1444, Byzantium Resurrects

Chapter 364: Crossing the River in Brocade Clothes
On the north bank of the Tagus River, west of Toledo, at the Talavera ferry.

Talavera is one of the three ferry ports near Toledo. It is very prosperous with constant business and travel.

Although there is no heavy rainfall in the Meseta Plateau in winter, the water level of the Tagus River will still rise and the flow rate of the Tagus River will still increase.

At times like this, a ferry crossing with slow-flowing water becomes extremely precious.

On the north bank of the ferry, in a military camp behind a hill, Fernando stared at the dark sky with a furrowed brow and clenched fists.

"Still can't make up your mind, my king?"

Bethanis came over and stood next to Fernando.

"My Lords asked me to inform you that we are ready to go in accordance with your orders."

Fernando remained silent, his lips tightly pursed.

"Wait a minute."

Bethness nodded indifferently and lit a cigarette for herself.

There was a loud sound of horse hooves, and a messenger came galloping over at high speed, jumped off his horse, knelt on one knee, and presented a scroll of letters with both hands.

"Your Majesty, there's a message from a carrier pigeon!"

Fernando took the letter gently, his hands trembling slightly.

Fernando opened the letter and read it quickly with a complicated expression, as if he felt regretful and relieved.

"What happened?"

Bethness asked.

Fernando said nothing and handed the letter to Bethness.

Bethness read it hastily and was a little confused.

“Mendoza seems to be contradicting himself.”

"There is no contradiction. This is the most authentic Greek military camp."

Fernando said calmly.

"This letter is very important and sends us two messages."

"First, the core combat effectiveness of the Greek army has declined, but they are still not bandits. Justinian successfully stabilized the morale of the army by relying on high supplies, even though they have been fighting for several years."

"Second, our early raids were useful after all. The Greeks' supply lines were forced to be very long, and they did not build many ships."

Fernando turned his head with a smile and looked at Bethanis.

"Mendoza should have arrived at the Mora camp four days ago. Think about it, four days ago, a lot of people suggested that I target the Greek main force directly."

"If we did that, we would probably be defeated by the Greeks."

"Besides, since they have few ships and few guns, they can't attack Toledo while we're at it, or cross the river north and take Madrid."

"But Father Mendoza said that the main force of the Greeks is still there and suggested that you negotiate?"

Bethnis was a little confused.

"It's just a small trick. How could I negotiate with a traitor?"

Fernando waved his hand.

"Mendoza was not aware of our real plan, and he was right to suggest peace talks."

"So... you've finally made up your mind?"

Bethnis was a little excited.

"In my opinion, the noble private army guarding Talavera has very poor combat effectiveness. We can just attack them directly without wasting any effort."

"No, Talavera has a castle, and a rash attack is absolutely not feasible."

Fernando shook his head firmly.

"Talavera and Mora are not too far away. Not only do we have to completely capture this ferry before the main Greek force arrives to rescue us, we also have to transport all the troops across the river."

"Believe me, as long as we carry out my plan, the Greeks will not be able to catch up, but will be ambushed by us."

"Have you ever thought about surrendering?"

Bethness put out her cigarette.

"They've gotten so messed up."

"How can I persuade them to surrender? I have given all their lands to my supporters, including you French people."

Fernando stared at Betnis with a hint of resentment in his eyes.

"Forget it. This is a life-and-death struggle, a major reshuffle of Iberian forces, and it should be this way."

Fernando looked at the other side and finally made up his mind.

"Let's get ready now. Tomorrow morning, everyone must be at their designated positions!"

"Well, you are the king, you have the final say."

Bethany bowed dramatically and prepared to leave.

"I will tell the gentlemen right now. God bless us, God bless France!"

……

It was just dawn, and the first rays of morning light shone on the Talavera ferry on the south bank of the Tagus River, shining on Baron José.

The camp was still in chaos, the nobles of all ranks were still quarreling, the conscripted peasants were lining up woodenly to receive the watery wheat paste, the knights had long since taken off their armor and were sitting in a circle gambling and drinking, and some prostitutes from nearby villages were hurriedly running away from the nobles' rooms.

"It's wheat paste again today..."

"It's good to have something to eat. All the nearby villages have been looted. We'll have to go somewhere farther away..."

"Asshole, why can the Greeks enjoy such a luxurious life? They are obviously mercenaries of King Carlos!"

"Alas, we can't compare. It's because we compromised and joined later... "King Supporter" Alonso and his friends got a lot of good things..."

