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Discovery of an Early Sixteenth-Century Battle Plan from the Archdiocesan Archive in Ljubljana

Tomaž Lazar

Recent investigations in the Archdiocesan Archive (Nadškofijski arhiv) in Ljubljana, Slovenia, have uncovered a sketch depicting the tactical disposition of an army with over 40,000 combatants, composed of pikemen, arquebusiers, mounted men-at-arms, lightly armed hussar cavalry, mounted crossbowmen, and artillery. The archival context suggests that the document was created at the beginning of the Habsburg war against Venice (1508–16).

The “Ljubljana plan” represents a rare relic of Central European military thought from the early years of the sixteenth century but still firmly rooted in older medieval traditions. An analysis of its content reveals a cautious, conservative approach to warfare. Despite the very high proportion of cavalry and the central role of heavily armed men-at-arms, the troops are positioned in a largely defensive formation, protected on the flanks and rear with a wagon fort. This may ultimately reflect the contemporary experience of Habsburg armies fighting an elusive enemy – from the Ottoman and Hungarian light cavalry to the Venetian stradiots.

The Middle Ages have long been perceived as a “Dark Age” of military science during which the art of war had sunk to an unprecedented low point.1 No doubt this resulted in part from the relative lack of original theoretical texts produced by its protagonists. However, since the early decades of the twentieth century an increasing number of previously unknown primary sources have come to light that challenge old assumptions and present a rather more complex image of warfare in the Middle Ages.

One such discovery has been made recently in the Archdiocesan Archive (Nadškofijski arhiv) in Ljubljana, Slovenia. Among the extensive documentation from the late Middle Ages and the Early Modern period, the archive keeps a considerable body of records from the time of Bishop Christopher Rauber (c.1466–1536).2 These records, which have not been systematically investigated to date, also contain a collection of various documents produced during the Habsburg war against Venice (1508–16).3 In particular, one stands out from the military historian’s perspective – a hastily sketched plan outlining a battle formation consisting of 41,500 troops.4

Figure 1 Battle plan from the Archdiocesan Archive (NŠAL, ŠAL 1, Fasc. 29/1; photo: Matej Kristovič)

To date, this fascinating find has escaped scholarly attention. The document itself perhaps raises more questions than it may answer. In any case, it represents a rare, significant relic of Central European military thought from the very early years of the sixteenth century, still firmly rooted in the medieval tradition and created by veterans drawing on experiences of warfare in the final decades of the Middle Ages. As such, it deserves a detailed analysis and more extensive international publication.5

Military Theory in Medieval Europe

Whenever discussing the topics of military theory and strategic thought in the Middle Ages, the modern scholar is confounded by an intriguing paradox. Medieval Europeans obviously attached great importance to military matters. Members of their social elite identified themselves as “men of the sword,” bellatores, and the feudal world has been aptly described as a “society organized for war.”6 It seems logical to assume that such an emphasis on warfare would have stimulated a lively development of the military art if not science – also reflected in a steady production of theoretical literature and various written documents pertaining to military organization.

However, that was not the case. The existing body of primary sources from medieval Europe compares unfavorably to the rich tradition of Antiquity, which survived even the demise of the Roman Empire and flourished in Byzantium for centuries to come.7 The Roman military tradition was held in high regard in the West: Vegetius’ treatise Epitoma rei militaris remained widely accepted as the seminal work on strategy well into the Early Modern period.8 Nevertheless, for all their efforts invested in the study, replication, and often uncritical admiration of the ancients, medieval Europeans were much less active in producing original theoretical works on tactics or strategy.

Even when they did, the results were often erratic from the modern point of view. Konrad Kyeser’s Bellifortis (1402/5), arguably the best-known and most popular Western contribution of its days, could be described as a rather convoluted jumble of Vegetius and Frontinus mixed with astrology, esotericism, and a somewhat naive fascination with technological novelties. It was perhaps inspired more by fantasy than actual military experience, and it seems unlikely that it had much real impact on the practice of war.9

Figure 2 Schematic depiction of a concentrically arranged Wagenburg (UER B 26, fol. b r)

From at least the early thirteenth century onwards, another form of martial literature began to appear in Western Europe. The increasingly better codification of chivalry led to a surge of written manuals such as the anonymous Ordene de chevalerie,10 the Libre de l’orde de cavalleria by the Catalan philosopher Ramon Lull,11 the Livre de chevalerie by Geoffroi de Charny,12 and the Livre des faits d’armes et de chevalerie by Christine de Pizan.13 While written specifically for the purpose of training a knight, none was intended as a practical handbook of tactics or strategy. Instead, their focus lay on the ideological and symbolic components of knighthood. It may seem ironic that of all the treatises listed above, only that compiled by a female writer has anything tangible to say on the actual practice of war – though to be fair, Christine de Pizan had largely limited herself to copying long passages from Vegetius with the notable exception of her up-to-date treatment of gunpowder artillery.14

Even Geoffroi de Charny, a living embodiment of chivalry, felt little need to delve into the more mundane aspects of war. A closer reading of his text helps to explain why. As he instructs the future knights to hone their skills under the close supervision of experienced tutors, the implications become clear enough – the art of war can only be learned on the field of battle, never from a book; therefore, writing on practical military matters would have been both futile and pretentious.15

Such conservative views evidently represented the social norm for some time. That is not to say that the medieval soldier was entirely illiterate or uninterested in theoretical literature. From the late fourteenth century, the flourishing of martial arts stimulated the creation of practical manuals outlining complex systems of hand-to-hand combat.16 Many of the techniques shown may have had little direct military application as their primary focus lay on the duel rather than the battlefield. Nevertheless, the proliferation of such didactic literature aimed towards improving one’s individual fighting prowess can be taken as a sure sign of increased interest in systematic training.17

Medieval soldiers were fully capable of formulating a sound strategic plan when required to do so. The Rule of the Knights Templar contains several clauses that demonstrate a clear understanding of coherent battle tactics and military organization. Furthermore, the fall of Christian strongholds in the Holy Land incited ambitious thinkers to formulate highly complex campaigns of reconquest, thereby proving a solid grasp of abstract strategic thinking.18

Detailed studies of military campaigns undertaken during the medieval period reveal further proof of sophistication in the contemporary art of war.19 During the late Middle Ages, the pace of military professionalization increased rapidly, and new technologies, such as field artillery and hand-held firearms, were integrated successfully into combined arms tactics.20 This shift became particularly apparent in Central Europe during the Hussite Wars, which served as a benchmark well into the final years of the fifteenth century.21

Nevertheless, it still took several decades before the Western world experienced a true revival of military theory. It seems that medieval soldiers and generals were reluctant to write about the technicalities of their profession, if for no other reason than to keep sensitive knowledge from falling into the opponent’s hands. Commanders of the era were no doubt aware of the need for detailed planning, and in all probability resorted to writing detailed instructions or battle plans regularly. However, such documents were not intended for public circulation due to their sensitive content and have survived to the present only under exceptional circumstances; perhaps the best-known example of this kind is the “Somme plan” drawn up by the French marshal Boucicaut in October 1415 shortly before the fateful battle of Agincourt.22

Apart from the brief instructions in Christine de Pizan’s treatise, arguably the earliest original tactical manuals produced in the West date from the second half of the fifteenth century. Two such texts, still influenced heavily by ancient writers, were Roberto Valturio’s De re militari (c.1466) and Antonio Cornazzano’s Dell’arte militare (1493).23 Unlike their Italian contemporaries, Western and Central European writers of the period were arguably less constrained by the remembrance of the Antiquity but instead preferred a more practical, contemporary approach. This tendency is already apparent in Jean de Bueil’s influential semi-autobiography Le Jouvencel (c.1466).24 Perhaps the earliest proponent of the “new wave” in Central Europe was Phillip of Seldeneck. His military treatise, first written in 1485, contains detailed descriptions of infantry tactics imitating the Swiss attack formations. A year later, similar concepts, albeit with a greater emphasis on a combined arms approach integrating artillery and small arms, were promoted in a manual published by Philip Mönch. While both texts focused almost exclusively on battlefield tactics, the contribution by Philip of Cleves (completed in 1516) centered specifically on sieges and general aspects of military organization.25

The few treatises listed above represent the bulk of original texts on contemporary military theory available to the Central European readership. The production of military literature boomed only during the second half of the sixteenth century, with the popularization of didactic manuals depicting various troop dispositions and maneuvers inspired heavily by the study of mathematics and geometry. These trends were first introduced by Italian authors but soon gained a foothold in Central Europe thanks to the efforts of army reformers such as Lazarus Schwendi or Leonhart Fronsperger.26

Battle Plan from Ljubljana

The battle plan from the Ljubljana Archdiocesan Archive is particularly valuable as a record from an era when practical military manuals were still a considerable novelty, and even such treatises as were produced at the time did not generally include realistic graphical representations of battle formations.

At first glance, the document does not appear particularly impressive – a rather plain sketch on a rectangular sheet of paper measuring 42 × 58cm. Its content may be summarized as a simple diagram showing the disposition of a large army composed of various units. Each unit is represented by a rectangular block. Inside it, a brief caption specifies the type and number of troops included in its ranks. The bottom section of the document contains a calculation of the overall troop strength.

