1.Baby Bellica

(Normans vs Normans)

Sweltering under the August heat, I turned to Number One Son and contemplated the myriad gardening tasks that I could help my wife with but was not allowed to due to a general incompetance in all matter horticultural. I pride myself as the Shiva of the Garden to her Vishnu, capable of devastating in a matter of minutes a patch of greenery which she has painstakingly worked for weeks to create. Curiously this special talent does not find favour with the Best Beloved and we were relegated to the living room while she laboured over the roses and the acer. What to do other that swat flies and draw a beer from the fridge. The answer was a wargame. Could we be bothered to get the big table out? Not really. Too hot. The coffee table, however, did not have more than its usual collection of books littering its top and indeed there was sufficient space underneath to sweep all these away in a matter of seconds. We set to work and within minutes had created a perfect but small gaming table. What rules to play? We pondered whether we could make Vis Bellica work on a small scale. Below are the results.

Feeling indolent and fat, we both opted for Normans and about 300 points, about half the normal recommended daily allowance for Robert Avery's splendid Ancients rules and about quarter the size of the big battles we run with the sterling gentlemen of the Huntingdon club. This was a small scale, fun affair.

I opted for four squadrons of familia knights, three companies of foot sergeants, a company of crossbowmen, a company of light archers and a mob of feudal peasants: ten bases in all. Number One Son, with the impetuosity of youth, opted for five squadrons of knights, three companies of foot sergeants, and one company of crossbowmen.

We worked out that one piece of terrain each would be about right for the table size and, indeed, was more than enough for our turgid mental processes to handle. I placed a nasty, tangly wood on the right flank. Number One Son placed a collectable pile of burnt out villages on the left (well, we were playing Normans). Deploying on the base line, we both arrayed our knights in the centre. On my left lay two companies of foot and on my right the remaining infantry. Number One Son placed all his foot in front of the wood.

Orders were given and Number One Son sounded a general advance, only to look at his dear Pater with surprise as my knights continued quaffing on the base line with Hold orders (it was after all too hot to charge) while the right flank foot trudged forwards into the woods to take advantage of the shade. Onward came the enemy knights of Number One Son, leaving their own foot behind. As they rumbled forward on Attack orders, dark suspicions began to form in the enemy commander's mind. As soon as they crossed over the half way line, the devious parental trap was sprung. The foot in the woods turned left and the now refreshed knights spurred their horses forward. Additionally, the commanders placed themselves at the head of their knight, unlike Number One Son's nobles who preferred to keep a better overview of proceedings behind the lines (rank cowardice I call it). Seeing his predicament, Number One Son raced his infantry forward trying to close the gap between them and his now isolated horsemen. They particularly wanted to clear the woods of the missile troops peppering the flanks of his knights as they continued thundering past. Sadly it was now too late to rein in his knights and bring them back. With a thunderous roar, well a heat exhausted grunt anyway, the lines met. The first blood went to umber One Son, whose knights rode into a company of sergeants scattering them but in turn were hit by my supporting knights and broken.

In the centre, with my officers committed to the melee and inspiring their men, my knights pushed back and broke Number One Son's while a deeper formation of sergeants on the far left bounced his last squadron who fell back with the rest. As the dust settled, one of my nobles was injured but still in the saddle, the rest had miraculously survived.

There then followed an ignominious retreat with Number One Son desperately trying to rally his knights while his infantry finally reached the woods and drove my light archers and crossbowmen away only to agree that the rest of the battlefield was lost. An exciting romp done in just over and hour.

Vis Bellica seems to work well at a simple cut down level as a light snack game as well as a serious evening's vehicle of mayhem and carnage. We were moderately pleased with the results and can recommend them to any gamer looking for a robust and flexible set of rules.

Thurlac