"Then the Greeks can treat us as vassal soldiers?"

These words faintly reached Baron Jose's ears. He was already accustomed to this and just sighed helplessly.

In recent days, such discordant voices have become increasingly louder in the military camp. Baron Jose estimated that in a few weeks, this makeshift guerrilla force would have to disband and return home.

"With so many nobles, why did you choose me as the commander-in-chief?"

Baron Jose muttered to himself, still very confused.

He was just the lord of a small castle near Ciudad Real. His ancestors made their fortune through the Crusades. His territory was short of resources, and he had neither a rich wallet nor a strong army. If he had any special qualities, it was that he had good relationships with people and many relatives. He was also related by marriage to the Cordoba family of "Kingmaker" Alonso, which barely allowed him to be recognized by everyone.

Iberia's military system is very old and still adopts the medieval model of knights and conscripted peasants. Under this model, it is a responsibility and obligation for vassals to serve their lords, but there is also a time limit. After being ordered to join the army for a certain period of time, the vassals have the right to withdraw their troops and return home.

This model is extremely inefficient and has huge loopholes. In a war, the morale of a legion will decline rapidly with the passage of time and shortage of supplies, until it eventually collapses. If the lord who presides over the legion does not take corresponding measures, the war will not last long.

When this legion was first formed, everyone's morale was barely good. Half of Castile and the entire vassal state of Granada came together to form a total of 7,000 people. Although their combat effectiveness was very low, as long as they performed properly, they could still demonstrate their value on the battlefield.

Baron Jose remembered that in the initial days, Justinian and Isabella were quite concerned about the army and tried their best to ensure supplies. However, as the army advanced deeper, the supply lines became longer and longer, and the villages and towns near Toledo were looted by a small group of Aragonese troops that had moved south in advance. The area was deserted and the food and fodder situation became worse and worse.

In Jose's opinion, this was entirely the fault of Justinian and Gonzalo themselves. They had become very accustomed to the fast-paced warfare model of the Eastern Roman Empire and the military logistics system based on sea transportation, and had developed habits. They seemed to be somewhat uncomfortable with the inland environment of Iberia.

Not only that, because the commanders wanted to end the war in the shortest possible time, they did not spend enough time on stabilizing the rear. Instead, they chose to go all out and pulled all their main forces to the banks of the Tagus River, where they had to either win in one battle or suffer a crushing defeat.

The result is that, up to now, this legion composed of noble private armies has fallen into chaos, with only one tenth of its combat effectiveness remaining, and it can only help guard the Tagus River ferry.

Jose knew that the reason they did not collapse or surrender was not because of their loyalty to King Carlos or because they were trying to gain much from the civil war, but simply because of fear.

This is a brutal civil war. Local forces of all sizes in Castile have chosen sides. Your land and castle have long been regarded as a piece of cake by others. They have been forced or voluntarily joined the Carlists. If Carlos really loses, their days will never be easy.

Another thing is the great potential of the Eastern Roman Empire. Many people believe that under the leadership of Emperor Isaac, the Eastern Roman Empire has maintained a strong upward trend for more than 20 years. It has strong national strength and military power. As long as they still regard Iberia as a place of major interests, even if they lose one game, there will be a second and a third one.

"Baron Jose, they are causing trouble again."

Baron Jose's knight came over and reported helplessly.

"They were clamoring to go home."

"Go back! Let them go back!"

Baron Jose roared somewhat angrily.

"When Fernando goes south, I'll see how they can preserve their castle!"

"They don't have much fighting power, nor a strong fighting will, but they still want this and that. If I were King Carlos, I wouldn't even give them cereal to eat!"

After Baron Jose finished his rage, he thought for a moment.

"Go tell them that according to the etiquette of vassalage, the stipulated time for us to fight for King Carlos has not yet arrived. When the time comes, I will no longer be responsible for what to do, and neither will Duke Alonso!"

The knight nodded, saluted and left.

After a while, there was a commotion near the ferry, and Baron Jose stood up irritably and walked out of the fortress.

"What happened?"

Baron Jose asked the guard on duty.

"I don't know, Baron. It seems to be something at the ferry."

"You don't have to say that!"

Baron Jose glared at the guards, called a few cavalrymen, mounted his own horse, and headed for the ferry.

A thick fog rose over the Tagus River in the morning, and everything was shrouded in gray mist. The ferry was already filled with soldiers, scrambling and shouting.