The bulk of the army depicted on the plan is positioned in two main battle lines arranged in depth. Slightly ahead of the main force, completely exposed at the head of the formation, stands an isolated body of men acting as forlorn hope (“verloren hauffen”). Their number is not defined precisely, but one may assume that it has been formed of hand-picked men and volunteers from the rest of the army.

Behind them awaits the first battle line, by far the most powerful component of the army. It consists of 27,900 troops, infantry as well as cavalry, standing in a straight line with slightly upswept wings. Its center is made up of three units of heavily armored cavalry (“geruste pferd”), each with 1,500 men. Their immediate flanks are supported by two squadrons of mounted crossbowmen (“armprust/schutzen zu roß”), each 300 men strong.

On both sides of this powerful center, two identically composed wings extend towards the flanks of the battle line. Each wing contains a body of 700 arquebusiers (“handschutzen”), a large infantry square of 4,000 pikemen (“landsknechte”), another 700-strong unit of arquebusiers, and a cavalry unit of 3,000 lightly armed hussars (“hussaren”). Interestingly, however, the security of the flanks is not entrusted solely to the massive wings of hussar cavalry. On each side, another pike square of 3,000 Landsknechte is thrown out obliquely at the extreme flanks slightly forward of the main line.

The flanks are further reinforced with artillery. Its composition and numerical strength are nowhere specified in detail. Two pairs of field guns are depicted guarding each flank, the ones in the front converging their fire towards the center of the army while the two posted just behind the first line are shown aiming backwards, apparently to protect the army from an attack at the rear. Considering the sheer size of the army, it seems plausible that the schematically depicted guns do not represent individual artillery pieces but rather batteries of significant strength.

The second battle line is much shorter, apparently acting as a reserve of 12,600 troops. Taken at face value, this formation is shifted somewhat to the right in relation to the first battle line. However, it seems likely that this was simply an oversight on the author’s part and that the second line was in fact centered symmetrically with the rest of the formation. The middle portion of the second line is also made up of cavalry. On the left, there is a body of 1,200 heavily armed men-at-arms commanded by the king himself (“Rex”). On the right, this unit is supported by 2,000 hussars, and further on each wing by 700 arquebusiers (“puxenschutzen”) and 4,000 Landsknechte.

At the rear of the formation another body of men can be seen – 1,000 squires or horse attendants (“pferdebuben”). Their primary mission may have been to assist the cavalrymen with spare mounts, and presumably arms and other equipment. However, it seems equally conceivable that they were not solely support personnel but in fact combat troops serving in the role of lightly armed cavalry or coutilliers.27 Then there is yet one more vital element shown on both flanks and rear of the formation: a U-shaped wagon fort (“wagenburg”) safeguarding the army from any sudden enemy attack.

The author of the diagram thought it necessary to equip the sketch with a table summarizing the number of troops per each service branch. Based on these figures, the overall strength of the army may be calculated at 41,500 men.28 The actual number of personnel would have been considerably larger still when one takes into account the artillerymen and other supporting troops not specified in writing.

Unit type	Troop strength
heavy cavalry – men-at-arms	5,700
mounted crossbowmen	600
light cavalry – hussars	8,000
heavy infantry – Landsknechte	22,000
arquebusiers	4,20029
horse attendants	1000

Historical Context

The Ljubljana battle plan contains no other information that would identify its author or date. The rather hasty strokes of the author’s quill suggest that the document was created on the spur of the moment, and it does not appear to have been intended for wider circulation.

The discovery of the battle plan among Christopher Rauber’s records related to his involvement in the war against Venice provides obvious clues to its origin. Rauber’s Bellum Venetum, kept in the Archdiocesan Archive in Ljubljana, will no doubt prove a considerable treasure trove to future researchers willing to study it more systematically. At present, it has only been possible to make a cursory overview of the documents stored in two fascicles. The first (no. 29/1–4) covers the lengthy build-up to war in 1507 and the early years of the conflict up to 1510. The second (no. 30/1–7) encompasses documents dating from 1511 to the end of the war, as well as various records related to its aftermath up to 1530.

The research carried out thus far has failed to uncover any particular evidence that would help explain the purpose and context of the battle plan, stored in the first fascicle. By and large, the records comprising Rauber’s Bellum Venetum range from Emperor Maximilian’s instructions, battlefield reports, and official correspondence between the high-ranking military and civilian officials to documents related more specifically to Christopher Rauber’s involvement in the war, mainly dealing with matters of logistics and finances.30

From the Slovenian perspective, the Habsburg confrontation with Venice during the years 1508–16 was an event of great historical importance. It was arguably the longest and most challenging war fought by Emperor Maximilian I. Though its outcome was to prove a terrible disappointment to the bellicose Habsburg ruler, the final peace settlement with Venice nevertheless exerted a surprisingly long-lasting impact on the Slovenian population in the region. With the long-disputed territory along the Isonzo finally united under Habsburg control, the western border of the Slovenian ethnic territory was consolidated for centuries to come.

Despite all its political ramifications, Maximilian’s conflict with Venice has attracted relatively little attention in modern Central European historiography.31 Elsewhere, it is usually treated as a minor sideshow of the Italian Wars, though seldom in much depth and detail.32 In reality, Maximilian’s “Venetian War” was rooted in long-reaching disputes far predating the French invasion of Italy. The leading cause of the conflict was the Habsburg expansion towards the Adriatic, a persistent policy pursued by the rulers of the land-locked eastern Alpine dominions in the hope of gaining direct access to the sea.

This strategy ran counter to the interests of the Venetian Republic, which itself viewed the Adriatic as its zone of influence, and also attempted to extend its possessions on the Terraferma towards the east by taking over the Patriarchate of Aquileia in 1420, as well as laying claim to the estates of the counts of Gorizia whose dynasty had died out in 1500. The political and economic rivalries were further exacerbated by Maximilian’s efforts to renew the glory of the Holy Roman Empire and once again establish firm control over north Italy.33

Seen in this light, an outbreak of hostilities between Habsburg Austria and the Venetian Republic was only a matter of time. The beginning of the Italian Wars, triggered by the great French invasion of 1494, set the stage for the bloodiest military showdown of its age, which would continue until 1559. Against the backdrop of a highly complex political situation in Italy, the French intervention triggered a clash of hitherto unseen proportions that would eventually embroil all major European powers. At first, the Habsburg dominions were able to escape the conflict. However, the tensions with Venice, not to mention the danger posed by the Habsburgs’ increasingly dangerous arch-rival France, put Maximilian on a collision course with his enemies.34

By 1507, Maximilian was openly preparing for war. For several years, his officials had been recording detailed inventories of arsenals and arms caches throughout the Habsburg dominions. Military organization in the eastern Alps was experiencing a period of rapid reforms. Maximilian was determined to extend the grasp of imperial power over Italy once again. To achieve that goal, he intended to start with a symbolic step – ceremonial coronation in Rome at the hands of the pope.35

Unfortunately, the plan was doomed to failure due to the obstinate Venetian refusal to grant Maximilian free passage through the territory of the Republic. Improving relations between France and Venice threatened to weaken the Habsburg position even further. Maximilian tried his best to mobilize all the available resources for a decisive military solution. However, his subjects did not share his enthusiasm for a major armed conflict. The financial support and manpower contributed by the lands of the Holy Roman Empire proved woefully inadequate. After months of planning, Maximilian I was able to raise a force of only 4,000 cavalry and 3,000 infantry gathered in the Tyrol by the beginning of February 1508.36

Maximilian’s miniature army was obviously incapable of dealing with the much stronger Venetian and French forces mobilizing on the other side of the border. Facing an impossible situation, Maximilian attempted a desperate gamble. In breach of the traditional protocol, he had himself elected emperor of the Holy Roman Empire in Trento. On the same day, on 4 February 1508, Maximilian declared war on Venice. This foolhardy move did much to cement Maximilian’s reputation as a man of poor judgement and fickle character.37 At the height of winter, his bold thrust through the Alps ended in disaster. The main Habsburg force sent to invade Cadore was annihilated in an ambush. Aided by French reinforcements, the Venetians responded with a swift counterattack that took the defenders by surprise. In April and May, Venetian troops pushed deep into the Habsburg-held dominions in Carniola and Istria, forcing Maximilian to sign a humiliating truce on 6 June.38

Map 1 The operational theater during Maximilian I’s confrontation with Venice, 1508–16 (Drawn by Polonca Strman)

The overwhelming Venetian victory inspired resentment among the Republic’s allies and enemies alike, leading to the creation of the Holy League of Cambrai, formed on 10 December 1508. The new alliance, officially aimed against the Ottomans but secretly intended to curtail the power of Venice, united the interests of France, Spain, the Papal States, and the Holy Roman Empire. By far the strongest partner in this alliance was France, which also bore the brunt of the fighting in the spring offensive of 1509. On 14 May 1509, the French army crushed the Venetians at Agnadello, leaving the Republic almost defenseless for some time. This gave Emperor Maximilian a chance to recover the recently lost territories and seize Venetian possessions on the Terraferma.39

