108.
108.
As always, it began with arrows.
When the bowstring was drawn and released, an arrow flew with a [fwing—!] sound, quivering through the air exactly like a swimming fish.
An arrow whose destination varied with the strength of the bow, the condition of the arrow, humidity, wind strength, and wind direction.
Thus, the bow was said to be a weapon that took a long time to master.
[Shwaaaak—]
However, from the perspective of army-level operations, there was a reason for using bows instead of javelins.
[fwing! fyu-fyut! Shwaaaak—]
Ultimately, long-range weapons were a contest of range, and the bow and arrow, setting aside mechanical devices like catapults, had a longer range than any weapon humankind had yet created.
"The enemy's advance has slowed! They are returning fire!"
[Shwaaaak—!]
We had shot first twice, but the numerically superior enemy desperately closed the distance and began to shoot back.
[Peo-beok! Peo-beo-beo-beok! Taeng—! Ta-tang—!]
Had they grown through fighting each other?
Now, even the common screams were hard to find from ordinary arrow attacks.
They raised their shields in unison to block, advanced little by little, and released their bowstrings faster.
[Shwaaaak— taang—!]
I blocked a stray arrow flying toward me with my shield.
[Wiing— wiing—]
The arrow that had flown a long distance clung to my shield without losing force, quivering for a moment, then went still.
[Kwajik!]
Having crushed the arrow stuck in my shield with the hilt of Örn, I now stood at the far left of our formation and surveyed the battlefield.
As I had first felt, the arrow attacks were failing to land any decisive blows.
'In the end, battles, and wars, were all about timing. It meant we were gradually adapting to each other.'
Striking with a sword was timing, and shooting a bow was timing.
Likewise, finishing this battle would also be a matter of timing.
Both Burgred and I were watching for an opportunity.
[Buuuuu— uuuuung—!]
"Konungr! That is our advance signal!"
"The enemy cavalry has latched onto us. We shake them off first!"
"Yes! Konungr!"
[Buuung— uu— uuung—]
The horns of the Norsemen and the Angles, similar yet different, sounded in turn, and as I urged my horse hard to ride left and further left away from the main body, the cavalry followed behind me.
I had intended to see how far they would chase, and indeed it seemed the enemy cavalry had received Burgred's special orders.
Burgred's plan was probably to pin down our cavalry, thereby eliminating any major uncertainties, and in the meantime overwhelm our main force with sheer numbers.
'That was a mistaken notion, Burgred.'
I would make it so.
"Brothers of Garmr! We turn about! Follow me! We ride for Valhalla!"
"Val—hal—la!"
"Long live Helgi Konungr!"
"Rya! Rya!"
[Peur-reuk! Peu-reuk! Peu-reuk! Duggu! Duggu—! Duggu! Duggu—!]
One hundred fifty horses all turning their heads as one and accelerating—the sound alone was different.
The rough breathing of the horses mingled with the breaths of men, and beneath them the earth groaned roughly, kicking up splinters of broken stone and dust.
The column of man and horse moving as one advanced sharply like an arrowhead with me at the tip, and the enemy formation that had been running parallel to us soon faltered.
'A foolish judgment.'
Cœnred, who died at my hand, would at least have met us head-on without hesitation.
Had they not learned that in a clash between cavalry, where speed and mass decide the outcome, hesitation meant death?
The enemy belatedly assumed a breakthrough formation, but it was already too late.
"We break through!"
"Charge! Charge!"
[Buuuuuu—]
"Yaaaaah—!"
[Dagr-dak! Dagr-dak! Dagr-dak! Dagr-dak! Kwang!]
There was no time to use any other weapon. I lacked the skill for it anyway.
All I did was clamp a single spear tight against my flank, instinctively tilt my body braced in the saddle and stirrups, and tense my thighs.
The rest was merely uttering a god's name in that fleeting instant and glaring at the enemy to the very end.
It was a realm more of courage than of Ragi's technique.