"What exactly is going on?"

Baron Jose pushed aside the crowd and instructed the guards to pull apart two knights who were fighting over a bottle of liquor.

"My Lord Baron, it seems to be a merchant group. They want to go south from the ferry!"

The officer who advocated the ferry reported.

Baron Jose was a little confused and looked at a civilian ship in the ferry.

"Hello, sir. We are not a merchant group. We are refugees who have come south to seek refuge."

A voice with a strong rural accent came into Baron Jose's ears. He looked in the direction of the voice and saw a middle-aged man dressed as a wealthy businessman.

Although he was dressed like a wealthy businessman, his clothes were very dirty and there was fear in his eyes, making him look very pitiful.

"Mudéjar?"

Baron José stared at the rich businessman's turban.

"This is King Carlos's territory. You are not welcome here."

"Baron, please have mercy on us. We are the Mudéjar people from the Kingdom of Valencia. We are homeless and have no choice but to wander around."

The rich businessman bowed repeatedly.

"After the establishment of the Inquisition, Prince Fernando actually accepted the guidance of the Vatican and tried heretics in Valencia and other places, but we did nothing wrong!"

"In my team, there are Mudejars, Moriscos, Hebrews, and ordinary Christians who were implicated."

"Since Prince Fernando has also started a trial, how did you get here?"

Jose became even more confused.

"Sir, although some priests wanted to kill us, there were still quite a few people in the society who sympathized with us, and many nobles and merchants chose to let us go. We got the news in advance and left Valencia with our belongings."

The rich businessman said.

"The escape route on the ocean was blocked by the Greek Navy. It was too dangerous. We could only flee inland."

"Along the way, I met many brothers who were also refugees. I gathered them together with our past relationships and formed a team like this."

"When I was doing business, I had dealings with many dignitaries. After I fell into poverty, I helped them do some shady things and paid them high protection fees in exchange for their protection."

The rich businessman lowered his voice.

"That is, human trafficking, contraband trading, tax evasion and smuggling."

"If you want marijuana, khat, or strong liquor, I can get it for you."

"That's not necessary." Jose refused immediately and thought about it.

There were indeed a lot of Mudéjar people living in the United Kingdom of Aragon. They often lived in the coastal cities of the Kingdom of Valencia. They were highly assimilated and generally engaged in industry and commerce. They also had very good relations with the local people and nobles. Indeed, quite a number of Christian people were very dissatisfied with the Inquisition and were willing to provide shelter for their kind neighbors.

To be honest, even in Castile and Granada, which belonged to Carlos, there were many Christian lords who were unwilling to accept the guidance of the Inquisition and were unwilling to completely eliminate the Mudéjars and Moriscos, partly because of the economy and partly for power.

Such a trial movement could easily expand, and the power of trial and conviction that originally belonged to the king and the nobles was privately abused, which was something no secular lord would be willing to accept.

"Then what do you want to do?"

Jose asked.

"I have no ill feelings towards the Mudejars, nor do I have any good feelings towards the Inquisition, but this is a military camp and you are not allowed to enter."

"Sir, our destination is west, we just need to cross the river from here!"

The rich businessman explained eagerly.

"Our final destination is the Kingdom of Portugal, where the royal power is more centralized. They are willing to accept the Moriscos, and we Mudejars are willing to convert!"

"Don't you know? When Prince Henry the Navigator was still alive, many of his advisors were Moriscos!"

"Moreover, most of the refugees I brought with me were not poor farmers. Most of them were middle-class citizens such as merchants, blacksmiths, tailors, and barbers."

Jose nodded. The Kingdom of Portugal did reject the intervention of the Inquisition. This kingdom was the light of Iberia in terms of its political system, and the Holy See could not interfere much.

The Inquisition caused a large number of emerging citizens to leave Spain, and many monarchs set their sights on these talents.

"No, this is a military camp after all, go somewhere else to cross the river!"

Jose still refused.

"Sir... we only have over a hundred people, and we are just crossing the river. It won't cause you much trouble..."

"There's a thick fog now, the river water has risen a lot, and there are dangerous shoals and undercurrents everywhere else..."

The rich businessman begged.

"We are a smuggling group. We still have a lot of wheat flour, bacon and wine on board. If you are willing to be tolerant, we can sell these supplies to you at a low price..."

The rich businessman pointed to the boat behind him. The boat was not big, and was no different from an ordinary fishing boat. It was full of cargo and had a deep draft.

