Bastion of the South: An AAR of the Kingdom of Sicily

[Culise]

Scenario: 1187, Kingdom of Sicily
Difficulty/Aggressive: Normal/Normal

Prelude:
The Kingdom of Sicily had seen both glorious and hard times as led by the Muslim Emirs, and both Catholic Dukes and Kings in the past. The King Guillaume Hauteville, son of Guillaume Hauteville, had proven to be no exception. Rising to his throne upon his father’s death at the age of 24, he inherited the precarious position of his island, trapped between the Pope and Muslims of the Almohad and Ayyubid Kingdoms. Capturing the Balearic emirates as his first major action to cement his position among a rebellious nobility, he sent his best Italian missionaries to every island, and would be rewarded mere years later with the total conversion, cultural and religious, of Mallorca. Using these islands, particularily Menora, as a base, he funneled gold and weapons produced in his new smities to the Kingdom of Aragon, supporting them against the Almohad Muslims where he could not use force of his own arms. When they threatened war, he revoked the titles of his vassal and eldest son, Jacques, Count of Menora. This act alienated him from the Pope as well as his son, who fled to the Republic of Verona rather than remain in Sicily. In retaliation, Guillaume changed the succession laws to ensure that his second son, Richard, would inherit, despite Richard’s oft-spoken prediliction toward Italy rather than the familial Gaulic homeland.

The second major crisis to strike Sicily was the closure of the ports of Sardinia after a quarrel between the Consul of Pisa and the King of Sicily. Rather than accept this or wage a war, as he still retained no claim to Cagliari, Guillaume offered his apology in the form of a temporary servitude, with the old title of Duke. Seeing the king thus humbled, the Consul accepted the offer, and took on his first vassal state. Within three years, the Consul died, ostenably of old age, and through various unknown means, Guillaume ensured that he would be elected to the Consulate. His first, and final act as the Consul of Pisa was to end the Consulate and bind the rulership of Pisa permanently to the restored Kingdom of Sicily. He then granted the new titles of Count of Lucca and Cagliari to his heir and son Richard, and of Corsica to Forques, his fourth son (The third, Yves, died in infancy).

Since his failure against the Almohads, and unwillingness to attack the entirety of the Almohad Kingdom, Guillaume had fallen out with the Pope. While not excommunicated, he was not regarded in any favourable light by the people of the God. Despite his advanced age, when the Kingdom of Jerusalem was attacked by the Ayyubid Kingdom, he surprised all in Europe by declaring war against several vassal states of the Ayyubids, culminating within the month with a declaration of war against the Ayyubid crown itself (Technically, the declaration of war was by the Ayyubids against Sicily and provoked by aforementioned wars against the vassal states, but history books do not record it this way, nor was it seen as such in Europe at the time). Brutally cutting through the scattered garrisons of the Ayyubid, he first seized Gabes and Djerba. This undermined the loyalty of Ubayd, Emir of Kairouan, and Muawiyah, Emir of Cyrenaica, both of whom saw no support from their liege to the beseiged Kairouan (Cyrenaica was technically a noncombatant power, but as vassal to the Ayyubid, was providing support in the Holy Land). Signing a favourable peace with Kairouan, he pressed on by sea to Alexandria and Gabiyaha, seizing the lands there even as Jerusalem’s armies took Pelusia and the Delta itself.

However, even this was only a deceptive success. In 1222, Jerusalem fell to the infidel hordes. Only a shadow of his former self, and feeling the full weight of his 69 years, Guillaume Hauteville signed a treaty with the Ayyubid King, allowing him to keep those lands he took for the time being. Not a month later, the King would fall and be replaced by his son, still a child, and both Kairouan and Cyrenaica would begin separate bids for independence even as Jerusalem’s tattered armies kept the Ayyubid forces occupied in the Holy Land. Despite this, Guillaume returned home to Messina with his greatly-reduced armies to die.

This, however, was the past. With Guillaume Hauteville on his deathbed for the past year, Richard Hauteville saw his future rising. With the Ayyubids fractured in the west, and only making marginal successes in the east, he saw his dream of a Catholic Egypt in ascendance. His elder brother had returned home in disgrace, and became naught but a mere marshall in the armies of Sicily. Little could dismay the 32-year-old Richard, and neither the fact that the Almohads were becoming stronger by the day nor the rumours of the lands in the east shaking with the march of countless pagan horsemen, each with the strength of ten men and all of whom sought to water their horses in the Seine, would suffice. In the Year of our Lord 1223, the Kingdom of Sicily stands on the edge of Christianity, the great Bastion of the South.

Player Notes of Moderate Significance: Conventional dictates would have made Mallorca Frankish rather than Italian when the event fired, but I, while fixing an error that caused a lock-up at the month’s end every time I tried to play after inheriting Pisa (Specifically, I was listed as both liege lord and vassal to myself, which confused the game to no end), opted to change the culture of Mallorca to Italian to reflect the fact that any missionaries I had would have been home-grown Italians by this time, rather than imported Gaullic monks. As well, this is my first AAR, so the quality will certainly be lacking in comparison to those who are more skilled.

Present situation: Year of our Lord 1223, August 4.

King Guillaume II and his successor, Richard Hauteville.

