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Fantasy » alt.fan.tolkien » OT Excerpt from Empty America
OT Excerpt from Empty America [message #61586] Di, 14 Juni 2005 17:12
Yuk Tang  
Empty America - an alternate history
From Chapter 21, 'So, If You've a Date In Constantinople (Two) ...'
by Doug Hoff
http://www.althist.com/EA05.htm

Robert of Artois is conferring with his commanders and putting the
finishing touches on his battle plan when Prince Kafli, heir to the
throne of Norway, among other things, rides hallooing into the
Crusader camp at the head of a thousand horsemen.

Robert's nerves are on edge - his scouts have sighted Batu's army
bearing down on him, and he needs to shake his men into formation.
While Robert would not turn away a thousand lances at this point, he
wishes he could. You see, he has met Kalfi before. One of Robert's
familiars told him that 'Kalfi' is Norse for 'thick piece of wood,'
and Robert wondered at the time how the newborn prince's parents
could possibly have been so prophetic. Robert had received word that
King Valdemar III Haakonson was joining the Crusade - the
Scandinavians had their heads handed to them at Novgorod and had to
be itching for some payback. When they had not arrived, Robert wrote
them off.

But, here and now, Kalfi bounces down off of his horse, no mean feat
in full plate, and greets Robert and the other knights exuberantly. A
big, strapping redhead, he nearly flattens Coucy with a hearty slap
on the old man's back. When he gets to Robert, he grins broadly and
turns to a grey-bearded old soldier who was holding the reins of his
horse. "Look, Sútari! The brother of the King of France is here!"

Sútari balefully looks Robert up and down, then turns to Kalfi, "Keep
a hand on your purse, sire." The assembled commanders exclaim in
outrage, but Kalfi just laughs and clouts Sútari good-naturedly on
the side of the head, "Impudence! Go check on your men, and I will
call you when I need you. Your pardon, milord. He is a Vinlander, and
they are to a man insolent rogues with no respect for their betters,
but I would not campaign without them."

And just like that, Kalfi suddenly drops to one knee, "On bended
knee, milord, I and my men beg the honor of the first charge."
Sútari, who was hanging around trading dirty looks with the English
and French nobility, rolls his eyes and mutters, "Lord, not us again
...." Kalfi ignores him. Roberts considers this for a moment. It would
fit in with his battle plan. He places his mailed hand on Kalfi's
should. "Of course. I would not have it any other way."

A single haggard knight rides up. One of Robert's scouts. They
skirmished with the Tatar vanguard and were all but wiped out. Batu's
force is hot on their heels. Robert barks out the orders to form up
and sends a messenger to summon the Saracen commander.


While Robert's advance guard skirmishes with the onrushing Mongols,
he shakes his army into battle formation. It is an innovation of his
own, as far as he knows - ranks of infantry protecting lines of
bowmen. Behind them is massed his armored horsemen, poised for the
final killing blow. And he is not falling for any of that Tatar
phony-retreat-then-turn-and-flank-them crap, either. Robert has given
this a lot of thought [FN20.08] and has studied all there is to know
about the battles against the Tatars and so he has formed his
reserves into a rear guard. In command of the rear guard, and very
unhappy about it, is his younger brother Charles of Anjou. As it
turns out, Robert has the same doubts about Charles that Charles has
about him, so he has kept him out of the main battle line.

And so the two armies square off in Flanders fields. In the center of
the Crusader line, Robert assembles Kalfi's Vinlandic horsemen and
the mixed Andalusian force - about half mounted bowmen and half
lancers - commanded by Yusuf al-Ahmar, heir to the throne. This is
the plan, the whole army - infantry, archers and cavalry - will move
forward, but the Vinlanders and Saracens will charge directly at the
center of the Tatar line. Robert has concluded that the Tatars will
be unable to resist the bait and sweep in to bag the charging
horsemen. He will then fall upon their flanks and crush them.

Yusuf and Kalfi look at each other. Yusuf is profoundly dubious of
the plan - it seems like suicide to him. And why would the Tatar
commander expose his flanks to smash a small column, with the great
mass of the Crusader army right there? But he has his orders from his
father - cooperate with the farangi. Kalfi, on the other hand,
bubbles with enthusiasm. A chance to strike directly at the heart of
the Tatar army! Perhaps he will even engage Batu himself! Both Yusuf
and Sútari groan.

And so they form up with the two commanders in the lead. Again, that
strikes Yusuf as idiotic - if they both fall, who will take control
of the attack? One of Kalfi's soldiers can speak Latin, as can one of
Yusuf's troopers, so they will ride with the two commanders and
translate. The Saracens and the Vinlanders sort of mill about,
looking warily at each other. Suddenly, the Vinlanders start banging
their lances and shields together in an incredible din. Kalfi trots
out at the head of the mass of horsemen and draws himself up in his
saddle.

