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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Of Pride and Power - 12. Chapter 12: “Win through actions, not through arguments.”

Two days at the Robsart’s country estate was more than I could afford with everything that was happening in Norfolk. It would only take a day for Ambrose to reach London. John Dudley would send someone to discreetly verify the caravans of wagons were indeed going to a supposed abandoned abbey, which would cost two days at least. At the earliest, it would be the fifth day for Princess Mary’s agents to receive word that a royal army was being formed near London to quell her rebel army in Wymondham. Based on those assessments my mind did, it would be in total six days after Ambrose left our group when Robert Kett’s army would be forced to march on Norwich. We spent two days looking for this country estate and two days seeking retribution, so we had less than two days left before their army moved.

Thus, I can assume a messenger would be coming from London to warn Robert Kett at this moment. Vengeance and wrath were satisfying, but I wasted a lot of time.

Jack, or Robert Dudley to everyone else, was in no condition to travel by horse. Internal injuries, dehydration, and a shattered mental state would be aggravated by the constant rocking of a horse at full gallop or a wagon without suspension. The same was true to varying degrees for all the other young men, we found. We had enough horses to carry us back to my lands in the west, but if we were forced to travel at a slow walk of two to four miles per hour that would be acceptable for the injured with periodic breaks, then the rebel army would capture us on the road as we passed Norwich. At that moment, I would have been fine sacrificing my life for Jack after everything he went through, but that wouldn’t have been enough.

I had at most two more days before Robert Kett’s army stormed Norwich based on the natural progression of transit and information. I didn’t want to count on John Dudley to come to our rescue, especially after what he did. In truth, I hated myself for offering him sound tactical advice for the coming battle and would have gladly enjoyed seeing his head on a pike. Still, on this battlefield, we were nominally on the same side.

Since we couldn’t escape, I had to make battle plans of my own. First, I sent Puck to return to Bristol castle to fetch Oberon and five hundred troops with two companies armed with our lightweight mortars and three companies of medics led by Cordelia. It would take him around seven days to return, but it would line up with what I needed.

Historical knowledge is a double-edged sword, knowing the course of future events will alter certain battle plans. In history, Robert Kett abandoned his camp on the favorable ground near Mousehold Heath for an open-field battle against John Dudley. Whether Mary through her church agents had urged him to hold Norwich or the high ground, his plans would likely be behind natural or man-made defenses. Field artillery in the 16th century was slow and required open fields or higher ground to maximize their firepower advantages. While mortars did exist such as the Ottoman Empire’s stone mortars that conquered Constantinople in 1453, they were primarily used as siege weapons for fortified strongholds. My mortars with the assistance of Oberon for the firing primer and my addition of aerodynamic fins were based on the British Stokes design used in World War I that had a range of 1.5 miles. Being low-cost and light enough to be carried by one person, this was the ideal mobile artillery platform compared to artillery pieces that required dozens of soldiers to operate. Each mortar company had one hundred people and fifty mortars, so I was requesting one hundred mortars to be brought to Norwich. That represented half of our firepower and munition supplies.

The most important contribution to this battle would be Cordelia’s medical units. Field medics in the medieval period through the Crimean War were known as human butchers. Modern medical procedures, triage, and pain management were haphazardly applied by various nations, leading to many post-battle mortalities due to a lack of specialized care. To many people even from my world, soldiers were fodder to serve the goals of their nations, but I believe that every individual soldier should be valued. To me, it was better to keep a thousand loyal men healthy and alive than to constantly raise armies of a thousand men who barely know you. Thus, a medical corps was necessary.

