Women's Troubles - A Tuscan CK2-Demo AAR, by Blue Emu.
Chapter 9 : Enemy at the Gates
May 18th, year of our Lord 1083
The truce with the Saracens has held much longer than any of us expected... but it cannot last forever. They hold a County scarcely twenty leagues from the Holy City, a constant threat to His Holiness and to all of Christendom. I hear word that our Liege the Emperor is pondering a great campaign, perhaps even a Crusade, to drive the Infidels back from the gates of Rome.
Since our Duchy of Toscana is the closest to Rome of all our Emperor's fiefs, and the closest to the Saracens as well, it is inevitable that the main burden of the coming campaign will fall on us, at least in the initial stages. I pray that the campaign will not begin soon... each month that passes allows us to strengthen our castles and our armies.
I can only pray that this fragile peace holds as long as possible.
September 6th, year of our Lord 1083
War. The truce has been shattered, and by a lightning-bolt. His Holiness himself has called for a Crusade against the Saracens, and our Liege the Emperor has answered the call.
We must mobilize our troops immediately... the Saracens are almost on our door-step, at Capua just south of the Holy City. I have despatched both Marshal Anastasio and Steward Conone to hire a dependable mercenary company. We will surely need them, since our Liege is only now raising his levys in Germany and we cannot expect them to arrive until next Spring. What a pity that Captain Cataldo and his brave men are not available... they rendered stirling service in our war with Lombardia, and we could surely depend on them again. But they are far away in Hungary, fighting for the ally of our Liege-Lord.
September 27th, year of our Lord 1083
We have hired a large company of mercenaries, commanded by Captain Marko.
He seems willing enough, since our gold is good; but he strikes me as a fighter, not a thinker. Again I wish that Captain Cataldo and his men had been available... but enough of that. We must make do with what forces we have, and trust in the Lord.
Marshal Anastasio has explained our battle-plan: we need only buy sufficient time for our Liege to arrive with his armies. Surely with a Crusade underway, our Emperor will march south with every available man. We will concentrate all our forces, including the mercenary company, in Spoleto near the Holy City... that should give us near four thousand men under arms... and then hope that the Saracens are thereby deterred from any aggressive move while our Liege approaches, bringing with him an army that will roll the Saracens right out of Italy.
November 13th, year of our Lord 1083.
Dear God... dear God.
A Saracen army has debarked in Capua: over seven thousand men, with thousands of horses. Our own loyal demesne troops number barely eighteen hundred, with a few hundred horse. Even if we could count on the mercenaries to stand and fight instead of fleeing to save their skins, the Saracen army outnumbers our combined forces nearly twice over... and our scouts tell us that they are headed directly towards our camp in Spoleto. There is yet no sign of our Liege's army approaching. In truth, we cannot expect him for months yet; the way from Germany is long, and winter snows close the most direct route, through the Alps.
Our brave men are ready to stand and defy them, but that would be suicide. We cannot hold against a host of this size... we must pull back, even though it abandons our people in Spoleto to the Infidels. It is tragic to betray some of our own folk into the hands of the Saracens... but if our army is destroyed with our Liege still beyond the Alps, then our whole Duchy will be over-run before Spring.
Marshal Anastasio has ordered our army to pull back north of Rome. We can only pray that the Infidels will not attempt to attack the Holy City while our army still contests the field. Perhaps we can lead them a merry chase through the Tuscan hills, thereby buying enough time for our Liege-Lord to arrive with overwhelming force.
I pray that it might be so.
December 3rd, year of our Lord 1083
The Saracens arrived in Spoleto, and immediately assaulted the castle. Somehow our loyal garrison threw back the first assault, and drew much blood from the Infidel host... but they cannot last long. Scarcely a hundred men survive within the walls, while the Saracens number in the thousands. It cuts me to the heart, but we can do nothing to aid them; we can only hope that they hold the castle as long as possible. The Saracens are accustomed to warmer climes, and every day that they are forced to remain outside the walls in December, they lose more men to the cold and wind. In this case, their great numbers tell against them: it cannot be easy to find shelter, food and fire-wood for such a host of fighting men, especially in a hostile land, where none will assist them.
It is an odd reversal, but for once in my life I find myself praying that my old enemy, the camp disease, will strike.
December 25th, year of our Lord 1083.
The castle has fallen. A bitter Christmas, indeed. With their flank now secure, the Saracen army is going mad, looting and burning in the nearby town, desecrating the Church of the Bishop of Spoleto... I shudder to think of the vile atrocities now being committed upon my people, upon folk who trusted me to keep them safe. Our soldiers are enraged by the Infidel's barbarity, but we must continue to hold them back; there are still far too many Saracens, and too few of our own men. We must bide our time, and wait for our Emperor's arrival.
Please, God... let him come soon.
January 19th, year of our Lord 1084.
The Saracen host is again on the march... back to Capua, south of Rome. All of us are baffled; having utterly conquered our County of Spoleto, why would they then choose to retreat? Even with their losses to the assault, the siege and the winter weather, they still outnumber us by a huge margin. The only explanation that seems to make sense is the winter weather... the Saracens have had enough of our bitter January winds, and are returning to their comfortable camps in sunny Capua. Praise God for his mercy if it be true! No doubt they will return in the Spring, but by then we can expect the Emperor's arrival as well, at the head of a host out-matching even this huge Saracen army!