 

[Culise]

Part One:
Lucca, August 29, 1224:
“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for years now for the old wastrel to pass on.”
“My liege, it is not seemly to speak such of the dead.”
“I care not for that.” Richard Hauteville, the Italian Count of Lucca and Cagliari, rose from his unadorned seat. “He has outlived his time. However, Sir Sergio Montecucculi, thank you for the news of my father’s death.”
“You will be required to travel to Messina to take the crown. The situation requires your presence there as soon as possible.”
“Thank you. You may leave.”
“Ah, one thing more, my liege.”
“Yes?”
“I would like to offer my condolences. You lost your wife and, not five years later, your father.”
“It is of no concern. I have recovered from the death of my wife. My father, though, he was always upset I could never measure up to my older brother. He never cared about my own abilities, saw me in my own light, so I care not for him. Truly alike as family, the both of them. Damn them both-”
“Don’t blaspheme. Uh, my liege,” Sergio appended quickly.
“Fine. I shall depart within the day. You may take your leave.”

Messina, September 1, 1224:
“This is all?” Richard Hauteville, now King of Sicily and Pisa, Count of Messina, Siracusa, Palermo, Agrigento, Trapani, Mallorca, and Menora, with two vassals to his titles, looked at the elderly court steward, Guido of Lucca. “A minor ceremony, and the vassals are willing to pledge allegiance to me unilaterally? Not even a minor complaint?”
“Would you rather there be complaint and rebellion, sire?” Guido raised a white eyebrow. “It is better for all concerned that the transfer of power continue as seamlessly as possible. Yes, your older brother has complained, but he is not favoured by any within the court due to his ways. You, however, have proven your worth in Lucca, and your father was very popular near the end of his reign.”
“Yes, that is for the best. Now, I wished to speak with you, the Chancellor, and the Marshal regarding the collapse of the Ayyubid Kingdom in North Africa.”
“Of course. Chancellor Martino in particular wished to bring to your attention certain plans we have in Genoa.”
“Plans?”
“It is not for me to say, and we will need to arrange some marriages first to ensure success. In particular, your ascendance to the throne was the perfect opportunity, for your eldest daughter, Antonette, will be reaching her majority soon, will she not?”
“Yes, in October. Why do you ask?”
“Please, come with me to the Chancellor, and we will speak on this.”

Messina, October 28, 1224:
“I therefore pronounce you, before Man and God, husband and wife.” The Catholic priest continued in Latin, as Antonette Hauptville and Guillaume di Montferrato stood at the altar.
After the service, King Richard took Guillaume de Montferrato aside. “You are the heir to the County of Monferrato, yes?”
“Yes, I am, father. May I call you father, sire?”
“I see no reason why not. You have married my daughter, after all. In fact, that is what I wish to speak of. I wished to give you a wedding present. Specifically, this.” He motioned with a wave of his hand, and a clerk stepped forward with a scroll. “This is the title to the County of Siracusa. I wanted you to have it, as the husband to my daughter.”
“This is...” Guillaume looked at King Richard with new respect. “I thank you for this gift, and you will always have my loyalty.”

Messina, April 12, 1225:
“We have prepared everything. You want to do this, Richard?” Jacques looked out at the town square, where the soldiers practiced at their drills.
“Brother, of course I want to do this.” King Richard stepped out to the balcony on the Grand Palace to join his elder brother and marshal. “Our father could never face the Ayyubids directly. Even when he tried, he still failed to protect his goal, Jerusalem. But now, it is Ayyubid Egypt, Cyrenaica, and Kairouan. Divide and conquer, my brother. Divide and conquer.”
“I still would prefer facing the Almohads first. They continue to grow stronger, and you continue to ignore them!” Jacques’ voice rose to a shout. “You ignore their actions against us in the Baleares under our father’s reign; you ignore their conquest of Ayyubid lands to expand their own power base; you will never be able to face them if you do not do it now!”
Richard spun to face his brother. “Marshal Jacques, you let your own hatred blind you!” he spat out. “You refuse to see sense! It is their court of Cairo where our future lies, not the Almohad court of Fez. Leave Iberia to the Iberians. They have the truer claim!”
“Fine, my liege lord. I shall do as you dictate. Their messenger will be sent.” Jacques bowed mockingly and stepped back into the palace, leaving Richard alone.

Tripolitania, April 13:
As the waves broke against the African shore, they dumped a body as they receded back. Two Arabs walking along the beach pointed and ran for the body. Turning it over, they saw a slip of cheap papyrus from Egypt, with a bad Arabic scrawl across it. Reading the letter, they ran for the city, leaving the body behind them. The war had begun. Within days, the Sheik of Tripolitania would contact his Emir in Kairouan and gain his assistance, as per the Sicilian plan.

Tripolitania, October 28:
“It took forever, but we’ve finally done it.” Fires burned throughout the city as the troops ran amok. Richard, mounted on his royal steed, looked to the mounted knight to his left. “Marshal, would you bring your men under control? The last thing we need here is to turn the commoners against us.”
Marshal Jacques stared at the ruined mosque dome. “The soldiers need to vent. The forces arrayed against us were far from armies, and we have been here for months without women.”
“I don’t care. Don’t make me regret leaving you in charge. We must march east and crush the Emir and his last remaining vassal. The message was already sent to them as well.”
“Fine, my liege lord.” Spurring his horse, he galloped into the city.