With my forces on their way, I prepared for the vanguard forces that would have come to Norwich. For my second objective, I sent Francis to Northampton with a letter to the Marquess, William Parr. He would represent the vanguard forces for King Edward in the region, numbering around 1,400 men. In my history, they were nearly wiped out by Robert Kett, who was using Norwich as bait for his smaller army to enter and be ambushed. With blunderbusses at Robert Kett’s disposal, William Parr would likely be killed if I did not assist him. His army was made up of local militia and a few hundred heavily armored Italian mercenary cavalry known as the Condotierre, which were too slow and uncoordinated for an urban battlefield. Of course, the Italian troops had to take the bait and enter the city to fool Robert Kett and any of his advisors that things were still progressing as planned. All I did in the letter was implore caution to William Parr and have his second in command, Baron Sheffield, enter the city with only the mercenary troops. Asking someone like John Dudley to give up the chance at gaining honor would be impossible, but William Parr was a peaceful man, who could be persuaded to minimize the risk to the men and boys that were fighting for him. I gave him a location to set up camp on a wooded hill, near Heath Woods, northeast of Mousehold Heath rebel camp. I planned to rendezvous with their forces there, which was between Norwich and the Robsart’s land in three days, which would be around the time Robert Kett would have already captured the city, feigned a retreat, and William Parr’s forces would have lost his first engagement based on the timing of forces.

After Francis finished my task, I wanted him to lead our mortar forces from Bristol. As he was the only one with the unique skill to pick up intelligence based on the death of individuals, he would be able to ascertain what was happening during the battle on Marquess William Parr's side by detecting if one of his trusted knights or barons were dead and the present battlefield condition.

Third, I ordered the triplets to guard Robert Dudley with their lives and no matter what happened on the battlefield to get him to Bristol. Jack had the answers to many questions and his loss would be far greater than mine, at least in my mind. I had spent all my free time in the last two days cuddling up next to Jack, worrying about him, and apologizing profusely for not coming sooner. I needed people I trusted to be there for him when I couldn’t. The triplets were upset with my command and demanded that I wait for our relief forces to arrive. With a peaceful commander fighting a well-armed force that outnumbered him fifteen to one, I had to assist and help hold the line for a few more days.

On the third day, during a late autumn English rainstorm, I reached the encampment of William Parr. With a decent canter on my horse, I reached their camp within an hour. The soldiers appeared cold, frightened, and demoralized. I did not see any wounds on them, but I also did not see any cavalrymen in the camp either. I saw several teenage boys, maybe thirteen or fourteen, sharing what was likely homebrew liquor around a fire, but there was no mirth. When their container of alcohol was empty, they began arguing about who drank the last drop.

“You were the last one with the cask.”

“No, it was empty when I took it. So, it must have been John.”

“Hey, it wasn’t me, I don’t usually drink and there were just a few drops.”

“So, John you drank the last drop and have to charge the rebel line when they come for us.”

“Bull, why don’t I get a proper drink before I’m to die? Lord Sheffield and those Italians got wine before the rebels gutted them and sent their heads back to the Marquess.”

The boys began to throw accusations and a commotion began to grow around their petty argument. It was childish and tragic, but no one stopped their argument, they were all just watching and commiserating.

In Isekai manga or general fiction, someone like me should probably give a great speech about how to rally the troops. I learned from having Jack read William Shakespeare’s Henry V, that it was something a great leader is expected to do on the eve of battle. However, I don’t agree with that idea or the philosophy that words alone are enough to give people hope in victory. Words are needed, along with actions.

I went up to the group of boys, “Why are you all so pessimistic?”

They stared at me, soaking wet from the rain, “Eh…who do you serve friend? Never seen you in camp.”

With demoralized troops, it was probably not a great idea to tell them about my identity at first, “I am a messenger from Lord Eli Tudor, who sends me to offer greetings and gratitude for your service to the realm. Lord Eli wants to assist you in any way possible.”

They all fell silent at my announcement, then the boy named John spoke to me, “You mean you came all this way from that sod to tell us thank you and offer us aid. Well, I heard your lord got the parts of a woman and a man, while I favor the former, I am not sure if I can accept the offer of the latter. If your sod master wants to help me, give me a new cask, so I may die full.”

I smirked at them, “Alright, give me two hours and my lord will have enough drink, bread, and meat for everyone.”

I found the supply train foreman and urged him to round up ten carts and horses to follow me back to the Robsart land. They had more than enough alcohol, cured meat, and wheat stored to supply the city of Norwich through the winter, so an army of around a thousand men and boys was nothing. In my old world and nation, these boys would not be allowed to touch alcohol at their age, but I’d argue that if you’re old enough to die in war, then you should be able to drink alcohol. All soldiers needed something to look forward to.

