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The rider nearly fell off his lathered and exhausted horse. “The Aenglish raiders are here! They are heading for the Church of the Sacred Red Thorn. At least 2 ship loads of them.”
“We must stop them and save the Sacred Thorn…” the Bishop was cut off mid sentence.
“You mean we must save the villagers there, surely?” interrupted Sir Sagramor. “I can send a courier to the Count who is nearby to intercept the Aenglish. But he may be outnumbered.”
“Is he the only one who can reach the church in time?” asked the Bishop.
The king responded, “He is.” And to Sagramor, he said, “Send you fastest courier.”
Several valleys away the villagers were unaware of the approaching danger.
The priests tend their goats, their apple trees and the Sacred Red Thorn.
To the south of the village Cunhing the forester is out hunting and is the first to see the approaching Aenglish. Shoots one arrow and then runs to warn the village.
The Aenglish king Ardbod spies likely plunder – cattle, sheep and slaves. He has never heard of the Sacred Red Thorn and, even if he did, he would not be interested so lond as the valley held plunder and pretty slave girls. His men and their families were hungry.
The lightly armed youngsters led by Ardbod’s son, Widegye, flank the village to cut off anyone escaping to the woods.
The villagers gather their valuables and drive their cattle away towards the church as the Count arrives with his forces. (Late arrival due to very poor die rolling).
The shield walls align and the Aenglish shout insults. The youngsters eager to prove themselves in battle ignore the pigs and wheel around the pond chasing after the cattle.
Ardbod leaves his hearthguard holding the left and rides over to push the centre forward
The Count sees that he is outnumbered and in a poor position.
His slingers shoot down a few of the Aenglish and the charges devastating the Aenglish hearthguard whose shieldwall buckles under the hail of heavy slingshot
At the church a wide swirling melee develops as villagers, the British infantry and the Aenglish youths clash with heavy casualties on both sides.
The fight degenerates into a chaotic mob as the Aenglish hearthguard are surrounded and the British archers stand and fight but pay a heavy price for holding back the invaders.
Things get desperate as Ardbod charges in to steady his wavering troops.
At the corner of the line, the position of most danger saw the commander of the infantry, Malodorus (the Mighty), stepped forward against three Aenglish warriors, slaying two. Not them all with one blow as the bards would have it.
Casualties mount, the Aenglish numbers force the British left back but at terrible cost. Meanwhile on the right the Count closes the rear of the hearthguard.
The British left wing collapses as does the Aenglish left as the last of the hearthguard fall. Both sides are exhausted and separate to take stock. They stand looking at each other.
Both sides reformed their reduced shieldwalls and pull their wounded back. Neither is strong enough now to force a decision. The two commanders face each other, raise their swords in salute and without a word back away. The Aenglish leave without plunder watched by the Count’s horsemen.
The Sacred Red Thorn is saved!
An exciting game that needs a bit of a rethink about the entry of the British as it was possible that they would not arrive at all! While historically accurate it would not have been much of a game.
That will teach those heathen raiders a thing or too! Looks like a pig bought the farm…
yes they killed a pig but could not take anything away. Being intent on fighting instead of gathering plunder the Aenglish missed the Mead barrels over by the hives, the cider in the storehouse in the orchard, the silver in the church, the cattle, the sheep … Too busy squabbling!
The Aenglish king and his champion are old Citadel figures
The Count and banner bearer are Warlord games figures converted by head swaps and cloak and weapon changes
More here http://www.morvalearth.co.uk/Arthurian%20Britain/Arthur%20Intro.htm
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