206. The Gallican Hymn (4).
206. The Gallican Hymn (4).
The slope was quite gentle. Gentle enough that a ball of yarn would roll down, bumping this way and that, but still roll well.
But irrespective of the gentle slope, the descent was not very comfortable.
Originally, the place should have been filled with green grass and the reddish soil turned over to build the hill, but it was covered in steel, flesh, and blood—mostly Frankish.
[Dagak- dagak- dagak- dagak-]
As Camembert was one who stepped into mud without hesitation, he strode forward boldly, but his pace inevitably became slower than originally expected.
A little impatient, I glanced at the enemies retreating backward, and it seemed there was no need to force a faster speed.
"Watch your footing! Keep the horses from harm!"
"Yes! Fylkir!"
When I barked the order, my direct cavalrymen, led by Rune, answered vigorously.
Leaving behind Thorbjörn and the guards, who had exhausted themselves following me around during the defensive battle, I took Rune and the fresh cavalry detachment that had been waiting, and immediately rode out through the gate.
Their number was roughly two hundred riders.
No matter how chaotically they were fleeing, the question might be asked: what could a mere two hundred horsemen hope to accomplish against more than ten thousand enemies?
It was a question worth asking, but the North Sea's and Árós's finest cavalry, which I led, could accomplish more than one might imagine.
[Huuuung- Kwang! Kwagwang! Peopeok!]
[Aaah-!]
As Camembert stepped onto the end of the obstacle-strewn descent, and a few North Sea warriors burst out of the garrison gate to hurriedly clear the area before it,
with the sound of something heavy and round slicing through the sky, something landed lightly atop the heads of the Frankish troops fleeing for their lives.
The sight of human bodies being tossed about like toys, of blood spurting straight up, was not good for one's mental health, so the Frankish warriors, filling my frowning gaze, began shrieking and sprinting only backward.
"Flee!"
"Save me! God! Please save me!"
"To the fortress! We must get inside the fortress! To Rouen Fortress!"
"Hurry the hell up!"
"Calm down! The chance that those stones will fall on your head is slim! Pull yourselves together!"
A few brave and level-headed Frankish warriors tried to quell the confusion, but the human heart, though strong against vague threats, is also weak against danger that actually manifests.
On top of that, the Frankish warriors, their terror rising like colts gradually slipping their reins, instantly became an uncontrollable mob and began sprinting toward Rouen Fortress alone.
"Rune! Sound the horn!"
"Yes! Fylkir!"
[Buuuuuuuung-!]
"North Sea riders! Ride like the wind! Follow my banner! Do not fall behind!"
"Fylkir Helgi!"
"Ride for the Fylkir!"
"Don't let go of the reins! Keep your wits about you!"
On the left side of the saddle hung a great sword; on the right, a long spear easily three meters in length. And on the hip side, a few javelins, with the stirrups feeling perfectly natural.
"Rune! Raise the banner high! Let's go! Camembert! Yah!"
[Pureureuk-!]
As I dug the spurs attached to my combat boots' heels with a sharp prick, Camembert blew out a fierce snort and thrust his legs forward powerfully.
This creature, with skin as thick as his nerve, unlike the serene and composed way he had descended the slope, now shook his body noisily, as if to announce, 'I will run now,' and flaunted his presence to all around.
Then a great stride, one, two.
[Dagak- dagak-]
Just below a full gallop, at a pace that, while hard to describe in detail, could be called a fast, fast gait, he charged fearlessly toward the curtain of human flesh that filled the front.
That was how much he trusted and followed me, perched on his back.
The same went for the North Sea warriors behind me, spurring their horses all at once with horns and battle cries.
"Enemy, enemy cavalry! The enemy horsemen are coming!"
"Run!"
"Run where?! There's nowhere to go!"
"Fight back!!!"
"Shield wall! Shield wall!"
The vanguard of the disordered West Frankia army were warriors who had fought with their utmost even in the wall battle where only death had lurked before them.
Perhaps because they were Carolus's elite troops, even in the midst of a chaotic retreat, they felt the tremor of the cavalry, turned around, and knew to gather their shields in one place.