"Baron, accept their terms!"

Several soldiers shouted.

"It's been a long time since we had a decent full meal!"

"Yes, yes. The Greeks only gave us a little and let us solve the rest on our own. Isn't this a way to solve the problem?"

"My Lord Baron, if you don't allow us to eat and drink, why should we fight for you?"

The rich businessman was also very sensible. He immediately winked at his followers behind him, and they immediately carried down several bags of bacon and brought over several barrels of wine.

The soldiers cheered and rushed forward to grab the goods.

Seeing that the situation was getting out of control, Baron Jose became nervous. He sent his personal soldiers to maintain order while pulling the wealthy businessman over.

"How many boats do you have?"

Baron Jose lowered his voice.

"There are only ten of them, and they are all ordinary fishing boats!"

The wealthy businessman explained carefully, pressing a purse into Baron Jose's hand.

"This is just a token of our appreciation, sir. We just want to survive..."

Baron Jose frowned, threw the purse to the rich businessman, looked at the cheering soldiers, and sighed.

"Other ships are not allowed to come over. You wait here first. I will go and discuss it with the others."

The rich businessman nodded in agreement, and Baron Jose left his personal soldiers here and returned to the camp.

In the camp, the soldiers spread the news of the arrival of the Mudéjar caravan, and more and more soldiers began to run towards the ferry.

"What are you doing! What are you doing!?"

Baron Jose roared.

"We haven't decided yet!"

"Leave them alone, Baron José."

A casual voice came over, and Baron Jose turned around and looked at the person who came.

"Viscount Real, I haven't made a decision yet!"

Baron Jose was a little angry.

"Everyone knew about this, and we felt that we could accept the Mudéjar's conditions."

Viscount Real bowed slightly.

In fact, the feudal aristocracy in Western Europe cannot be simply replaced by "duke, marquis, earl, viscount, and baron". The aristocratic structure of each feudal monarchy is different. The most common aristocratic levels are baron, earl, and duke. Marquis generally refers to the earl of a remote area, while viscount is mostly an honorary title without much actual territory. It only symbolizes the favor of the monarch. Some viscounts reside in the court, while others are responsible for managing the monarch's estate. The Viscount of Real is the manager of the city of Real appointed by King Carlos.

Therefore, although Baron Jose's territory was located near Ciudad Real, he was a direct vassal of King Carlos and had no subordinate relationship with Viscount Real. Since Baron Jose was the commander of the nobles' private army, his status was even higher than that of Viscount Real.

Jose knew very well that the viscount had no talent at all and was a cynical, dissolute drunkard. The reason why King Carlos appointed him as the administrator of Ciudad Real was simply because his wealthy merchant father had great influence in Ciudad Real and had sent many carriages full of food and fodder to the front-line camp.

"Sir Jose, there are only a hundred of them, and they are all merchants and refugees. There is no danger."

Viscount Real said with a smile.

"The soldiers have worked hard in the war, and their pay is very insufficient. This is a rare opportunity, so why not cherish it?"

"Confused!"

Jose scolded.

"It's war time now, so we have to be cautious. His Majesty the King asked us to guard the ferry, so we must do our duty!"

"Don't be impatient, Mr. Jose."

There was a hint of viciousness in Viscount Real's eyes, and he moved closer to Jose.

"What the nobles mean is that we urgently need their goods now. Once they cross the river, we will kill them all and take away their goods. What do you think of this?"

Hearing this, Jose turned his head away.

"We are nobles, and we still have to abide by the most basic war etiquette."

"We should act in an emergency. They are not Christians. If we catch them all, perhaps His Majesty the King will be very happy."

Seeing that Baron Jose no longer objected, Viscount Real patted him on the shoulder with a smile.

"You go and rest, I'll keep an eye on it. Don't worry, I'll leave some good wine for you."

……

As time passed, more and more ships arrived at the ferry. The Mudéjar merchants were apparently very generous and shipped the cargo in the cabins to the dock, including grain, bacon, and most of all, various types of wine.

Refugees also arrived one after another. Most of them were men. As soon as they got ashore, they huddled together and looked at the soldiers from afar.

Their hair was very messy, and one could vaguely tell from their clothes what their former occupations were, but their clothes were no longer shiny and were covered in dirt.

The nobles' private armies were in a dissolute state, lying on the riverbank when they were drunk, with their armor and swords thrown aside.

"Drink! Drink! God be with you!"

