer to avenging his father. Or was it? The blood madness had taken over him, and for a second he realized none of this put him closer to the crown. But then another enemy approached, and such thoughts fled his mind.
Despite their valor, Ridoredh’s army was outnumbered and outmatched. The three brothers saw it plainly, this was no battle, but a slaughter. Sheep walking into the wolf's den. They were no warriors, not truly. Even Louis who served at Bayeaux had only fended off a single ship's crew. He knew nothing of battle. The Vikings pressed their advantage, and with their superior numbers slowly overwhelmed the Prince's army. Louis wanted to stay with the Prince, but Henri and Leon urged him repeatedly before he finally agreed to flee, and the three ran before the true carnage began, the clatter of their dropped shields muted by the shrieks of the dying. Ridoredh found himself surrounded, his men falling one by one. Yet, he fought on, laughing maniacally, for Prince Ridoredh did not see the enemy in front of him, only the face of King Salomon as he learned the news of his army's destruction. Soaked in the blood of his treacherous uncle, the Prince smiled with delight, and the Northmen in front of him stood still, stupefied at his frightening visage.
"Spare that one!, with the fancy red coat" Haesteinn yelled and pointed at Ridoredh's blood splattered white surcoat, as the vikings surrounded the last seven warriors who remained of the Prince's once great host. "You can kill the rest."
*Everyone was a Prince in Brittany. I'm not even going to bother explaining how convoluted it all was, but here's a picture depicting some of the Breton noblemen who appear or were mentioned in this chapter. You may need to zoom in to see it clearly. There are actually a great many degrees of separation between Salomon's side of the family and Ridoredh's, but Wikipedia refers to the King as the Prince's uncle, so I went ahead and did the same.
I'll post the Coutances family tree next chapter I think. I hope this chapter wasn't too verbose. Thanks for reading.
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