Plagued by a lack of resources and manpower, the Habsburg armies were too slow to fully exploit the opportunity. A force of 1,500 cavalry and 10,000 infantry was sent on a three-pronged invasion into the Adige, Valsugane, and Cadore valleys. Maximilian was able to recover almost the whole of Friuli, as well as Verona and Padua. However, the Venetian Republic soon organized stiff resistance and regained Padua on 17 July, ultimately mustering an army of 15,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry to hold the strategically important city at all costs.40

Padua became the focal point of the conflict. Maximilian did his best to raise perhaps the largest and best-equipped army in his lifetime, numbering as many as 60,000 troops in total including various allied contingents and support personnel. Due to logistic and financial constraints, this figure soon dropped to somewhere between 15,000 to 20,000 combatants, including 4,000 French troops, supported by a very powerful artillery train. The battle for Padua became known as the largest siege operation of its era. The fighting was fierce but, within a few weeks, the lack of resources and an outbreak of disease persuaded Maximilian to give up the offensive.41

The strategic stalemate set the pattern for the seven years of destructive warfare that followed. The Habsburg confrontation with Venice was fought over a long front from Istria and the Isonzo river in the east across Tyrol and Friuli to the plains of Veneto and Lombardy. The eastern section of the front was ravaged by nearly permanent warfare, most commonly in the shape of inherently indecisive (though highly destructive) low-intensity raids, but occasionally escalating to large-scale campaigns involving sizeable forces.42

As the conflict progressed, neither side was able to achieve a decisive breakthrough. Luck often changed, as did the short-lived political alliances. In May 1510, the combined French and Habsburg forces launched a major offensive, winning a string of victories before losing momentum. Maximilian’s constant reliance on stronger allies made his strategic position increasingly untenable. Another large-scale Habsburg offensive in the autumn of 1511 secured important gains in Friuli, but once again Maximilian was unable to translate success into a lasting victory when faced with a Venetian counterattack.43

For some time France continued to dominate the Italians’ battlefields, winning a Pyrrhic victory at Ravenna in April 1512. However, the overall balance of power shifted in favor of the anti-French coalition orchestrated by pope Julius II, Spain, England, Venice, and the Swiss Confederacy. Disillusioned by the current political reality, Maximilian finally broke his alliance with France and joined the new Holy League, even at the cost of a temporary alliance with Venice. This uneasy arrangement did not last long. Within months, the French were driven out from Italy, and the Holy League collapsed. Maximilian joined forces with Spain, England, the Swiss Confederacy, and the Papal State against the Franco-Venetian alliance. The new phase of the war in 1513 was marked by heavy fighting in Lombardy as well as in Flanders; the anti-French coalition was victorious in both theaters of war but failed to achieve a decisive outcome.44

In the early months of 1514, Maximilian attempted another invasion of Friuli. The offensive thrust started well, pushing all the way to the Tagliamento, but then bogged down in the face of vastly superior Venetian reinforcements numbering up to 15,000 men. Once again, the Venetian counterattack regained the lost ground and the Habsburg forces were barely able to hold on to Gorizia. At the same time, French diplomacy skillfully shattered the enemy coalition. Together with Spain, Maximilian was manipulated into signing a separate peace treaty with France in March, and Venice a month later, leaving England to fight the war alone.45

The accession of Francis I to the throne of France rekindled the power struggle for control over Lombardy. The young monarch raised an unprecedented invasion army and, with the assistance of Venetian reinforcements, crushed the isolated Swiss at Marignano in September 1515. Maximilian had nominally joined the anti-French coalition, but the strength of his army and finances had been depleted by that stage. The Habsburg emperor was powerless to prevent Lombardy from falling into enemy hands, retaining control only over the beleaguered fortress of Verona. Abandoned by virtually all his former allies, he tried to reverse the situation for the last time. In March 1516, Maximilian assembled an army of 4,000 cavalry and 10,000 Landsknechte supported by strong artillery, linking up with a force of 15,000 Swiss in a futile attempt to seize Milan. The offensive ran out of steam almost immediately due to poor leadership and Maximilian’s inability to pay his troops.46

The war of attrition had taken a heavy toll on all sides. Neither Emperor Maximilian nor the Republic of Venice could realistically expect to win the conflict by force of arms, nor could they afford a further continuation of hostilities. A peace treaty was finally brokered by Maximilian’s grandson Charles of Spain in December 1516. The aging emperor was forced to cede Lombardy, including Verona, and the majority of Friuli in return for monetary compensation as well as minor territorial gains in Tyrol and along the Isonzo river.47

The Slovenian Perspective and the Role of Christopher Rauber

At the turn of the sixteenth century, the majority of the Slovenian ethnic territory was divided into several provinces or territorial units under Habsburg rule: Carniola, Carinthia, Styria, Istria, and the County of Gorizia. These geopolitical entities, already exhausted by decades of fighting against Ottoman and Hungarian incursions, were ill-prepared to deal with the full consequences of yet another military adventure that followed in the years 1508–16. The western part of the Slovenian lands became an active battleground in the struggle against Venice. The local population was directly exposed to the horrors of war, which brought great suffering and economic devastation. Frustrated by their lack of success on the battlefield, both sides deliberately targeted civilians and resorted to a systematic destruction of crops and property. Even the areas untouched by actual fighting were hard-pressed to contribute troops and enormous funds to support the war effort.

The eastern part of the front along the western fringes of the Slovenian ethnic territory in Carniola, Istria, and the County of Gorizia arguably played the most prominent strategic role during the first two years of the war. In spring 1508, and once again during the summer offensive of 1509, the Slovenian lands supplied thousands of troops and large financial contributions for extensive operations against the Venetians.48 Maximilian entrusted the overall command over his eastern wing to Duke Erich of Braunschweig (1470–1540), an experienced – if somewhat untalented – professional soldier and loyal friend. However, the actual organization of forces and logistic supply was left mainly to a few prominent members of the Carniolan aristocracy: Bishop Christopher Rauber, provincial captain49 Hans Auersperg and vicedomus50 Georg Egk.51

Bishop Rauber was primarily tasked with the overseeing of logistics and securing the funds needed for the upkeep of troops. He played a key role in securing the vulnerable border during the Venetian counterattack in 1508, and perhaps even more so in the heavy fighting during spring and summer 1509 across the Karst and Istria. Rauber actively participated in the latter campaigns as one of the field commanders.52 Carniolan, Carinthian, and Styrian troops were mobilized on a large scale again in spring 1510, but their main offensive thrust against Gradisca failed.53

The strategic situation was becoming increasingly desperate, exacerbated by a powerful earthquake on 26 March 1511, as well as constant Ottoman raids.54 Hoping to take advantage of the French victories in the west, Bishop Rauber mustered Carniolan troops and led the provincial army into Friuli in September 1511. This was arguably Rauber’s most important combat assignment in the war, but also the last major opportunity to lead troops in the field. Rauber’s offensive initially took the enemy by surprise, capturing the vital border fortress of Gradisca. However, the Venetian counterattack in November drastically reversed the balance of power. Carniolan and Carinthian troops were barely able to hold on to Gradisca while heavy fighting continued until spring 1512.55

By then, the Slovenian lands were economically exhausted by the long war. Carniola once again bore a disproportionate burden in supporting the major Habsburg offensive in summer 1513, which culminated in a hard-fought defense of Marano on the Adriatic coast. The mounting pressure of Venetian reinforcements persuaded Maximilian to take drastic measures – even imposing a mass levy on Carniola, which was required to provide every tenth man from the pool of available conscripts. While Carniolan and Styrian troops saved Marano from falling into enemy hands, the excessive burden of the campaign could no longer be sustained.56 In May 1515, the Slovenian peasantry rebelled in a great uprising, which for a time overshadowed the Venetian threat. The uprising was soon quelled by force, but the devastated Slovenian lands were no longer a viable source of manpower and funding for Maximilian’s military campaigns. The end of fighting in 1516 finally brought much-needed relief, even though the ravaged territory required many years to fully recover from the war.57

Analysis of the Battle Plan

This brief overview may explain at least to some degree the complex historical context in which the battle plan from Ljubljana was originally conceived. The early years of the sixteenth century were a time of major innovation in European warfare, though the process of “military revolution” had arguably started some two hundred years earlier with the gradual shift from a cavalry-based tactical model toward predominantly infantry armies and steady integration of gunpowder weapons.58

During the early decades of the Italian Wars, the process of military modernization was already well underway. Nevertheless, most European armies of the era were still quite diverse, combining the latest in technology with many older, tried-and-true elements deeply rooted in the medieval tradition. The Habsburg military machine was no exception. Its tactics and strategy had been shaped by recent conflicts with the French, Swiss, Hungarians, and Ottomans, as well as the more distant but still deeply influential experience of the Hussite Wars. While boasting some of the most advanced artillery of the day and excellent Landsknechte infantry, the Habsburg military organization remained conservative, relying to a large extent on feudal obligations and heavily armored cavalry as its dominant arm.59

Figure 3 Diagram of the battle formation on the Ljubljana plan (Drawing by Polonca Strman)

Army Size and Unit Composition

A thorough analysis of the Ljubljana battle plan reveals several interesting details that help pinpoint its origin. The depicted army consists not merely of generic units but rather of typically Central European troop types. Apart from the Habsburg Empire at the beginning of the sixteenth century, no other power of the period would have been likely to combine such specific elements as the Hungarian-style hussar cavalry and south German Landsknechte infantry, assembled behind a protective screen of wagons in conscious imitation of the Hussite Wagenburg tactics.

