"Prevented by the throng at their backs from dodging, side-stepping or retreating
from the blows or thrusts directed at them by their English opponents, the
individual French men-at-arms must shortly have begun to lose their man-to-man
fights, collecting blows on the head or limbs which, even through armor, were
sufficiently bruising or stunning to make them drop their weapons or lose their
balance or footing, Within minutes, perhaps seconds, of the hand-to-hand fighting
being joined, some of them would have fallen, their bodies lying at the feet of
their comrades, further impeding the movement of individuals and this offering an
obstacle to the advance of the whole column."
from The Face of Battle -John Keegan Agincourt, October 25th, 1415
A classic lesson that has been retaught, has it been relearned? Duncan Faramach MacLeod
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Phaedra's Gate - Estrella 16 - A.S. XXXIV
I will try to find time to write about more of the battles later, but the great
victory at Phaedra's Gate is a story begging to be told (and written of, and sung
of, and told again.) But, before I can tell the tale of this great battle a bit of
background is needed. But if you want to shorten this long tale a bit, skip forward
to "The Story....The Legend...."
The Battle Pit.
The Battle Pit is a scarred wasteland sunk some 30 feet below the fields of the
Estrella Site. It is reached by several steep ramps cut into the sides of the pit.
The floor of this pit is a mix of dried dirt, stones, gravel and silt which gives
way quickly to steep slopes of loose dirt and rock. The overall impression is that
of the badlands shown in countless westerns.
The Castle.
Due to the labors of a number of the folks from Atenveldt, a castle stands on one
end of this wasteland. It is set into/onto the hill on the south side of the pit,
and is divided into a lower bailey and an upper motte. The outside walls of this
castle were surrounded with heavy canvas fastened onto telephone poles sunk into
the ground, such that it was difficult to see what troops on the other side of the
wall were doing, or where they were massing.
The bailey perhaps 40 - 45 yards wide and 20 yards deep sits at the bottom of the
hill and can be entered in several locations. The main entrance, known as
Mathghamhain's Gate (Named after Duke Mathghamhain of Atenveldt and pronounced just
"Man" by the way) faces north. It is approximately 12 - 15 feet wide and is
fortified by walls made of railroad ties set into the earth - these walls extend
about 6 feet into the castle, and about 6 feet along each outer wall. Each of
these walls is pierced by a 4 foot wide opening roughly 4 feet off the ground
through which men could attack but not enter. An elevated earth platform on the
nside of each of these corners gave the defenders some advantage, but standing
on them was still very dangerous as spearmen on the outside could reach anyone
on them.
As you stand in the bailey, looking out Mathghamhain's Gate, to your left and
somewhat behind you is a section of wall which can be breached by siege engines.
This entrance, approximately 10 to 12 feet wide is blocked by a large wooden
"wall" which can be removed by the marshals once it is hit 5 times by a siege
engine. Once the wall is removed, the opening is flanked by a steep dirt hill
to the left, and a telephone pole to the right.
Again looking out Mathghamhain's Gate, behind you to the right is 10 -12 foot
wide ramp leading uphill to a gate to the upper motte. This gate is flanked
by 2 telephone poles.
The motte itself is not as deep as the bailey, but somewhat wider. In addition
to the gate to the bailey, it has a gate and a sally port on the left as you
look out towards Mathghamhain's Gate. To the left is the entrance knows as the
Duke's Gate. This gate is perhaps the most defensible. Leading to it is a bridge
perhaps 10 feet wide and 20+ feet long which leads slightly uphill. Stepping off
this bridge is death. This bridge is flanked by 6 or 8 telephone poles set into
the ground, and for later battles was covered by a canvas top. Last year,
Calontir held this gate against a large number of Aten attackers.
Outside the castle are three 50' square redoubts, each with canvas walls
covering three sides, and a dirt berm defending the fourth side which faced
the castle. Gates pierced the walls opposite the berms.