Historical Notes of the First Sicilian Crusade, by Sir Esteban di Montferrato, 1923:
The first war waged under the reign of King Richard the Strong would be a surprising move by the Catholic forces, who were commonly regarded as invaders. Rather than follow the example of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, which had never treated its Arabic Muslims with any sort of dignity, the King of Sicily at least attempted to protect the Arabs in his conquered lands from the worst depravities of his soldiers. He crushed the entire Emirate of Kairouan in a year and a half, from April 13 of 1225 to October 6 of 1226 (Specific dates were mentioned in his journal of his activities in Africa). His zealous nature was tempered by his wisdom, and his attempts to make the Arabs at least feel safe would aid those missionaries he sent in massive numbers to the shores of Africa. However, this war had taught him the expenses necessary to prosecute any war of aggression. His coffers had been badly damaged by the collapse of several mines in Messina during May 1225, and paying the soldiers put him into serious debt, forcing him to give up significant royal resources in the Baleares. While his actions put him at odds with the Pope and most other Crusaders, who all felt that the infidels of Africa should be put to the sword rather than treated with leniency, his would prove to be one of the few lasting Crusader states.

Corsica, October 23, 1226:
“To the altar again, for a son this time.” As the Latin droning of the priest continued on, King Richard sat in the pews like a commoner, though in the foremost pew and formal acoutrements of court, he would not be mistaken for any mere commoner. “At least I have a wedding present ready for my son, and his wife Giovanna.”
After the wedding, he sent a messenger for his son, to meet him in an antechamber of the castle. The door swung open, then shut again, as his second son and heir, Bonifacio, entered. “Yes, Richard?”
“You may still call me father, my son. I wished to bestow on you titles in Africa.”
“Africa? That wasteland?”
“Yes, my son.” Richard’s eyes narrowed. “That wasteland. Of course, Poul, your younger brother, may well prefer these. There are those in the court who would prefer him to you, after all. He may prefer the Danish heredity of his mother, but this does not mean anything to them, after I broke with my father.”
Bonifacio’s face broke into a tight smile. “Richard, there is naught that would prevent me from taking these titles. What did you wish to give me?”
“All lands taken by my father and me south of Sicily. Specifically, from Gabes to Syrte. In addition to these counties, I wish to bestow on you the title of Duke of Leptis Magna.”
Bonifacio’s eyes widened in surprise, and Richard smiled wickedly. “Don’t act so surprised. You are my son and heir, after all.”
“I just...I...thank you, and God bless your reign, father.” Bonifacio bowed deeply, and stepped out of the room.
“Surprising, still. One would think he had no wish to rule these two kingdoms.” He frowned deeply as he thought of Egypt, still beyond his reach. “Or three.”
The doors swung open again as Chancellor Martino, accompanied by the newly promoted Marshal Gilberto Montecucculi, son of the minor functionary Sergio, burst into the room. “Sire, there is important news from Monferrato! Count Boniface has died!”
Richard burst out laughing. “Excellent! Then we can finally begin!”

 

[Nikolai]

I really hope this AAR isn't abadoned? It's very good IMHO.

 

[Culise]

Sorry, my school year is winding down and I'm being given a lot of work to do (Admittedly a change, if not favored). I'll try to get back to the game and write the next part as soon as I can.

 

[Culise]

Part Two:
Messina, October 25, 1226:
The long table in the dining room had been appropriated, and was covered in maps of Europe and ancient documents across the last centuries from various monasteries and diplomatic letters from various counties and republics of importance in northwest Italy. King Richard sat heavily at the head of the table. “We have my father to thank, don’t we?”
Chancellor Martino, bearing his age well, nodded. “He planned this out decades ago, after he became the last elected head of Pisa. His next goal, as he said, was to both unite Sardinia and take the trading city of Genoa.”
Richard shook his head. “We have no need to take Genoa. Sardinia would be a nice port to take for security, but it isn’t important, either. What is important is Egypt.”
Marshal Gilberto tapped one of the maps lightly with a dagger, and a monk snatched the map away and frowned at the Marshal, who pointedly ignored the monk in turn. “How in the Lord’s name will this help us?”
“It’s all about lessons learned, Marshal.” Richard stood from his seat again. “When your predecessor and I invaded the Emirate south of us, catastrophes struck in Sicily.”
“Perhaps it could have been God?” The steward, Blanche Hauteville, daughter of Jacques Hauteville, smiled politely. “I highly doubt it, but we haven’t had a diocese bishop in the entirety of your reign. Perhaps this could have angered him?”
“Perhaps. I doubt that God would smite those who would strike at his foes, though.” Richard smirked. “It was merely bad luck. Mines collapsing in Messina, typhoid fever in Mallorca, it all led to the loss of my power and prestige across my lands. I don’t want to deal with domestic problems while I’m not even in the court.”
Marshal Gilberto sheathed his dagger and rapped the table. “You still haven’t answered me, sire. How does invading Genoa help us?”
The spymaster, Rafaele Antonelli, a permanent sneer set across his lean visage, bent across the table to speak directly into Gilberto’s face. “Are you so foolish? Genoa is a trading center. Massive amounts of gold and wealth pour into the city. We conquer the city, seize the gold from the Governor, and keep whatever else we can.”
“Precisely the step toward my final goal I wish to take. I want the Egyptian crown. That is what my sole purpose is.” Richard looked at every advisor, and the two monks waiting in the corner, squarely in the eyes. “I will do whatever it takes to wrest it from the infidels who defile it, who have defiled it for so long. This is God’s will, and I will not let a petty, greedy Genoese Governor ruin this. This plan has existed for almost half a century now, and finally it has come to fruition. We shall complete this. We shall usurp the Genoese governorship, and push on to Cairo!”