The size of the depicted fighting force seems unusually imposing. An army of over 40,000 combatants would have been considered extremely large by early sixteenth-century standards, likely surpassing the actual capabilities of even the greatest European powers. Charles VIII’s force that invaded Italy in 1494 numbered barely 11,000 men. Even in later years, the French armies battling at Milan (1499), Agnadello (1509), and Ravenna (1512) never exceeded 30,000 troops, and most other engagements involved much smaller forces.60

The number of troops theoretically at the disposal of the most powerful European monarchs would have been much higher – the overall strength of France during the 1420s was estimated at 100,000 men-at-arms, and the “German” lands of the Holy Roman Empire were supposedly able to muster 60,000.61 However, due to logistical limitations and the lack of sufficiently developed infrastructure, no medieval commander was able to concentrate even a fraction of these numbers for any length of time.62 During the first half of the sixteenth century, a fighting force of 20 to 25,000 men would have been considered very large. Even as late as the Thirty Years’ War, armies seldom exceeded 40,000 combatants.63

It seems highly doubtful whether any European power would have been in a position to field an army described in the battle plan from Ljubljana.64 However, that does not necessarily mean that we are dealing with the ramblings of a dilettante. After all, a contemporary as experienced in military matters as Philip of Cleves had set out to propose a theoretical model of an ideal army consisting of no fewer than 50,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry.65

While such figures were too optimistic considering the practical realities of the era, they nevertheless represented an ideal that did not seem beyond the grasp of ambitious monarchs. Even during the great Venetian War, Maximilian I himself had planned far-flung campaigns involving vast numbers of troops strikingly reminiscent of the Ljubljana plan. In late 1507 he was drawing up plans for the ultimate showdown with France and Venice simultaneously, involving a defense line along the Isonzo, a two-pronged strike towards Milan and Cadore, as well as an additional push through Sundgau into Burgundy and Savoy.66 This was obviously a fantasy, but even a humiliating string of defeats in the first year of the war could not dissuade Maximilian I from planning a spring offensive in 1510 involving as many as 40,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry raised in the Habsburg dominions. Moreover, in 1512 the ambitious emperor was still dreaming of creating a standing imperial army 50,000 strong.67

In sharp contrast with lofty plans, the Habsburg operational forces raised during the war rarely exceeded 10,000 combatants.68 Even so, the figures proposed on the Ljubljana plan would not have been entirely unimaginable. After all, Maximilian I did find himself at the head of a truly gigantic army at least once, during the opening stages of the siege of Padua in 1509 when the coalition forces nominally under his command numbered at least 40,000, possibly as many as 60,000 men at the absolute peak.69

The composition of the army on the Ljubljana plan brings up various interesting points. The proportion of cavalry – mounted men-at-arms, hussars, and mounted crossbowmen – amounts to 14,300 men in total, or nearly 35% of the overall troop strength. This percentage seems very high by early sixteenth-­century standards, especially when taking into account the increasingly prominent role of infantry in late-medieval warfare. In that sense, the reliance on cavalry as the main arm may appear quite old-fashioned, reminiscent of older chivalric traditions, but it would not have been entirely out of place.

Some two centuries after the beginning of the “infantry revolution”, the experience of the Italian Wars once again highlighted the capabilities of heavily armored cavalry. Especially during the early stages of the conflict, France was able to exploit its superiority in men-at-arms to significant effect. By the mid-sixteenth century, the proportion of heavy cavalry on the Italian battlefields steadily decreased to approximately 10% of the overall army strength. However, it continued to maintain its reputation as the decisive “armored fist” of the period.70 The situation in the Habsburg provinces was even more conducive to raising cavalry as opposed to other troop types. The existing military organization was in many ways still quite conservative, even archaic, but its feudal roots nevertheless provided a steady and cost-effective supply of heavy cavalry. This was not quite a match for the famed French gendarmes, but it was mostly sufficient for the tasks at hand.71

In any case, the 5,700 mounted men-at-arms represent only a smaller portion of cavalry forces in the Ljubljana plan. In sheer numbers, they are clearly overshadowed by light cavalry consisting of 8,000 hussars and 600 mounted crossbowmen. The massive presence of hussars is a clear indication of the contemporary shift towards the increased tactical relevance of light cavalry. Lightly armed horsemen based on the Hungarian or Balkan model – itself influenced by the Ottoman cavalry – were already well integrated into Central European warfare by the final decades of the fifteenth century, and Venice followed suit by recruiting Albanian stradiots in large numbers.72

Hussar cavalry could fulfil a wide variety of combat roles. By contrast, mounted crossbowmen were specialist troops, in this case evidently expected to accompany the heavily armed men-at-arms during their charge and provide flanking security. Crossbows were retained in this particular application even after their disappearance from front-line infantry use as the matchlock arquebus was comparatively unwieldy for mounted use. Still, gunpowder weapons began to supplant the crossbow in the light cavalry role as well. Mounted hand gunners in Venetian service were able to score notable victories against their Habsburg adversaries during the 1510 campaign in Friuli, and over the next few decades increasingly sophisticated wheellock firearms became generally accepted in cavalry service.73

The structure of infantry units on the Ljubljana plan corresponds closely to the early sixteenth-century Central European standards. Their backbone consists of 22,000 Landsknechte, who would have fought primarily as pikemen with a smaller proportion of halberdiers and other troops. They stand arranged in squares of three to four thousand strong, hinting at the later development of pike-and-shot tactics.74

In comparison, the number of arquebusiers providing vital fire support is fairly low – 4,200 men, approximately 10% of total troop strength. This percentage is quite typical of the early sixteenth-century armies recruited in the Holy Roman Empire, but notably lower than was the norm among the most advanced Western forces. At the time, “German” (more accurately Central European) infantry was considered somewhat technologically backward, and their supposed lack of skill in the use of the arquebus was occasionally mocked by their Italian adversaries.75 Maximilian I sought actively to address this issue, gradually increasing the proportion of arquebusiers as well as improving the quality of their arms and training. By the 1530s the new tactical model embodied by the Spanish tercios stipulated the use of infantry formations containing one third of arquebusiers and musketeers, but over the years this ratio grew even further and generally reached about 50% by the turn of the seventeenth century.76

No information is provided in the plan on the strength and armament of the artillery. In fact, the artillery crews and supporting staff are not even included in the personnel list. That does not in any way imply that the artillery was seen as an inferior or less relevant arm but rather the contrary – that it represented an elite caste composed of specialists that enjoyed a rather privileged status. At the end of the Middle Ages, master artillerymen were still perceived as members of a unique class distinct from professional soldiers, hence their formal exclusion from the general rank and file.77

Tactical disposition

At first glance, the Ljubljana plan appears to show a static situation. However, a closer look at the disposition of troops reveals several clues as to how the formation was intended to function in contact with the enemy.

Any such analysis must begin with the Wagenburg, the single most important element determining the scope of actions available to the commander. Surrounding the battle formation with a solid line of wagons on three sides would have provided security from any sudden attack to the flanks or rear of the army. At the same time, it also severely restricted its mobility, only permitting movement towards the front.

The wagon fort had become a staple of Central European tactics since its highly successful employment during the Hussite Wars. In his treatise, initially composed in 1502–06 and finished in 1516, Philip of Cleves still considered it indispensable for protecting an army’s flanks either on the march or in a pitched battle.78 It was also a tactical method well familiar to Maximilian I, who had used it in his youth to win a major victory at Guinegate in 1479. Even during the preparations for war against Venice, the Habsburg army deliberately planned the use of improvised field defenses and Wagenburg forts as a means of resisting an eventual Venetian counterattack.79

While the battle formation depicted on the Ljubljana plan may seem purely defensive, nothing could be further from the truth. The open front, undefended by wagons, is clearly inviting the enemy to deliver a direct assault. However, any attempt at frontal attack is going to be disrupted first by the forlorn hope, a body of troops sent to stall the enemy with skirmishing or even a risky counterattack of their own. A similar tactic was recommended by Phillip of Seldeneck, though in his view it was a mission best carried out by mounted hand gunners posted on the left wing rather than center of the army. Another close parallel may be found in Cleves’ work, which describes a more or less identical deployment of skirmishers in open order ahead of the main formation. It is further worth noting that the original treatise apparently included schematic drawings of troops in battle order, though none have survived in the later editions. These analogies may well reflect the influence of Cleves’ text on the author of the Ljubljana plan. In any case, Cleves was himself a high-ranking officer in Maximilian’s army and therefore drew on similar experience from the military engagements fought during the later years of the fifteenth century.80

The forlorn hope would not have been strong enough to resist the adversary for long. At best, their attack could hope to disrupt the enemy formation, further compounded by an artillery barrage. Medieval commanders tended to assemble their field artillery in line along the front, where it could support the army only briefly before the physical clash of the opposing troops in a mêlée.81 The Ljubljana plan avoids this problem by concentrating the artillery on both wings in order to provide support against the enemy center throughout the duration of the battle. In theory, the front half of the artillery batteries is ready to enfilade the approaching enemy along two converging arcs of fire, thus creating a “kill zone” directly ahead of the army. The remaining half of the field artillery is positioned a short distance behind the front line and directed backwards, clearly in an attempt to prevent the enemy from maneuvering towards the flanks or rear of the formation.

