198. The Crow Caller (4).
198. The Crow Caller (4).
There was a saying that one leaps as if flying.
Indeed, as if a single bird glided across the sky, Árpád lightly entered the battlefield.
[Iyaaaa-!]
[Dugu- dugu- dugu-]
[Pyung! Pyupyung! Sswae-aek- Sswae-aek!]
[Shwik- Pabak! Pak!]
The thunderous war cries, the clatter of Frankish warriors' armor, the wild neighing of the Magyar horses. The sound of bowstrings drawn taut on this side snapping, and the arrows loosed from the other side falling spent and thudding powerlessly into the green earth—every noise was there.
All those sounds and sights; the smell of blood and the smell of spit; even the foul stench of a few who had soiled themselves.
In this space where it would not have been strange to lose one's wits entirely, Árpád's iron helmet adorned with red feathers bobbed up and down in rhythm. His brown horse, surrendering itself wholly to the skill of its rider, was in an instant swallowed into a trance as it surged to full speed.
[Dageudak- dageudak- dageudak!]
'Sseu-eup- huu-'
[Pyung!]
On the heaving saddle, no matter how much weight he placed in the stirrups, Árpád loosed the bowstring as calmly as if he were standing on two feet; the sight of him was like a painting.
[Sswae-aek-]
"Loose! Loose!"
Behind Árpád, who was accelerating even before his arrow had flown, the thousand-odd Magyar cavalry following their gyula released their bowstrings all at once.
[Pyupyung! Pyung! Pyupyung!]
[Sswae-aek-!]
The arrows that took to the sky as one carried even the sound of tearing air as a single, thick roar, and the heavy infantry protecting the East Frankish left flank raised their shields in a daze to receive them—but Árpád and his riders were already sweeping past the Frankish army.
[Pabak! Taeng- tatak! Pak!]
[Dugu- dugu- dugu- dugu-]
'Seut-!'
[Pyung! Pyung! Pyung!]
Árpád, who had drawn up his concentration in an instant, rose once more from the saddle and swiftly drew the bowstring three times. The three arrows held in his right hand pierced the empty air in the blink of an eye, flying toward their targets.
[Sswaek- Puk! Taeng! Pak!]
"Kuk-!"
One found the left-hand man's helmet, one struck the right-hand man's shield. The moment he confirmed that the last of the three had buried itself in the nape of the enemy commander he had been aiming for, another volley was loosed over their ranks as they raised their heads one by one.
[Sswae-aek- sswae-aek-! Hududuk! Hududuk!]
The East Frankish left flank once more raised their shields amid a din that sounded just like a downpour of rain.
This was, in truth, the fate of sedentary infantry confronting the horse archers of the steppe. The East Frankish commander, Gerhard, ground his teeth in rising fury, but he never responded with emotion.
"Make ready the cavalry! When those bastards come in a little further, we drive them out!"
"Yes, Dux Gerhard!"
"Sound the horns! Wave the green banner!"
[Buuuuuung-]
[Peolleok! Peolleok!]
Horns and all manner of wind instruments were widely used on hunting grounds and battlefields because their sound pierced cleanly into a man's ears even amid chaos.
At last, the elite cavalry of the Kingdom of Bavaria, who had yet to shed a single drop of blood, were given leave to act. Already they were filled with the wild spirit of riders steeped in madness, and the warhorses, sensitive to the temper and skill of the men who rode them, loosed rough, heavy snorts as one.
"The green banner! Horse troops—move!"
"We move!"
"Any man who breaks the ranks will be severely punished!"
[Dugu- dugu- dugu- dugu-]
At the center of the Bavarian royal army's lines, where Gerhard stood, the cavalry, having done little more than block the arrows loosed by a few bold Magyar archers, slowly moved along the path inside the phalanx toward the left flank. Soon they passed the heavy infantry hurriedly shifting position and were able to emerge outside the formation.
"Guests have arrived! About-face!"
[Ppaaaaam- ppaaaaam-]
The sound of the horns was similar to the Frankish ones, but faintly different. The Magyars, who appeared to fight free and loose but in truth obeyed the fierce, fierce discipline of a tribal society, followed the proud gyula's signal without a hair's breadth of hesitation. So abruptly did they wheel their horses about that it seemed to mock the speed at which they had been running, reversing direction in an instant.
[Ihihihing-!]
[Pureuk! Pureuk-!]
"Woah! Woah-!"
"Cha-! Cha-!"
"Turn about! Turn about!"