Messina, September 28, 1227:
“It’s finally ready, sire.” Marshal Gilberto stood on the prow of the flagship Gabriel. “Your armies are below decks. The new Chancellor, Filippo Angelo, tells me that he’s already sent word to Genoa that we will no longer tolerate them. I do wish Martino were still around to see this.”
“He is watching from Heaven, with a smile.” Richard nodded and shut the visor of his helm. “Let us set sail for Arborea.”

Arborea, December 17, 1227:
“Curse it, this weather is not going to make things easy for us, is it?”
“Since when has this been easy?”
“Stow it. We open the gates, the Sicilians march in, and we all get what we want. They get Sardinia, we get power.”
The muttering of the three conspirators was almost lost in the strong winds that swept the desolate landscape of the island in winter. The loud creaking was not at all lost, and the Sicilian armies watched as the gates to the city swung open, inviting them in. As they charged through, slaughtering the small garrison, Richard looked southeast. “Thanks, Spy Master Rafaele. We wouldn’t have done it without your contacts in the city.”
Spurring his horse and charging into the city, he hastily arranged the abdication of the present city governor and had his forces board the ships again for Genoa. One light courier ship blasted away as fast as the winds would carry it for Mallorca and Menora, to retrieve still more armies. While the Genoese garrison had spent most of the two months it had mobilizing, reorganizing, and preparing, it was showing every sign of not only being larger than the Sicilian mobilized force, but also being ready to move out from Nice.

Meeting the King, as written by the Archbishop Harald Thott of Benevento, November 1228, in his private notes:
I was sent from the Papal Estates last year in June with an offer to this warrior king, Richard Hauteville of Sicily, who brought his sword against both Muslim and Catholic. Put bluntly, I was to ensure the nature of any future wars he fought as a true Crusader, rather than a warrior errant, a strange task to say the least for one with the rank of Archbishop. To see the thousands of men he arrayed against Genoa was to see his power, his charisma and force of will. I silenced the guards for his camp with a mere glance of those symbols of my office.
But, to see him in person was anticlimactic. He was shorter than I, and while brilliant, I could not at first see why these people followed him. Was it because of his father, a man canonized at the end of his life? Was it his advisors? It could not have been the influence of his first and only wife, dead for over 10 years, a Dane to the end. Nor could it have been him himself, I thought. All of these thoughts went through my head as I shook his hand. I saw it in his eyes in that moment. Something there, a determination to some goal I could not see myself. When I unfurled the Papal Bull and made the offer, he accepted immediately. I could not believe it, myself. Here we were, sitting in a military camp besieging a Catholic power. The point of the Crusades was to end violence like this, and to direct it outward, against our true foes. I said as much to him, and he smiled slightly and shook his head. He said to me that this was necessary, that the Genoese Governor refused him funds. I asked why he did not ask elsewhere, and he said that they had insulted him, and believed him too weak to do anything. That this had been in the works for longer than he had been a King, but was almost never to be done. I asked about why he needed the money of Genoa, and he answered in one word, “Egypt.” This is what defined him. He saw what broke his father, and wanted revenge. He hated his father, something else I learned in that tent, and hadn’t confessed in years, despite being a Catholic. That is what else I did there. I heard his confession. I heard how he hated his father for never seeing him in his own right, but always in comparison to his older brother, who had run away. I heard how he hated his older brother for existing in that comparison and for his obsession with revenge on the Almohads after some slight in the past. I heard how he hated the Ayyubid Kingdom of Egypt which had broken his father’s spirit by taking Jerusalem, and thus insulted his family. I heard how he himself was going to take Egypt or die in the attempt. He frightened me with his single-minded determination, but also with his ideas for the Crusade state he would form. To hear him talk, he would destroy the Egyptian rulership on the field of battle, then go to the people to truly turn Arab peasant against Arab noble. His ideas were strange. He did not seek to destroy the Muslims in one bold stroke, but sought to outlast and convert them to the one true faith by treating them with respect and what could almost be seen as equality, rather than merely kill them as examples while they were infidels and thus damned to Hell. It made such sense to offer this carrot, but there are so many in the Church who would see him burn in the fires of Hell for this. I know not whether to pray for his success or failure. I can only pray to the Lord God that He shall guide King Richard as He sees fit.

My only successes that June were to make him a Crusader of the Church, and to ensure that he would press no territorial or titular claims against Genoa. With the almost 9000 florin tribute he received in the end just this month, he did not need to press any claims, though, nor did he need any Papal encouragement to crusade. He has not yet departed for the east, but those who I know in Sicily say that the army is preparing. It is only a matter of time, it seems, until he launches his grand Crusade against those who wronged his family, his grand quest for vengeance. There are metaphorical myths among mariners of an awe-inspiring white leviathan who will drag to the depths those who live solely for vengeance, and I do truly hope that this does not happen to him, whether he is right or wrong in this.

 

[Shaytana]

I particularly enjoyed this response: “Africa? That wasteland?”

May I have the titles please? I'll apreciate them

Keep up the good work. As a Hauteville fan I hope you turn them in the Masters of the Mediteranean.