We returned with everything I promised, I offered John a large wooden barrel of wine that appeared quite ancient within the Robsart cellar.

John’s face blushed several shades at the sight of the finely age wine, “That all really for me,” he turned, and I nodded as he grinned, “Do I need to offer my ass to your lord for this? I mean…. it’s just polite.”

I laughed, “My lord does not seek payment for loyalty. Feel free to share with your friends, there’s plenty more like that barrel. You should all drink and be merry, we may not know what tomorrow brings, but if you serve loyally, my lord will continue these offerings each day until our day of victory.”

Cheers erupted and I spotted William Parr with some of his senior officers on the side. They were stunned at the spectacle before them of alcohol, cured mutton roasting over a fire, and the smell of skillet-cooked bread. It was an odd scene in the middle of a rainstorm after the recent massacre of their men at enemy hands. No one was expecting sounds of joy.

I was directed by William Parr and his officers to a private tent, and then William spoke, “My Lord Eli, I am grateful for your advice to be cautious and your supplies. You have performed a miracle to bring my men back from the depths of perdition.”

I shook my head in disagreement, “We’re not done Marquess Parr, I have merely countered the feelings of despair momentarily. Lord Sheffield’s head was presented to you by Robert Kett earlier today I presume.”

“Along with the heads of several hundred heavily armored Italian mercenaries that I spared no expense to acquire. They were the best men of this army, if they could fall, then I do not know what chance the rest of my men have. Robert Kett’s messenger said they’ll send a detachment to my camp to accept our surrender or our heads as well.”

Considering the rainstorm outside, any detachment sent this way would not arrive until it stopped. They’re still using traditional gunpowder, so rain and dampness have a major effect on their effectiveness.

An idea came to my mind, I asked William Parr, “Have you heard the news of the Siege of Vienna in 1529 and how the Holy Roman Empire withstood the Ottoman onslaught?”

William frowned, but several of his officers nodded with recognition at the famous battle.

I continued, “We can dig a series of tunnel lines around the land. In front of these lines of tunnels, we can add palisades and water traps to slow their movement. They may have more men, but we can outmaneuver them through earthworks just as the combined forces of the Holy Roman Empire and Spanish did in 1529.”

Essentially, this was Trench warfare before World War I, which was famously executed to perfection at Vienna against a gunpowder army of 150,000 men versus a defending army of close to 15,000. When outnumbered ten to one, they had to reduce the effectiveness of the gunpowder by limiting mobility and concentration of fire. Trap pits, trench lines, and palisades were able to cancel the superior firepower.

After my explanation, William Parr spoke approvingly, “If you were only a proper man, Eli. You would be the ruler this kingdom deserves. Neither your brother nor sister has shown such foresight and brilliance.”

I shook my head in disagreement at the praise, “There’s a lot to do before you can make that kind of assessment. Let your men drink and eat tonight to improve their morale. When the rain stops, we need to start digging tunnel lines and creating holes, while the ground is still soft. I’ve got a supply of timber that we can use for palisades and defenses, which we can have the supply wagons bring up.”

The night was spent with revelry and comradery amongst the men of Northampton. While I did bring up several barrels of alcohol, I brought even more wheat, meat, and lard. I had told the cooks that every soldier had to be given a bowl full of food with every wooden cup of alcohol. Even in the medieval world, most people knew food soaked up alcohol and reduced the effects of hangovers. Not every army had the food and alcohol to spare, so I used it as an advantage.

When dawn came the next morning, the rain was beginning to taper off into showers. All the officers gathered their troops for assignments, while the supply wagons went back to Robsart’s estate for the shovels, spades, and wood. The ground was soft after the recent rain, so it was easier to reshape into defensive earthworks. By the end of the day, we were able to create three lines of trenches, twelve feet deep and six feet wide, separated by fifty feet between each line. Palisades were built along the trench line and traps were set near the lines, woods, and road. We controlled a local high ground, bordered woods on one side, and accessed the main roads north of the city.

