Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 113 Knight
After a full-speed sprint, Torga reached a low hill. In the distance, a large group of Gaels crowded on the west bank of the river, waiting for the wooden bridge to be repaired. Not far to the east, a small group of Welshmen were hurling arrows, but their effect was unclear.

"The enemy outnumbers us, so remember to follow this flag and don't charge recklessly!"

Torga handed a black flag with a yellow dragon to the rider behind him, and after a few minutes, they formed a wedge formation suitable for a charge.

Meanwhile, the Gaels spotted the cavalry on the low hills to the north and hastily adjusted their formation. Unfortunately, this army was pieced together from dozens of settlements, resulting in a chaotic command structure. By the time the cavalry charged, the Gaelic nobles still hadn't devised a suitable countermeasure.

Someone suggested, "Place the archers in the front row and shoot these cavalrymen to death."

"Fool, archers will be overwhelmed by a cavalry charge, they should be placed in the back. Spearmen should be placed in the front row."

"Who are you calling a fool? Open your dog eyes! Where did we get any spearmen?"

Amidst the endless clamor, the cavalry charged close. Instead of crashing into the densest part of the enemy ranks, Torga deliberately chose the weakest point at the very edge of the enemy formation.

"Odin!"

Accelerating and leveling their lances, the warhorses reached their maximum speed in just a few seconds, crashing into the westernmost flank of the Gaelic army. There were only a few infantrymen equipped with round shields and short swords, their formation loose, like a group of scarecrows standing still, completely routed by the first charge.

Having dealt with the three hundred-plus men, Torga did not linger in the battle. In his experience, the most important thing for cavalry was to maintain speed. If they were trapped in the enemy lines, their large bodies would make them easy targets, and a single throwing axe or a stray arrow could render them incapable of fighting.

"Follow me, don't linger in battle!"

At his shouts, the cavalrymen ran back to the low hill where they had set out, rearranged their wedge formation, and continued their charge toward the western flank of the Gaelic coalition.

This time, the enemy reacted, sending archers to fire at the cavalry. A few arrows struck the unprotected horses, causing more than a dozen cavalrymen at the edge of the wedge formation to fall to the ground, their fate unknown.

"Ignore those archers, deal with them later."

Tolja did not change targets, and led the entire wedge formation to attack the western flank of the Gaelic coalition again. The enemy's hastily deployed shield wall was like a thin wooden board, which shattered into countless small pieces upon the slightest contact.

After eliminating three hundred enemies, the cavalry returned to their original hill. Tolga counted the men and found that only a little over one hundred and sixty comrades remained, and nearly half of the horses were exhausted and in dire need of rest.

Seeing this, he divided his troops into two parts, planning to lead the eighty well-behaved cavalrymen in another charge, and then the remaining cavalry would charge in a second wave. The two forces would take turns charging, giving the enemy no time to breathe.

After adjusting their formation, Torga launched his third attack. During the charge, he led the wedge formation to suddenly change direction and head straight for the annoying group of archers.

Looking at the menacing Norman cavalry, the Gaelic archers had no will to resist and threw down their weapons to flee into their allies' ranks, causing further chaos in the allied formation.

The battle lasted for two or three minutes. Torga noticed that the enemies around him were closing in, so he chose to disengage and retreat, having no interest in getting entangled with them.

Using this "peeling the onion" tactic, Torga repeatedly charged, focusing on attacking the edges of the enemy lines, weakening their strength and organization, until Vig's infantry arrived on the battlefield.

Tolja: "My lord, my troops have suffered thirty casualties and lost sixty warhorses. The remaining horses are severely exhausted and unable to fight again in the short term."

"clear."

Vig acknowledged his subordinate's achievements and told him to rest where he was. In the distance, the Gaelic army still had two thousand men left, huddled together on the west bank of the river, and surging towards the east bank along the recently repaired wooden bridge.

"Charge forward and hold them off!"

Seeing this as a rare opportunity, Vig dispatched all his light infantry and archers, totaling 1,200 men. Despite their exhaustion, they charged towards the riverbank and engaged in fierce fighting with the 1,000 Gaelic infantry who had not yet crossed the river.

Retreating in front of the enemy is a daunting task, demanding extremely high morale and organization from the troops. Clearly, this hastily assembled Gaelic army did not meet these requirements; the vast majority were only thinking about escaping to the east bank as quickly as possible.

Driven by their will to survive, they struggled to squeeze onto the bridge, causing the hastily laid planks to creak and sway slightly under their feet.

Soon, the archers opened fire on the enemy on the bridge, causing the situation to become even more chaotic. Some people were hit by arrows and fell into the water, while others were forcibly pushed off the bridge by their comrades.

Click!

After being trampled repeatedly, a plank snapped, signifying that the bridge had reached its limit. Soon after, planks were broken one after another by the Gaels, and more and more soldiers fell into the water. Realizing that escape was hopeless, the seven hundred Gaels stranded on the west bank chose to surrender.

Across a body of water more than ten meters wide, the surviving Gaelic nobles were filled with regret. They realized that they had made a serious mistake: the enemy was outnumbered and their long march had taken a toll on their physical strength. If the two armies were to engage in a decisive battle, the allied forces might not be without a chance of victory.

"What's next?"

Lord Hughy of Glasgow, with three hundred men, held the most power. "Continue eastward to relieve Edinburgh, rest for a while, make some four-meter-long wooden spears, and then fight the Vikings."

Having witnessed the terrifying sight of cavalry charges, the nobles lost their courage for open battle. They adopted Hughie's idea and began a forced march along the road, arriving at their settlement at the foot of Edinburgh Hill at three o'clock in the afternoon.

Compared to the past, the settlement has changed a lot. Two walls have been built in succession: the inner wall to deal with the besieged Edinburgh garrison, and the outer wall to deal with any possible reinforcements.

The inner and outer walls are of the same size, about five meters high, with crenellations for archers to shoot at. Tall arrow towers stand at intervals, and a five-meter-wide trench is dug outside the wall, with many sharpened wooden stakes inserted inside.

"Is this...is this really necessary?"

Hughie's face turned ashen, his chest heaving. He was over forty years old and this was the first time he had ever witnessed such an operation. "The besieging side's fortifications are even better than the defenders'. These Vikings are too strange."

With things having come to this, the Gaels launched a probing attack. Faced with a hail of arrows from Welsh longbows, their morale plummeted, and they collapsed after only reaching the edge of the trench.

Looking at the soldiers slumped on the ground, panting, Hughie knew they had little strength left and were not strong enough to launch a full-scale attack.

Now, with blockades ahead and pursuers behind, the nobles discussed for a moment and decided to retreat to the southern highlands, using the rugged terrain and dense forests to shake off the Vikings.

"Their cavalry is not suited for mountain warfare. If we insist on pursuing them, we can teach these Viking barbarians a lesson with an ambush."

After making those harsh remarks, Hughie led his troops into the southern mountains, bringing this massive rescue operation to an end.

(End of this chapter)