Session One Hundred and Sixty-Six - March 19, 2022

[Matt]

The assembled host- companies (20) of foot soldiers; squadrons (10) of mounted troops 710 men

Larane 19, 733 (overcast, no rain)
A Day Many Pigs Would Die

Lord Ewen was determined to come up with a plan. No longer in full command of the army, he still hoped to direct its use. With Marshal Firith in the field, commanding a scout position on the road to Setrew, whoever was first to bring a proposal to the table could seize the initiative.

“It seems like we should start planning for an offensive,” suggested Goreg. “We have all our forces, they have fewer, maybe it’s time.”

Others took a broader view, starting with the need to size up the Queen. Any plan had to have her approval. Yet, there was much room between asking her to make strategic decisions and merely keeping her informed of operations already in motion.

Arguing for the latter position, Goreg asked “How much does she care? How much does she even want to be in the chain of command?”

Quickly this was countered. The Queen could not be brushed aside, after all, it was her land. “Yes, well, we're the ones getting it back for her,” Goreg offered in retreat.


The arrival of the remaining principals made it impossible to offer the squire a lesson on the subject of “knowing one’s place.” Sir Scina Dariune, leading the forces of Balim, was the first to join the dawn council. Shortly after came Lord Rafe Delwarne, Sheriff of Semethshire and Sir Haldare, standing in stead for the Queen. Each brought aides and junior officers, of course. Judging by the conversations in progress, Lord Ewen wasn’t the only one seeking opportunity in the moment.

The first order of business was to share intelligence and assess the viking position. In this, Sir Romlach had the unfortunate role of advising on the weak points of his family seat. Those were, chiefly, that Setrew was too small to hold the full viking force and that it was easily cut off. Set back into the woods atop an embankment, it would be difficult to approach, but equally difficult to sally forth from. Archers on the flat roof could not reach the stream, the town, or anything but the approach to the keep.

Apart from the leaders and their personal guard, the vast majority of the Vikings were camped on the escarpment, just outside the keep. Judging by the half dozen warboats remaining, total numbers would be in the 300-400 range. Below them, along the road north of the stream, were livestock pens and an enclosure for villagers held hostage. The warboats were pulled ashore in a grassy triangle south of the stream.

“So, it can’t be a clean siege, then,” concluded Sir Haldavis. “There are hundreds of men we would need to drive off first. If I may, I would like to ask a question,” continued the newly transferred knight. Eyeing the powerful men assembled here, he asked “What if we arrived at Setrew with a clearly superior force and the vikings asked to leave in their boats? Would we let them?”

Before anyone could so much as draw a breath, Goreg blurted out, “We shouldn't. If we kill enough of them this year, they don’t come back next year.” Every head turned to see who offered such audacious advice. A beat too late, Goreg remembered the maxim “A squire should be seen, not heard.”

Nonetheless, he had captured the mood of the room. After reversing the tide in the north, Lord Ewen did not want to diminish his reputation with a deflating truce. Neither were the others the sort of men who looked for a ‘political’ solution. For better or worse, the Queen had left those advisors in Tashal.

The talk soon turned to how to draw the vikings into battle on grounds favorable to Kaldoran cavalry. Some believed it would be enough to stand in the fields, that the warrior code demanded by their god compelled the vikings to attack. Lord Ewen, who had the most experience facing them, wasn’t so sure. He was of the opinion that the Kaldorans had to threaten whatever the invaders prized most. For the feudal lords, the answer was simple—the lands and the keep. Yet the Harbaalese, judging from last year, seemed more interested in booty, warbrides as much as silver. Their determined effort to take Olokand might argue that their aims were different this time, certainly for those who still remained. Lord Ewen pointed out that the warboats were central to their culture. No matter what their objectives, they couldn’t stand by if the boats were imperiled.

Unfortunately, the boats were beached northeast of Setrew and guarded by what appeared to be (from across the river) a couple dozen guards. The landing site was a small clearing amidst woods that offered many possibilities for defenders. Knights would have little freedom to maneuver. No one was eager to hand advantages back to the vikings.