'Impressive.'
This looked simple, but it was courage and training not to be taken lightly.
Even though they had taken heavy losses by launching senseless ladder rushes in a hopeless siege, this was a moment that fully explained why the Frankish army had come to occupy most of western Europe.
But their misfortune was that the North Sea force I had led out were all cavalry.
"They're putting up a decent fight! Prepare javelins!"
"Prepare javelins-!"
[Pababababam-! Pabababababam-!]
Rune's effort to bellow my orders, which seemed to pierce the eardrums and tickle the cochlea even amidst the frantic gallop, was admirable.
After that, the brass instruments introduced from the Eastern Roman Empire, like trumpets, sounded a signal louder than the battlefield noise, and all two hundred North Sea cavalry raised their javelins in unison and aimed diagonally to the right from their own perspective.
When shooting a bow from horseback, due to the human genetic trait of most being right-hand dominant, aiming to the left was the most accurate; but javelins, once mastered, had no such restriction, allowing throws to either side.
"Throw!"
"Throw-!"
[Huuuung-! Hwik! Hwik! Hwik!]
When my javelin, like a fired cannonball, split the air with a booming sound like a ballista, no further signal was needed beyond that.
[Hwiiiiing-! Shwiik- shwiik-]
[Kwak! Keok! Kwakwakwak! Ug! Eok! Ak! Kwang!]
The bravest Frankish warrior who had first shouted for a shield wall was struck squarely by a javelin as large as the spear he had raised, flew backward, and the javelin, still not spent, skewered four or five warriors in a row before finally stopping upon hitting the ground.
"What-"
"This is-"
As the brains of the West Frankia warriors nearby refused to process the death that had come so swiftly,
the two hundred javelins that followed struck shields and helmets all at once.
[Shwiik-! Shwiik! Peok! Peopeok! Puk!]
The javelin was different from an arrow, starting with its weight.
One might think that because it was thrown by a man's shoulder, it would be weaker than an arrow launched by the tension of a bowstring. But the Franks, who had received arrows firsthand and now had the chance to receive javelins as well, thought entirely differently.
"Keok- kk- kkeu-!"
"My left arm! My left arm!"
"Don't touch it! If you pull that out he dies! We must send the wounded back— back...!"
The javelin was not something that could be perfectly blocked with a wooden shield alone. It flew slower in proportion to its weight, but a solid shield wall meant a dense formation. With no way to dodge to either side, the Frankish ranks absorbed the devastating projectiles head-on, and they had to pay the price for it.
Here and there, the shield wall crumbled in an instant. Shattered splinters of wood and the cries and blood of those on the verge of death, or already dead, soon filled that place.
But in truth, those men were the wise ones.
After the single volley of javelins, the Örn wing of the West Frankish army immediately collapsed, and on the far side of the Seine, I saw infantry with their backs turned to our cavalry as we charged.
'A trap?'
Surely it couldn't be a trap? This was far too naked a weakness, was it not.
"Save me!"
"I cannot die here! God!"
"My wife...! I swear I shall return! God, watch over me!"
However, if it were a trap, the acting of the Franks fleeing and wailing was simply too superb.
"Rune! We charge through!"
"Aye! Fylkir! We charge through—!"
[Bwooooooong—! Bampapapapapam—!]
[Dugu- dugu- dugu- dugu-]
Swiftly, with my free hand, I lifted the spear from the saddle on the Örn side and focused my gaze as much as possible, picking out the line I would ride and the enemy I would collide with.
Since I was not a mere vanguard, I had to consider as much as possible the path of the cavalry that would follow behind me.
If it were only me breaking through, it would not matter where I went, but I fed Camembert's stamina and the capabilities of my men all into the calculation and input the optimal path into the navigator inside my skull.
"Let's go! Camembert!"
[Purruk—! Purruk!]
[Dagak- dagak- dagak- Dagr-dak- Dagr-dak-]
Camembert, who had been moving as if flying with terrifyingly swift strides, let out harsh breaths and increased speed, and following their chieftain, the North Sea cavalry horses all thrust out their great footsteps in unison.