The Scenario:
Now that you understand the terrain, let me tell you about the scenario. The
defenders stared in the castle, while the attackers started in the three
redoubts. The attackers had unlimited resurrections, while the defenders would
be allowed only 300. The battle was to last one hour. Every fifteen minutes,
two points would be awarded for each redoubt held, and three points for each
half of the castle held. Thus a force holding either the castle or the three
redoubts for the entire hour was assured a tie, but no more. Effectively a
force had to not only hold its starting points but take at least some part
of the enemy holdings and hold it past one of the 15 minute scoring times.
During the commanders meetings we had discussed these battles, and quickly come
to the conclusion that the way for the attackers to win was simply to kill all
the defenders and force them to use up their limited resurrections - even if
they had to die repeatedly to do so. The attackers unlimited resurrections
meant that sacrificing three or four men to kill one would pay off over time.
The First Battle - Attacking the Castle
The last battle on Friday afternoon was our chance to attack the castle. Though
we were already tired from a long day of fighting, and we were badly outnumbered
by the forces of Atenveldt and Caid, we were confident we could win this battle.
The tactics appeared obvious.
Calontir was tasked with attacking the Duke's Gate. Our specific orders were
to not break in, but to simply kill the enemy forces aligned before us -
sacrificing as many men as necessary to do this job, but always maintaining
enough of our strength to prevent the enemy from breaking out. The forces
of the Outlands would attack the bailey, while Artemesia, the West and the
other allies would assault the far entrances to the motte.
When we arrived at the Duke's Gate we discovered that, as we had predicted,
the enemy had formed a killing pocket on the inside of the castle. They had
a unit of heavy shields lined up 8 -10 feet inside the gate and lots of
polearms and spearmen on both sides. Since we were forced to attack up the
narrow bridge, the enemy would always have a numerical advantage and could
bring weapons to bear on any attacker from several directions.
It proved an effective defense against our first several charges. Our scutum
line would charge forward, and the artillery that tried to follow would either
have to turn and fight the assembled poles and spears on the sides (abandoning
the charging shields), or would be killed from the side as they advanced. To
some degree we expected this. Charging a static shield wall is typically a
foolish mistake. As Dongal would say "Rock breaks scissors." So why did we
charge? Because we did not need (or want) to break through, and we did not
mind losing troops. We wanted pulse charges that might kill a few, while
not committing us completely, or crushing our friends in needless pileups.
Still their losses were much fewer than ours, and the walk to resurrection
point was tiring at the end of this long day of fighting.
But after the second charge we noticed that the sides of the enemy pocket
had almost no shields while the artillery cover for the shieldwall was light.
It was time for a change in tactics. With our army in spear dueling range,
and a few of our spears and poles out front, behind the cover of our line I
gathered a couple of scutums, a secondary or two, and a handful of hard hitting
poles and greatswords. I told them to run out the left side of our line and then
as soon as they were off the bridge (in the killing pocket) to turn hard to the
left and charge the enemy spears and poles there.
Led by Sir Rolf, it was a beautiful column charge! The two scutums ran diagonally
up the spears, turning them all aside long enough for our secondaries to close.
Before they could finish reacting to that our artillery was upon them and for a
few moments, in that limited area, we had the advantage. The column died (as
expected), but a fair number of enemies retreated to resurrect as well. For
the next 25-30 minutes we repeated this tactic on one side of the pocket or
the other. Each time another group of the enemy was killed, and their returns
from resurrection slowed, while ours returned after a visit to the wonderful
Calontir waterbearers at the resurrection point.
Down below at the gates to the Bailey the Outlanders were doing about the same
thing. Column charges - each designed to kill a few enemy. Finally, the
Atenvelters and Caidan's we killed quit being replaced at all - they were out
of resurrections! Enemy troops were shifted from the bailey to strengthen the
enemy's hold on the gates to the motte, and the Outlands changed tactics and
assaulted hard. After a few minutes of pitched battle, they had entered the
bailey and were fighting their way to the gate to the motte.