Due to the practical limitations of smoothbore artillery firing solid stone or iron shot, the barrage would only have been effective at a relatively short range – perhaps a kilometer at most against massed targets, becoming truly destructive only at about half that distance. At close range, perhaps 100 metres or less, the lethality of artillery fire would have increased exponentially with the use of grapeshot.82 At this stage, the front ranks of arquebusiers, and to a lesser extent mounted crossbowmen, would also have been able to provide effective support, possibly inflicting heavy casualties on the attacking enemy.

This tactical approach seems to mirror very closely the advice written down by Philip of Cleves. In both cases, the proposed battle formation is protected by a wagon fort, spearheaded by a forlorn hope, and supported by artillery concentrated on the wings.83 However, a crucial difference appears in the structure of the first battle line.

Throughout the pre-industrial era, the front center of any primarily defensive battle formation consisted of infantry – usually heavy infantry armed and trained to withstand the shock of an incoming charge, a task that mounted combatants in a static line could never hope to accomplish. By contrast, cavalry as a purely offensive arm was generally positioned on the wings, where it could maneuver freely, or behind the protective screen of infantry when held in reserve. These basic tenets were generally followed even by such radical late-medieval innovators as the Burgundian duke Charles the Bold.84

In the Ljubljana plan, however, the center of the first battle line consists of mounted men-at-arms in three large units, each with 1,500 horsemen. This proves that the proposed battle formation was essentially offensive, aimed at provoking the enemy into a frontal attack, which was to be met with a decisive cavalry countercharge. Even if the latter failed, the commander might still have been able to reverse the situation by leading another charge at the head of the second-line reserve. Throughout the engagement, the men-at-arms could rely on attendants poised to bring up fresh remounts and spare equipment.85

The success of the plan, therefore, depended mainly on the mounted men-at-arms in the center, even though the rest of the army was still in a position to perform various useful services – the hussar cavalry on the wings would have been well positioned to flank, envelop, or pursue the enemy and the small detachments of mounted crossbowmen could have contributed valuable assistance to the charging men-at-arms while the Landsknechte and arquebusiers either maintained a solid defensive line or advanced in close order to engage the enemy themselves.

If this interpretation of the plan is correct, its underlying tactical approach seems rather unusual by contemporary standards. The Wagenburg tactic was generally a defensive method preferred by infantry-based armies. It would seem much less suitable for a force relying mostly on mounted men-at-arms. Conceptually, the arrangement of troops in two consecutive waves with heavy cavalry used as the central shock arm is reminiscent of much earlier battle tactics revolving around the mounted knight.86

Some observations may be drawn comparing the Ljubljana plan to the surviving Central European military manuals written in roughly the same period. Philip of Seldeneck proposed a similar composition of forces: a forlorn hope in the van of two consecutive battle lines, the second acting as a reserve and led personally by the commander. However, here the similarities end – in imitation of the Swiss, Seldeneck recommended the use of an asymmetrical infantry formation composed of pikemen and halberdiers supported by hand gunners and crossbowmen concentrated mostly on the left flank. This was the core of the army expected to decide the battle with a rapid frontal assault. Conversely, cavalry was reduced to a secondary role, arranged on both wings for a flanking attack or pursuit of the defeated enemy.87

Even closer parallels may be found in the writing of Philip of Cleves, who suggested the use of wagon forts on the flanks supported by artillery and amassing the most powerful elements of the army in the center to launch an all-out charge against the enemy. He also recommended placing a line of wagons in the rear of the formation to strengthen the resolve of troops by securing their back and preventing desertion. However, Philip’s troop dispositions in all cases rely primarily on infantry in the center or left of the main line, with missile troops on the flanks and cavalry concentrated on the right wing.88

It is a well-known military tenet that no plan survives the initial contact with the enemy intact. How effectively the tactical disposition depicted on the Ljubljana plan would have worked on the contemporary battlefield is a difficult question that cannot be answered solely by theoretical models. Perhaps more relevant in this regard would be a comparative analysis of actual military engagements fought during the period.

At least four major battles at the peak of the Italian Wars followed a similar course or at least incorporated the same essential elements as depicted on the Ljubljana plan: Ravenna (1512), Marignano (1515), Bicocca (1522), and Pavia (1525). All of these examples share a common trait – in each instance, one of the opposing sides chose to enclose itself in a fortified camp while the enemy attempted to destroy it by a forceful assault. Sometimes this was the result of a conscious decision, usually to compensate for the enemy superiority in numbers, though in other cases it may have been a more spontaneous development in a fluid tactical situation.89

Figure 4 A realistic contemporary depiction of field fortifications from Eyb’s Kriegsbuch dated c.1500 (UER, MS.B 26, fol. 62r)

Perhaps the best example of the latter is the battle of Pavia on 24 February 1525. The French army, which had been besieging the city for some time, was encamped in a strong defensive position secured by additional field defenses. However, the sudden arrival of sizeable Habsburg reinforcements persuaded the French to respond with an all-out cavalry charge. This was successful initially as the heavily armored gendarmes triumphed over their inferior Habsburg counterparts. However, once out of the entrenchments, the advancing French cavalry masked the fire of their artillery and arquebusiers, depriving itself of effective support and falling victim to a counterattack launched by the enemy infantry.90

The battle plan from Ljubljana could have led to a similar debacle. It also entailed the potential risk of overestimating the defensive strengths of field fortifications. While the Wagenburg was responsible for a long string of victories against the odds, the concept was not without serious shortcomings. In particular, a static defensive formation, even if relying on the protection of a wagon fort, was extremely vulnerable to artillery bombardment. The proliferation of highly mobile field artillery made it an increasingly risky tactic, as demonstrated by the battle of Wenzenbach in 1504, where a Habsburg army personally led by Maximilian I faced a strong force of Bohemian mercenaries. Maximilian initially attempted to break their ranks with a cavalry charge, which predictably failed at the cost of heavy losses. However, the situation was reversed by a combined-arms attack of Landsknechte infantry supported by field artillery and hand-held firearms.91

The lesson of Wenzenbach was twofold. Gunpowder weapons could be used effectively to break the deadlock when facing an adversary in a seemingly impregnable position. On the other hand, an army arranged in a strong defensive formation, further strengthened by wagons or field fortifications, was almost impossible to break by the impetus of a frontal charge alone, unsupported by artillery and missile troops.

This was amply proved on the Italian battlefields, notably at Bicocca in 1522 where the famed Swiss pikemen, lacking artillery support, suffered catastrophic casualties in useless frontal attacks against the well-entrenched Spanish arquebusiers.92 To be fair, the Swiss had already experienced a similar setback at Marignano in 1515 as their surprise attempt to overrun the encamped French army failed in the face of overwhelming artillery fire.93

Nonetheless, a skilled commander could find a different solution to the problem. At Ravenna in 1512, the predominantly Spanish army of the Holy League entrenched itself to better resist the superior French, only to become trapped in their own camp. The French exposed them to converging artillery fire from field batteries brought up on two sides. The barrage was so devastating that the defenders were finally forced to attempt a breakthrough. However, their cavalry sortie was easily checked by the French men-at-arms while the Spanish infantry proved unable to resist concentrated enemy counterattacks despite the protection of wagons and entrenchments.94

Conclusion

These examples may help illustrate the potential outcome of the situation depicted on the Ljubljana map. The plan devised by its author was not mere fantasy – it reflected the actual practice of the period based on tried-and-true elements typical of Central European warfare and tested in the Italian Wars. It was also specifically adapted to the types of troops available to the Habsburg commanders, their relative strengths and weaknesses.

The tactical method depicted in the Ljubljana plan implies a highly cautious approach to warfare. Its author anticipated leading an army containing a very powerful cavalry component. Yet instead of exploiting the superior mobility of mounted troops, the fear of a sudden enemy attack to the flanks or rear persuaded him to sacrifice the freedom of maneuver for the additional security of improvised field fortifications.

This left the tactical initiative to the enemy, though at the same time drastically restricting their range of options. Penetrating a solid line of defenses on three sides of the battle formation would have been very difficult at best, even more so due to the considerable presence of artillery covering the main lines of approach with intersecting fields of fire. The only gap in the wagon fort extended along the front side, where the defending army hoped to trick the attacker into launching a frontal assault. Once fully committed in the front sector, the attacking army would have been highly vulnerable to a determined counterattack of the defender’s heavy cavalry supported by the entire weight of combined arms – light cavalry as well as pikemen and arquebusiers.

The trap would only have worked as expected if the enemy risked a frontal assault. This makes the proposed plan quite one-dimensional, going against the grain of commonly accepted tactics. However, it might well reflect the prudent nature of a commander used to fighting an elusive, highly mobile enemy – the very experience of Habsburg armies in the long struggle against the Ottoman incursions, and also quite characteristic of their engagements against the Hungarian light cavalry as well as stradiots employed in Venetian service.

