It’s the end of the line for the Blandford Warriors!  All twelve in this limited series of classic 1988 Citadel Miniatures are now painted and standing alongside each other in the cabinet, jostling for position of most dramatic medieval warlord.

Left to right: Flavius Aetius, Owen of Wales and Vlad Dracula.

The final triumverate are spread across a thousand years of European history.  Let’s take a look at them each in turn.

Flavius Aetius

Chances are you’ve not heard of Aetius, but you’ll have heard of his most famous opponent – Attila the Hun.  Aetius and Attila clashed at the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains in AD451 – one of the greatest bloodsheds as the Western Roman Empire crumbled under the weight of barbarian invaders.  Aetius was supreme commander of all military forces in the west, and crushed the Huns, stopping their advance into Gaul, and ultimately breaking Atilla’s tribal empire – earning him a place in history as the last of the great Romans.

Flavius Aetius and his supporting Blandford Warriors – Alan Horseman and Bucellarius of Majorian – leading the defence of the Empire.

I really enjoyed painting Aetius, and mounted him a small rocky outcrop so he cuts a commanding presence over my Late Imperial Roman.  The mini is at least 20 years older than his rank-and-file counterparts, so he needs the height along the more modern, bigger figures.

The Warlord Aetius and a Burgundian retainer attacked by a Hun at the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains, northwest France, AD451.

Aetius has the unique honour of being the titular star of both a wargame AND an opera by Handel.  The wargame is Aetius and Arthur (which must be 50% about him if you go off just the title).  The opera is Ezio (that’s Italian for “Aetius”), and sees our general returning home from defeating Attila, trying to disentangle himself and his future wife from a plot to assassinate the Emperor.  This is the only Citadel miniature I know of which has an opera about it, until my own work, Marneus Calgaro Maestro di Ultramarines, debuts this winter.

Owen of Wales

This miniature is Owen of Wales (“Owain Lawgoch” if you’re Welsh), who was a mercenary captain in the Hundred Years War (c. 1330 – 1378).  He hated the English so much he sided with their arch-nemesis, France, hoping his military service would ultimately help him claim the Prince of Wales title.  He was killed by a sheep (well, an English spy named “Johnny Lamb”).

Bertrand du Guesclin and Owen of Wales fighting together, united in their hatred of the English.

I had a load of fun painting all twelve of the lions rampant on his heraldry.  They are the arms of the royal house of Gwynedd – which Owen would have worn to cement his image as the rightful Prince of Wales.

“Oh I just can’t wait to be kin… prince!”

Now, let’s all take a moment to reflect on the name of the Swiss municipality in the caption below.

Owen of Wales is pursued by halberdiers from Berne at Buttisholz, Switzerland, 1375.

Now, there is a later Owen of Wales, (c. 1359 – c. 1415).  A contemporary chronicler claimed this Owen of Wales (“Owain Glyndŵr” if you’re Welsh) adopted the name as he was inspired by the earlier medieval warlord.  This is the Owen that instigated a rebellion against the English and got as far as establishing a proper Welsh parliament.  Nowadays the Welsh celebrate him as a symbol of nationalism with their statues, their ship names, their music awards and their Manic Street Preacher songs.  (Seriously, the Manics did the song 1404 all about this lad.)

Owain Glyndŵr and his Welsh followers are attacked by the English garrison at Caernarfon Castle, AD1401.

This later Owen pops ups in another Angus McBride illustration from Celtic Warriors that’s 83% more liontacular on account of that horse’s barding.  That looks like an fun challenge to paint.

Vlad Dracula

Vlad Dracula, rose to power as Prince of Wallachia by impaling all the leading nobility on stakes in a single night and replacing them with a new totally-loyal nobility raised from the peasantry.  He held on to power with the same impailment tactic – political enemies, suspected traitors, even whole armies of Turks found themselves with sharpened wooden stakes through their torsos.   His brutality and violent excesses saw him dubbed “Vlad the Impaler” within his lifetime, and his legend has grown since his death to the point of him being the most iconic vampire in the modern popular imagination.

A veteran Taborite Infantryman and Vlad Dracula fighting together on the Hungarian border

Vlad was a member of the Ordo Draconis, which was founded by the King of Hungary to stamp out the enemies of Christianity (including the likes of fellow Blandford Warrior Jan Žižka).  Though ostensibly Christian, Dracula never quite grasped the essence of the religion – attempting to demonstrate his faith to the King of Hungary with a gift of two bags of Turkish heads, ears and noses.  See how well that gift goes down with your vicar.

Dracula supervises the execution of prisoners after a raid on a German settlement in southern Transylvania, 1460.

The heraldry of the Ordo Draconis, in the Angus McBride plate above, is a dragon swooping down on some sort of serpentine monster.  Ordo Draconis is where Dracula’s father – Vlad II Dracul – got his name from, and “Dracula” is the diminuitive form – “little dragon”.

Dracula, looking every inch the cock of the town, though at 5′ 2″ it’s not many inches.