Hard pressed, with their numbers diminishing, the enemy desperately tried to
hold their ground. Now we too changed our tactics and fought for a foothold
in the motte where we could eliminate the killing pocket and fight more evenly.
Spear duels, pulse charges, and hard polearm work, drove the foe before us
towards the Outlanders attacking the lower gate, and the Artemisians on the
far side. With perhaps 15 minutes left in the battle the last Atenveldt
defender was driven over the dirt walls of the castle and slain. Victory
was ours! We had proven that the castle could be taken fairly easily,
even though we were badly outnumbered. In fact, once we had taken the
bailey, all we would have had to do was hold it and bottle up the enemy
for a sure victory.
And while this is the tale of a fine battle, it pales in comparison to that
which came the next day.
The Story.... The Legend....
Saturday we fought three battles in the open and several battles for control
of the battle pit, but those are tales for another time. After the first of
the battles in the battle pit, I asked the army to use "Phaedra" as our battle
cry as we fought that day for Her Majesty. From that inspiration comes the
following battle.
The final battle that day was over the castle once more - but this time we would
be the defenders. We had already proven that a much smaller force could take
the castle given the unlimited resurrections - and worse, we had showed the
foe how to do it. Outnumbered three to two, with limited resurrections we knew
we had no chance for victory. But we would take the field and deny the castle
to the enemy for as long as a Falcon tabard remained on the field.
Calontir was given the honor, and the difficult task of denying the largest
entrance to the enemy - Mathghamhain's Gate. I promised Sir Sean, the battle
commander, that we would hold it as long as we could. We would try our best
to keep the enemy out for the hour. A delaying battle was our only hope.
Killing the enemy meant nothing to us, but every Calontir loss would hurt us sore.
The Falcon host was arrayed behind the gate. Eight feet inside the gate we
built a short line of five scutums. Then anchored to the corner posts of the
gate we placed two more scutums on each side. Between these sets of scutums
and the main line we left a five-foot gap. A place where we could invite the
enemy to charge and die. A few feet inside of each of these gaps was another
scutum and a skilled secondary or two waited to stop the charging foe where
our poles could crush them. With our artillery heavily weighted towards long
poles and greatswords we waited and we sang. As the lay on came we saw a large
force of the enemy coming towards us. (We later learned that we received the
honor of facing the bulk of the Atenveldt army.) From the back of our lines,
I could see the setting of shoulders and the settling of weapons as our forces
waited for the Aten army to reach us. Just outside the gate they paused, and
the weight of their numbers appeared unstoppable. Several of our spearmen went
through the gaps to poke at the enemy - to stall for time by keeping the main
unit from attacking. For a few moments it worked, then with a terrible roar
the foe charged. In the lead were House Staghold, and a unit of mercenary
troops dressed in maroon and black whose name I know not though we faced them
many times that day.
Forward into the pocket they charged. The crash as they slammed into our
scutums was deafening. From where I stood it was a terrible sight. Every one
of our scutums in the front line seemed buried beneath the charging foe, and
for a moment I thought all was lost. But our valiant shieldmen were not slain,
only pushed over backward into narrow wedges protected by scutum above and earth
below. After that first frightening moment the storm of rattan intensified and
polearms and greatswords began to rain death upon the hapless Aten warriors.
Pinned by scutums in front and pushing friends in back they could scarcely move
and they died like wheat beneath the scythe. Soon every enemy within range of a
polearm was dead and our spears began to reap their own grim harvest.
I had rarely before seen such a charge, and none like it in recent years.
But, it was only the first of many that day. The foe were stacked like dominoes,
each lying the same direction - facing down across the backs of their friends
before them. Bodies were soon piled four deep and a hold was called to clear
them, and the way was clear for more foes to reach us.
I was later told by a marshal who was watching from the side, that in that first
charge the enemy lost approximately 40 men, and then 30 more moments later in the
second, while Calontir lost perhaps three men between the two. 23 1/3 to 1.