When the rebel army’s detachment of 3,209 men came, they sent a messenger to reiterate the terms. The messenger approached the first trench line with an ultimatum, which was ignored. Robert Kett’s men had no understanding of war or military formations, despite an additional year of weapon stockpiling and knowledge of future events. They charged our defense lines, trying to use their overwhelming force to defeat us. The first wave of around 517 men charged the first line of defense, while archers peppered them with arrows. Luckily for them, they had groups of Mantlet, heavy mobile wooden defenses carried by three to five men, blocking the incoming fire from above. Thus, their first force was able to lay several wooden planks across the first trench line, allowing the second much larger force of 1,623 men to begin crossing our first line of defense. As the remaining members of the first wave and half of this second wave had reached our second line of trenches, I ordered fire arrows to be used on the trenches. Which we had lined with cooking grease, alcohol, gunpowder, and other combustible material. What this did was break the enemy forces into two. With the wooden planks engulfed in flames and many of their comrades with the mantlet too far away to offer cover, we were able to pick off many of them in our next arrow volley. They tried to shoot their blunderbusses in the direction of the archers, but it was in vain as their effective range was less than 30 feet versus an English longbow with 500 feet range with the heavy fire arrows. To avoid the arrows, they tried to dive into the second trench line, which was a mistake. The second trench line was dug first, so water from the recent rain in the other two trenches could be fed into it. The trench had retained a bit of water as a result, creating a moat. I sent a group of pikemen to stab the unarmored rebels, who fruitlessly tried to fire their sodden guns.

Within an hour of this battle, 1,527 rebel troops were dead or incapacitated, representing almost half of their forces on the field. The remainder of their forces withdrew, while our troops suffered no injuries or deaths in the first engagement. However, there was no feeling of euphoria as Robert Kett’s main force still outnumbered ours by a significant factor. In history, when Robert Kett captured Norwich, he also captured the city's store of gunpowder and several cannons. Only a few men knew how to operate cannons, so he was unable to use artillery to its full advantage in open-field battles in the historical 1549 rebellion. However, I knew Catholic agents were aiding him in this 1550 version of the rebellion, so I had to expect that he would be using his big guns in his army for the next engagement, which would likely be coming within hours rather than days.

As such, I had everyone shelter within the third trench line. After their calamity during the first head-on charge into our defenses, their second attack would likely be a classic artillery bombardment to soften or cripple our forces before sending in infantry.

This happened as I had guessed near dusk. However, what I had not guessed was the intensity of their artillery bombardment. They fired several rounds into the night sky illuminating the hill and the surrounding area. I knew these were not fired by traditional 16th-century cannons; they were rockets. Weapons like these have been in existence since the 14th century in China, Korea, and Japan, while in modern times, such bright displays are considered a type of fireworks. On the battlefield, they were meant to illuminate areas for nighttime raids and inspire fear in enemy troops. However, these weapons were phased out due to the chemical knowledge available and most of the illumination dissipated quickly. After three hours of bright unearthly red-light illumination, they were not using the Asian formulas for their rockets, but some modern chemical to create florescence. Due to that, no one in the army was able to sleep. We suffered our first casualties that night as well when an errant shell killed a group of soldiers and their knight officer, who had left the protection of the trench.

By the next morning, when their army began another assault, everyone was exhausted. I should have considered psychological warfare as much as battlefield tactics. As I saw how tired and worn down everyone was from a night of red lights and cannon fire, I knew we couldn’t survive this next assault. At that point, my biggest regret in my second life was letting Jack down.

The rebel army fired on the first trench line, igniting all the combustibles, then surged with 1,682 men all at once along the first trench line.

When asked about what we should do next to counter them, I replied with as much stoicism as I could muster, “We must fight hand to hand now. There are no more tricks this army can draw on.”

The officers and William Parr grew pale at the bitter reality before us.

However, a cheerful laugh bellowed near me, John, the teenage soldier, roared, “Over the top, boys. Let’s give them hell, so we can get another pint of ale.”

After so many days in battle, there was no denying who I was to John or the other average soldiers, but they regarded me as a comrade without any of the pomp and circumstance related to nobility or royalty. Watching him surge up with his pike along with his friends made me wish I were a fighter like them, ready to jump into the fray.