Archers, in particular the longbows, were another capability that favored the Kaldorans. Properly positioned, missile fire could decimate any Harbaalese trying to join battle. The mill appeared to be a strategic, if somewhat forward and vulnerable, location for archers. Providing infantry to shield them would risk splitting the Kaldoran forces and being defeated in detail. The same logic held against a two-pronged attack on the boats and a river crossing.

On the Harbaalese side, Ewen’s probe had shown that the Harbaalese had an organized and responsive sentry system. They might have an ambush planned with concealed forces in the village. They would not be easily surprised. For all the play-acting, they had not been taken in by Kaldoran subterfuge either.

So it was that Lord Ewen and a small contingent rode out to consult with the Lord Marshal. They were met by his riders and brought back to the scout position. Lord Ewen updated Marshal Firith: the arrival of Lord Scina and the remaining Kaldoric forces; the departure of half the vikings; Baseta remaining, as yet, in Kaldoran control.

“Odd that they haven’t touched Baseta,” mused the Marshal. “They don’t want to split their forces.”

Lord Ewen replied that they already had it appeared a substantial contingent heading back towards Lorkin.

Marshal Firith pressed for more detail. Lord Ewen expanded, “Primarily this comes via Baseta, which saw six laden longboats rowing north. Sir Romlach gave us the news of division within viking ranks. Captain Thorp reports no activity on the opposite bank of the Kald.”

“Hmmmm,” muttered Marshal Firith, “a 50% advantage—not enough to assault, but enough to lay siege. Destroy their boats.”

At this, Lord Ewen summarized the morning meeting, relaying the risks of going after the boats.

Impatient, Lord Firith asked Sir Romlach to sketch out the key points of Setrew in the dirt.

Lord Ewen provided narration: “The boats are their only ticket home. The mill offers an excellent line on the escarpment and palisade, but it would need to be defended. I can’t endorse a direct assault--the caer and the high ground of the escarpment offer considerable defensive benefit. The fields are the terrain most favorable to us.”

Absorbing this, Firith asked, “How would you draw them out?”

Lord Ewen explained that it was too dangerous to go straight for the boats. He proposed that the Kaldoric host secure the village center and form up on the west fields. Archers would cover the stream. If the invaders stayed behind their palisade, the Kaldoric army would advance and secure the south bank of the stream. The boats might then be the next target.

“Have the fields been planted? Those furrows will make it uneven ground for our horses,” the Lord Marshal pointed out.

Lord Ewen conceded this, but both agreed there was no better option.

Much remained unknown about the enemy: which warbands remained and which had departed; who was in overall command after the death of their Prince; their morale and cohesion. Altogether, it was impossible to predict what the response would be.

“How much food do they have?” asked the Marshal, considering the possibility of a prolonged siege.

“We don’t know what they have in the caer, but all of the livestock are in this pen below the escarpment,” replied Lord Ewen.

The Marshal jumped on this, “That’s an error. Come up from the south and threaten the stock. If they move to prevent it, withdraw to the fields and fight them there. If they don’t, well, they can’t stay if they can’t eat.”

“Our archers can kill the four-legged as easily as the two-legged,” observed Lord Ewen. “It’s within easy range from the south side of the stream. Those pens won’t provide much cover.”

All were in agreement on the plan. “It’s just another ploy to engage the vikings on our terms,” summarized Lord Ewen. Of course, the Queen needed to give her approval, and for this reason Marshal Firith joined the group in their return to Olokand, leaving the scout squadron in place. There was also an army to be made ready.


Larane 20-21, 733 (rain and thunderstorms)

The next two days were consumed with logistics. It didn’t help that the weather was bad, but at least they weren’t marching in it. The Queen was brought on board with the plan rather easily but insisted that she accompany the army. This added some number of hangers-on to the order of march. The “arcane contingent” declined to join, to the disappointment of no one. Qorsad remained at the castle, under Arva’s care. Olokand would be left with a minimal detachment, basically the summer levy of one company each shortbow, light foot, and medium foot. Added to this, the knights owing direct service also stayed behind. As recognition of his good work, Sir Daxton was named deputy constable of the castle for the duration.

Each soldier was expected to carry 4 days rations. Since it was a day’s march to Setrew and another back, this didn’t allow much time for fighting. Accordingly, a wagon train was organized to bring in additional supplies on a regular schedule. One company of light foot was detailed to escort duty.