Vlad eventually died on the battlefield in AD1476, fighting the Ottoman Turks.  They cut his head off and sent it to their Sultan, who impaled it on a spike.  However, Vlad had converted from Greek Orthodoxy to Roman Catholicism during his lifetime – something considered so heretical that Wallachian folklore claimed that on death, any such heretic would transform into… a vampire.

Project Complete

I enjoy grouping the figures from different chapters of Medieval Warlords together (like the Taborite Infantryman and Dracula) to make the figures cross over.  I can even draw a connection through a thousand years of time between Aetius (representing the earliest medieval warlord), and Dracula (the latest):  Aetius defeated Attila the Hun, and Bram Stoker’s Dracula character was a member of the Hungarian tribal group that claimed direct descent from those Huns.

Left to right: Alan Horseman, Sir John Chandos, Bucellarius of Majorian, Jan Žižka, An Lushan, Flavius Aetius, Imperial Guardsman, Vlad Dracula, Bertrand du Guesclin, Owen of Wales, Teutonic Knight and Taborite Infantryman.

That’s each and every Blandford Warrior painted.  The set is complete.  Project over.  Now I can give my historical wargaming energy to something else.  Reinforcements for my Normans?  Siege of Oxford?  Early Imperial Romans?  Late Imperial Romans?  I’m giddy with excitement, all I can say with certainty is that’s the end of my Blandford Warriors.

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Or is it … ?

Stay tuned to Ninjabread for more minis.  If you fancy your own set of Blandford Warriors they’re available from the excellent Wargames Foundry.

If you’re into your medieval history you WILL NOT have heard of these models.  That’s cos they’re not medieval at all.  Welcome to my next two classic Citadel Miniatures from the range based on the 1987 Medieval Warlords book.

An Lushan and Imperial Guardsman on the lower reaches of the Yellow River.

So, I have beef with An Lushan being classified as “Medieval” as it’s a specifically European term for a historical period, and China ain’t Europe.  Calling An Lushan a Medieval Warlord is like calling Richard the Lionheart an Imperial Chinese Warlord.  I imagine the publishers had a shortlist of even less suitable titles for the book.

“Okay, sod it, we’ll go with Medieval Warlords.”

With the historian’s pedantry out of the way, who are these two Medie… classic Citadel Miniatures?

An Lushan

An Lushan was possibly Mongol.  Possibly Turkish.  Possibly Liverpudlian (going off the model’s uncanny resemblence to Ringo Starr).  What we can definitely say is he wasn’t Han Chinese as he was allowed to rise to power as a regional military governor in 8th century China when policy was to keep these powerful posts away from the capital’s politicians to prevent rebellion.

“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea.”

However, in 755, An Lushan’s previously amazing relationship with Tang Dynasty soured.  He marched on the heartland cities and declared himself emperor of his own brand new dynasty.  This was the An Lushan Rebellion, which was one of the bloodiest wars of all time – the Tang Empire was bigger than even the Roman Empire at its height, and the scale of slaughter as cities were toppled and populations massacred reached perhaps into the tens of millions.  Fascinatingly, the rebellion seems to have been sparked not by lofty political ideals, or a popular dissatisfaction with the ruling elite, but by a concern (or possibly paranoia) that the Tang Dynasty’s Chief Minister was personally out to get An Lushan.

An Lushan pursues a Khitan Mongol beyond the Great Wall on the north-east Chinese border, 735.

The Tang Emperor fled as the rebels stormed city after city.  But as An Lushan’s paranoia increased and his health worsened, he became a vulnerability and was assassinated by his own son (a surprisingly common fate in Imperial China).  The Tang Dynasty was severely weakened by the uprising, and it marked the beginning of the end for China’s golden age of civilisation.

But who had opposed An Lushan?  It was…

Imperial Guardsmen

By the time of the An Lushan Rebellion, the Tang military was split between militia on the Empire’s frontiers (which made up the bulk of An Lushan’s forces), and the Imperial Guard who were permanently garrisoned at the capital city and the Imperial palaces.  However, as with Ancient Rome’s Praetorian Guard, an elite fighting force concentrated at the seat of Imperial power could lead to violent coups.

Yang Guifei – the Emperor’s consort – and the Imperial Guard prepare to leave Ch’ang-an before the army of An Lushan, 756.

The Imperial Guard certainly proved wilful during Emperor Xuanzong’s time – as they escorted Yang Guifei (the Emperor’s favourite consort) away from the rebels’ pillaging of the capital city they blamed her personally for their military misfortunes and demanded her immediate death.  Needing to keep his elite guard on side, the Emperor consented and Yang Guifei was strangled.

Imperial Guard circa 736.

I’ve freehanded floral patterns onto the Imperial Guard’s decorated leather armour to match the Angus McBride colour plates from the book.  I enjoyed painting the stubble – all you’ve got to do for the five o’clock shadow look is shade and highlight the skin as normal then glaze the manly areas with a warm mid-grey (for example Skavenblight Dinge).

Blandford Warriors Assemble!