"The enemy! The enemy!"
"Go faster, I said! I said go faster!"
"No! This can't be happening! This isn't right!"
The mere pressure of the approaching cavalry deepened their confusion, and now they were shoving those in front of them, trying to get as far from us as possible.
But in ancient times, the reason man tamed the animal called the horse was precisely that no matter what means one tried, one could not run faster than this beast.
"Break through! He-el—!"
"Hel—!"
"Odin—! Tyr—!"
"Helgi Ragnarsson—!"
"Hyah-hah!"
[Dugu- dugu- dugu- dugu- Kwang!]
By now, this sensation was gradually becoming familiar.
When roughly thirty meters remained to the enemy, Camembert's madly accelerating movement to close the distance, and the piercing of the dead center of the back of a foe too frozen with terror even to turn and look.
The sound of the spear driving in was drowned out by the sound of Camembert's heavy body colliding right after, and I did not even hear it.
[Kwang! Kwakwang! Ihihihing—! Aaaak—! Purruk!]
When I first began operating cavalry, I had put spears in the hands of all my horsemen, but after a few breakthrough charges, I realized there was no need for that.
Whether the enemy line was broken through or not was, after all, decided by the head of the column.
Only Rune, riding beside me, and the warriors up to the third rank behind him—fewer than twenty men—used long spears like mine to deliver the horse's speed.
Behind them, everyone swung axes or swords or long hammers made of solid iron, methodically pounding the heads of those lucky enough to have survived or unlucky enough to still be alive as they passed.
[Puk! Pupuk! Keok! Hwoong— peoseok! Seogeok! Huwoong— kkang! Ak!]
Amid the unceasing din of iron meeting iron, the sound of iron being cut at the joints with ghastly skill, the sound of something blunt striking iron helms, the most overwhelming noise of all was the pained howling let out by the three Frankish warriors skewered on my long spear and sent flying through the air.
I gripped the spear shaft upside down, unbroken even with three men hanging from it.
[Seuk-]
"Kkeu-eu—"
"Keok— keo-keok!"
"Kkeu-reuk—"
Along with the three suspended in the air, I hurled it with all my might.
[Huwoooong—! Peo-peok!]
The great spear, scattering blood as it flew, became a javelin and pierced straight through an enemy who had been trying to blow a horn and send a signal, and I drew my long blade from the left saddle and swung it at once.
[Huwoooong—! Seogeok! Hwoong—! Seogeok!]
For a time, I cut down everything that entered the path of my swings while the fiercely excited Camembert deliberately slammed his body into men, shattering fragile human bone.
After breaking through the enemy's Örn wing at an angle and utterly collapsing it, an open green field lay clearly before my eyes.
And a little way to the Örn side, the high walls of the Rouen fortress were visible, and upon them, the faces of the Rouen garrison troops, nocking arrows to their bows with trembling hands.
'A pity, but this is as far as we go.'
My own body had no trouble whatsoever, but Camembert and my warriors, and their mounts, did not possess limitless stamina and spirit.
I did not know how much we had stabbed and cut and trampled, but with this much done, they would not be able to act rashly for a while.
'If they are shaken more than expected, settle it at once. If they recover quickly, observe a little longer.'
Now the initiative was ours, so all that remained was to see what lay ahead.
"Report personnel!"
"Report personnel! Squad 1—twenty-five, all alive!"
"Squad 2—twenty-five!"
"Squad 3—!"
My men's regathering of personnel and equipment ended smoothly, and at once I turned my horse's head and moved toward my encampment on the hill.
The enemy cavalry remained near the riverbank, still trapped within the Franks' clamorous camp.
I had wished to see Carolus's face once, but regretfully, his figure was nowhere to be seen.
All that lay before my eyes was the sight of the enemy's backs, having now thrown aside shields and weapons alike and pressing their way toward the Rouen fortress in a throng.
Yet for them, misfortune struck once more—for before them lay the moat.