[Dugu-dugu- dagak dagak! Dageudak! Dageudak dageudak! Dugu- dugu-]
Sharpening their pace at a stroke, the horses that braked as though skidding across the earth threw up a cloud of sand together and swiftly bolted in the opposite direction. Into that very spot charged the Bavarian warhorses, which were somewhat larger.
[Dugudugudugu-]
They were Frankish heavy cavalry; their horses were not entirely wrapped in armor, but the exposed parts—the head and body—were covered with thick cloth.
Descend from the saddle and they could immediately become heavy infantry. Their equipment consisted of a single long spear held firmly in one hand, a round shield convenient for use on horseback, and a single sword at the waist. However, having fought Saracens and Avars and other steppe peoples, these heavy cavalrymen had acquired the stirrup, their most crucial piece of technology. They lacked the extreme flexibility and speed of the Magyars, the near-universal capacity for long-range and close-quarters engagements. But they possessed one single quality.
Even with a glance, one could see a weight that absolutely should not be met head-on.
With that single quality, Árpád of the Magyars discerned their danger at once.
'If things go wrong and they catch us from behind, it'll be total annihilation.'
A frontal contest with those brutes clad head to toe in steel was something only a fool would attempt.
[Pyung! Pyupyung! Sswae-aek- sswaek-]
[Pabak! Hududuk! Taeng! Taetaeng! Ihihihing-!]
No matter how many arrows they loosed, it was hard to strike a moving horse's fetlock, and because their bodies were covered with thick leather and cloth, the heavy cavalry soaked up mere arrows with their bodies and pressed in relentlessly. The sight of them remained imprinted on Árpád's mind.
'If I had something like that... I could truly fight their heavy infantry once.'
A pleasant smile rose on Árpád's smacking lips, and his brown eyes leapt across the space like an eagle to meet the blue eyes of Gerhard, who stood silently in the same place.
Gerhard's eyesight could not be equal to Árpád's, but the gaze of Gerhard, who had been tracking the red-feathered helmet from the first, and Árpád's gaze collided for a moment in the empty air.
The language they spoke was different, and their ways of living and fighting were different too. Yet the two men who stood on the same battlefield at the same time shared an intense premonition that this meeting would not be the last.
'See you again, Gyula of Bavaria. It will not be long.'
He had now confirmed the steel and solidity of the East Franks.
But was this world made only of steel and stone? The steppe was broad, and the places the Magyars must go were many.
"Now, thus we turn our horses! Tell my uncles of the left and right wings! We will bypass them!"
"Did you hear the words of the gyula! Send the signal!"
"Yes!"
[Kkigik- pyung! Piiiiiiii-!]
[Pyung-! Piiiiiiii-!]
[Ppaaaaam- ppaaaaam-]
The horn call that rang out twice or thrice along with the whistling arrow meant a complete disengagement from this battlefield. Or, it meant that they were shifting their hunting ground.
Truly, to the eight thousand Magyar horsemen for whom all of battle was like a hunt, they wheeled their horses as one and followed the red tail left by the reincarnation of a clever bird running ahead of them, galloping northward.
[Dugu- dugu- dugu- dugu-]
[Dagak- dagak- dagak-]
"Sound the signal. Cease pursuit."
"Yes! O Dux!"
[Buuuuuuung- buuuuuuung-!]
"They are withdrawing!"
"Our victory-!"
"Imperator Ludovicus-! Carloman of Bavaria!"
"Carloman! Carloman!"
They had blocked the road into Bavaria and turned back those fearsome war machines. This was surely a victory.
Watching the Magyar cavalry vanish as suddenly as they had descended like a thunderbolt, Gerhard could only swallow dry spit.
*****
While the Emperor of West Frankish moved from Orléans to Paris, while the Magyars crossed the borders in the south of East Frankish and the Northmen crossed them in the north—
Across the long and beautiful Loire River, in the small fortress of Montaigu that faced Nantes, the army that the King of Aquitaine personally led was encamped.
Could it be that this noble and filial king, in order to faithfully carry out his father's command, thus stood face to face with that infamous and terrifying Northman, Hásteinn?
Regrettably for Imperator Carolus, there was no way that could be so.
"Hey, Jarl Hásteinn. L-long time no s-s-see."
The force he had brought up from the Kingdom of Aquitaine numbered five thousand in total. Even that much was only after leaving the lords of southern Aquitaine behind to keep the Saracens in check.
Truly, if this stammering King of Aquitaine had only cooperated with Robert at Le Mans, just as Imperator Carolus had deeply hoped, they would have had a real chance against Brest and Nantes.
