January-March 793.
The Emperor had mustered his force of roughly seven thousand men, which he believed would be more than sufficient to crush the tiny army of the Pagan rulers of Nisani.
As per his previous practice, it was Prince Pepin who was assigned to lead a cavalry vanguard into enemy lands to raid and pillage. The Prince was flush with confidence, both after his previous victories, and the birth of his newest son, Karloman, whom he had left in the care of his deliriously happy wife prior to the campaign’s beginning.
So flush with confidence, that he and his four hundred horsemen blundered directly into an ambush… First, one of the horses went down, it’s foot wrenched into a painful trap hidden beneath a forest bush, the shout of the affected rider drawing the column’s attention… Then the arrow fire from the trees began.
To his credit, Pepin did not panic, attempting to organise his horsemen into a proper defensive formation. Some dozens were cut down though, and while the rest rallied, the archers responsible for the attack melted back into the trees before they could be cut down, and the thick forest paths were unsuitable for fast cavalry pursuits.
“We shan’t bother then,” Pepin replied, when informed of the terrain conditions, “And trying to bring the whole army through here would only expose them to the ambush as well.”
“Yet it is the quickest route,” Baku pointed out, happy to be working with the Prince once again, even in this strange new land, “What other way do we have?”
“There is no need for an alternative road,” Pepin replied, grinning, “The original one will work, we just need fewer obstructions.”
“Too many trees,” Baku shook his head, “Too many places for an ambush.”
“Then that is the obstacle we must remove.” The Prince replied.
As it turned out, Pepin’s next orders involved withdrawing from the woodlands. Rather than subject the army to the strain and risk of ambush of a march through unfamiliar and densely-forested country, he simply ordered them to wait for a series of warm, dry days, and then ordered the edge of the thick woodland be set alight…
And it blazed along for days. When the rest of the army came along, it was still burning.
“Simplest way to avoid an ambush,” Pepin explained to Karloman when he confronted him. “Burn out the forests they would use.”
Karloman shook his head, “And now we’ll be delayed for days while it burns out… It’s not a bad idea, but you are too rash my son.”
“I accomplished my task,” Pepin replied stubbornly, “There is no further risk of ambush in those woods for our army.”
Karloman sighed, but let the issue go. It was not how he would’ve handled it, but he trusted his son, he had to.
As it turned out, the flames had burned out within another two days, meaning the Frankish force was not delayed long. But Karloman knew his foe would take the time to further prepare…
And he had, on the left bank of the Elbe, Chief Branislav had assembled his own forces… But clearly not just his own, for this force was much larger than the Franks had been led to believe Branislav could muster.
“Bohemians perhaps?”
“Other Pagan groups as well, Aye,” Karloman replied through gritted teeth. He glared at Pepin “This is why I wanted us to strike sooner.”
Pepin accepted the rebuke with a brief bowing of the head, though in truth both he and his father knew two days would’ve made little difference, a force of this size would’ve been assembled with weeks or months of warning.
“Well, no chances of surprising them here,” Karloman replied, his military mind rapidly re-adjusting his strategic plan for the campaign. “They’re expecting us to attack them, so we’ll have to do the unexpected, Set camp!”
“We won’t be giving battle?” Pepin enquired, surprised.
“Not here,” Karloman replied, a nasty smile on his face, “I have other plans.”
So the two forces waited… and waited. They remained waiting for near on two weeks. And every day, Branislav’s allies became more restive. Unislav of Praha in particular, whom had brought considerable forces to the Nisani cause.
“My men cannot wait forever,” Unislav told Branislav, “We must force a decisive battle with the Franks now.”
“I still have men and supporters trickling in,” Branislav replied, “Within another week we ought to outnumber Karloman, and he’s far too formidable to be defeated unless we do.”
So they waited several more days…
As it turned out, Karloman’s own camp was growing impatient with his refusal to give battle as well. Even Pepin had begun to pressure his father on the subject.
“The longer we wait, the more strength will leech away from our enemy.” Karloman insisted,
“The men want to fight,” Pepin shook his head.
Duke Goncalo, the 73 year-old Marshal vigorously agreed with Pepin, which only rankled Karloman’s temper. The Marshal had been forced upon him by a political appointment to appease potential rebels. He had little respect for the man, and less for his views, so that only made him dig in his views more. That Duke Goncalo also lacked the political and personal sense to know that arguing with Karloman only meant the Emperor would refuse to listen did not help.
Eventually, it was the Pagans who moved first, Branislav gave his consent to give battle, and deployed his skirmishers to harass Frankish lines. Karloman attempted to restrain his own forces responses, but over the course of the day, some broke ranks and attempted to charge the enemy.
A messy, confused and disorganised engagement followed, more a series of messy smaller battles than one big coordinated one. Frankish heavier infantry eventually were disciplined into their more organised formations, and began to prevail across the field, while the Emperor and his son rode through the ranks from engagement to engagement to re-organise and bolster their men.
Though Karloman had not wanted battle here, the success of these engagements, and the fact that his army did not break or disintegrate over the course of the day, appeared to convince him to change his mind. The following day, he gave orders to pull up stakes and move camp, marching directly south to threaten the fortress of Nisani, the main holding of Branislav and the location of his wife and younger children…
The Pagans moved to counter the threat, and marched to attempt to cut them off, Karloman moved his forces into the hills surrounding the fortress, and encamped and fortified them atop the heights. He had occupied the best position, and would now force the Pagans to come to him…
April, 793.
Zeeland, Francia
The first boats crept up to the coast in the dead of night… they were here now, and things would go smoothly..
King Randver had given the order, now they only hoped things would progress as well as he had planned, with this being their first incursion into the southern lands. The captain, Ungarr, was a loyalist who had supported Randver in his power struggle against King Ragnarr for the throne after the death of old King Sigurdr, and it was he whom had been given this first command. A tall, thick-set fellow, Ungarr’s leadership and cunning had brought them to the coastline, undetected.
They remained so until they reached the monastery themselves, rousing the frightened monks from their beds and forcing them to open their stores and treasures. The Norsemen took all that was of value too them, including a number of the men as captives whom could be sold back home as slaves, and then headed back to their ships in the pre-dawn light. The whole thing was over in barely a few hours.
The following days would lead to dreadful and fanciful rumours, each one more wild with the telling and re-telling. Beast-men from the north who had come as pirates, with terrifying steel and axe to rape, raid and plunder. Terrifying though these rumours were, they did not much resemble the reality of the raid, which had been rather quiet.
Future occurrences of this phenomena would not remain so…
OOC: A bit of a messy and disorganised start to the campaign... and the first of what will be known as the Viking raids on Northern Europe... Will it be the last? Nah, they've got an entire age named for them...
We'll enter into the next stage of the campaign for Nisani, and beginning to unravel the beginnings of these northern raids, next time