The rest, nearly 600 men, comprised the army that would confront the invading Harbaalese. Thorp’s scouts confirmed that the number of warboats at Setrew, six, had not changed.


Larane 22, 733 (cool, then becoming hot)

At first light, with Marshal Firith in command, the army started on the road. At Setanlin, Lord Orsin sent his light horse ahead. It wasn’t until they reached the outskirts of Setrew--around noon--that they spotted any vikings. Those sentries quickly withdrew.

The knights in the vanguard, supported by the three companies of Thardan foot, were given orders to enter and clear the village. They found no vikings, only the male villagers who imparted that the women were being held in a pen north of the stream. By the time they’d finished in town, about an hour, the rest of the army had caught up.

Reconnaissance showed the vikings to be along the palisade, their archers on the roof of the keep. The warboats were minimally crewed but had been launched into the river. They were holding position, likely so they could not be overrun.

The viking withdrawal allowed the army to position itself in the fields as planned. Drawn up side-by-side, it was an impressive sight. The Harbaalese made no effort to move from their positions. Without challenge, the archers advanced to the stream. On the Marshal’s signal, they began firing. Volley after volley rained down on the animal pen. Hundreds were killed amidst a squealing and din no one would ever forget. Panic set the animals to stampede, breaking the walls of the enclosure. They scattered in all directions. In twenty minutes, it was over.

Mutually out of range, the two sides surveyed each other. The Kaldorans counted 200-250 vikings along the escarpment. It was a bit difficult to identify individuals, but there was no mistaking Eilus Ten-Hands’ standard. From the villagers, they learned that half a dozen warboats left Setrew on the day Romlach had escaped. The men lamented for the wives and daughters they would likely never see again and implored the army to rescue those who still remained.

In the evening, out of earshot of the villagers, Lord Orsin declared that the vikings weren’t attacking. He predicted that if the army withdrew to the south, the vikings would take the women and leave. Concerned about the army’s tenuous supply chain, that was his recommendation.

After a pause, there was pushback from those who had this discussion three days ago. Lord Ewen echoed the words of his squire, saying “Letting them go now just increases the odds we will have to fight them again.”

A little more sharply, Sir Haldavis declared to his former commander “Whenever we go soft on the Pagaelin, it only emboldens them. I don’t see the vikings as any different.”

Lord Orsin raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless acquiesced to stay the night. The main force of the army bivouacked south of Setrew. Pickets were set with instructions to raise the alarm if the Harbaalese attempted a night raid.


Larane 23, 733 (cool and partly cloudy)

The group knew that anything else it wanted to accomplish would have to happen quickly. Already Cekiya was hatching a plan, though who knew what was ever truly on her mind. Her longtime compatriots understood there was little they could do to stop her. They had learned they were better off planning with her than arguing against her.

The gist of it was that Cekiya would sneak into the women’s pen and open the gate. While she might be able get in and not attract notice, no one thought the same for hostages getting out. Several units would be stationed along the stream to cover their escape. Sir Haldavis volunteered to take up station with a company of the Sheriff’s medium foot at the east bridge. Lord Ewen and Rolloch’s longbowmen would occupy the mill. Lastly, Goreg, Sir Bereden’s company and the remaining longbowmen would be waiting at the west bridge. This was the direction Cekiya would try to send the freed women.


At 3am, in the light of a half-moon, Cekiya hunched and tip-toed over the west bridge. She darted to the scrub on the north side of the road. Crawling, then pausing, she noticed fewer pickets on the escarpment than previously. Apparently, they had not noticed her. Continuing on, she made it to the gate on the north side of the pen. She could see two guards stationed inside. Avoiding them, she crawled around the fence to where she could smell the latrine.

Climbing over the fence and into the pen, she spotted a woman leaving the latrine. Cekiya just needed to convince her to run for it if Cekiya could spring the door. “Talking, every plan has a fatal flaw,” thought Cekiya.

“I’m here to help,” started Cekiya. “All the women.”

Suspicious of a face she didn’t recognize, the prisoner said “I don’t know you. And I’m sick.”

“I don’t know what’s your name,” said Cekiya. “We need to be very quiet, like a cat. Can you help?”

The woman nodded uncertainly. She still had no idea what Cekiya was proposing.

“I’m going to go back outside and open the door.”