The exact purpose of the Ljubljana plan and time of its creation remain open to debate. The plan itself contains no information on the configuration of the terrain, or indeed any specific geographic reference. The absence of such vital details suggests that the document depicts an idealized battle formation, and not necessarily the disposition of an actual army ready to engage the enemy at some predetermined location. This is further reinforced by the surprising number of troops involved, possibly exceeding the capabilities of even the most powerful European monarchs during the early years of the sixteenth century.

Nevertheless, the plan cannot have been entirely a work of fiction. The composition and arrangement of the battle formation clearly reflects common military practice of the time and leaves little room to doubt that the otherwise unidentified army could only have belonged to a Habsburg ruler, for such a specific combination of unit types and tactical approaches would not have been found anywhere else in Europe.

All in all, it seems most plausible that the plan was drawn up in preparation for a highly ambitious military campaign expected to bring the entire strength of the Habsburg army against an as yet undefined foe – possibly Venice or even France. In the context of Maximilian’s war against Venice, such planning could have taken place during the early stages of the conflict, or even more likely shortly before the outbreak of hostilities – in 1507 or early 1508.

There is as yet another minor clue that supports this date. The supreme commander of the army at the head of the cavalry reserve is defined as “king” (Rex) rather than “emperor.” Assuming that this dignitary could have been no one else but Maximilian I, one is led to conclude that the plan was devised prior to 4 February 1508, when the Habsburg ruler accepted the imperial title in Trento.

As far as is known, the Ljubljana plan was never put to the ultimate test. Despite the grandiose schemes initiated in preparation of the conflict, Maximilian I was never truly able to muster forces on such a massive scale. Throughout his involvement in the Italian Wars, there were only a handful of occasions when he was able to field a force containing over 10,000 combatants for an actual operation: in June 1509 during the siege of Padua; in May 1510, launching an invasion of the Venetian hinterland; and finally in the spring of 1516 for the attack against Milan. None of these campaigns saw a major pitched battle fought according to the depicted tactical disposition.

The role of Christopher Rauber in the creation of the Ljubljana plan remains speculative. To date, the investigations of the Archdiocesan Archive have failed to uncover any further evidence on the matter. Even though Rauber held the position of a high-ranking clergyman, he came from a family background with a strong martial tradition and showed great skill in military matters. It was precisely this aptitude that helped cement his reputation as one of the more distinguished army organizers under Maximilian I.

While Rauber was undoubtedly interested in questions of strategy and tactics, it seems somewhat implausible that he could have authored the Ljubljana plan all by himself. The proposed troop strength of the depicted battle formation would have far exceeded the available potential of Rauber’s home province of Carniola, even with the support of the neighboring Inner Austrian lands of Carinthia, Styria, and Gorizia. An army of such size could only have been organized by the ruler, supported by the efforts of the entire Holy Roman Empire. Therefore, it appears most likely that the Ljubljana plan was created in the presence of Maximilian I himself, or during a high-level war council attended by his close advisors. Christopher Rauber obviously belonged to this core of trusted men as one of Maximilian’s key commanders on the Venetian front.

Perhaps the greatest importance of the Ljubljana plan lies in its wider historical relevance. It represents one of the earliest – and hitherto entirely unknown – detailed graphical depictions of a contemporary battle formation, providing a fascinating insight into the mind of Central European strategists at the turn of the Modern Period.

1 Hans Delbrück, Geschichte der Kriegskunst im Rahmen der politischen Geschichte, vol. 3 (Berlin, 1923); Charles Oman, A History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages (London, 1924). Cf. Philippe Contamine, War in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1984), p. 208 ff.; J. F. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare in Western Europe during the Middle Ages (Woodbridge, 1997). »

2 Maks Miklavčič, “Ravbar, Krištof, plemeniti (1466–1536)” in Slovenska biografija 9, ed. Alfonz Gspan et al. (Ljubljana, 1960). »

3 Ljubljana, Nadškofijski arhiv (NŠAL), ŠAL 1, Fasc. 29/1–4, Fasc. 30/1–7. »

4 NŠAL, ŠAL 1, Fasc. 29/1, Battle plan. »

5 Tomaž Lazar, Julijana Visočnik, “‘Bojno-taktični načrt’ ali shema sestave habsburške vojske iz časa beneško-habsburške vojne,” in Arhivi – zakladnice spomina, ed. Andrej Nared (Ljubljana, 2014), pp. 110–11; Tomaž Lazar, “Bojni načrt iz časa beneške vojne v zapuščini Krištofa Ravbarja: dragoceno odkritje v ljubljanskem Nadškofijskem arhivu,” Zgodovinski časopis 73/3–4 (2019), pp. 296–345. »

6 Elena Lourie, “A Society Organized for War. Medieval Spain,” in Medieval Warfare 1000–1300, ed. John France (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 339–61; Medieval Warfare. A History, ed. Maurice Keen (Oxford 1999), pp. 1–9; James F. Powers, A Society Organized for War (Berkeley, 1988); The Medieval Military Revolution, State Society and Military Change in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds. Andrew Ayton, J. L. Price (London, 1995), pp. 1–22; Contamine, War, p. 13 ff.; Tomaž Lazar, Vitezi, najemniki in smodnik. Vojskovanje na Slovenskem v poznem srednjem veku (Ljubljana, 2012). »

7 George T. Dennis, Maurice’s Strategikon (Philadelphia, 1984); Eric McGeer, Sowing the Dragon’s Teeth. Byzantine Warfare in the Tenth Century (Washington 1995); Dennis F. Sullivan, Siegecraft. Two Tenth-Century Instructional Manuals by “Heron of Byzantium” (Washington, 2000). »

8 Flavius Vegetius Renatus, Epitoma rei militaris, ed. Carl Lang (Leipzig, 1885). Cf. Contamine, War, pp. 210–12; John France, Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades (Ithaca, 1999), pp. 9–10; David Eltis, The Military Revolution in Sixteenth-Century Europe (London, 1995), p. 60; Volker Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen im späten Mittelalter. Technik, Taktik, Theorie (Weinheim, 1990), pp. 105–28, 298–300; Verbruggen, The Art, pp. 77–83, 89–91, 97–102; F. L. Taylor, The Art of War in Italy 1494–1529 (Cambridge, 1921), pp. 167–76. »

9 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, 126–28; Eltis, The Military Revolution, p. 60; München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm 30150. »

10 Ramon Lull, Anonymous, Ramon Lull’s Book of Knighthood and Chivalry & the Anonymous Ordene de Chevalerie, ed. and trans. Brian R. Price (Union City, 2001). »

11 Ibid. »

12 Geoffroi de Charny, The Book of Chivalry of Geoffroi de Charny, eds. and trans. Richard W. Kaeuper, Elspeth Kennedy (Philadelphia, 1996). »

13 Christine de Pizan, The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry, ed. and trans. Christine Willard (University Park, 1999). »

14 Pizan, The Book, pp. 65–67, 110–11, 117–26, 141–42. »

15 Geoffroi de Charny, The Book, pp. 102–05. »

16 Sydney Anglo, The Martial Arts of Renaissance Europe (New Haven, London, 2000); Tomaž Lazar, “Once Were Warriors. Late Medieval Martial Arts Manuals in the Context of Military Development,” Vojaška zgodovina 10/1 (2009), 7–25; Roman Vučajnk, “Martial Arts in the Middle Ages,” Vojaška zgodovina 10/1 (2009), 27–43; Nürnberg, Germanisches Museum, Cod. HS. 3227a; Hans-Peter Hils, Meister Johann Liechtenauers Kunst des langen Schwertes (Frankfurt, 1985); Luigi Zanutto, Fiore di Premariacco ed i ludi e le feste marziali e civili in Friuli (Udine, 1907); David Cvet, “An Examination of Fiore dei Liberi and His Treatises Describing L’Arte dell’Armizare, c. 1410,” Vojaška zgodovina 10/1 (2009), 45–57. »

17 Cf. Michael E. Mallett and Christine Shaw, The Italian Wars 1494–1559. War, State and Society in Early Modern Europe (London, 2012), pp. 187–88. »

18 Contamine, War, pp. 212–15; France, Western Warfare, p. 161; Verbruggen, The Art, pp. 288–347. »

19 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 17–37; John Beeler, “Towards a Re-Evaluation of Medieval English Generalship,” in Medieval Warfare 1000–1300, ed. John France (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 289–99; John Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War in the Middle Ages,” in Medieval Warfare 1000–1300, ed. John France (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 299–312. »

20 Contamine, War, pp. 217–18; Kelly DeVries, Infantry Warfare in the Early Fourteenth Century (Woodbridge, 1996); Keen, Medieval Warfare, pp. 142–44, 202–03; Lazar, Vitezi; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, p. 189. »

21 Thomas Fudge, The Crusade against Heretics in Bohemia, 1418–1437 (Aldershot, 2002), nos. 97, 120, 121, 141. Cf. Karl Hegel, Matthias Lexer, Die Chroniken der fränkischen Städte. Nürnberg, vol. 3 (Leipzig, 1864), pp. 409–11. »