Of such stuff legends are made, but there was still 55 minutes to go in the
battle - we had scarcely begun. As the battle wore on Calontir stood - but not
alone. Friends from the Outlands, Sir Jax, Sir Rorik, Sir James and more,
fought with us - not as another army, but behind our shields and in our ranks.
His Majesty Finn of the Middle, Duke Kane of Meridies, and Viscount Dafydd of
Northshield each served within our lines. If they were needed on a spear or
pole, behind a scutum, or as a secondary in the front ranks they were there.
Our friends honored us greatly that day.
Time after time the foe charged. Thirty or forty times they came. Each charge
designed to break us once and for all. Each charge planned to take that gate for
the forces of Atenveldt. And each time Calontir stood firm and killed and killed.
Like butchers at a bloody work, our weapons fell upon charge after charge. And
each time hold was called to allow the hordes of Atenveldt dead to leave, we would
catch our breath, shrug our shoulders, and return to our grim duty.
After their early charges I gave perhaps the strangest orders I will ever give
in combat - to slow the killing down. Once we had a carpet of dead before us,
the enemy could not reasonably advance. This was protection for our castle.
If we killed too many, they would call a hold and clear the bodies allowing yet
another charge. We needed to kill the first wave quickly then slow down to
stave off the holds for as long as possible. And while this worked to some
extent, the desperation of the enemy to take our gate would not be held back,
and they climbed over the dead to reach us, forcing us back to our grim duty
and holds to be called.
As charge after charge was driven home they did have one effect upon our line -
they slowly drove us back a few inches at a time. After 30 minutes we had been
pushed back 6 or more feet, opening larger gaps to the side that the enemy tried
to push through - but each time they were refused, and the enemy corpses piled
against the castle wall. Finally at a slight lull we advanced the scutums back
forward and closed the largest gap. But we purposely left one on the left side
of our line long enough for the enemy to see it and try to push through. Before
they did I shifted extra secondaries and artillery to that side, out of sight of
the gate where they would not be seen until the enemy had turned the corner.
The next charge was clearly informed of the gap by the dead and sure enough
they entered and charged that side - only to die horribly in our new secondary
pocket, which we closed after the next hold.
At the thirty minute point we were getting somewhat tired. The scutums had been
fighting hard, and most of them replaced by this time, but it was still crushing
work. The polearms and spears had been swinging as often as men felling trees
and arms were tired. Then we got the word that we had used only 60
resurrections thus far. My grin almost split my face when I heard this, and I
could see the word spread as soldiers laughed and returned to work with a new
determination. By God, we could hold this castle!
At the resurrection point, the army commanders were given orders to ration the
resurrections carefully. Only Knights, or other upper level (GOA) fighters, or
those with a particularly needed weapon would resurrect. But this was waived
for Calontir. A Falcon tabard was all that was needed to clear the res. point
and return to our lines. Such was the job we were asked to do, and such was
the respect they gave us.
As the battle wore on the Aten forces, though clearly tired, grew even more
determined. One charge with perhaps 10 minutes left had a unit trying to jump
over the scutums, or knocking them down and attempting to fight from atop them.
But even this did the enemy little good. They just had farther to fall when
they were cut down.
I was privileged to see many deeds of courage and resolve: Albrech staying
behind a scutum for the entire battle; Spearmen dropping their weapons to take
up scutums; Rorik with a secondary in the front rank for charge; Hufta stopping
a charging column cold; Arial and Cora behind scutums on the left; Dongal
stopping two chargers with a spear held sideways till greatswords could remove
the threat; and so many more. Just the deeds I witnessed would take pages to
tell and only serve to hide others, which I did not see personally.
I will however tell in brief one tale - that of Sir Rolf's stand. Fighting with
a centergrip scutum he had been the plug behind one of the gaps, when in the midst
of a charge, his shield was ripped from his grasp. A lesser man, perhaps a
saner man, would have stepped back - perhaps to return with another shield or
weapon, but Rolf instead pressed forward, armed only with his gladius. Prying
open an enemy shield he quickly killed its owner, and as he fell, the man beyond
him as well. Though I almost lost sight of him at that point, I believe he
killed one more before he bent to retrieve his shield and retake his place in
the line. Why do I tell this particular tale? Because for this, and his actions
in the Duke's Gate one day earlier, he was awarded a Sword of Calontir.