 

[unmerged(26933)]

As well, this is my first AAR, so the quality will certainly be lacking in comparison to those who are more skilled.

You only get better with pratice so don't let this be your last. Besides, it's better than the one I have going on right now.

 

[Nikolai]

King of Egypt, no less? Good luck!

 

[Culise]

Shaytana: I'll try my best to take everything from Iberia to the Levant, but the Almohads worry me more now than they did before.
Zeno: Thanks. I doubt it will be my last, if only because I want to get used to writing over centuries with a less fragmented style than this.
Nikolai: Thanks. I'm not taking half measures here - I'll need as many troops as I can get, soon enough. I really regret not taking Genoa, though, or for that matter, finishing the job in Egypt, as you'll see in this part.

Part Three:
Messina, November 28, 1228
“These delays continue.” King Richard glared at his Marshall. “How long?”
“Sire,” Marshall Gilberto stammered nervously, “we must bring all of our soldiers back from Genoa, replace our losses, and regroup before we think about attacking Egypt. Money cannot solve all of our problems.”
Richard noticeably tried to calm himself. “You haven’t answered my question. How long until we are ready to attack?”
“At least half a year, sire. Perhaps more.”
“Very well, then. In half a year, we shall attack.”
“But, sire, we may need more-”
“In half a year, Marshall. That is all.”

Messina, May 18, 1229:
“You succeeded beyond my expectations, Gilberto.” Richard smiled at the Marshall, who stood confidently beside him aboard the Gabriel.
“Thank you, sire. It was in large part thanks to your assistance.”
“I have left my steward and chancellor in charge during my absence. How many regiments have we to attack with?”
“We have regiments from across Sicily and the Baleares. I can’t give you an exact number.”
“Fine.” King Richard stepped forward to where the captain of his ship was relaxing against the wheel. “Captain!” he shouted sharply, enjoying the captain’s sudden attempt to look at attention. “We’re leaving port for Alexandria! Prepare to heave off.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain began to rush along the ship, shouting orders, as the King walked back past Gilberto.
“Marshall, I shall be in my berth should you need me. We’ll need to make a plan over these next months.”

From the journals of Marshall Gilberto Montecucculi, written from July 1229 to December 1230, recopied in 1942 by Curator Roberto Bieran of the Messina Museum of History:
The Lord has truly blessed us. Our war with the Ayyubids comes while they deal with insurrection in the east just as prior wars in the west weakened them. Not only that, but they face the Kingdom of Jerusalem, in another war. Their child-king is in no condition to beat us off, as well. This last month, we arrived in Buhairyu with over 3000 levied soldiers and crushed what little resistance existed. Our forces are on the march again, further south this time, to Gizeh. Giant monoliths, the Pyramids, are already visible to the troops, and the awe that all of us feel is almost enough to make us forget the heat that overwhelms us. I feel that our next destination should be back toward the Nile, where at least there will be enough water to give to the entire army.

We have seized Gizeh and Aswan both. It is not but the end of November, but it must be an unusually hot year. Even our guides (Those that have remained with us under their ‘own free will’) have agreed to that. We march further south, and the heat is only getting worse. At least there is water from the Nile now.

News from the north: A Christmas gift has been presented to us in Alexandria. 100 Teutonic Knights agreed to join the Crusade and march from Messina to Alexandria to Manupura even as I write this. Just two days before, December 25, the King offered a stunning feast. Somehow, he managed to get some of the native camel caravans to haul geese and other foodstuffs from Sicily all the way to these desolate wastes. Even the soldiers got at least a hunk of (relatively) fresh meat, and us nobles ate richly indeed. We have not encountered any Egyptian army worthy of the name yet, the largest being not even a thousand. They run at the mere sight of our armies. Truly, God has blessed our Crusade.

Sudan has fallen. It is only February, and our last guide warns that the heat will only get worse from here. It’s hard to imagine it – we’ve lost almost a sixth of our army to the heat already. Our King, in his wisdom, chose to sail down the Nile to the medium-sized fortifications of Asyut rather than east to Nubia.

It feels like it’s been almost a year of constant marching. There’s been almost no real fighting, God bless, but nothing has really come of this, it feels like. We’ve seized Buhairyu, Gizeh, Aswan, Sudan, and now Asyut, and are marching to the Red Sea and the territory known as Quena. I miss my home in Sicily, but we are doing the Lord God’s will out here in these forsaken wastes.

Awful news this August. It is only the seventh day of the month, by my best reckoning. We hold everything in the south, save for a small fortification in Nubia, from the Nile to the Red Sea, but Gizeh fell to the Egyptians little over a week earlier. When I asked the King of this, he laughed and said, “They want to cut us off from retreat? They have merely sealed the fate of their court!” He then said for us to march north and west, to Cairo, and to kill any Arab who moves ahead of us to warn their court. The heat only has gotten worse, too. If last year was supposedly the hottest in recollection, what in God’s name does that make this year? It feels like my armour is being smithed as I wear it!

Only a month since my last entry. Some Basque mercenaries joined up with the Teutons in Manupura, but I can’t say I really care. We’ve been fighting the Ayyubid in the first real battle of this war outside Cairo. We still outnumbered them, and smashed their lines brutally. The court was almost entirely trapped within the city, too, in another blessing from our Lord. Rumours indicate that their Spy Master smuggled everyone of importance out, but even a few token nobles will look good to the King.