The woman’s eyes got wider.

“Can you wake up the other women and tell them to be ready?”

“There are so many people here.”

“Get the other one and the next one to help,” Cekiya suggested. “Ten minutes. Turn left.”

Silently, Cekiya clambered up the fence and dropped to the other side. More than anything Cekiya had said, this convinced the bewildered captive there was a chance for escape.

Hewing close to the wall, Cekiya circled back to the gate. It was secured by a simple bar across the outside. Cekiya had to stand to her full height to lift it, but raise it she did. Unfortunately, the rough beam made a loud scraping noise as it slid through the brackets. Cekiya let it fall to the ground. Alerted, the guards turned to see who was entering the pen at this late hour. If they expected a drunken compatriot coming to claim a bedmate, they were dead wrong.

Captain Rolloch let fly an arrow he was holding at the ready. One guard dropped where he stood. The second barely had time to register what was happening before he became Rolloch’s second kill. Cekiya threw open the gate and motioned for the women inside to flee. As they did, the general alarm was sounded by pickets on the palisade.

At least a dozen vikings came running off the escarpment. The women had a head start, but likely not enough to reach the bridge. A volley of arrows from Rolloch’s men and a bolt of power from Lord Ewen dispersed them a bit but did not dissuade them from the chase. To the contrary, they were frenzied to recapture the women in a way they hadn’t bothered for the pigs.

An arrow from one of Rolloch’s men caught a viking in the face. A mental bolt from Sir Ewen exploded the skull of another. The women ran from the chaos behind them, bringing the pursuers in range of the archers at the west bridge. Arcing their arrows over the escaping women, their first volley entirely missed the mark.

Cekiya yelled for the women to cross the bridge while she turned to face the closest pursuers. She rolled away from an axe blow that surely would have cleaved her in two and sliced her short sword up into the groin of her attacker. Rolloch and Lord Ewen continued their harassment from across the stream, taking out another pair of vikings.

Sir Bereden led his men across the bridge, through the fleeing women. When they reached the disordered vikings, the fighting was intense, but brief. Lord Ewen brought the melee to a close by taking out the last viking with a bolt of power.

As the men looked to the escarpment to make sure there was no further response, Cekiya bent over the dead Harbaalese. With a sharp knife, she severed the hands of two fallen warriors; a grisly tribute for Lord Ewen. Nonplussed, he could only reply, “Nicely done, Cekiya. Goreg, uh, wrap these up.”

“At once, milord!” chirped the squire, counting the seconds until he was made a knight.

With that, the Kaldorans retreated to the army’s bivouac position.


Dawn burned clear. The Marshal welcomed news of the liberation of the village women. Together with Setrew’s guildsmen, they were evacuated to Olokand, pending a future resettlement. Now there would be no moral considerations to complicate planning. Still, there were but three options: draw the vikings into battle, starve them out, or allow them to leave. Any choice would require Royal assent.

The Queen presided at a makeshift court assembled at the Picked Goose Inn. If she was put out by the humble surroundings, she did not let on. Notably absent was Sir Romlach, scion of the dispossessed Baron. The Queen had a ready line of questions for Lord Ewen, apparently desiring to measure his answers against the counsel she had received privately.

“If we take out their boats, they must stay and fight. How do we meet them in that event?”

Lord Ewen demurred, “Even given their reduced numbers, a direct attempt to take the keep would result in considerable loss of life. I much prefer to see them meet us in the fields west of the village.”

“Are they arrogant enough to take that battle?”

At this, Lord Ewen could only shrug.

“What is the state of the surrounding manors?

“Your Grace, they are stripped bare. There has been extensive plundering.”

Speaking firmly, the Queen continued, “It is inconceivable to us that the barony will be restored to clan Ethasiel. What if we bought peace with the vikings at that price?”

Somewhat shocked, Lord Ewen confessed, “I fear it would only encourage further incursions into your kingdom in the long run.”

Lord Firith interjected angrily, “It would be a dagger in our breast!”

“Very likely true, uncle, but it needed to be asked. Lord Sheriff, you were saying …”

Lord Ewen replied to the Queen, “Your kingdom will be most secure if the Harbaalese invaders learn none of their ambitions will be attained by visiting destruction and desolation on Your Grace’s people.”