Though standing firm before each crushing charge was surely enough labor for any
of us that day, there were countless more examples of determination and bravery.
We have often said "No heroes here!", but this day proved the lie to that phrase.
There was not a man or woman within that line who was less than a hero that day!
After one final charge the end of the battle was sounded and Calontir still held
the gate! They said we could not hold the castle. We said we could not hold the
castle. But we did! As Calontir had done at Mathghamhain's Gate, the Outlands
had done at the Duke's Gate and the breachable wall, and the rest of the allies
had done at the Sally Port and the East Gate. And we still had 20 resurrections
left! Where we had killed a thousand the day before they had killed less than
300.
What's more we discovered a few minutes later that in the final minutes of the
battles at the Sally Port or the East gate, where the enemy forces had been
much weaker, a lone Trimaran had managed to get out past the enemy. Somehow he
was forgotten about, and made his way behind the enemy lines to a redoubt which
was very lightly guarded (No one? One man? Two? Stories differ.) Killing
the guard (or just moving in) he took the redoubt and sat down to await the end
of the battle. Thanks to his ploy, we did not only tie the battle, we won!
This battle is the stuff songs and legends are made of. In days of old, at
Pennsic's past, the shield wall had withstood charges like this. But never had
a foe continued to throw charge after charge at us like this. Even the Tuchux
learned better over time.
So great was our defense, that Their Majesties Atenveldt, and Duke Mathghamhain
himself agreed to allow us to rename Mathghamhain's Gate. A plaque shall be
carved and placed there next year, and from this day forth the front gate of this
castle shall be known as Phaedra's Gate, in memory of our inspiration that day.
To Their Majesties Joe Angus and Phaedra who granted me the honor of commanding
Their army, I owe a debt I can never repay. I have received wonderful awards
from Crowns of Calontir, but never one with memories like this attached.
The view of the Calontir Army as it came over the rim down into the pit behind us.
The respect given Calontir's forces by His Majesty Martino of the Outlands.
The smiles at the end of our victories and the rueful grins of our opponents.
The words of my fellow soldiers.
And so many more.
To my unit commanders: Marcus, Nazir, and Dietrich and their subcommanders; to
the men and women of the Falcon Host who followed us on the field to defeat or
to victory; to Kirk, Rolf, Ariel, and Dongal who acted as advisors; to all those
who ensured the army was well fed and well watered; and to each and every one of
you who made the trip to enrich our presence at this war, I also owe a great debt.
Calontir, I salute you!
Sir Fernando Rodriguez de Falcon General of the Falcon host by the Grace of
Their Majesties Joe Angus and Phaedra
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Saint Barbatus' day. . They just kept coming.... Wave after wave of soldier that
could not be killed; was. Each was sure that they would break the wall that sealed
Phaedra's gate; they were wrong. So great was their zeal that they thronged to
enter the gate, we never saw the sky behind them and we often lost track of the
sky above them as the bodies piled higher and higher. The dead could often not
be told from the living, as sometimes the dead kept moving and the living were
simply buried underneath the piles of the dead. So great was their urgency that
they denied themselves the room to attack, we had the space we needed. Happy they
were to die on the altar of Calontir's war cathedral, and great was the mass. They
screamed and charged, we held the line and sang Non Nobis. They charged until they
died, we killed until we could kill no more, and then we sang. They could not
lose, they did. We could not win, we did. If we had used steel, their blood would
have watered the desert soil so, that Phaedra could walk amongst a beautiful
garden next year, and should would gently explain to the children that it had
once been castle there.
Duncan Faramach MacLeod Survivor of the Phaedra's Gate Massacre
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Friends,
The following is a response to a message Jenna sent me by private e-mail.
I hope she will forgive me for posting it publicly, but I think the point
should be made for others as well.