-Notes added by Curator Bieran: Here the final pages of the journal are ruined from signs of blood, battle, and age. It is almost certainity that these pages covered the time period from October to December 1230. A few legible scraps, from which I obtained this time estimate, mention of a Teutonic defeat in the north in early October, and a series of pitched battles in Cairo from the 24th of November to the 13th of December, which both fit with established historical facts from both Arab and Crusader records. It is also my belief that Marshall Montecucculi survived these battles, though he is only mentioned in passing in later historical records, and some historians have speculated that he was either gravely injured or killed. Given a lack of historical proof of this, it is my belief that he was merely replaced, and not actually injured seriously enough to merit a mention.

Tripolitana, March 9, 1231:
Bonifacio Hauteville, son of Richard Hauteville and Duke of Leptis Magna, sighed into his wine. “He expects my help in his obsession?”
His wife, Giovanna of Genoa, watched him from across the table. “You will not consider it? You will not aid your own father?”
Bonifacio grimaced. “I will. Of course I will. That doesn’t mean I like it. I’ve heard he’s mobilized the hosts of Corsica and Lucca as well.” Standing, he drained the goblet and slammed it down on the table. “And, if he wants my armies, he wants me.”
Walking around the table, he whispered into his wife’s ear. “Take care of the court for me. It isn’t truly Italian in subterfuge, but they will still seek to weaken us. However,” he smirked, “Perhaps we should take one last night to ourselves.”

From the book King Richard’s Egypt, by Dolores Bistodeaux, 1992:
The Second Sicilian Crusade, which has also been known also as the concluding half of the Fourth Crusade (Started with the invasion of Egypt by Guillaume Hauteville of Sicily), was a dramatic shift in the tides of the Christian Crusades. Whereas the Moslems had in the Near East begun steadily crushing the successor Kingdoms to the Third Crusade, they ran into severe problems in Egypt. The Almohad Moslems were occupied in Iberia with various minor uprisings, and at any rate had no desire to help their enemies the Ayyubid Moslems of Egypt, and various emirates in the Near East rebelled time and again against their Egyptian masters. Early advances by King Richard Hauteville the Strong would set the tempo for the entire war that ensued. Within one year, he had overtaken almost half of Egypt, even as the Egyptians alternately tried to crush their eastern nobility in one grand battle or extricate themselves as quickly as possible from the quagmire there. By the close of 1231, King Richard would hold unquestioning sway over all Egyptian land west of the Nile, as well as south and east of Cairo in a line extending roughly northeast to the Red Sea and the Sinai Peninsula. The Ayyubid armies, badly weakened from not only the Crusaders, but also their own nobility’s treachery, suffered from horrendous desertion rates, and in the now-famous battle of Manupura, surrendered after only a token two days of fighting. In a surprising and merciful move, King Richard accepted the surrender and allowed not only the soldiers, but also their leaders to head home in exchange for their weapons. In doing so, he ensured the at-least-partial loyalty of these people, who saw an honor that had been lacking in many of the other, more famous Crusaders of the past, and would at least give him the benefit of the doubt. In another surprising move, once the last Egyptian strongholds had fallen, Richard showed no interest in continuing into the Levant and retaking Jerusalem for Christianity. In a move that shocked all of Europe, he accepted a peace on October 1, 1232, with the Ayyubid remnants that granted him significant indemnities and guaranteed Christian free passage to and from Jerusalem and other holy areas still held by Moslems in the Levant, an renewal of the agreement which had been technically in practice since the end of the Third Crusade, but had been broken with the siege and fall of the city soon thereafter. While still considered a Crusader to Europe, this single move alienated him from the Papacy again, and nearly led to his excommunication. Only his dramatic successes, as well as the canonized status of his father and dramatic reversals in European fortune in the north, tempered Pope Gentile Enzio’s hand, and would serve to mask the popular disgust of European leaders, particularly Italian, French, and Crusader, toward him.

Alexandria, October 1, 1232:
“Then it is done. I have been ruined.” Ayyub of Algeciras, the young Sultan of the Ayyubid Muslims, slumped heavily against the seat. “You won, Crusader.”
“Yes, I have.” King Richard smiled down on the devastated Sultan. “I will allow you Jerusalem. I have no interest in the Holy City so long as you allow all Christians full access. Should I receive word that even one pilgrim is being attacked within your borders, however, you shall hear of it from my sword.”
“You have my word as an honorable man. In return, you must not persecute the Muslims within your lands.”
“On that, you have my word as an honorable man. I seek their conversion, but a conversion by those unpleasant means that you imply is not a change in their soul before God; it is only a perjury before him.”
“I thank you for that, at least.” Ayyub of Algeciras stood wearily, leaning on his aide for support. “I do wish upon you Allah’s blessing, that you would someday see the truth in His words.”
“I have seen the works of God, and have found them the better. I, in return, will wish upon you God’s blessing, that you or your children will see the truth in the words of Him and His son Jesus Christ.”
Ayyub smiled weakly. “I doubt that. May we leave in peace now?”
King Richard bowed grandly. “Yes, Sultan, you may depart unmolested.”
The sultan’s smile turned cool. “You are indeed magnanimous in victory, Crusader. It makes me wonder how you would have acted were it I who marched into Sicily to extract your surrender.”
“That would have been impossible, Sultan,” Richard replied, fire glinting in his eyes, “and I care not to think on such a circumstance, regardless.”
“I thought as much of you. Goodbye, Crusader.” The sultan and his aide walked out of the tent, leaving the content King of Sicily, Pisa, and Egypt alone with his spoils.

