Hadrian's Wall and the Hunt for Glory

HADRIAN’S WALL AND THE HUNT FOR GLORY By Fernando Rodriguez de Falcon

Many centuries ago, Hadrian’s Wall was built across the width of England by the Romans to stop the Pictish tribes from raiding. It was the most heavily defended borders in the empire, and countless men fought and died along its 75 mile length in countless quests for glory.

At Estrella 23, in honor of that great fortification, there was a wall stretched across the battlefield - and though it was made of hay-bales, not stone, and though men fought with weapons of rattan, not steel, the ancient hunt for glory continued as Aten warriors strove to smash through Calontir.

The Falcon Host, and our West Kingdom allies had been tasked to hold the northernmost gate in the great wall. With the men of the West holding the left hand third of the gate, Calontir scutums would form the bricks to make our portion of the line as impenetrable as Hadrian’s ancient wall. The plan was to form a killing pocket, with the right-most pair of scutums perpendicular to the gate, and another five closing the wall some five feet in from the gate itself.

The war horns sounded and our lines raced for the gate. But like the Picts before them, the Atenveldt hordes were hungry, and their wide column charge raced at us at a frightening pace. Even as our scutums reached their planned line, and long before we could close their ranks, take their place, and brace for impact, the Aten charge slammed into them with a terrible roar! Men were knocked backwards and others were driven to the ground.

Most shield walls, caught in this sort of disarray, would have found their plans in shambles. Perhaps with luck a few shields would survive long enough to buy time for their comrades to do something.

But this was not the average shield wall. With folks like Sir Marcus, Master Andrixos, Sir Andrew, Mistress Rhianwen, and Master Kirk in the line, this was no line of raw recruits.

The average experience of the eight starting scutum fighters was sixteen years on the field. Of course this average was brought down a bit by Mistress Bess and Lord Daniel, neither of whom had been fighting even 5 years at the time – but the way they fought that day I doubt our foes could tell the difference between them and our most grizzled veterans! Somehow the fierce line held. Sir Andrew and Daniel were not about to be pushed backwards by “just a little army” and they counter charged just before the lines hit slowing a bit of the enemy line. Marcus went low, then straightened his knees, lifting the man that charged him into the air for a moment just as he hit. Rhianwen grounded her scutum just as the foe reached her – and though pushed over and pinned for a moment – she too managed to survive the charge.

As the initial impact wound down, our polearms and spears were extracting their deadly toll from an enemy trapped between our scutums or between our partial line, and the men behind them who were still pushing. And as we slew we created small gaps where our other scutums, pushed back or pushed down could weasel their way forward to join with their comrades on the front line.

Within a few minutes, which felt like an hour in the line, our shieldmen had closed ranks once more. Only one scutum fell, but Master Kirk, in reserve with his scutum ready, leapt into place and plugged the gap closing the line and helping to drive the foe back.

The wall had held and had time to settle in, and an unidentified Calontir voice said, “Good Ol’ Rock!” For the next 45 minutes, the fighting in that gate covered the entire spectrum – it cycled through from spear dueling, to pulse charging, and just holding against multiple hard charges straight at our line as the battle continued. One thing still puzzles me about this battle - I have yet to figure out why Atenveldt continued to charge into our grounded scutum line on the right side of the line, when the left third of the gate was covered by a less cohesive line of Western troops. A standing line of smaller shields should have been the juicer target, but perhaps they felt there was more glory in breaking through Calontir’s wall. This may be true – but none of those men found out in that battle! Despite these charges, our stalwart shields line held, and held, and held. The spears and poles did awesome duty, and though occasionally driven off the shields by the fury of the foe, I saw more than one man brave three or four enemy spears to leap back to the line, planting himself in the pocket of a shieldmen. And I saw them chop down brave but foolish foes when they dared to shove too hard on our comrades

Every fighter did the army proud. This was old school Calontir shield wall work. Pavel would have been proud. Of course these attacks did do us damage, killing a few men here and there. But the most noticeable loss was the spear attrition. While we still had five or six of our scutums left, and solid company of polearms and greatswords, we were all but out of spears – and that spells trouble.

Or more correctly I suppose I should say that this could have spelled trouble. But TRMs General, Sir Clef, noted that the enemy line in front of us had lost quite a few men in their doomed charges. Their line had thinned and Clef knew—it was time!

Swiftly he crawled beneath the polearm and spear fighters, making sure every scutum fighter would actually be able to stand when he gave the command to rise – a wise thing when you are talking about guys folded under a shield for an hour. Fortunately adrenalin does wonders, and a moment later when his cry rang out “Calontir! Scutums Rise!” they were able to heed his command and the line rose as one.

Next he called out loudly “Calontir! Close in behind the Scutums!” and the army closed ranks as he gave the scutums time to recover the feeling in their legs. As we prepared, our allies stepped up on the left side of our line, and another unit closed in behind us. It was time!

Then from the other side of the wall, I heard perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard from one of our foes: “I think they are going to charge!”

Not, “They are going to charge.” Not “Prepare for a charge. But “I think they are going to charge”? This was not a fast maneuver. It was clear and deliberate. I can’t imagine any possible other reason why someone might think we would stand and pack in besides preparing to charge.

Perhaps they thought it was a group hug?

But in any case, a moment later Clef removed all doubt. “Calontir! Prepare to Charge… Charge!”

On the left side of the gate our allies charged. On the right and center we charged and together we cut through their lines like the “well whetted knife” made famous in song. With little appreciable effort, we broke through the gate, destroying the last of the foe before us and turned down the great wall towards the back of the enemy troops at the next gate. As our allies in that gate saw our breakthrough they redoubled their effort, and in a matter of minutes our side proved victorious

Viva El Clefe!

With the battle over we reformed in our gate once more for the next battle, when Duke Arthur of Atenveldt came by and expressed his admiration for our strong defense. I said something about the strength of our combined arms tactics, but he interrupted me and said, “That’s not why you are so effective,”

Pointing to Sir Marcus’ white belt where he stood leaning on his scutum, he said, “That is.” “Your serious fighters are not afraid to step up into the line supporting the army instead of hunting glory.”

But I think he’s wrong. While our fighters are certainly willing to step into the line, they DO hunt for glory. BUT it’s not glory for one man – it’s a hunt for glory for the Falcon Host, glory for Crown, and glory for the Kingdom.

I think it is fair to say, that in this battle, our hunt for glory was quite successful.