Chapter 30

North Bank of the Thames Estuary, Essex. May 1069

French General Estienne Du Bellay stood on the shore and watched as the French fleet was sent to the bottom. Along with the fleet was the rest of his supplies. His troops had been landed already, along with their extra arms and most of the horses; the Bretons had all their gunpowder ashore as well. Most of the French medical supplies, plus Du Bellay’s personal goods, sank. Worse was they had no way to get back to France. With their way back to France gone, Du Bellay knew they would need a new battle plan. The original had called for them to capture London and cut the supply lines to Portsmouth before swinging north and heading to York to end Marion’s rule permanently. Now they didn’t have the supplies to fight a drawn-out battle.

Shaking his head, General Du Bellay walked back to his headquarters located in a small shack. One thing he had to admit the British did well was make good maps; French spies had stolen several maps of Britain. Now it was time to make new plans. Standing around the table were the rest of his commanders, all wearing looks of disgust. King Guiscard had been warned about the British Navy but had disregarded all the warnings. The entire fleet was sunk while only sinking one British ship and running one aground.

Looking at his commanders, he had an eccentric mix. Several were Scots or Welsh nobles who Marion had pushed out of Great Britain. A few more were Bretons, with one being Charles of Domnonée, who was out for revenge for having to do manual labor while he was a prisoner.

“Does anyone have any ideas about where to head now?” Du Bellay asked the room.

“I think we should head toward York. The closer we get to York, the better foraging we will have. I was there a few years ago, and the area is rich,” said Charles of Domnonée.

“What about the British Army? It’s not like they’ll just stand to the side and let us march into York. I’ve tangled with them several times, and my husband is still a captive in one of Marion’s work camps.” Haer Ferch Gillyn said with a cautionary tone.

“Do you really think the British Army will cause us problems? We have thirty-two thousand men in this army,” asked Du Bellay

“Yes. In Wales, we started with twenty-two thousand troops and ended with only six thousand. When we attacked one of their forts, we lost 2,500 killed and a further 4,000 wounded, while the British lost 85 dead and six wounded. After the battle, we were constantly harassed by British cavalry, and it was worst at night. Many nights, we didn’t sleep because of the constant raids. We were finally defeated by an attack from their elite troops, the Grenadiers.”

“Grenadiers?” asked Du Bellay.

Yes. They are the elite troops of the British Army and are rumored to be led by the same woman who broke the Scottish clan attack. Her troops crossed a raging river to attack us and defeated us within minutes. Those troops carry repeating rifles and pump-action shotguns, making them the deadliest troops in the world. They get their name from the grenades they carry into combat, and you don’t want to be nearby when a grenade goes off.”

Du Bellay pulled himself upright and stretched. Leaning over the table had put a knot in his back. When he looked, everyone at the table was looking to him for guidance.

“I think Charles of Domnonée is right. We have to head north to capture York. If we don’t win, we won’t be able to return to France.”

Du Bellay looked at all his commanders, and everyone nodded in their agreement. It was settled; the French Army would head north to capture York. Before they could leave the shack, they heard gunfire. Rushing out, they saw British cavalry riding out with a number of spare horses. When Du Bellay turned around, he saw Haer Ferch Gillyn looking at him with a smirk as if to say, “I told you so.”

All the commanders ran to their units and began to prepare for departure. In the distance, everyone could see the British cavalry lurking. When Du Bellay sent his cavalry out to try and disperse the British, they didn’t get 200 meters before gunfire erupted from the British, and French cavalry started falling. Once the French got within 100 meters of the British, they took off, and most of the French followed. Hidden British troops cut down the ones who followed.

The French commanders watched in horror as their cavalry was cut down without accomplishing anything. It was worse when they watched the British go through the French dead, looking for anything valuable. When they tried to send infantry out, they were met with the same greeting. After trying three times without success, Du Bellay had to think of something else. What he came up with was to use hunters to mark a trail during the day so the army could move at night.

He put his new plan into effect immediately. He drafted a small group of Breton musketeers to escort the hunters and keep the British away. It didn’t take long to figure out the plan was working. The musketeers ambushed a small group of British cavalry and wiped them out. Like the British did with the French cavalry, the Bretons checked over the dead Brits and recovered the British firearms. The Bretons quickly figured out how to use the British guns and fell in love with them. They might not have been the repeating rifles of the grenadiers, but they were much better than the muzzleloaders the Bretons were armed with.

That night, the French Army moved 20 kilometers north and stopped in a dense forest for the day. The forest would protect the army against artillery, and the dense canopy would hide the smoke from their campfires. It didn’t take long for the British to find the army, though, and Du Bellay learned the cover of the forest worked in both directions.

British sharpshooters slipped through the forest and shot at anything that moved in the French camp. All day, the British sharpshooters and Breton musketeers played a very deadly game of cat and mouse, with both sides taking losses. The shooting kept the French soldiers up all day, but that night, they resumed their march. The French were nervous because a full moon made them easier to spot. This time, they only went four kilometers before they ran into the British lines.