And when it came to courage, the Norsemen yielded to none.
[Kung! Peo-seok! Peo-geok! Euk! Kung! Peur-reuk—! Peu-reuk! Kung!]
Who did not avert their gaze until the end accounted for fifty, and decisively, luck accounted for the other fifty.
It was the Norse cavalry that triumphed in this contest of nerve and luck.
At the tip of the breakthrough that passed like a dream, their Konungr was swinging his sword like a madman.
[Hwoong! Chwahak! Keok! Hwoo-woong— kwajik!]
The first move had been a javelin throw.
Next came the terrifying sword strikes that cut down those who merely brushed past or those who courageously spurred their horses forward in a straight line, slaying both rider and horse.
The enemy commander at the head of the Anglian cavalry was struck by the spear I had hurled recklessly, flew backward, and tumbled down together with the rider right behind him, and after that, it was a time of blood.
[Hwoong! Hwoong!]
Riders kept toppling behind me with the sensation of slicing wind, while Camembert maintained his top speed and fearlessly pushed forward only.
[Peur-reuk—! Peur-reuk—!]
Matching that rough breathing, I swung the greatsword left and right, and for the final stroke I swung Örn wide and wrecked an enemy's waist, and then I faced an open field of vision.
[Peur-reu—! Peur-reuk—!]
Only then did Camembert, spraying spittle, gradually calm his harsh breathing and slow his pace on his own; catching the cool wind, he roughly shook out his mane.
'We broke through.'
My body, which had moved frantically in a short span and dealt at least thirty sword strikes, was truly without any issues.
Because I had cut through enemies like the wind, this time not much of their blood splattered onto my forearm or face.
Having fought a refreshing battle for once, I turned about again once I reached a suitable distance, and soon was able to confirm the result.
Although they had been one beat behind our charge, the Mercian riders who fought resolutely were annihilated.
It was not an ordinary defeat; it was annihilation.
For not a single one was seen fleeing alive.
'Were they really just men who could ride a horse passably... It seemed the remnants from the previous battle had died together with them.'
Indeed, how many troops in this Britain—no, in this Western Europe—had any experience in mounted warfare?
The destructive power of a cavalry charge was now to spread without a doubt.
The unfortunate men who had become specimens of it lay in pools of blood, not so much as a twitch visible from any of them.
'Our men...'
With the fearful heart any commander could not help but carry—wondering what if they had been badly hurt like last time—I turned around. Before my eyes appeared Seutorolpeu and Thorbjörn, drenched from head to toe in blood and flesh.
The ones who had ridden right behind me.
It seemed they had caught every bit of the remnants of the foes I had cut down.
But Seutorolpeu and Thorbjörn were beaming.
"A great victory! Konungr!"
"All the warriors and gods in Valhalla will envy us! Truly an honorable battle! And to think this is the second one! Long live the Konungr! Long live Hel! Long live the Garmr Brotherhood!"
"We've won—!"
"Hyaaaa—!"
The cavalry roared all at once, as if they had been waiting only for my gaze.
'One hundred ten, one hundred twenty, one hundred thirty.'
Just as the ecstatic thrill coursed through their bodies and the cavalry, unable to control their own actions, were bellowing somewhere between nirvana and rapture,
I was coolly reckoning: about a hundred and thirty men still remained, some twenty had been unhorsed; whether they would suffer from shell-shock like last time; whether they could keep fighting.
'There were no warriors with glazed eyes like after the last charge. The horses, too—none were foaming at the mouth yet. They could still fight.'
Was I supposed to call it fortunate that this world, this society, was so accustomed to blood and death?
Thanks to that, things would be a little easier.
"Thorbjörn! We take a brief rest here! Seutorolpeu! The wounded who can still move, remain here!"
"Aye, Konungr! You all heard the Konungr's words! Water the horses and keep them walking!"
"Understood! Anyone too badly hurt to move, step out!"
Hoo-.
