Albion Rising: A Henry Frederick Timeline
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Chapter 74: Finale-Lewis Pt 9
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 74: Finale-Lewis Pt 9
September, 1611
They had left their horses at the clearing and were moving by foot. Henry had overruled Sir Edward’s protests about this. He felt it was more practical to move by foot, as it ensured they could sneak up on the enemy without being heard. This way they’d have more chance of capturing or killing as many of the bastards as possible and leaving Macleod blind.
He glanced to his left, and nodded to Robert Essex who was looking at him for confirmation. Essex then whispered something and a command was passed down the chain, before it eventually reached Sir Edward. Henry knew that the message had reached Sir Edward because he saw that man’s distinct frame moving forward closer to where the enemy was supposed to be.
There were only fifty of the enemy, and roughly six hundred of them. Henry had decided to bring the entire army to bear, so as not to get caught out. Maybe it was a foolish decision, but excitement was filling his mind. Could this be the day when he finally ended the rebellion on Lewis and ensured that it was a proper Crown territory?
He hoped so. The longer the struggle went on, the less enthusiasm there would be for the venture. Especially as winter came. Nobody wanted to be fighting in the Isles in winter, that was a sure-fire way to get murdered. Henry held up a hand and brought his part of the army to a stop. Now they would wait and see. And with luck things would go their way.
Henry said a prayer as he heard the first clanging of steel. Sir Edward had engaged then. Now they would need to wait and hope that Macleod’s men didn’t have more men than their scouting parties had seen. Henry shifted from foot to foot. He hated waiting. He always had. He needed to be on the move, it was a curse he shared with his father. One of the few things they could bond over.
Henry found himself wondering if successfully bringing Lewis into the Crown’s fold would give him more weight with his father and thus make his plans for handling Carr less needed. He wasn’t sure. His father didn’t seem to rate military achievements highly. If he did, Sir Edward would have commanded an English force in Julich, not just a private force.
Henry shifted again as he heard a scream. It was blood curdling, but it was also a sign that things were progressing according to plan. The Macleod men were being massacred, if he had the right of it. He could be wrong and Sir Edward could be placed on the backfoot. He glanced at Essex and whispered. “What’s happening?”
Essex muttered something to one of his own men and then turned to face Henry. “We’ve got them pinned, Sir. What do you want to do?”
“Attack.” Henry said. Essex nodded, the command was passed down the chain, the men prepared themselves, then Henry rose from his position. He drew his sword, said a prayer and then launched himself down toward the enemy.
Momentum carried him through. The first breach was with a big lad with grey hair. Henry swung his sword, and managed to knock the man down, he didn’t stop to see what happened to him. Henry continued onward, his heart thumping. He took a swing at another man, and met resistance. He pushed hard, and the other man fell, his momentum carried him forward.
Another man came at him then. Henry got jangled up on the defensive, swinging and blocking. He pushed hard and the man pushed back harder. They were engaged in a mutual dance of destruction, going backwards and forwards, tilting and turning. The man slipped and Henry’s sword buried itself in the man’s exposed neck. He stared at the sight, blood pulsing out of the man, blinked and then moved on.
This time three men were waiting for him. One of them was bigger than the rest, was he a Macleod? Henry didn’t know. He didn’t care he’d take them on. He looked to his left and saw Essex approaching. He waited, he stalled, and then when Essex arrived, they danced. One of the men went for Henry, swinging wildly, and missed. Henry gutted him. Another man went for Essex and struck; Essex grunted but pushed back. Henry rushed to his friend’s aid. The man danced back, and his companion advanced.
Henry focused on the man’s companion. He was big and bulky. The man charged at Henry. Henry stepped back and tried desperately to block everything that got thrown at him. Sometimes he succeeded, other times his body jarred as the blows hit. He blinked and then pushed back. The big man rocked backwards but then always moved forward. Henry ducked and dodged.
The big man followed him. Stepping this way and that. Shimmering and shifting. They turned on a screw. Henry desperately keeping himself afloat and aground. The big man didn’t seem to care much. He roared out something in Gaelic. Henry bit back a retort and engaged. Sparks flew once more, and the dance continued.