"My, my! Ludovicus of Aquitaine has grown so much more dashing! Everywhere you go, you must set the women's hearts on fire!"
Yet, given that he had secretly sent men to Hásteinn at Nantes and to Salomon of Brittany beyond, and had met them face-to-face laughing ha-ha ho-ho like this, this stammering king plainly had other deep hopes.
"Ha, hahaha! H-Hásteinn, d-don't you set f-fires everywhere you g-go? Th-that's much more m-manly and r-robust!"
"Heuha-hahaha! It's true, I do set a fine blaze! Now, aren't you curious to see exactly what sort of fire this Hásteinn of Nantes will set this time?"
The legendary jarl of Noirmoutier, this veteran jarl who was somewhat older than Björn, still boasted a gigantic frame that was sturdy beyond words. In contrast, Louis of Aquitaine, who stood before him stammering away zealously, had a somewhat slight build, yet that appearance together with his innate features gave him a decadent impression.
The fondness that rose upon these two ill-matched faces was by no means a pretense.
For, in truth, between this Louis of Aquitaine and Robert of Le Mans, there existed a rift that could hardly be called light.
When the March of Brittany that Robert had seized was divided into north and south, there was a history of a great fight over that southern region, Anjou.
Lords clashing with one another was practically a daily affair of the Frankish Empire, so one might wonder how that could breed such resentment. But this sickly, stammering prince, once a delicate bishounen, had been so indignant that he had crossed over to Salomon of Brittany—his own father's political foe—and together they had plundered Robert's domain.
In the end, peace had settled between Robert of Le Mans and Louis of Aquitaine through the mediation (rage) of their father, whose eyes had rolled back into his head. But that peace was nothing more than pressing a hand over an already burst and gaping wound.
And as for Hásteinn, who now stood before their eyes—he was that mad Northman who had together with Louis of Aquitaine freely gone in and out of Robert's lands, stirring up all manner of hell.
It was to begin with a difficult thing for these two men, who vied for the first and second spots on Robert's death note, to "join forces and crush the wicked Northmen and Bretons!" as the Imperator commanded.
Imperator Carolus was without a doubt an outstanding man, but he had missed the difference between the gaze of an Emperor and the gaze of a subordinate and a son. It would have been too harsh to call it Carolus's fault—the situation that now turned West Frankish upside down was, in truth, spiraling beyond any presence of mind.
"S-So. What d-does the great w-warrior of Nantes p-plan to do about that r-r-reckless, cursed son of a bitch R-Robert?"
Looking at Louis of Aquitaine, who, solely when cursing Robert, spat out his words smoothly without a single stammer, Hásteinn smiled with the most contemptible expression he could muster.
"Oh, King of Aquitaine. O you of famous wisdom and grace! It has already begun. Salomon of Brittany and the friends from Cumbria and Cornwall will have already crossed the border of Maine. I shall make for Anjou. Provided, of course, that Your Majesty grants his leave."
Louis of Aquitaine, who had been watching that smile, soon burst into great laughter.
"Ha, haha! Ha, hahaha!"
Louis of Aquitaine bore a contemptible smile that was in no way inferior to Hásteinn's. Only, by the grace of his innate, outstanding looks, it was not as gruesome as Hásteinn's.
"Th-then, l-let us s-settle acc-accounts over A-Anjou."
"Oh, of course. King of Aquitaine."
"Ha, ha, haha! Ha!"
"Uheuhahaha!"
The laughter of the two men skimmed low over the waves of the Loire River that flowed all the way to Orléans.
From afar, the crow that had been listening to the sound tilted its head as if to say that those human bastards were rather noisy, but soon it moved its wings and flew northeastward.
Toward the banquet table to which the host it belonged to had moved as one.
☆☆☆☆☆Reference☆☆☆☆☆
Provinces_of_France.png: OwenBlacker derivative work: Cyril5555, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons
These are the fortresses between Neustria and Brittany...!!!
If you look closely, below Normandy you'll see Maine and Anjou...! Currently, Robert the Strong controls the entire combined March of Neustria that encompasses these two...!!!
The whole southern region along the Loire River, including Poitou below, is all ruled by Carolus, and from Aquitaine below Poitou, Louis the Stammerer has come up...!!!!
The real problem with dynasties is that no matter how brilliant the ruler himself is, his children can totally troll you...!!!
Actually, Carolus himself was the youngest son who received tons of love and affection from his father, so he was mostly on the receiving end of care...!!! But just like his brother in East Frankish, Emperor Ludovicus, he too had friction with his own children...!
Is this just the characteristic of an empire...!