As some of the rebel soldiers began crossing the second trench on their wooden planks, they were met by John and the others surging forward. At that range, our men were well within their firing range. Some fell on the ground, some fell into the trench, but a few were able to surge and take down some rebel soldiers. However, the numbers and the firepower were against the charge and eventually, everyone fell.

As I resigned myself to death, a loud whistling noise came from overhead then a boom on the ground near the second trench line. Pinpoint fire support had occurred across the trench lines, then off to the distance where the cannons were, there was also smoke. Within seconds, another round hit the rebel army, then another round a few seconds after that. These were not cannons, these were my mortar units from Bristol Castle.

The rebels retreated in a disorganized fashion again, but this time it was an utter rout as they were being pursued by phantom shells. After a long silence, I went over to the top of the trench line and surveyed the carnage. I noticed a group of people approaching us on horseback, but they bore my banners.

In a relieved tone, I told William Parr, “I believe my reinforcements have arrived.”

When Francis first saw me, he grabbed my dirt-covered body in an embrace, he ranted madly, “I was almost too late, I was almost too late!”

The battle of Heath Woods was a bloody affair. We won the battle due to the withdrawal of the enemy and the preservation of most of our forces. However, we suffered in the last engagement an atrocious forty-two percent casualty rate, mostly from severely wounded soldiers like John. 57 people died overall in the engagement, 12 from complications after the battle, and 470 would need Cordelia’s care for several months back in Northampton. For Robert Kett’s rebel army, he lost more than 3,123 men, 54 cannons, and most importantly Father Archibald, who was his chief advisor and Catholic agent. Francis was able to identify the Catholic agent by identifying some of the dead rebels, who happened to be manning the cannons next to the rockets. We were incredibly lucky that we took out someone important with a mortar strike.

The Battle of Heath Woods never happened in my history, and it marked the first engagement between my forces with those of a Catholic-aligned army, equipped with advanced weapons. As with many other battles throughout my lifetime, this conflict was heavily fictionalized with people like John becoming heroes. However, it was a harrowing encounter between a peasant army with advanced firearms and a medieval defensive army with the late support of advanced mobile artillery. Trench warfare existed during this era, but it was not used heavily in battlefields like these against rebel forces. Deconstructing and reconstructing cannon was present in this era, but seldom would forces have that level of technical sophistication until centuries later. We surprised their army with our artillery support, taking out their field artillery with precision fire control brought on by the mobile mortars and advanced mathematical ability of the fair folk. I surprised my opponent more than they surprised me by a slim margin. To me, it showed how far behind I was in preparing for war against such foes.

This battle was my first real taste of war in all its dimensions. Courage kept us alive longer. Intelligence gave us a fighting chance. Yet, the key deciding factor of battle was timing and chance. If Francis were just a few minutes late, I would not be writing this account down for you.

Thoughts on the chapter, plus bonus graphic illustrations fo my dedicated readers:
 
Copyright © 2023 W_L; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Story Discussion Topic

Just a place for readers to ask questions, ponder alt-history in this universe, and have fun. Not sure if I have a lot of readers in this alt-history 16th-century English setting novel or not, but I thought I'd open it up for discussions. Eli is not Elizabeth I, nor a true male heir, but it plays out with interesting what-ifs based on history. An intersex/non-binary standpoint is something new for me to write, so I appreciate it if any NBs want to point out things to me for improvement. I'v
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2 hours ago, chris191070 said:

Great battle 

Thanks, I enjoy defensive battles a lot. It probably has something to do with my hours of playing Tower Defense games on my phone, defensive battle tactics are fun.

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I'm sure this is the first of many altercations, the loss of Father Archibald may prove to be a boon in the short term, I fear it may be akin to poking the bear...

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13 hours ago, drsawzall said:

I'm sure this is the first of many altercations, the loss of Father Archibald may prove to be a boon in the short term, I fear it may be akin to poking the bear...

History is a fickle thing, even the Papal authority knew there's risk to tampering with the course of events.

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