It might have been the middle of the night, but the battle that broke out was just as bloody as it would have been during the day. Luke had let the French walk into a trap. The first clue they were in trouble was when scouts started finding landmines the hard way. Still, Du Bellay pushed on, determined to reach his target, the town of Maldon, before daybreak. His dream of a secure sleeping pallet disappeared with the appearance of flares overhead. Then all hell broke loose.

There were a large number of explosions along the column as claymore mines were set off. The British soldiers setting those mines off were hidden in the trees, and once they had set the mines off, their orders were to get out as fast as possible because a steel rain was on the way.

All along the column, Du Bellay could hear men moaning and crying after the shrapnel from the mines ripped them open. Then in the distance, he heard something that sounded like thunder; he even saw the sky light up. But it wasn’t thunder; it was the British artillery giving the French lessons in the mathematics of death. There was a reason in Luke’s old universe that artillery was referred to as the God of War, and Luke showed the French in his new universe why.

As the shells started landing all around, Du Bellay was given a concussion by a round landing nearby. All he could do was watch as some of his men were vaporized when a round landed on them, while others had limbs or heads ripped off by shrapnel. Haer Ferch Gillyn came up to him and started screaming at him, but nothing registered in his mind until she slapped him.

“WE HAVE TO GET THE TROOPS OFF THE ROAD AND INTO THE WOODS! THEY’RE BEING MURDERED OUT HERE!” Haer Ferch Gillyn screamed over the noise.

Du Bellay couldn’t agree more and started shouting directions, trying to get the men into the forest where the trees would protect them. It took almost five minutes, but the remaining French troops found their way into shelter. The few surviving French surgeons worked furiously to save as many men as possible while the priests were busy giving last rites to the dead. In the rear of the column, the Breton troops had escaped most of the carnage. Even if they hadn’t been in the rear, they were much quicker in getting off the road.

With daybreak, Du Bellay could look at the results of an industrial war, leaving him bent over, vomiting everything in his stomach. To his surprise, Haer Ferch Gillyn was walking among the scared troops, offering words of encouragement. Even Du Bellay felt better watching Haer do her rounds. Looking around, he could see the spirits rise in all the men who saw the Welsh queen.

It took the French sergeants a few hours, but they finally were able to determine the butcher’s bill from the night before. There were 4,000 French dead and 5,210 wounded, while only 50 Bretons were wounded and five killed. Looking at the damage to the trees, it was astonishing the causality figure wasn’t higher. To determine what he was facing, Du Bellay sent Breton scouts forward.

Within an hour, the scouts had returned, and what they had to report was disheartening. The British troops were behind field fortifications located on the far side of a meadow with a stream running through it. When the Breton scouts tried to get a closer look, they were met with a hail of gunfire that drove them back. Du Bellay rode forward to take a look for himself, and he had to admit the British positions would be next to impossible to capture without artillery of his own.

When he returned to camp, he requested Haer meet him as soon as was convenient. It had finally dawned on him that he was over his head, and it was time to put someone in command who might be able to get the French Army out of the mess it found itself in. Haer walked into Du Bellay’s tent fifteen minutes later; she had been with the wounded.

“Thank you for coming, Haer. I have a job for you.”

“And what job would that be?” She was thinking a camp entertainer or heading the laundry or running the kitchen.

“Officially, I want you to be my second-in-command. Haer, I will be brutally honest with you; this new style of warfare is so foreign to me that I can’t grasp it. You, on the other hand, understand far better than I ever will. In reality, it will be you who commands the army, and all you will have to do is tell me what to do.”

Haer’s eyes were wide open. If she had a million guesses, she would have never guessed that she would be promoted to the army commander. Du Bellay had always seemed too cocky to listen to anyone, least of all a Welsh woman like herself. In the back of her mind, she wondered if he would listen to her when they had their backs against the wall. What she did know was the current way of fighting couldn’t continue, or the French Army would be killed piecemeal.

“I accept your proposal, but I have one question for you. Will you listen to me when the army has its back to the wall?”

“Haer, I don’t have a choice. Most of the other experienced commanders are dead. That artillery barrage killed all the Scots, and Charles of Domnonée disappeared. I think he was too close to one of those blasts before the artillery, and all we might find of him is bits and pieces.”

“So, you are telling me I am the new commander.”

Du Bellay sighed, “Unofficially, yes. Come on, Haer Ferch Gillyn, let’s make your promotion official.”

General Estienne Du Bellay and Haer Ferch Gillyn walked out of his tent and ordered all the men to assemble immediately. It took them almost half an hour to gather, and the look on their faces told Du Bellay he was making the right move. Many of the men had a haunting thousand-meter stare. The one that almost broke Du Bellay and the one he was sure would haunt his dreams was the look of one of the young drummer boys. The boy was broken; there was no life left in his eyes.

