In the blink of an eye, the shield wall of 500 Viking warriors collapsed. Many were killed in this devastating attack. When the losses reached a critical point, the shield wall crumbled.
"The defeat was like a landslide. Damn it, why did they bring in reinforcements from the Franks?"
Vig rode his horse north and ran like a madman. Every now and then, his mind recalled the robes of these knights. The robes were of different colors, but most of them had golden irises painted on them.
There is no doubt that the iris is an iconic symbol of the Frankish royal family. At that moment, his condition was like falling into an ice cave, but he was helpless. Initially, he simply attacked Mercia. Who would have thought that Charles "the Bald" in Paris would suddenly intervene and send 400 well-trained horsemen at once!
Vig soon made his way into Ivar's line. Ivar's men were afraid after seeing Nils' crushing defeat. Before the battle, some of them looked disorderly, occasionally glancing at the forest on the western slope.
"Without a spear, ordinary iron swords and axes will not cope with cavalry. We need to change tactics."
Vig thought for a moment and realized that Ivar was determined to defend himself, so he continued north and joined the hundred horsemen led by Gunnar.
"We must deal with this group of Frankish horsemen, otherwise it is all over."
Having seen what had just happened, Gunnar agreed with his opponent: "What do you intend to do?"
"In a cavalry fight, the most important thing is speed. When the enemy breaks through Ivar's line and slows down, we must lead the cavalry to confuse them, and then let our infantry, having the advantage of numbers, surround them and completely destroy this cavalry."
While they were talking, the Frankish cavalry formed a wedge. At first glance, there were just under fifty of them.
After the discussion, Vig went north for reinforcements, and Gunnar led the cavalry south. When the cavalry arrived, the Frankish cavalry was fighting with Ivar's troops.
"Vahalla!"
- Drawing a long sword, Gunnar firmly grabbed the belly of his horse with his legs and drove it towards the enemy as fast as he could. By this time, the kinetic energy of the Frankish cavalry was exhausted, and the formation fell apart. Faced with this sudden attack, more than 30 men were slaughtered in an instant.
Shouting the names of their kings, both sides engaged in a fierce battle. The Frankish horses were tall and majestic, but after two consecutive attacks, the physical strength of the riders and horses was greatly reduced. Even with the overwhelming number of riders, they could not do anything to the enemy in a short time.
The horses neighed, the swords clashed, and Gunnar's talent for horsemanship far exceeded that of ordinary people, but unfortunately, he lacked experience in cavalry combat, so he could only rely on his brute strength to fight the enemy.
After he stabbed one man, a black shadow suddenly flashed in front of him, and Gunnar involuntarily lowered his head to avoid the blow. In response, he pushed the sword aside, the wrist of his iron gauntlet caught the hilt of his opponent's sword, and, using the momentum of his horse, drove the blade into the gap in his opponent's pauldron. Bright red blood ran down the sword and dripped into the mud mixed with sweat.
The two horses staggered past each other, Gunnar drew his blade, and the enemy's body fell to the ground, becoming his fourth victory in this battle.
After an unknown time, the Viking ranks became increasingly thinner. Just when the cavalry was about to be defeated, Vig finally arrived with a detachment of light infantry with nimble feet.
"The Franks wear iron armor, so attack their horses first."
The threat level of the slowing cavalry suddenly decreased. Vig ordered the infantry to surround them. At that moment, he seemed ruthless. Even if he had used three light infantry instead of one cavalryman, it would still have given his side an advantage.
Trapped in a heavy siege, the Frankish horsemen fell from their horses one by one. They instinctively wanted to get up, but the Viking units pinned them down and they could not move. Since many of the knights were wearing well-tailored chain mail, the Vikings decided to use daggers to pierce vulnerable spots such as armpits, eye sockets and inner thighs.
"Well done, ha-ha, every warrior has weaknesses, and this is how we must fight them!"
Seeing this, Vig on horseback loudly praised, but unexpectedly this gloating caused a storm of hatred. Several Frankish horsemen rushed on horseback, trying to kill the enemy generals and save the day.
Badly!
Vig had been studying Latin for the past two years and had no time to practice horseback fighting. When he saw five fierce Frankish horsemen approaching, he instinctively turned his horse and galloped into the forest on the western side.
The light in the forest flickered, and the young oak leaves rustled in the wind. Vig inhaled the fragrant air intoxicatingly.
At this time, several angry cries were heard from behind. He did not understand Frankish and did not want to fight these knights. He continued deeper into the dense and endless forest.
As time passed, the curses of his pursuers grew louder and louder. Suddenly, the gray horse stumbled as he walked, almost throwing Vig to the ground.
Looking down, he saw that the side of the road was covered with wet moss. He sighed and was forced to dismount and walk by the bridle. After a long time, a shrill neighing of a slipping horse was heard from behind. The curses were heard from time to time and finally died down. Vig sighed with relief. He was finally free of them.
The pressure that had accumulated in his heart almost subsided, and a deep weariness washed over his body. Vig sat down on a stump to rest a little. He had planned to return along the original route, but he discovered an unpleasant thing: he seemed to be lost.
"Old horses know the way. Do you remember the way back?"
"Ha-ha-ha." The gray horse shook his head and snorted discontentedly, showing that he was still young and not one of those old men who had fallen into decline. Then he stuck out his wet tongue and licked his master on the cheek.
"Stop it!" Pushing the gray horse's head aside, Vig took the bag of dry food from the saddle and ate it along with one man and one horse.
Then he climbed to the top of a tree, judged the direction roughly by the sunlight, and walked slowly, holding on to the reins. After almost a whole day of work, Vig's thin linen shirt was already soaked with sweat. A cool gust of wind blew, and he sneezed involuntarily, the sound echoing through the dense forest.
Soon Vig heard the faint sound of running water. Vig looked at the wrinkled waterskin on his saddle and decided to go there for water.
...
At the stream, the man and horse lowered their heads happily to drink. Suddenly the grey horse gave Vig a desperate nudge with its head, nearly knocking him over.
"Stupid horse, are you crazy? How did your master treat you so badly?"
The grey horse did not stop, pushing his master to hide in the bushes behind him. Half a minute later, a small group of Frankish soldiers appeared on the other bank, also holding waterskins and lowering their heads to get water.
What's going on? How did I get to the enemy control zone?
Vig held his breath, waited for the Frankish soldiers to leave, and climbed back to the top of the oak, using the setting sun to get his bearings.
Walking alone through the dense and silent forest, Vig, after more than ten minutes, became more and more bored and, in order to distract his attention, could only say to his horse: "
Stupid horse, what do you think of this direction? If you agree, squeak once, if you disagree, squeak twice."
"Huff, huff, huff..."
The gray horse neighed wildly, and the next moment a Frankish knight, covered in blood and tired, jumped out from behind the bushes towards him, and behind him walked a tall and strong black horse.