February 20th, year of our Lord 1084.
More than a month has passed, and still there is no sign of the Saracens. Nor of our Liege-Lord either, but all agree that we cannot reasonably expect him before Spring. Just another month or two, and it will be the Saracens, not us, who are confronted by a huge host of enemy troops. The shoe will then be on the other foot, indeed.
March 15th, year of our Lord 1084.
The Emperor is coming! Praise God for our deliverance! A messenger has arrived from Carinthia on a lathered horse, bringing word that the Emperor is already on the near side of the Alps, at the head of a truly enormous force of men... at least twelve thousand troops!
Our deliverance is at hand... and only just in time, since our scouts report that the Saracens are stirring in their camps, and a new campaign is clearly in the offing.
April 4th, year of our Lord 1084.
My Barons report that the Emperor's vanguard force has crossed the Po and entered our Duchy. The vanguard comprises only four thousand-odd men, but a second army more than eight thousand strong marches behind them! We are saved! If only the Saracens bide quiet for yet another month...
April 17th, year of our Lord 1084.
Our hopes are dashed... the Saracens have begun their Spring offensive, and are marching directly on the Holy City itself. The Emperor's main army has crossed the Po, but has not yet arrived on the field; and his vanguard has been ordered back to link up with it... leaving the Holy City uncovered.
The very thought of the Infidels committing the same atrocities in Rome as they did in Spoleto... burning, pillaging, desecrating the holy churches... it cannot be borne! Whatever the cost, we cannot allow it!
All our troops, including the mercenary company, are marching on Rome, to defend the Holy City from the Infidel.
The Saracens still outnumber us by three-to-two, but even if our army is destroyed, we will so weaken the enemy force that it will lack the strength to assault the walls of Rome, and the approach of our Emperor's army will surely not give them enough time for a formal siege.
April 24th, year of our Lord 1084.
I cannot believe it...
The scouts have brought us news... of disaster. The battle for Rome is lost; our troops, annihilated. My dear husband Azzo, dead.
I cannot believe it. I
will not believe it...
April 25th, year of our Lord 1084.
Praise God! The rumor was false! My dear husband Azzo still lives!
Our army was overwhelmed by six-and-a-half thousand Saracens. The treacherous mercenaries fled; nearly two-thirds of our brave young men were lost... a tragic sacrifice... but my dear husband Azzo took the remaining troops in hand and cut his way out to safety, through the host of enemies, leaving a thousand enemy dead behind him! Even in victory, and with an advantage in horse, the Saracens were too badly shattered to pursue; nor could they reorganize themselves to assault the walls of Rome! When Azzo and his remaining men reached the hills in safety, the Saracens were still milling about ineffectually on the plain outside the walls of Rome.
And now our Emperor approaches, at the head of twelve thousand men, and more! The Holy City is saved, and the battered Saracen army is doomed.
I can write no more... I must go to meet my husband, and see with my own eyes that he still lives!
May 5th, year of our Lord 1084.
Our Emperor's army has defeated the disorganized Saracen host... indeed, nearly annihilated them. He is pursuing the remnants southward, intending to besiege their base at Capua and drive them out of Italy entirely. With the Emperor's kind permission, we have demobilized our troops. Our forces were shattered at the battle of Rome. We will be helpless to assist our Liege's campaign until many new recruits have been trained.
My husband and I have returned to our Court, to recover our wits after this desperate campaign.
June 3rd, year of our Lord 1084.
As odd as it may sound, there has been no shortage of fresh recruits despite our grievous losses. After we lost two-thirds of our demesne soldiers at the Battle of Rome, one would think that any sensible man would choose a different profession... dog-barber, perhaps, or ditch-digger. But our sacrificial role in the defense of the Holy City seems to have fired the imagination of the young men of the Duchy. They are crowding onto the training fields, mad for honor and glory.
Already, barely a month after our cruel losses, we have enough half-trained men on hand to re-mobilize most of our forces; and we can set about recovering our strongholds in the County of Spoleto, taken from us by the Saracens and bypassed by our Emperor in his hurry to catch the fleeing enemy.
I have made it clear to my dear husband Azzo that one of our Barons will lead the siege at Spoleto... I am emphatic about this! Having lost one husband and then nearly lost another, I want Duke Azzo to bide at home for a time, at least until my nerves recover.
He laughed at my fears, but acquiesced nonetheless.
October 24th, year of our Lord 1084.
The last of the Saracens have surrendered in Spoleto. The war itself has receded far to the south... indeed, all of Italy seems to be clear of the enemy, and we hear that our Emperor has landed a great force in Sicily. He has not again called us to arms; in fact, he seems to have forgotten about the Duchy of Toscana entirely... and I have made it clear to Azzo that I will beat him senseless if he reminds our Liege of our existence.
As far as I am concerned, for us, the war is over.
July 9th, year of our Lord 1085.
Our Liege-Lord has declared a great victory... the Saracens have been cleared from Italy. The Holy City is saved. The war is over. The realm is at peace
I have decided that dear Azzo and I are going to grow old together...
... and we are going to start right now! No more adventures. We will leave that to the youngsters.
Our eldest daughter has come of age, and Azzo and I will now sit by the fire and plan her wedding.
... and thus ends my tale.