“MEN, I CALLED YOU TOGETHER TO GIVE YOU IMPORTANT NEWS. DUE TO MY ARROGANCE, I DID NOT PREPARE AS WELL AS I SHOULD HAVE, AND NOW I HAVE PUT US IN A VERY DIFFICULT POSITION. I WILL BE THE FIRST TO ADMIT I DO NOT HAVE THE SKILLS TO GET US OUT, BUT I HAVE FOUND SOMEONE WHO DOES. MEN, I AM PROMOTING HAER FERCH GILLYN TO COMMANDER OF THE COMBINED ARMY.”

Haer Ferch Gillyn was shocked; this wasn’t what they had discussed. But it was too late to do anything about it. All she could do was do the best she could to get the army out of the mess it was in. Haer wasn’t sure how to do that yet, but she was smart enough to figure something out. The first thing she had to do was calm the men down and cement her place as commander. It was time for a short speech, so she climbed on a tall stump.

“MEN! MEN!” It took a minute for them to quiet down so she could speak to them. “I KNOW WE ARE IN A BAD SPOT, AND MANY OF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO BE HERE. LET ME TELL YOU WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU IF YOU ARE CAPTURED. YOU WILL BE WORKED TO DEATH IN THE BRITISH MINES AFTER BEING MADE INTO EUNACES. WHEN MY HUSBAND WAS CAPTURED, THE BLOODY QUEEN OF ENGLAND CUT OFF HIS TESTICLES IN FRONT OF ME AND FORCED EACH OF US TO EAT ONE RAW.

I PROMISE YOU THIS: I WILL LEAD YOU TO VICTORY, OR I WILL DIE BY YOUR SIDE!”

The cheer from the men was louder than the battle before. They had someone to believe in again; the trick would be to keep that belief alive. Haer knew everything she said was a complete lie. Queen Marion had been nothing but gracious toward her. Her husband was being punished for refusing to leave and ordering the queen’s attempted assassination. The army didn’t need to know those facts; she needed to motivate them because the road ahead promised to be almost impassable.

It was time to send scouts to figure out the British lines’ layout. Haer had to find a way out of the trap she was in, and no direction was off the table. It took several hours before the scouts returned, and the news they had caused Hael’s blood to run cold. The British were on three sides, rapidly closing the noose around the French. It would only be a day before they were surrounded.

Hael only had one chance to get out; she would have to leave the seriously wounded behind and move her army south as fast as possible. In addition, all supplies that the troops or horses couldn’t carry were to be piled up and burned. To aid in the escape, Hael would burn the supplies at night to give the illusion of burning campfires, and she could even use some seriously wounded soldiers to help keep the fires burning through the night. They might be unable to fight, but they could sit and throw supplies into the fire.

That evening, everyone who was leaving picked up their overloaded satchels and arms before starting their march. Even Hael was carrying a satchel too heavy for her. All the wagons had been broken up and distributed to the men staying behind. They understood why they were being left behind, and those honest ones admitted Hael made the only decision that made any sense.

The army rushed south, trying to get out of the trap they were in. Hael planned to get south of the encirclement before heading toward London. From there, they would march to Kent to be closer to France. From Kent, Hael hoped to find enough boats to slip across the channel safely. One thing she didn’t do was inform any of the men of her plans. If the British learned what she was planning, they could block her. What Hael didn’t want to do was try to capture Portsmouth because if there were still British troops there, they could catch her between them.

Through the night, Hael encouraged her men to keep moving. Many were exhausted from being awake for 36+ hours, but they kept moving. After all, Hael was just as tired, and if a woman could make the march, the men could too. They marched south as fast as they could until they reached the road that would take them to London. So far, it looked like they had escaped the British, but none of them were fooled. Once the British discovered the French had slipped the noose, they would find them. The question was how long would it take.

As day broke, it was plain Hael’s plan had worked. They had already passed several old British roadblocks that were unmanned. Instead of stopping during the day, Hael drove her troops onward. They had to reach London before the British forces; otherwise, everything would be for naught.

Around midday, the French Army came upon a rail line. Many soldiers took a particular interest in this British invention, and the soldiers with metalworking backgrounds studied the rails carefully. Hael studied the rails for a different reason; she wanted to destroy them. Without the railroad, the British would have to resupply the old-fashioned way, slowing them down. A young man saw her inspecting the rails and asked what she was looking for.

“I want to destroy the rails. Without the rails, the British will be forced to slow down, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“I may be able to help. My father is a blacksmith, so I know how to work iron.” Hael signaled for him to continue. “If we heat the middle of the rail, we can either throw the hot rail into some water, which will curl the rail, or wrap the rail around a tree.”

“How do we build a hot enough fire to do that?” The young man looked around and thought.

“We can use the timber under the rails to fuel the fires. Then the damn British will have to replace the rails and timber to use this rail line again.”

Hael thought for a second before giving the relevant orders. Using picks, the French troops quickly ripped the rails up before carefully piling the rail ties and lighting them on fire. After an hour, the fire was hot enough to work with as the young man gave the troops directions. Since they didn’t have any water nearby, they wrapped the rails around the telegraph poles that ran parallel to the rail line. In essence, the French had recreated Sherman’s neckties made famous by Union general William T. Sherman during the American Civil War.