For the crossing of that formidable river, King Karloman’s men had their work cut out for them.
“We could ford across.”
“The men and their horses?” the King shook his head. “Our cavalry are a valuable weapon against the Saxons, I’ll not leave them unhorsed for the fighting on the other side, and if we only cross in small groups, we leave the Saxons the ability to pick us off, one by one.”
“Boats?” another voice suggested,
“Would take too long to bring them, and the risk of sailing them downstream is too great,”
The back and fourth continued for some minutes, while the King’s minds wracked to find a solution.
Could it be? Perhaps yes but… My men are mostly levies, not professionals, and would it… no, it’s the best idea we’ve got. Might as well try it.
“I have an idea,” the King began, and the chatter ceased, “I want your opinions my lords, but it’s something I read in an old book once.”
He told them. Some were wided-eyed, others sceptical, but it was Marshal Maurad, the blind lion himself, whose empty eyes Karloman really sought.
“Tricky,” Maurad replied, whistling slightly at the audacity of it, “But it might work if we find a good crossing point.”
“Then come with me for a stroll my lords.” Karloman replied, “Let’s see what this river can offer us.”
They took two days to find a suitable spot, a way downstream, but the King found a site to implement the idea that had tossed around his head like a child’s toy in a nursery for the past days.
The bridge was built more slowly than its original incarnation, after all, Frankish men were not professionals, nor well-drilled to the point of being such expert engineers, but the construction was simple enough that those with training in woodwork or construction or surveying were able to guide the rest to their task. Eighteen days it took to get the bridge up to scratch. First, trees were chopped, and several hundred thick, wooden logs were tied together, then supports were driven into the riverbed at the depth of about three meters, facing at an inward angle. Then the troopers, under the careful eye of a carpenter who had been with the levies, carefully carved the supports at the top to support a crosspiece.
Once this framework was done, more logs were placed facing along the construct with planks laid down on top.
While the bulk of the army worked on this construction, others got to work on carving wooden shields. The purpose of these shields became clear when the King instructed them to tie them along the side of the construct to direct the water flow through gaps in the crossing and protect the bridge from materials.
The Saxons, initially curious, had soon realised what was going on, and forded a small group of soldiers upriver to try and stop them. Fortunately, Karloman had the presence of mind to be alerted when his scouts warned of their approach, and once again, the Frankish cavalry, led by the King himself, won the day and drove the raiders off.
On July 18th, 771 anno domini, the Frankish army crossed the Rhine bridge in small sections, many nervously praying as they crossed the temporary wooden construction.
Karloman, for his part, let out a long, slow exhale when the last of the men was across safely. “Thank you tutor Aldous, for making me read that damn book,” he muttered to himself, And thanks to Caesar, for writing it for us lesser men to build upon, Even imitations of your glory can keep my men alive it would seem.
After ensuring proper guarding for the bridge, Karloman, once on the east side of the river, set about putting several villages to the torch while his scouts sent out to find the location of the major Saxon army, they returned on the 22nd, reporting a big gathering of the tribes, and many foreign ‘assistants’ for the Saxon army, at Kleve.
“Then let’s march north men!” The King called, and his men cheered. After witnessing how his ingenuity had got them over the Rhine in peace, they were prepared to follow him anywhere…
Meanwhile,
“Karloman’s forces will be here on the morrow,” Theodoric frowned, and chewed his lip thoughtfully.
“Open plains, fields beneath the eyes of the Gods, what’s not to like?” Wichimann demanded, eyes glimmering with bloodlust. “He will march straight at us, and we’ll throw him back over that precious bridge of his.”
Theodoric shook his head, “What?” Wichimann demanded.
“Why risk an open battle here?” Theodoric replied, “We can pull back, lure the Franks deeper into our country, lure them into the deep forests which are our natural home, harass them, ambush them and pick them off. Maybe even set a full trap for them. There’s no reason to simply give battle here to them when they have a larger army.”
“Father, have you gone mad?” Wichimann demanded, “The men are here for a battle. They want a battle. The enemy has invaded their homes, is killing their livestock, burning their crops and homes, destroying their shrines of worship to the Gods. They come to make us slaves, Christians and servants to a Frankish King! They must be driven back.”
Sensing a problem, Theodoric paused. As Grand Chief, his authority within the army was not absolute, Especially given his many foreign volunteers who had heeded the call for help when a Christian army had begun rampaging towards him. To undertake this tactic, he would need to ask his troops.
“They will see sense,” Theodoric replied, “When I explain it to them logically, they will see sense.”
“Father, No!” Wichimann raged, “They want a battle, and you will be denying it to them. They want to see the enemy crushed, driven off, punished before the Gods for daring to come onto our lands. I want that as well! Why should the men feel any different?”
“You are too impulsive my son,” Theodoric replied gently, “Too quick to fight and not quick enough to think,” but Wichimann was already backing away and heading for the tent flap.
“No Father, you are too cautious."
“The men will see my side of it,” Theodoric replied calmly, “You’ll see.”
But when Theodoric addressed his troops on the next morn, he found them angry, restless, dismayed. His suspicions were confirmed when he put forward his plan to pursue his planned course, he was loudly howled down by Saxon warriors, crying for blood.