22 Matthew Strickland and Robert Hardy, The Great Warbow. From Hastings to the Mary Rose (Far Thrupp, 2005), pp. 321–25. »

23 Sydney Anglo, Machiavelli. The First Century. Studies in Enthusiasm, Hostility, and Irrelevance (Oxford, 2005), pp. 31–32; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, p. 187. »

24 Jean de Bueil, Le Jouvencel, trans. Craig Taylor and Jane H. M. Taylor (Woodbridge, 2020). »

25 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 242–92; Karlsruhe, Badische Landesbibliothek, Doc. Durlach 18, MRFH 10475; Erlangen, Universitätsbibliothek, MS.B 26; Philippe de Cleves, Instruction de toutes manières de guerroyer tant par terre que par mer (Paris, 1558). »

26 Taylor, The Art, pp. 156–79; Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 295–300; Eltis, The Military Revolution, pp. 61–63; Patrick Brugh, Gunpowder, Masculinity, and Warfare in German Texts 1400–1700 (Rochester, 2019). »

27 Cleves, Instructions, p. 78; Contamine, War, pp. 166–69; Clifford J. Rogers, “The Battle of Agincourt,” in The Hundred Years War (Part II); Different Vistas, eds. Andrew Villalon, Donald Kagay (Leiden, 2008), pp. 35–132, quotation at p. 62. »

28 41,700 according to the author of the document, evidently led astray by yet another minor mathematical error. »

29 Due to the scribe’s error, the number of arquebusiers is specified as 4,000 in the summary, whereas their actual troop strength is 4,200 based on the unit size specified in the diagram. »

30 Julijana Visočnik, Škofijski arhiv Ljubljana. Inventar fonda ŠAL I, fasc. 1–51 (Ljubljana, 2012), pp. 167–68, 174–75; Lazar, Visočnik, “‘Bojno-taktični načrt’.” »

31 Wiesflecker’s exhaustive monograph remains arguably the most complete study of the war from the Habsburg perspective: Hermann Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I. Der Kaiser und seine Umwelt. Hof, Staat, Wirtschaft, Gesellschaft und Kultur (München, 1981). In comparison, the Slovenian historiography has produced virtually no noteworthy original contribution on the subject, with the exception of a recent monograph on the Karst region: Miha Kosi, Spopad za prehode proti Jadranu in nastanek “dežele Kras.” Vojaška in politična zgodovina Krasa od 12. do 16. stoletja (Ljubljana, 2018). »

32 Cf. Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars. »

33 Cf. Peter Štih, Vasko Simoniti, Peter Vodopivec, Slovenska zgodovina. Družba - politika - kultura (Ljubljana, 2009), p. 129; Hermann Wiesflecker, “Kaiser Maximilian I. Seine Persönlichkeit und Politik,” in Ausstellung Maximilian I., ed. Erich Egg (Innsbruck, 1969), pp. 24–28; Alois Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte 1400–1522 (Wien, 1996), pp. 367–73; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, p. 4. »

34 Ibid., pp. 27–34, 39–41, 47–53. »

35 BSB, Cod.icon. 222; Wendelin Boeheim, “Die Zeugbücher des Kaisers Maximilian I,” Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des Allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses 13/1 (1892), pp. 94–201; idem, “Die Zeugbücher des Kaisers Maximilian I,” Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des Allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses 15/1 (1894), pp. 295–391; Tomaž Lazar, “The Slovenian Lands as the Armed Frontier of the Holy Roman Empire,” Fasciculi archaeologiae historicae 30 (2017), 59–72; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, pp. 24–25; idem, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 1–2; Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte, pp. 368–69. »

36 Eduard Heyck, Kaiser Maximilian I. (Bielefeld, Leipzig, 1898), p. 92; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, pp. 24–28; Buck, “‘Des Heiligen Reichs und Deutscher Nation Nothdurft und Obliegen.’ Der Konstanzer Reichstag von 1507 und die europäische Politik,” Schriften des Vereins für Geschichte des Bodensees 126 (2008), 14–15; Marija Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi kranjskih deželnih stanov 1. 1499–1515 (Ljubljana, 1980), nos. 13, 14; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I, pp. 1–3; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 85–86. »

37 Cf. Primož Simoniti, “Postojnski grad v letu 1508 in Maksimiljan I. z vzdevkom ‘Leviades’,” Zgodovinski časopis 64/1–2 (2010), pp. 121–26. »

38 Heyck, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 92–93; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, pp. 25–28; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 1–20; Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte, pp. 368–70; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 85–87; Michael E. Mallet and John R. Hale, The Military Organization of a Renaissance State. Venice c. 1400 to 1617 (Cambridge, 2006), pp. 63–64; Joseph Chmel, Urkunden, Briefe und Actenstücke zur Geschichte Maximilians I. und seiner Zeit (Stuttgart, 1845), nos. CCXXI, CCXXIII, CCXXV; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 15, 16, 17, 18. »

39 Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 20–47; Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte, pp. 370–71; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 87–91. »

40 David Schönherr, Der Krieg Kaiser Maximilians I. mit Venedig 1509 (Wien, 1876), pp. 33–46; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 24, 25; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, p. 25; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 51–55; Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte, p. 371; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 91–94. »

41 Schönherr, Der Krieg, pp. 46–61; Taylor, The Art, pp. 93–96, 139–43; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 55–60; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 94–95. »

42 Schönherr, Der Krieg, pp. 47–61; Taylor, The Art, pp. 139–43; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 59–60; Chmel, Urkunden, nos. CCXXXV, CCXXXVI; Theodor G. Karajan, Fontes rerum Austriacarum. Österreichische Geschichts-Quellen 1. Scriptores 1 (Wien 1855), pp.72–76. »

43 Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, pp. 25–26; Idem, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 64–75, 84–89; Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte, p. 372; Gerhard Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I. und das Kriegswesen der österreichischen Länder und des Reiches (Wien, 1985), pp. 23–24; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 101–03. »

44 Heyck, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 94–96; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, no. 41; Taylor, The Art, pp. 119–22; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, pp. 26–27; Idem, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 96–140; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 101–24. »

45 Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 140–50; Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte, p. 372; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 124–26. »

46 Heyck, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 96–97; Taylor, The Art, pp. 123–25; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, p. 27; Idem, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 150–53, 235–47; Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 89–92; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 126–34. »

47 Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 251–58; Mallet, Hale, pp. 221–24; cf. Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 185–90. »

48 Karajan, FRA 1/1, p. 73; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 51–55; Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 181–83. »

49 German Landeshauptmann. »

50 German Vizedom, Latin vicedominus, provincial deputy. »

51 Chmel, Urkunden, no. CCXXIII; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18; Simoniti, Postojnski grad. »

52 NŠAL, ŠAL 1, Fasc. 29/3, 1509 May 16, s. l., Maximilian I’s letter to Christopher Rauber; 1509 June 6, Sterzingen, Maximilian I’s letter to Christopher Rauber; 1509 June 12, Trento, Maximilian I’s letter to Christopher Rauber and Georg Egk; 1509 September 9, Padua, Maximilian I’s letter to Christopher Rauber; 1509 November 7, s. l., Georg Schnitzenpaumer and Nicholas Rauber’s report on the situation in Trieste; 1509 November 11, Rovereto, Maximilian I’s letter to Christopher Rauber; Chmel, Urkunden, nos. CCXXXV, CCXXXVI; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, no. 24; Karajan, FRA 1/1, pp. 72–76; Schönherr, Der Krieg, pp. 47–49. »

53 Chmel, Urkunden, no. CCXXXIX; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 25, 27, 29, 31, 38; Karajan, FRA 1/1, pp. 76–79. »

54 Cf. Simoniti, Postojnski grad, pp. 130–32; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 32, 33, 34, 38, 41, 46. »

55 Chmel, Urkunden, no. CCXL; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 47, 48. »

56 NŠAL, ŠAL 1, Fasc. 30/3, 1513 November 10, Gorizia, List of Habsburg troops in Gorizia and Gradisca; Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 49, 50, 51, 53, 55, 57, 59, 60, 62, 64, 65, 67, 69, 72, 73, 82, 83, 84, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 95, 98; Karajan, FRA 1/1, pp. 79–81. »

57 Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi 1, nos. 108, 111, 112, 115, 119, 121, 124, 126; Marija Verbič, Deželnozborski spisi kranjskih deželnih stanov 2. 1516–1519 (Ljubljana, 1986), nos. 133, 134, 136, 137. »

58 Keen, Medieval Warfare, pp. 142–44, 202–03; Contamine, War, pp. 230–31, 255–59; Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 221–38; DeVries, Infantry Warfare, pp. 86–99; Strickland, Hardy, The Great Warbow, pp. 178–79, 182–265; Clifford J. Rogers, The Military Revolution Debate: Readings on the Military Transformation of Early Modern Europe (Boulder, 1995). »