In her message Re: Phaedra's Gate! - Long dated 2/22/2000, JennaSW writes:
> Sir Fernando,
>
> I thank you for your report. I thank you also for your thanks, to the
> support crew. I am near tears, that I was not at the Battle of Phaedra's
> Gate. There are times when not being a fighter, means not being shit. In
> Calontir, these are rare, but this is plainly one of those times. *sniff*
No! You were there. Perhaps not physically, but you and each of the soup kitchen
folks and waterbearers were with us nonetheless. Every one of us who continued
fighting because we did not dehydrate, or fought the next day because we got
food in us in time to not be wiped out completely the day before were there
in part because of you.
Pavel also felt bad to have missed this tremendous battle, but he too was there.
Tactics he developed were what we used that day. Without him what chance would we
have had? He trained several generations of fighters like me in the tactics we
used, and many of us who today are in command positions. Without his training
what mistakes would we have made?
Jenna, don't ever think you have to be a fighter on the field with us to be part
of the Falcon Host. They say it takes a village to raise a child, but it takes a
kingdom to raise an army. You each may not have been there to swing a stick, but
you are definitely all part of our army. This was a victory for that army.
Again my Thanks!
Fernando
*******************************************************************
Baron Fernando's accounting is an incredible retelling of the actions at
Phaedra's gate. We cannot hope to duplicate his fine ability, only hope to
enhance it.
At the lay on I was in the very back of the formation. I roamed around the outside
jumping in different places when it was needed. Everyone in the wall was doing an
excellent job. The allied troops stepped in and followed orders, kudos to the
Outlands, Artemesia and Drachenwald for supporting us. I played on the right hand
side for a while with HRH's squire, Karl. We killed a few spearmen trying to get
to the corner scutum from the window.
all this time, charge after charge occurred. It looked gruesome, but after each
hold, 30 or 40 enemy would go back to res., but only 1 or 2 of Calontir and
allies. It was amazing. Some old time scutum fighters were there, like Drx,
Ellie, and Ariel, but the majority of the scutums were fairly new, people like
Cora, Aidon, Wilhelm. (I apologize if I leave people out, the list is too huge
to finish.) Albrecht of Trier stayed under a scutum for the entire battle. It is
great to see the new generation of scutum fighters get a battle like this under
their belts. The wall meshed together well and the results were legendary.
about 20 minutes in I grabbed a pole and bellied up behind Sheridon and Drx. I
had Sir Jaxx with a secondary to my right and HRM Finn with a pole to my left.
From here my awareness of the battle focuses on the 9' x 9' patch of earth around
me. With the firepower near me, that part of the wall was never in real danger.
We repulsed attack after attack, swapping out fresh scutum fighters when relief
was needed, singing when we could. At about this time I heard Ferd yell about
having 100+ res. left. It was at this moment that the army appeared to fight
with a renewed vigor. People realized that we were going to make it to the time
limit. It was no longer, "When are they going to breakthrough", it was "They are
NOT going to breakthrough." The longer we fought the more energized we became.
The faces of grim determination were supplanted by smiles of hope.
With about 3 minutes left I was killed by an Aten spear, my first death in the
battle. I walked up to the res. point and, from a hilltop, I watched the Calontir
threshing machine deal out horrendous damage in the last minute of the battle.
The cheer from the army was deafening. The impossible had been accomplished
and a cry of "Phaedra" rang in the bailey. A very emotional scene. I will
never forget it.
On the way back to camp, the army was still charged with excitement. The songs
were loud and cheerful, the tales around the purple pavilion were full of laughs
and merriment, the soup seemed especially good. His Majesty Aaron of Atenveldt
came by and after some consultation with Duke Mathghamhain agreed to allow the
gate to be renamed Phaedra's gate, in honor of the Queen we fought for that day
and as a time stamp of the year Calontir held against incredible odds.
Thank you Calontir for a very special war and many special memories.
JoeAngus King of Calontir "The Greatest Kingdom in the Known World."
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