So that’s nine of the twelve Blandford Warriors painted.  I’m enjoying the tour around history and the opportunity to dabble with different periods without having to collect dozens upon dozens of figures for gaming.

Left to right: Jan Žižka, Bucellarius of Majorian, Betrand du Guesclin, Taborite Infantryman, An Lushan, Sir John Chandos, Imperial Guardsmen, Teutonic Knight and Alan Horseman.

I’m looking forward to working on the final trio of Blandford Warriors to complete this historical wargaming project!

Arch-rivals from opposing sides of the Hundred Years’ War.  Each of them a talented medieval commander, but with a great respect for the other’s skills and abilities.  Presenting two classic Citadel Miniatures  – Sir John Chandos and Bertrand du Guesclin.

English commander Sir John Chandos and French commander Bertrand du Guesclin.

I like how different the miniatures are to each other.  Chandos is depicted as a classic knight in shining armour, with his “sharp pile gules” (a medieval way of saying “upside down red triangle”) heraldry sculpted onto both his tabard and shield.  His chainmail coif and fine moustache mark him out as a gentleman.  In contrast, du Guesclin with his black Breton eagle is a scruffy bugger with his bare head and loose-fitting straps.  Du Guesclin was a low-born brawler who started his career as a marauder, ambushing people in the forests of Brittany.  His equipment was reputedly in such poor condition he was sometimes mistaken for a common brigrand rather than a knight.  When the pair first met, Chandos lent du Guesclin his own armour and horse, as du Guesclin’s own kit wasn’t nice enough to be seen duelling in.

Bertand du Guesclin and his retainers surprising men-at-arms of Sir High Calverly on the road to Montmuran, Brittany, 1354.

The two men clashed on opposing sides of the Battle of Auray in 1364.  The French were defeated, and du Guesclin taken prisoner by Chandos.  France quickly paid his 40,000 florins ransom as they were keen for him to command an expedition to assist in the Castilian Civil War.  Guesclin invited Chandos along with him to Castile, a sign the two men had grown into friends, though Chandos declined.

Sir John Chandos is harassed by Moorish genitors in the army of Henry Castile at the battle of Nájera, northern Spain, 1367.

The pair also fought on opposing sides at the Battle of Nájera in 1367.  Again the French were defeated and again du Guesclin was taken prisoner by Chandos.  Again France were eager to have him back and paid a massive 100,000 francs.

Chandos and du Guesclin in the crumbling Burgundian ruins of Grenoble.

The walls of Grenoble in the picture above are from an upcoming Kickstarter from Fogou Models.  I’ve been gifted a set to paint ahead of the campaign, and they’ve been an absolute joy to drybrush and weather up.  Expect to see a lot more photographs of them in the future.

Left to right: Biscuit Dude, Alan Horseman, Bertand du Guesclin and Sir John Chandos.

That’s one third of the Blandford Warriors painted now!  I’m hoping to get all twelve finished for Bring out Your Lead in August – they were last year’s reissue and want to buy this year’s without any lead-guilt.  Next up,  we’ll be going in to the Hussite Wars.  Check out Alan Horseman here, and Biscuit Dude here.

As names for ranges go, “Blandford Warriors” is a little … underwhelming.  Rather than conjuring up images of medieval warlords on their bloodthirsty rampages it puts me instantly in mind of the sleepy Dorset village – Blandford.  Blandford’s top tourist attraction is a museum with a diorama of the 1731 Great Fire of Blandford.  Blandford is a bland name.  A dull name.  A boring name.  This feeling of deep ennui also manifests in the pose of the second miniature I’ve painted – Alan Horseman.

“This spear has a point.  Unlike my life.  Sigh”

Even the name, Alan Horseman, oozes boredom.  It’s one of those historical terms, like “Norman Shields”, that doubles as the personal name of a twenty-first century dullard.  I imagine it painted on the side of a white van – “Alan Horseman Electrical Contractor”.  Of course, the Alans were a tribe of fierce warrior horsemen instrumental in the defeat of Atilla the Hun.  Here’s the Angus McBride colour plate from Medieval Warlords of this Alan getting around on his horse and not a Ford Transit

Alan Horseman of Orleans, on the orders of Aetius, clashes with bacudae on an estate in eastern Brittany, 440s.  Sigh.

Coincidentally the colours Angus chose and I copied match my Late Roman Comitatenses – so I can roll Alan in to that collection.  Late Imperial Roman armies relied heavily on barbarian troops (foederati) such as the Alans as their military manpower dwindled in the 4th and 5th centuries.  Flavius Aetius let the Alans, originally from North Caucasus, settle in parts of Ancient France in return for providing fighters.  It was a clever policy for Rome as it motivated the tribe to fight not out of abstract loyalty to Rome, but in defence of their newly-acquired land and accompanying wealth. 

Late Imperial Romans forming a shield wall in the ruins of the partially demolished Epiacum.  Sigh.

The walls in the above shot are from the excellent Fogou Models, more focus on them in a future blog post!