Eventually he saw an opening and fell forward. He didn’t mean to fall forward, but since he had done so, he made use of it. His sword plunged into the man then fell out. Henry picked it up and plunged it in again and again, until the man started to timber down. Henry stood there, panting, heaving. Blinking rapidly. The man was dead. And there was blood, so much blood.
Henry turned around when he heard the sound of thunder. Was it about to rain? He wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. It was as if the man on the floor’s blood had filled his mouth. He tasted salt and something else. Something bitter. He blinked. Where had all these men come from?
They were shouting and yelling and charging. Were they his men or Macleods? Henry didn’t know but he raised his sword and prepared to fight all the same. The first man came at him and nearly knocked him to his arse. Henry just about managed to remain standing. Swaying this way and that, he rocked forward and hit the man on the head with his sword. The man crumpled.
But more men came at him. They surrounded him. Henry fought one of them off, but a second came, and Henry got knocked down. He got back up, and fought the man, before being knocked down again. He was tired. So, very tired. He wanted to rest. Could they not let him rest? He staggered back to his feet. They charged.
Henry knocked one down, got knocked down, got back up, and knocked one down, got knocked down, and got back up. Then Essex was there at his side. They fought back to back. Doing what they could to hold off the enemy, then he heard a scream. He turned and Essex was being beaten badly. Henry tried to move but couldn’t. His feet were stuck.
He watched in horror as his friend was beaten and beaten. His armour serving as no protection for what was coming at him. Then Essex screamed, writhed and then stopped. Henry stared, uncomprehendingly. His friend couldn’t be dead. That wasn’t possible. Not Essex. Essex couldn’t die. Henry would not allow it.
Something came out then. A scream, something primal. Next thing Henry knew he was running, where he didn’t know. But he was running and his cheeks were damp. He blinked and the fog lifted, and his sword was pressed against a man’s throat and he was snarling. And Essex was dead.
VVD0D95
Banned
They are indeed.
And most definitely not, treason shouldn't be rewarded with negotiation after all.
Deleted member 147978
Treason is not negotiable and resistance is futile for the traitors.
Rip, Essex. A thought also just hit me, I wonder what types of shenanigans are happening at court while Henry and Co. are away
James is getting closer to George Villiers.
Anna Maria is raising her son.
Elizabeth is writing to the elector palatinate.
A little bit of constructive criticism: Highlanders (and islanders) certainly fought with swords, axes and even bows up to Culloden. Royal army however would have used firearms (and swords but as secondary arms).
However, overall this is enjoyable thread. (as fan of Edward VI and Henry Frederick go on scenarios)
However, overall this is enjoyable thread. (as fan of Edward VI and Henry Frederick go on scenarios)
VVD0D95
Banned
Tbis is true, though wasn’t it mainly infantry that fought with firearms at this point? With the cavalry keeping their swords on them?
Chapter 75: Dutch Bride
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 75: Dutch Bride
October, 1611
Catherine Vasa now a member of the House of Orange through marriage took a moment to consider what her wedding had been like. Her father had sent one of the many Counts who made up his entourage to accompany her and her ladies. The Count had stayed for the wedding then departed the next day, leaving Catherine and her ladies to fend for themselves.
The wedding itself had been a fairly exuberant occasion. Her dress had contained materials from Persia, which in of itself had excited her and made her wonder how many more Persian goods there were in the Republic. The service had been sharp and to the point, she and her husband had exchanged vows, they’d kissed, then there’d been a feast, at which her husband’s brother had spoken, then there’d been the night ceremony and she’d learned a thing or two about what it meant to be a woman.
Her husband was a different sort of man. He was not melancholic, but he was worn down by the years. He spoke little, but when he did, his words carried meaning. Catherine had quickly learned to appreciate and cherish the times he smiled, for they were far too rare. He had a very nice smile, and he was considerate. He went out of his way to try and make her feel welcome, ignoring the pressure from his brother to dismiss some of her Swedish ladies.
It was on that topic that Catherine spoke then. “Lady Trolle overheard something interesting yesterday.” She said, speaking in the French that they both understood.
“And what was that?” Her husband asked, looking up from some letter he was reading.
“A conversation between Count Von Quadt and Count Von Razow.” Catherine said.