Viscount Real drank his wine and squinted his eyes, watching the scene on the river.

"One, two, three... eight, twelve, fifteen...?"

Viscount Real frowned and searched the crowd for the Mudéjar merchant.

"Hey, Mudejar, didn't you say there were only ten boats?"

The Mudéjar merchant did not answer, but his guards walked towards Viscount Real with a smile.

"Sir, it's like this..."

The guard took out a cigarette case and handed a cigarette to Viscount Real.

"Please take a rest first, and we will talk slowly..."

"You... your accent sounds like you're from the north..."

Viscount Real took the cigarette and looked around for the source of fire.

"Like French?"

"Haha, sir, I was born in the Pyrenees, and I do have a French accent..."

The guard took out an exquisite tinder box and lit a cigarette for Viscount Real.

"That's not surprising, that's not surprising..."

Viscount Real muttered to himself and inadvertently caught a glimpse of the tinderbox with a double-headed eagle emblem painted on it in the guard's hand.

"Huh? How did you get this?"

"This is the latest product of the Royal Workshop. It has not yet been sold on a large scale. Only some meritorious officers of the Central Army can obtain it!"

Viscount Real was already half drunk at this time, but he didn't think there was anything wrong with it. He just stared at the tinder box with envy.

"Oh, you're talking about this."

The guard smiled, slowly put away the tinder box, and then took out a dagger.

"Of course it was captured from the battlefield."

"you--"

Viscount Real's eyes narrowed, and in shock, a wave of pain surged into his throat.

Viscount Real opened his mouth, but only spat out large mouthfuls of blood foam.

The incident happened too quickly. Before the surrounding soldiers could figure out what was going on, Bethnis, disguised as a guard, snatched Viscount Real's sword, rushed into the crowd, and killed indiscriminately.

"Arise! My fellow men in distress!"

The Mudéjar merchant stood on a high place and shouted loudly at the refugees.

"For our homeland and survival, we must fight for ourselves and drive away the Greeks and their henchmen!"

As they spoke, several refugees with broad waists and strong arms carried down a large cloth bag from a boat. The bag no longer contained flour and bacon, but sharp swords and daggers.

"Kill! King Fernando has promised that he will help us fend off the Christian Church's harassment. We will eventually break the chains and gain our freedom!"

The Mudejar refugees roared, picked up their swords, and rushed towards the staggering soldiers, with their first targets being the nobles in brightly dressed clothes.

The soldiers panicked and fled in all directions, crowding towards the camp gates, followed by the Mudejars.

In the thick fog, more and more ships arrived at the shore. This time, those rushing down from the ships were no longer refugees, but French musketeers and Aragonese infantry knights.

"For King Louis, for France!"

"Santiago!"

The nobles' private soldiers became more and more terrified and rushed to the camp gate. The guards in the camp tried their best to close the gate, but it was in vain.

……

On December 1475, 12, Prince Fernando of Aragon learned the strength of the Mola camp and gave up his plan to attack Mola directly and wipe out the enemy in one fell swoop. Instead, he chose the weakest Talavera ferry among the three ferry crossings.

Early that morning, Fernando used merchants and refugees as pioneers to successfully soften the defenders' will to resist and reduce their vigilance to the lowest level. He then used a small group of the most elite troops to break through the camp gate and spread the war into the Talavera camp.

The battle quickly turned into a one-sided massacre. The first victims were the nobles who were enthroned by Carlos. The nobles' private soldiers did not organize any effective counterattack.

By noon of the same day, the battle was basically over. Most of the conscripted peasants fled, and a small number of elite knights fought and retreated. Under the organization of Baron Jose, they retreated to the fortress on a high ground, seeking help from the outside and holding on until help came.

However, as Fernando had expected, the distance between the Mola camp and the Talavera camp was not very close. Even if the main force of the Eastern Roman army in the Mola camp marched at full speed, it would be difficult for them to reach the battlefield before the fortress fell. The victory of Aragon seemed to be just around the corner.

That evening, Prince Fernando sailed south, commanding the elimination of the remaining enemies while organizing ships and building pontoon bridges, trying to transport all the main forces, including the Knights of the Imperial Order, across the Tagus River before the main force of the Eastern Roman Empire came to rescue.

At this point, the War of the Castilian Succession entered its final climax. For various reasons, the Fernando faction and the Carlist faction no longer delayed and ended the two-month confrontation, and the decisive battle officially broke out.

(End of this chapter)