Changing tack, the Queen asked, “If the vikings cannot be lured into battle and we do not wish a protracted siege, Caer Setrew, might it be infiltrated?”

“If you forgive me, Your Grace, it is a somewhat antiquated structure. I would be open to formulating a plan to do that. There may be an entrance atop the roof … A challenge, Your Grace.”

The Queen remarked, “Surely it is too high for a grappling hook?”

“Yes, Your Grace, too high for that. But I believe I could get in.”

“You intrigue me, my Lord Sheriff. Infiltrate from the top, somehow, and presumably work your way down to open the gate. What of the escarpment, how do you get past the stone wall? Do you come from the rear, perhaps?”

“We can see the lay of terrain. The keep could be taken from the north, with some difficulty. Not by your mounted troops,” Lord Ewen elaborated.

“I fear the only answer is to decapitate their leadership,” offered the Queen. “Do we know who that is?”

“We know at least one of the warband leaders,” answered Lord Ewen. “Their prince has been slain. Is Eilus Ten-Hands the sole remaining leader? Likely not. We know there was a significant split before half their men left.”

“Which of your men was the one who parlayed with them?” inquired the Queen.

“That was done, with a bit of play-acting by Sir Haldavis Legith.”

“Is he here?”

“Step forward, Sir Haldavis.”

The startled knight could only manage “Your Grace?” and, almost too late, an exaggerated bow.

The Queen queried, “Was Eilus the man you parlayed with? My uncle has told me he is little better than a mad man.”

“No, Your Grace,” responded Sir Haldavis. “I spoke with a man named ‘Red’, who may have been no more than a watch commander.”

“Who may have since departed,” added Ewen.

“All we have is that,” observed the Queen. “Regardless of whatever steps we take, we should undertake some sort of parlay to ascertain who’s actually running their show.”

“That sounds logical, your Grace. Might I suggest Sir Haldavis take the lead in this endeavor? If he is so willing, of course.”

Sir Haldavis gave the only answer he could, “I would never refuse Her Grace’s request.”

“Very well,” said the Queen. “By the way, are you by any chance related to Sir Aeomund Legith?”

“That is a very popular question,” replied Sir Haldavis. “He is my cousin.”

“Then our confidence in you is increased. We are very fond of Sir Aeomund.”

“He does elicit strong reactions.”

At this, the Queen smiled. On the other side of the room, Sir Scina tried to suppress a grimace.

With her questions answered, the Queen summed up: “Parlay first and boats second.” After a pause, she reconsidered, “Uncle, perhaps I am too hasty. Would the parlay come from a stronger position if we reverse the order?”

“By all means, Your Grace,” affirmed Lord Orsin. “Stronger if we take the boats first.”

Lord Ewen volunteered, “With Your Grace’s permission, I would be delighted to plan for a strike on the boats at dawn.”

“That strikes me as perfect timing,” said the Queen, amused at her own pun. “But first, you shall be our guests at dinner…”

A steady rain brought a close to the day.


Larane 24, 733 (damp and overcast)

An hour before dawn, they crossed the east bridge. Squire Goreg was in the van with a screening force of knights. Lord Ewen joined two companies of shortbowmen marching slowly north on the Kald Road. Sir Haldavis and a company of medium foot took up station where they had been the night before, blocking the rear from a viking sally. That left Sir Baris and two companies holding the west bridge.

Darkness and a thin stand of trees hid the soldiers from the Harbaalese in the boats. Six warboats were anchored in a line, holding position in the middle of the river. As the archers came parallel to the boats, they strung out into a single line. It did not take them long to cross through the trees and emerge on the riverbank. On a signal from Lord Ewen, they opened fire on the minimally crewed boats.

After several volleys, the archers found the distance. Lord Ewen was a little faster to the mark with his mental bolts. The surprised sailors desperately tried to pull up anchor and row out of range. As men were hit, the boats became harder and harder to control. One sailor jumped ship, and then two. Suddenly they all abandoned the boats, which careened and crashed until the anchors caught again. One boat sank outright, the others soon set alight by flaming arrows.

Spotting a dead viking on the bank, castrated by a bolt from Lord Ewen, Goreg remarked “He's Har-balless now.” It was an apt description of viking morale.