“About?” Her husband replied.
“You.” Catherine said, looking at her husband and seeing his eyebrows rise.
“What about me?” Maurice asked.
“About whether or not you’re going to make a move against your brother, apparently.” Catherine said. Lady Trolle had tried to avoid being seen and thus had had to move around a fair bit, which meant she hadn’t gotten as clear an understanding of what had been said as perhaps, she would have liked.
“And why would they discuss something so treasonous?” Maurice asked.
“Perhaps because they suspect that he harbours desires that are against the needs of the Republic?” Catherine asked. She may not have been here for very long, but she still knew how to read people, and from what she had gathered, her brother-in-law wasn’t the most popular right now.
“And what do you think these desires my brother harbours are?” Maurice asked.
Catherine shrugged. “I could not claim to know. All I know is that some people are talking.”
Maurice snorted. “Let them talk. As long as that is all that they do.”
“And you don’t think they have a point?” Catherine asked intrigued.
Maurice sighed. “Perhaps they do, perhaps they don’t. It is irrelevant so long as Philip maintains the support of most of the prominent members of the States General, which for the most part he does.”
“How is that?” Catherine asked. She would have thought her brother-in-law being a Catholic would’ve caused problems, given the whole nature of what had sparked off the Dutch revolt to begin with.
“Because he knows how to balance the different factions. That he helped create the chaos that led to their formation is another matter. But he knows how to balance them and he knows that they know that if they remove him, they’re going to struggle.” Maurice replied.
“Why?” Catherine asked. Surely her husband would step into the breach.
“Because I have no desire to get involved in any of that.” Maurice replied. “My role is simple. I protect the Republic’s interests and the interests of Protestantism more broadly. If the States General want to play politics, let them. I have no desire to.”
“I see.” Catherine replied slightly disappointed, whilst also understanding her husband’s position. Better to be above it all than to get one’s hands dirty.
“Did Lady Trolle hear anything else?” Her husband asked then.
“Something about taxation and an agreement with the Spanish Netherlands.” Catherine said, her friend hadn’t been able to properly hear what was being said, because she’d had to move further back to avoid being spotted.
Her husband frowned then, and that raised Catherine’s curiosity. What could they possibly have meant? Maurice answered her unasked question then. “My brother is trying to get an agreement with the Spanish Netherlands over trading rights. Something to do with fishing in neutral waters. It’s not progressing very far.”
“Why?” Catherine asked, though she suspected she knew why.
“Brussels is being pressured by Spain to not accept the agreement, as doing so would be tacit acknowledgement of the Republic’s right to exist, something that Spain refuses to even consider.” Maurice said.
“And the taxation bit?” Catherine asked.
“That I have no idea about.” Maurice said. “The States General are always messing around with taxation policy in one form or another.”
Catherine nodded, then asked. “So, what are you going to do?”
“About?” Her husband replied.
“The Counts and their treasonable whisperings.” Catherine said.
“Wait and see if they say or do anything more.” Maurice said. “I cannot just go after them like that.”
“I see.” Catherine replied.
“You disagree?” Maurice asked, an eyebrow raised.
“No, it’s not that.” Catherine said.
“Then what is it?” Maurice asked.
“It’s just, everything is so surprising. Things that I had taken for granted back home are completely different here. It’s slightly unsettling.” Catherine said.
Maurice nodded in understanding. “I can see why you would feel like that. But trust me when I say that it will improve with time.”
“It will?” Catherine asked, hating how desperate she sounded, and uncertain about where that desperation had come from.
Maurice smiled. “It will, I promise.”
Catherine smiled in return and said. “Very well, I will take your word for it.” She hoped her husband was right. She didn’t like uncertainty. Never had.
Deleted member 147978
May I ask if Maurice van Orange-Nassau and Catherine Wasa's marriage was a matter of pragmatic realpolitik?
Deleted member 147978
The chapter caught me off guard is because Maurice is the Calvinist Dutch Stadtholder and Catherine is the Catholic Swedo-Polish princess, talk about 17th realpolitik.
VVD0D95
Banned
Catherine isn’t catholic tho. She’s Charles IX daughter and he was definitely not catholic