Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 113: The Knight

Ch 113: The Knight

With full force, they made a rapid assault over a distance. Torger arrived at a Low Hill. Looking far off, a large group of Gaels were crowded on the West Bank of the river, waiting for the wooden bridge repairs to be completed. And not far to the East, a small group of Welshmen were loosing arrows, to little effect.

“The enemy outnumbers us. Remember to follow this banner, don’t charge randomly!”

Torger gave a black banner with a yellow dragon to the rider behind him. Spending a few minutes, he formed a Wedge Formation suitable for a charge.

At the same time, the Gaels also discovered the cavalry on the northern Low Hill and hastily adjusted their formation. Unfortunately, this army was a patchwork of dozens of settlements, with a chaotic command system. By the time the cavalry launched their charge, the Gael Nobles still hadn’t discussed a suitable method of response.

Someone proposed: “Put the archers in the front row and shoot these cavalrymen to death.”

“Fool, the archers will collapse at the first cavalry charge; they should be placed in the rear. Deploy spearmen in the front row.”

“Who are you calling a fool? Open your eyes; where do we have spearmen?”

Amidst the endless noise, the cavalry charged close. Torger did not crash into the densest part of the crowd; instead, he deliberately chose the weakest link at the edge of the enemy formation.

“Odin!” Increasing speed, leveling lances, in just a few seconds, the warhorses reached their maximum speed, crashing into the westernmost ranks of the Gael Alliance. Here, there were only some infantry equipped with round shields and short swords; their formation was loose, like a group of scarecrows standing stupidly in place, completely routed by one charge.

After dealing with these three hundred plus people, Torger did not linger. According to his experience, the most important thing for cavalry was to maintain speed. If they got stuck in the formation, the tall bodies of the warhorses were easy to attract attacks; a throwing axe or a stray arrow could render them combat-ineffective.

“Follow me, don’t linger!”

At his shout, the cavalry ran back to the Low Hill where they had started, re-formed their Wedge Formation, and continued to charge towards the western part of the Gael Alliance.

This time, the enemy reacted, dispatching archers to shoot at the cavalry. A few arrow showers hit the unprotected horses, causing more than ten cavalrymen on the edge of the Wedge Formation to fall to the ground, their fate unknown.

“Don’t mind those archers, we’ll deal with them later.”

Torger did not change his target and led the entire Wedge Formation to charge the western side of the Gael Alliance again. The hastily constructed shield wall of the enemy was like a thin wooden plank, shattering into countless pieces at the slightest contact.

After eliminating three hundred enemies, the cavalry returned to the original Low Hill. Torger counted the number of men and found that only one hundred and sixty plus comrades remained. Nearly half of the warhorses were exhausted and urgently needed rest.

Seeing this, he divided the troops into two parts. He planned to lead eighty cavalry in good condition for another charge, then the remaining cavalry would charge in a second wave. The two units would alternate charges, giving the enemy no time to breathe.

After adjusting their deployment, Torger launched a third attack. During the charge, he led the Wedge Formation to suddenly change direction, directly attacking that annoying group of archers.

Looking at this group of ferocious Norman cavalrymen, the Gael archers did not have the slightest thought of resistance and threw away their weapons, fleeing into the ranks of their comrades, causing further chaos in the Allied Army’s formation.

The battle lasted two or three minutes. Torger noticed that the enemies around him were closing in and chose to disengage and withdraw; he wasn’t interested in getting entangled with them.

Using this “peeling the onion” tactic, Torger repeatedly charged, focusing on attacking the edges of the enemy formation, weakening their troop strength and organization until Vig’s infantry arrived on the battlefield.

Torger: “Sir, my unit suffered thirty casualties and sixty warhorse losses. The stamina of the remaining horses is severely depleted, and they are incapable of further combat in the short term.”

“Understood.”

Vig acknowledged his subordinate’s achievements and allowed them to rest on the spot.

Looking from afar, the Gael Alliance had two thousand people left, huddled together on the West Bank of the river, flowing towards the East Bank along the recently repaired wooden bridge.

“Charge and tie them up!”

The opportunity was rare. Vig sent out all of his light infantry and crossbowmen, totaling twelve hundred men. Enduring their fatigue, they charged towards the riverbank and engaged in fierce melee combat with the thousand Gael infantry who had not yet crossed the river.

Retreating in front of the enemy was a difficult task, requiring extremely high morale and organization from the troops. Obviously, this hastily assembled Gael Alliance did not meet this requirement. Most people just wanted to escape to the East Bank as soon as possible.

Driven by their survival instinct, they struggled to crowd onto the bridge. The hastily laid wooden planks creaked underfoot, and the bridge swayed slightly.

Soon, the crossbowmen aimed at the enemies on the bridge, causing the situation to become even more chaotic. Some were shot and fell into the water, while others were pushed off the bridge by their comrades.

Crack!

After repeated trampling, a wooden plank suddenly broke, signifying that the bridge’s load had reached its limit. Soon, more and more wooden planks were broken by the Gaels, and more and more soldiers fell into the water. Realizing that escape was hopeless, the seven hundred Gaels remaining on the West Bank surrendered.

Across the more than ten-meter-wide water, the surviving Gael Nobles deeply regretted their actions. They realized that their side had made a serious mistake. The enemy army was smaller in number and had suffered severe stamina depletion from the long march. If the two armies had fought a decisive battle, the Allied Army might not have lacked the possibility of victory.

“What should we do next?”

Hugh, the Lord of Glasgow, with three hundred men, had the most say: “Continue east, relieve Edinburgh, rest for a while, make some four-meter-long wooden spears, and then fight the Vikings.”

Having witnessed the terrifying scene of the cavalry charge, the nobles lost their courage for field battle. They adopted Hugh’s idea, marched quickly along the road, and arrived at the settlement at the foot of Edinburgh at three in the afternoon.

Compared to the past, the settlement had changed a lot. Two consecutive walls had been built; the inner wall was to deal with the besieged Edinburgh garrison, and the outer wall was to deal with any reinforcements that might arrive.

The inner and outer walls were of the same specifications, about five meters high, with battlements for archers to shoot from. Tall arrow towers stood at intervals, and a five-meter-wide moat was dug outside the walls, with many sharpened wooden stakes inside.

“This, this, is it necessary?”

Hugh’s face was pale, and his chest heaved violently. He was over forty years old this year and had never seen such an operation before. “The fortifications of the besiegers are even better than those of the defenders. These Vikings are too evil.”

With matters as they were, the Gaels launched a probing attack. Faced with the arrow shower from the Welsh longbows, their morale was low, and they scattered after reaching the edge of the moat.

Looking at the warriors sitting on the ground panting, Hugh understood that they had very little stamina left and were not capable of a strong attack.

Now blocked in front and pursued from behind, the nobles discussed for a moment and decided to retreat into the Southern Highlands, using the rugged terrain and dense forest to shake off the Vikings.

“Their cavalry is not suitable for mountain warfare. If they insist on pursuit, we’ll use an ambush to teach these Viking barbarians a lesson.”

After letting out harsh words, Hugh led his troops into the southern forests, and this grand-scale rescue operation came to an end.