Leaving the two lieutenants, who immediately executed my orders, I pulled out a leather pouch and gulped down its contents.
Gulp- gulp-
The mead slid refreshingly down my throat.
Whether he had caught the scent, or had read my movements—as Camembert slowly walked and caught his breath, I heard a peevish sound.
[Brrr! Brrr!]
"...Alright. Boy. Stop rocking so much."
He was deliberately jostling to give me a jolt. I stretched out my arm and offered the leather pouch to the rascal. He tipped his head back and sucked down the contents on his own.
At times like this, my tall stature and long arms, and the fact that Camembert was not a particularly large horse, were a great help.
'Clearly, a warhorse wasn't all about being big and fast.'
What mattered more was endurance, durability, and most of all, omnivorousness.
I suppose you could say a racehorse and a warhorse were different animals.
In any case, Camembert, his mood restored, changed his prancing steps to demure ones.
Ridiculously clever beast.
"Konungr! We have no wounded!"
"...Mm?"
'That can't be right.'
After such an absurd breakthrough, there was no way there were no wounded.
Amid the bustle of men and horses, I had stepped away for a moment, removed my helmet, and was cooling my head when Seutorolpeu's vigorous voice rang out.
Seeing me, Seutorolpeu subtly removed his own helmet and followed my example.
With Seutorolpeu accompanying me, I headed toward the cavalry who were taking a rest with their horses, and everywhere they briskly raised military salutes.
A fellow with blood running from his head, one whose left arm looked uncomfortable, another limping.
Wounded men everywhere you looked.
"I was told there are no wounded. Is that certain?"
"That is correct, Konungr! One may die, but the Garmr Brotherhood has no wounded!"
"We could fight like this all day long!"
"Long live Hel! Long live Konungr Helgi!"
"Long live Tyr!"
'These reckless fools...'
It wasn't simply bluster or Ragi... These fellows were simply unable to contain the adrenaline from the breakthrough just now. A state where the mind had overcome the body's pain and limits.
But I could not lose my precious cavalry. At least those who were not whole would be far more likely to be gravely wounded or killed in the fight to come.
"Enough. Where is there anyone who would doubt your will? We have won a fight such as no one has ever seen or heard of before!"
The warriors seemed about to reach a spiritual nirvana again at the sound of my voice, so I hurriedly added,
"But if you fight with the resolve to die today, and truly die—then with whom must I ride from now on? Therefore, those with broken bones and blood streaming from their heads shall remain here! Preserve yourselves for another battle."
The whole cavalry troop was deeply moved that the Konungr thought of them so highly, their faces colored with emotion.
The fearsome warriors, thickly armored in gore, were on the verge of weeping, and I grimaced and hurriedly mounted back up.
"Thorbjörn and Seutorolpeu, make certain the wounded stay behind! Let the wounded tend to their comrades, and separate our brothers who have already crossed the gates of Valhalla from the enemy dead. Hurry! The battle is not yet over!"
"Aye! Konungr!"
"Understood!"
Seutorolpeu and Thorbjörn nodded vigorously and set to work again.
Soon, the warriors, who had once more moved busily about and assigned each other their tasks, formed up behind me.
'About a hundred and ten, then.'
Roughly forty riders had been killed or wounded in that single fight just now.
'The attrition rate was truly staggering...'
How was I to make up for this?
The worrying could come later. Now, it was time to ride again.
"My riders! Are you ready to ride with me!"
[Thud!]
My voice rang out resoundingly, and the riders answered as one by striking their left chests.
They were unequivocally veterans now, and most of them had already stabbed and cut down enemies from horseback.
They were, without exaggeration, the finest of my army.
What was there to do with such men leading them?
'Now, I would settle this, Burgred.'
"Seutorolpeu! Sound the horn! We return to the battlefield!"
[Boooooo- wooong-]
Even though the horn had been blown many times that day, Seutorolpeu's strength had not flagged in the slightest, and soon the powerful sound of beasts pounding the earth thundered forth.