 

[Shaytana]

Your best chapter to date. Especialy liked the way you added the modern historian and curator's views in order to tell the tale. One small piece of advice if you will: put some more spaces between some of the dialogue, these forums are hard to read as is.

I'm glad to see this aar only gets better, so good luck with your next update.

 

[Nikolai]

I agree with Shaytana. A good update again. BTW, Richard's choice of not taking Jerusalem is outrageous!

 

[Culise]

Actually, I looked north and saw my own version of this little AI gem, and panicked. I still stand by my decision, though...they were expanding faster than I was into richer lands; give my armies a couple years to recuperate, and invade half of Europe, rather than invading the whole bloody thing...

Part Four:
Excerpts taken from Through the Whitewashing: The Folly of King Richard, by Edwin Sander, 1999:
I begin my final example in this book with the Papal Estates, 1234. The King of Sicily, Richard Hauteville, had fulfilled his quest for revenge by wresting Egypt unjustly from the Muslim innocents just two years earlier, crushing them beneath the weight of Italian subjugation. It had been the war which had won him fame throughout Europe, and nearly ostracized him from the Catholic community, no doubt due to his brutality. However, Pope Gentile Enzio was in his waning years, and it would be a symptom of grave times to come.

Rome, May 17, 1234:
The bells began to toll out, slowly, mournfully. A procession of bishops marched out along the streets, making their way purposefully to the site of Pope Gentile’s grave. Not even dead a day, everyone had made their way over the past month to Rome in preparation for the election of the new Pope. It was almost a given who would be chosen – Bishop Filippo of Verdun, in charge of both Verdun and Metz in France. The only great problem would become which king would assert his authority, and the bishops assembled in Rome that day had their own plans in mind.

Messina, May 18, 1234:
“It’s official. The Catholic Church has gone mad.” King Richard laughed as he looked at Archbishop Harald Thott of Benevento, standing before him confidently. “This is not the Pope’s authority by which you bring this?”

“No,” he answered firmly. “This is brought to you by the bishops of Rome, who assembled yesterday to elect a new Pope.”

King Richard’s face turned serious, and he furrowed his brow in thought. “I am not given much choice, am I? I take upon the role of Papal Controller whether or not I wish it, correct?”

“Yes, this is correct.”

“Then, I have one question. Why do you come to me? The Church is not particularly fond of my actions in Egypt.”

“You have heard of the Hordes of the north? We believed them to be raiders, initially, who sought to conquer the steppes of the East, and use those to launch their raids against Poland, Germany, and Hungary. All they have done is conquer, however. They control the East, all of Hungary, and half of Germany.” The Archbishop got down on his knees. “We beg of you to attack and drive them back!”

Richard’s eyes widened. “You expect this much of me? I cannot deliver a war against half of Europe!”

The Archbishop stood. “If you do not fight now, these people will come for us all. They have already pushed west too far, and taken too many troops away from the Christian lords that they now use against us, and south is their next destination if they want to destroy any hope of unified resistance under the Catholic banner. I am sure the Pope agrees. You are now the Papal Controller, and you must understand the threat these pagans pose to the civilized world.”

“I must think on this. You should leave for now.”

“I understand. I shall return to my bishopric.”

From Through the Whitewashing:
The Papacy’s message was simple, and sent to the Christian world, even those Orthodox rather than Catholic: The Mongol hordes must be stopped before they crossed the Elbe River. Unfortunately, by the time most rulers even received word of this, the horde had reached central Switzerland in the south, and had proceeded past the Elbe and Magdeburg on a course that would take them to the Atlantic near Bremen and Friesland. With this word, King Richard finally made his penultimate error, the one which would cost him and Sicily: He demanded the mobilization of every single fighting peasant within his lands and sailed for Veglia and Seni along the Adriatic Sea, and Belgorod on the Black.

From the 1st to the 20th of March 1235, his forces prepared and launched for those lands seized by the Golden Horde. It would not be a long war, by any measure. In February 1236, almost a year later, the first of his four armies would be destroyed outside Peresechen. Less than half a year later, June, he would lose another army in Aqueileia in what was theoretically neutral territory. He would conduct hit-and-run raids across all of Hungary and Crimea, never using a single home base, for almost two years, which only succeeded in alienating those populaces which would normally have supported him against the Hordes. Still worse, on 1 February, 1238, his Crimean army was caught and destroyed at modern-day Odessa by an army reportedly over 11000 men strong. A second such army chased him around Hungary, finally catching up in 11 October of that same year in Szekezfehervar. The following historical maps show the areas struck by his raids over these two years, starting roughly one month after the last armies arrived in Europe proper. Note however that the blue area south of the Danube and reaching into Wallachia is those lands under the rule of the King of Bulgaria.

Szekezfehervar, October 30, 1238:
“Keep the fight going!” King Richard rounded his horse. “My men, to me! We ride for their flank!”

“Damn it all,” cursed one knight riding alongside. “Your Excellency, we must withdraw!”

“Where to? They have us pinned down! We win here or die!” he shouted back. Not a moment later, they were deep into the fray, slashing at their counterparts. As arrows ricocheted off his armour, he slashed downward through one infantryman’s throat and into another’s chest. Another heavy infantryman rushed him, his pike upraised. It narrowly missed the King as his horse shied away, and Richard decapitated the infantryman with a single blow.