"Soldiers of the Cross!" The Saracens, including Yusuf scowl upon
hearing the translation. Kalfi, while not the brightest light in the
candelabra, is a leader of men, so he starts again. "Soldiers of ...
the West!"

And there, out of the mouth of the most unlikely man, a new concept
is born.

"There may come a day when the strength of the West will fail, when
the pagan tide will roll across this land, sweeping all before it.
But that day is not today! Deus vult!"

Yusuf leads the Saracens in taking up the cheer, "Allah akbar!" Once
the translator explains to Kalfi, he joins in, grinning wildly, "Yes,
God is great! Allah akbar!" The Europeans in the Crusader lines are
more than a little shocked that a man with the cross on his shoulder
would be shouting Saracen battle-cries, but Kalfi does not care - he
is carried away in the moment.

"Forward, Christian and Saracen! Forward for Christ and Allah!"

And so, they are off, thundering across the turf, charging headlong
toward the Tatar lines.


--
Cheers, ymt.
Re: OT Excerpt from Empty America [message #61597 ] Di, 14 Juni 2005 23:30
Raven  
"Yuk Tang" <jimlaker2 [at] yahoo.com> skrev i en meddelelse
news:Xns9675A4D2076F7yos132000yahoocouk [at] 195.92.193.157...

> Empty America - an alternate history
> From Chapter 21, 'So, If You've a Date In Constantinople (Two) ...'
> by Doug Hoff
> http://www.althist.com/EA05.htm

[...]

> "There may come a day when the strength of the West will fail, when
> the pagan tide will roll across this land, sweeping all before it.
> But that day is not today! Deus vult!"

Yes, that one sprang in my eyes. Little trickster, Doug Hoff, innee?

Hrafn.
Re: OT Excerpt from Empty America [message #61599 ] Mi, 15 Juni 2005 00:43
Yuk Tang  
"Raven" <jonlennart.beck.god [at] damn.get2net.that.dk.spam> wrote in
news:o0Ire.889$ee4.631 [at] news.get2net.dk:
> "Yuk Tang" <jimlaker2 [at] yahoo.com> skrev i en meddelelse
> news:Xns9675A4D2076F7yos132000yahoocouk [at] 195.92.193.157...
>
>> Empty America - an alternate history
>> From Chapter 21, 'So, If You've a Date In Constantinople (Two)
>> ...' by Doug Hoff
>> http://www.althist.com/EA05.htm
>
> [...]
>
>> "There may come a day when the strength of the West will fail,
>> when the pagan tide will roll across this land, sweeping all
>> before it. But that day is not today! Deus vult!"
>
> Yes, that one sprang in my eyes. Little trickster, Doug Hoff,
> innee?

Some more from the same chapter.
--------

There are days that truly do try men's souls. Days in which the petty
squabbling of factions, the clash of monstrous egos, and the
hidebound indifference of parochial men all combine to one end:
disaster. There were too many of these days in Europe in the
thirteenth century, and the period provides bitter despair for the
optimist and sweet vindication for the cynic.

But today is not such a day.

Under a cold, clear February sky, today the Captains of the West have
assembled in Flanders fields to meet this, the ultimate threat to the
survival of independent Christendom. It is a rainbow forest of tents,
banners and pennants as far as the eye can see. Over here, looking
very grim amongst his familiars is Thomas of Savoy, Count of
Flanders, no doubt contemplating the devastation that swept his land.
Over there, the English under the command Simon de Montfort and
Richard of Cornwall. Talking earnestly with them are the grey-bearded
Enguerrand III de Coucy [FN21.02], young Charles of Anjou and Robert
of Artois. Robert is in overall command of the Crusader forces, a
fact that does not sit well with Charles who, although merely 22
years old himself, has doubts about Robert's judgment. Coucy has no
doubts, himself, he would swear by the Mass that Robert is not fit to
command so important an enterprise, and is not succeeding in trying
to hide his feelings.

That's politics for you - Robert is the brother of King Louis IX, so
he gets command. This great army, assembled at the urging of Pope
Gregory X, is by far one of the largest forces in the history of
Western Christendom. No one has counted, but chroniclers will claim
that seventy-five thousand men were encamped in the fields. Not only
Englishmen and Frenchmen, but soldiers from all over Europe have
gathered to fight under the Sign of the Cross. Castilians here,
Aragonese there and, camped a wary distance away from the tens of
thousands of men with crosses on their shoulders, are the most
unlikely "crusaders" of all, with a pomegranate banner fluttering in
the chill Flanders breeze.


--
Cheers, ymt.
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