“The army disagrees with you, Grand Chief,” Wichimann called from the ranks, “Will you stand aside to assent to their decisions, or will you be removed from your chieftainate?”
Theodoric gritted his teeth, understanding what was going on. “I concur,” he replied, loudly enough for the men to hear, “We will fight here.” But his heart didn’t feel the cheer that his troops did at that news, based on the roar they made on hearing it.
“Don’t worry father, It’s for the best, you’ll see.” Wichimann comforted him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t,” Theodoric growled, forcing his son to back away, “You worked on them during the night didn’t you? I suppose you called me a coward and told them I planned to run away and not give them their precious battle?”
There was silence for a moment,
“It will all work out Father,” was all Wichimann replied, “You’ll see.”
“It had better,” His father growled, “Given that it was your raiding that led the hounds to our door in the first place.”
July 27th, 771.
On the morning of the battle, The Frankish army formed up for the engagement against the Saxons. Both sides were relatively evenly-matched, with a slight advantage in numbers to the Franks. Both sides deployed in simple, straight marching lines on the plains before Kleve, with their heavier infantry in the centre and the less powerful marching men on the flanks.
As for the cavalry, Karloman split his into two separate groups, His light cavalry would wheel out and engage the weaker Saxon infantry on the right, but in reserve, commanded by himself, was a small detachment of heavy horse, almost exactly one hundred strong, commanded by Karloman himself. He placed this directly behind the centre of his main line, a reserve to use in the event of the gap.
Several hours after the engagement began, the two forces clashed directly, the left taking the brunt of the first blow as shouts and grunts and cries became clear. A small section of Karloman’s middle drew off to the left to menace the tail of the Saxon column that had attacked, but their commander had the presence of mind to see this and withdraw back, giving the engagement to the Franks…
The Saxons then tried a more generalised advance, the whole line moving as one to engage, with only a small reserve of huscarls held back to reinforce, so far as Karloman could see from his position. Riding up and down the line, he shouted encouragements to his men as they fought back the onrushing Saxons. Yelled bawdy insults to the Saxons themselves, and directed his troops and officers to sing dirty songs about the cowardice and flaccidness of their foes whenever there was a break in the fighting. This had the desired effect around noon, when a large group of enraged Saxons broke from the lines to charge directly into the Frankish middle. There, the heavy infantry waited for them, and quickly cut the more lightly armed Saxons to shreds as the Saxon commanders struggled to restrain the rest of the army from rushing out to join them.
When the next Saxon offensive came, the Frankish cavalry struck, smashing into the Saxon left and beginning to cut down all in their way. Marshal Maurad was in the thick of it, yelling commands to his men while Duke Robert actively participated in the melee, chasing down fleeing Saxons.
But a warning shout came from the left of his own line, and Karloman could see the Frankish line beginning to buckle. The Saxons had shifted some of their huscarls there during the last lull and were now pushing the hard-pressed Franks back.
He sprang into action, “Ride, now! With me!” and his horse sprang forwards, his blade in his hand, the King of the Franks and his cavalry reserve dashed forward to rescue the left.
They hit the Huscarls in the side, and Karloman himself was overwhelmed by the noise and the shouts, he cut one Saxon there, killed another here, then had to push another who had tried to clamber up and throw him off his horse. But within just a minute or so of the chaos, he began to wipe the blood from his face to see the truth. The Saxons were crumbling!
“Forward, For God and Francia! No Mercy!”
Mass slaughter ensued during the rout. Nearly half the Saxon force of almost five thousand men was dead on the field at the end of the day, the Franks, by comparison, suffered around five hundred casualties, of whom the most substantial was Duke Robert, badly wounded in the melee that had given such glory to the Frankish horsemen and driven off the Saxons.
Wiping the stain of sweat and battle from his face, Karloman received the cheers and plaudits of his victorious army, raising his blade high to the Heavens, giving thanks and glory to God for their victory.
The Battle of Kleve was over.
OOC; My first time doing a battle sequence so I hope it was alright.
For the bridge bit, I basically have Karloman construct a modified version of the temporary bridge Caesar used to cross the Rhine to attack the Suebi and Sugamatari during the Gallic Wars. My reasoning for this choice is that historians harp on a bit about how the historical Charlemagne, unlike even many monarchs at the time, was literate in multiple languages. While we know comparatively little about the historical Karloman, it stands to reason that he would have been too, being Karl's brother and thus he would have been literate in multiple languages. Caesar's commentaries, originally written in vernacular Latin, would've been legible for him under this logic and Caesar gives a fairly good description in the books of exactly how his bridge was constructed and with what materials. While I can't prove that Karloman would've known about this example in real history, it's entirely plausible that he would have, and thus I chose to have him do a slightly modified version of what Caesar does to cross the Rhine (adjusted for time as Karloman's Franks would not obviously have been military engineers of the same skill as Caesar's men were)
That quite long OOC digression is my justification for the choices made in this post. I am just as likely to be right as wrong in my speculations that this is an example the historical Karloman would've probably known about! Thus I have him draw on that knowledge here. I hope you enjoyed it!
