NationStates Jolt Archive

Sir William d'Avignon cut an imposing figure at the head of the army. Dressed in full plate mail, with a shield slung across his back, he lead the force across the flat East Anglian countryside. Sir William was Earl Roger's right-hand man, a tough position to say the least. The Earl was a demanding man, and always pushed his subordinates to their limits. And so it was William who had been chosen to lead the attack on Norwich, spreading the Earl's influence further.

Still, it was the family tradition. One of his ancestors had been a top knight under William the Conqueror, his namesake. More recently, his grandfather had won fame and heroism in the crusade, winning a great victory against the heathen Saracens. Of course, furthering Earl Roger Bigod's territorial ambitions was not as heroic as these actions. There would be no troubadours singing his name and and of his heroic exploits killing a few East Anglian peasants. But he had been ordered to capture Norwich Castle, and by God he would do it!

"Come on, men. Only another three miles to go!"

They would most likely be spotted soon, and possibly attacked by outriders. They had to tread carefully now. The closer they got to the castle before they were spotted, the better.

Norwich Castle would be hard to attack. Standing atop a hill, it had a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. Still, it also meant that the four trebuchets that they had brought could not possibly miss. Visiblity was a double-edged sword after all.

Norwich was a castle with a proud heritage, a long history of Lords that it was anxious to preserve. Unfortunately, with the death of the latest Lord some ten years ago, the Castle had stood all but empty. A mere hundred or so men defended it, but each was a highly trained and experienced archer, and each had been taught how to man the siege equipment that still stood at the top of the castle. One such man walked around the top now, spying on the land as far as the eye could see. As empty as it was every day, but for these men, survival was everything and they could afford to take no chances. He sighed to himself and went back into the castle for breakfast. All was well near Norwich. All that was about to change.....

A siege was not a quick battle, decided in close combat. For all the minstrels songs, sung by torchlight to the strumming of a lute, they were not glorious affairs, with knights storming walls, brave charges, and fluttering banners. No, a siege was long, drawn-out affair. Castles were designed to be almost impenetratable, even to the mighty trebuchet. It would take months just to batter down the walls, let alone take the keep. In this sort of battle, the advantage clearly went to the defender.

The answer, of course, was to not engage in battle. All men required both food and water, and Norwich was blessed both with a river, and bountiful fields. It was time to remove those advantages. The villages and farms around Norwich would be first to suffer.

Of course, it would first be wise to send an envoy to the castle. If it could be taken without bloodshed, so much the better. William did not go himself, but sent a messenger under a white flag of truce. He bore a letter from Sir William himself.

To the Lord of Norwich Castle

I am Sir William d'Avignon, of Framlingham. My liege, the Earl, wishes me to capture your castle, and I will carry out his orders. I have brought with me an army too great for you to resist, and it would surely be wise for you to surrender without bloodshed.

Should you accept, both you and your men will be treated well, and allowed to leave. No hostages shall be taken. I pray that you take this opportunity to surrender, and avoid bloodshed.

Sir William d'Avignon

A single man rode out of the castle to meet them, white pennant snapping in the wind. He approached the herald, and introduced himself.

"I am Castillian James Lablanc, warden of Norwich castle. What means this? Why do your men demonstrate outside my walls?"

He took the letter, broke the seal, and read it with some difficulty. When he looked up again, his expression was resigned.

"Tell your master that I am unable to acceed to his demands. The castle was granted to me by the late Lord of the castle himself, and I am unable to give up that responcibility. He shall not take Norwich castle without a fight."

The messenger returned to Sir William with the news, leaving him looking angry.

"The Warden of Norwich will pay for his impudence! We will take their castle, should he wish it or not!"

Returning to his men, he gave them their orders.

"Thomas, Roger. Take your men up to the castle, but keep them out of range of the walls. Let not a single man through. The rest of you, come with me. We have work to do."

The process of starving the enemy out would be a long one, but one which would result in victory. The first step would be to raid the outlying villages, destroying crops. Without any food to get into the castle, the defenders would eventually crack and be forced to surrender.

So it was that a small force descended on a nearby farmstead, ready to burn entire fields of crops. Every field they passed, they dropped lighted tinder into, hoping to set the dry foliage alight.

Lablanc leaned peared out through an embrasure at the pillars of smoke rising from the farms dominated by the castle. "Cretins. There is no reason for them to burn those farms, and every reason not to. Invested as we are, it would be more trouble than it's worth to smuggle in food at this point in the affair, and how do they expect the peasents to react if they capture the castle. Better they should have left the farmsteads alone. On the other hand, they are destroying supplies they could have relied on themselves, and now are dependant on wagons... which gives me an idea. But first... how many people made it in before we closed the gates?"

"Some three hundred, sir," replied Sargeant Rawls promptly. "And if I may say, I suggest you reconsider. We have not the means to arm them, and the strain this-"

"I know the arguments against it. We won't be able to hold out for more than a few months now. But if Sir Percival hasn't relieved us by then, there shan't be reason to hold out longer. I want the civilians to take up all positions that do not require one of our archers, and I want them to stand watches, four civilians to every archer on duty."