A moment’s glance around the battlefield showed the Sicilian and Egyptian regiments taking the worse of the exchange against the conquerors and conquered alike.

“Withdraw! We shall continue this fight another day!” Pulling his horse around, he rode away from the Mongols, those who survived following as the Mongols took stock of their own casualties.

From Through the Whitewashing:
The tactics used to fight were almost revolutionary, as some proponents of King Richard would say. It didn’t matter, for on 14 November, the Mongols located the Sicilian/Egyptian army and struck in the early morning, slaughtering all they found. The King fled in ignoble defeat, barely surviving himself. Still worse, the final map shows the grim testament behind how little his grand attack accomplished in contrast to Mongol advances in north Germany, from the first in April 1236:

When he returned to Messina, he did so in disgrace, having brought his country to ruin. The remainder of his rule would be marred by the shadow of this defeat, and the future of Sicily seemed uncertain. To think he was made a hero by revolutionaries is preposterous, considering the facts of his reign.

Szekezfehervar, November 15, 1238:
Richard walked through the tiny hamlet searchingly, his horse killed last week by a stray bolt from a Sicilian crossbow. Behind him walked 12 men, loyal archers and heavy infantry who had survived the battle. One, the lone knight among them, walked forward to walk beside his king. “Sire, there is no one and nothing here. The Mongols have razed this area entirely.”

He spun and shouted in frustration, “There cannot be nothing! I cannot have lost everything I knew here! Someone, something must have survived. At the least there must be survivors, weapons, horses somewhere!”

“The Mongols took everything. They’re famous for it. They must be back in Bern by now, pushing their borders to France.”

“It cannot be so! Their ambush yesterday may have scattered my army, but there must have been survivors!”

“It’s over. That ambush yesterday killed everyone else. No one could have made it out.”

A second person, an archer, spoke up from behind them. “They had surrounded the entire camp with their mounted archers. We were lucky to escape, ourselves.”

Richard sat on a pile of rubble from a burnt-out house. “It’s not possible; I could not have lost. I defeated Egypt itself; pagan horsemen from those eastern wastes should not have been a problem,” he said quietly, more to himself than his men.

“There were too many, sire. No one could have won.”

“Not even God? He fought with us in Egypt,” Richard said as he looked up, “so why did he forsake us here?”

“He did not forsake us. Perhaps this is what He intended for Europe.”

“Not possible. He would not wish these Mongols on us.”

The knight hauled Richard up bodily. “Who are you to say what He would want? You are not the Pope! You want to hear what I think the truth is? You’re no better than your father! I’ve heard about you, how you hate him for giving up! Well, do better! Rebuild in Egypt and come back with ten times as many men as you had before!”

The archer pushed the knight back from Richard. “Who do you think you are? Attacking the King like that!”

“Hold on,” Richard commanded him. “He is right, almost. I do not hate my father for giving up; my reasons are my own. However, I haven’t lost yet. I will win, and put the head of their ruler upon a pike before the Pope himself.” Dusting himself off, he looked around the ruined hamlet. “We march for home,” King Richard Hauteville announced, as his men looked on at him. “And Christianity shall once again rule these shores, some day.”

Publishers note to Edwin Sanders, 1999:
Edwin Sanders:
We apologize, but we feel your literary work Through the Whitewashing: The Folly of King Richard is not suitable for publication at this time. Those consultants we hired specially for this text agreed unanimously that, while depicting basic facts accurately, you distort motivations and, in glossing over several other important primary sources and using curious choices in wording, manipulate the more complicated reasons for the attempt. In summation, we feel that this work was designed solely to manipulate a few of the many existing facts into a flawed theory, which itself was only designed to support your larger anti-Italian rhetoric (Note also your first attempt at publishing here, The New Roman Imperial Rule), rather than a serious historical look at the reign of King Richard.

Regards,
Brooks/Cole Publishing Company
A division of International Thomson Publishing Company

 

[Shaytana]

Great update, can't wait to see the Empire Strikes Back episode. Those Mongols are getting pretty powerful and I want to know how European civilization manages to survive that onslaught... I mean your historians are European(Sanders, Bistodeaux) in the 20th century and not Mongolian....I gather English/French speaking lands must've survived the onslaught eh? Or you'll have them occupied, shaking off the Mongol yoke in the future,so they are able to provide us with the history of the events?

 

[unmerged(4004)]

It's AAR's like this that make me sometimes glad I don't have the game yet. Those SuperMongols scare me.

 

[unmerged(10971)]

Now, I think, would be a good time to take a vacation in America...

 

[Nikolai]

Mongols! Mongols! MONGOOOOP%=)Gfg.-.....-.........................................

Holy shiite! Good luck, you'll need it!

 

[Edgar Francis I]

You know I just got finished playing a Sicily campaign in the HYW scenario (I had started as Duke of Savoy and worked my way down that way) and suffered the same exact fate. There just isn't enough time to build up enough manpower to make a stand. I even held about 1/3 of Spain at the time, plus most of north-western Italy AND I waited until the very large German empire was engaged against the Horde, but alas... after some small initial successes, the numbers were just too much.

Unless/Until the Mongols are toned down a bit, the 1187 scenario is extremely difficult. They just come on too fast.


EF1