59 Taylor, The Art, pp. 31–34, 37–38; Contamine, War, pp. 137–50, 200–07; Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 63–74, 77–79, 92–96; Eltis, The Military Revolution, pp. 6–44, 76–98; DeVries, Infantry Warfare, pp. 129–36; Bert S. Hall, Weapons & Warfare in Renaissance Europe (Baltimore, 1997), pp. 36–37, 67–104, 172–76, 201–35; Verbruggen, The Art, pp. 112–15, 148; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 4, 177–85, 191–93. »

60 Taylor, The Art, pp. 180–215; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 22, 28–30, 47–48. »

61 Dana Carleton Munro et al., Statistical Documents of the Middle Ages. Original Sources of European History 3/2 (Philadelphia, 1907), pp. 13–18. »

62 John Haldon et al., “Marching Across Anatolia. Medieval Logistics and Modeling the Mantzikert Campaign,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 65/66 (2011–12), pp. 209–35. Cf. Tomaž Lazar, “The Military Campaign of Duke Henry of Carinthia Against Cangrande della Scala, Summer of 1324,” Vojaška zgodovina 10/1 (2009), 83–105; Lazar, Vitezi, pp. 71–96. »

63 Eltis, The Military Revolution, pp. 27–28, 207–10, 216–34; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 205–11. »

64 Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 41–49; Hall, Weapons, p. 122; Contamine, War, pp. 136–37; Vasko Simoniti, Vojaška organizacija na Slovenskem v 16. stoletju (Ljubljana, 1991), p. 30 ff. »

65 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 246–51, 290–91. »

66 Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 3–4; Buck, “‘Des Heiligen Reichs’,” pp. 14–16; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 85–86. »

67 Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 24–25. »

68 Karajan, FRA 1/1, p. 73; Schönherr, Der Krieg, pp. 33–38; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, p. 25; Idem, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 51–55; Niederstätter, Österreichische Geschichte, p. 371; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 91–93. »

69 Schönherr, Der Krieg, pp. 46–49, 54–55; Taylor, The Art, pp. 93–96, 139–43; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 55–60; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 94–95. »

70 Taylor, The Art, pp. 61–69; Hall, Weapons, pp. 185–86, 188–200; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, p. 176. »

71 Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 97–121. »

72 Contamine, War, pp. 128–29; Hall, Weapons, pp. 72–75; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 180–81. »

73 Taylor, The Art, p. 35; Hall, Weapons, p. 71. »

74 Taylor, The Art, pp. 29–38; Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 231–36; Eltis, The Military Revolution, pp. 48–53; Hall, Weapons, pp. 172–76, 225–26. »

75 Boeheim, Die Zeugbücher 1, pp. 109–99; Boeheim, Die Zeugbücher 2; Taylor, The Art, pp. 41–58; Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 125–38; Hall, Weapons, pp. 172–76; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 179–80. »

76 Hall, Weapons, pp. 178–79, 184; Eltis, The Military Revolution, p. 44. »

77 Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 123–24, 150; Hall, Weapons, pp. 87–100; Robert D. Smith, “The Technology of Wrought-Iron Artillery,” Royal Armouries Yearbook 5 (2000), 68–79; idem, “All Manner of Peeces. Artillery in the Late Medieval Period,” Royal Armouries Yearbook 7 (2002), pp. 130–38; Robert D. Smith and Kelly DeVries, The Artillery of the Dukes of Burgundy 1363–1477 (Woodbridge, 2005), pp. 10–54, 316–18; Tomaž Lazar, Late-Medieval Artillery in Slovenia. A Study of Two Early Artillery Pieces from the Regional Museum Ptuj - Ormož (Ljubljana, 2015), pp. 130–77; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, p. 187. »

78 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 286–90. »

79 Fudge, The Crusade, nos. 13, 14, 21, 48, 96; Joseph Chmel, Materialien zur österreichischen Geschichte 1/2 (Graz, 1971), no. LXXXIX; Wiesflecker, Kaiser … Seine Persönlichkeit, p. 6; Chmel, Urkunden, no. CCXXI; Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., p. 79. »

80 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, p. 260; Cleves, Instructions, p. 77; Philippe Contamine, “L’art de la guerre selon Philippe de Clèves, seigneur Ravenstein (1456–1528): innovation ou tradition?,” Bijdragen en mededelingen betreffende de geschiedenis der Nederlanden 95 (1980), 363–77, quotation at p. 370. »

81 Taylor, The Art, pp. 99–101; Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, p. 248. »

82 Contamine, War, pp. 198–200; Taylor, The Art, p. 101; Hall, Weapons, pp. 152–53. »

83 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 286–90. »

84 Taylor, The Art, pp. 108–10; Contamine, War, pp. 229–37. Cf. Louis E. Nolan, Cavalry. Its History and Tactics, ed. Jon Coulston (Yardley, 2007). »

85 Cf. Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 248, 257. »

86 Contamine, War, pp. 229–30; Verbruggen, The Art, pp. 87, 209–11, 217–21. »

87 Schmidtchen, Kriegswesen, pp. 246–51, 254, 258, 260–62. »

88 Ibid., pp. 286–90. »

89 Cf. Taylor, The Art, pp. 78–80, 101. »

90 Taylor, The Art, pp. 79–80, 150–52; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 150–52, 177, 179, 211. »

91 Uwe Tresp, Söldner aus Böhmen. Im Dienst deutscher Fürsten. Kriegsgeschäft und Heeresorganisation im 15. Jahrhundert (Paderborn, 2004), pp. 74–75, 81, 85–90, 128–30. »

92 Taylor, The Art, pp. 79, 125–26; Hall, Weapons, pp. 172–76; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 143–44, 179, 211. »

93 Taylor, The Art, pp. 101, 123–25; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 150–53, 235–39; Kurzmann, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 89–92; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 128–30, 179, 191, 195, 213. »

94 Taylor, The Art, pp. 99–100, 119–22, 185–99; Wiesflecker, Kaiser Maximilian I., pp. 96–101; Mallett and Shaw, The Italian Wars, pp. 106–08, 183, 195. »

Contributors

David S. Bachrach, professor of history at the University of New Hampshire, focuses on the military and administrative history of the kingdom of England in the thirteenth century and the kingdom of Germany in the tenth to twelfth centuries. His recent publications include Warfare in Medieval Europe c.400–c.1453, second revised edition (2021) with Bernard S. Bachrach; Administration and Organization of War in Thirteenth-Century England (2020), and Warfare in Tenth-Century Germany (2012).

Daniel Bertrand is a recent graduate of the History Program at Utah State University. He is interested in the military history and technologies of the ancient and medieval worlds, and his research has focused so far on trebuchets, spending the last five years redesigning and mastering his reconstructed machine, which has been demonstrated at several events.

Peter Burkholder is professor of history at Fairleigh Dickinson University in Madison, New Jersey. He has published numerous studies on the intersection of history and film. He recently co-directed a major investigation of the American public’s understandings and uses of the past, which was published by the American Historical Association as History, the Past, and Public Culture: Results from a National Survey (2021).

Ekaitz Etxeberria Gallastegi is a lecturer in Medieval History at the University of the Basque Country. He obtained his PhD in 2019, after completing a dissertation on fifteenth-century Castilian military strategy and tactics. His research focuses on the military history of Late Medieval Castile, especially on the conduct of war and private warfare. His recent publications include an edition of the collective volume La guerra privada en la Edad Media. Las coronas de Castilla y Aragón (siglos XIV y XV) (2021) and a forthcoming book Fazer la guerra. Estrategia y táctica militar en la Castilla del siglo XV (2022).

Michael John Harbinson is a retired medical general practitioner. He has previously contributed several articles to the Journal of Medieval Military History, winning the Gillingham Prize in 2020. His interests lie in the use of horsemen during the Hundred Years’ War and in the later fifteenth century.

Steven Isaac is professor of history and chair of the department of history at Longwood University. His published work includes articles in The Journal of Military History and The Journal of Medieval Military History. He is currently finishing up a monograph, Down Upon the Fold: Mercenaries in the Long Twelfth Century.

Donald J. Kagay is an adjunct professor of history at the University of Dallas. He spent twenty-three years as a professor of History at Albany State University in Albany, Georgia. Dr. Kagay has published forty-seven articles and sixteen books. His latest publications are Elionor of Sicily 1325–1375: A Mediterranean Queen of Two Worlds (2021), and, with L. J. Andrew Villalon, Conflict in Fourteenth-Century Iberia: Aragon vs. Castile and the War of the Two Pedros (2019).

Tomaž Lazar is a curator at the National Museum of Slovenia, where he manages the arms and armour collection. His research work is devoted mainly to military history and technology of the Middle Ages and the Early Modern Period. He is the author of several major museum exhibitions and a wide range of publications, including some sixty articles and monographs including Knights, Mercenaries, and Gunpowder (2012), Late-medieval Artillery in Slovenia (2015), and Armour from the National Museum of Slovenia (2021).

Mamuka Tsurtsumia is a Georgian historian whose research focuses on medieval military history and military technology. He is the author of many academic and encyclopaedia articles. He received a PhD in history from the Ivane Javakhishvili Tbilisi State University in 2014 and published his expanded PhD thesis as a monograph under the title Medieval Georgian Army (900–1700): Organization, Tactics, Armament (2016). His most recent monograph is The Ideology of War in Georgia and the Near East: Christian Holy War and Islamic Jihad (2019).