"Very sencible sir. May I suggest we find some way to strike at their supply convoys now that they have burned all foragable goods in the vicinity?"

"Quite, but first we must get a feel for the commander's reactions. I want to sally thirty archers supported by sixty peasants carrying pavaises. See if they can fire the siege equipment, or the cordage, but have them stay well within bowshot of the walls. The remainder of the archers should be on the walls, with a token force making sure they don't try an assault and the others covering the sally force. They should have almost half again the range of the archers on the ground, so they can easily support our lads sallying."

"Sir!"

Seeing the bowmen and pavaise-carriers sally out, the commander of the detachment began to give his orders.

"Pikemen, pile pikes here! Use long shields and swords! Form up!"

The soldiers formed up into their ranks. Although the siege equipment would take months to make a breach, it would be a psychological blow if it was lost, and a great morale boost to the enemy. Still, if the enemy was to stay within bowshot of the walls, the men of Framlingham would be hard pressed to attack. Still, they would have to advance out from the protective umbra if they wanted to shoot the siege machines, or at least far out enough to make firing from the walls inaccurate.

"Move back to the trebuchets, men! We have to draw them out!"

Rawls squinted out of his good eye at the disordered pikemen dropping their pikes. "Interesting... they anticipate us. Good move dropping the pikes, but I doubt the pikemen are as good with swords as with spears, something to keep in mind. And they have fallen back to defend them. Wonderful, they must be underestimating our range, unless those are very odd trebuchets! An excelent start!"

He turned to the archers, and bellowed, "We will stand there. Do not advance out of bowshot of the castle, and keep in close to each other. If they begin to advance, open fire at three hundred yards and begin pulling back at two hundred. Run a few paces, turn and fire an arrow, then run a little further. We'll have supporting fire from the castle. Try to save the pavaises if you can... if not, then get them as close to the castle as you can before scarpering. Wood isn't unlimited, and we'll need something to burn this winter!"

OOC: What kind of a range are you attributing to your trebuchet? Most have a range of only about 200m, shorter than a longbow, if the longbowman knows his business.

ooc: Not entirely sure. I thought it was slightly longer than longbow range, but I'll leave it in as an IC blunder. After all, my men are a peasant levy.

IC: "They have pavaises! Archers, use fire arrows. Light them up like torches! Pikemen, charge on my mark! Archers, prepare!"

The archers wrapped the flammable cloth around their arrows and lit it, then readied their bows.

"Archers, fire!"

The fiery arrows raced through the air towards the pavaises.

"Pikemen, charge!"

The soldiers immediately rushed the pavaises, ready to mop up after the chaos of the first volley.

"Archers, use normal arrows and target the enemy archers."

OOC: How many archers and pikemen are there?

The fire arrows fell short of the large portion of the group, their heavy payloads pulling them down into the mud. Some few stuck in pavaises, but they were plucked out by the peasents.

"Stand, volley fire. Draw, Loose!" Thirty arrows sped out from the tight group of archers, and fourty more from the walltops. The arrows curved up in the air, then plunged to earth amongst the enemy archers. Six seconds later, another cry of 'Loose' and seventy more arrows sped out. Six more seconds, and another seventy. By then, the swordsmen were getting dangerously close.

"Fall back. Aim low, you bastards!" The peasants hoisted their pavaises and began trotting through the mud back to the gate. The archers sprinted ahead of them, turning back to fire arrows every few seconds. Now the archers on the ground were firing low, into the swordsmen's unarmoured legs, while the archers on the walls sent their arrows darting down. The gates were open, awaiting them. Only a few more yards, but the swordsmen were almost upon them.

"Drop the pavaises! Run!"

ooc: 50 of each

The swordsmen were struck by the steel-tipped rain, and although their shields went some way towards stopping the damage, many died. Although many arrows missed, several found their targets, punching into organs. Twenty of the swordsmen were out of action, either dead or too badly wounded to fight. The rest, seeing that the chase was hopeless against the fleeter enemy, began to fall back. However, they were given cover by a volley of arrows over their heads. Six seconds later, another volley was loosed, aiming for the archers atop the wall and hopefully causing them to duck long enough for the soldiers to escape.

Seargent Rawls viewed the damage... they had managed to get everyone back inside, thanks to the pavaises, but a number were suffering from arrow injuries, and a few would die later. Only one man had been killed outright, and he had fallen from the wall when the final volley of arrows had rattled off the parapet.

"Keep up a harrassing fire," he shouted to the men on the walltop. "Don't let them use those trebuchets in peace, and try to drive any infantry away from the engines. We may want to sally again later. Much later," he added to himself, ruefully. "We certainly hurt them, but we can't keep up that kind of pressure. Methinks we'll sit tight for a bit, and see what happens."

OOC, might be taking a week off..