208. Rules Set by Man, Rules Set by Nature (2).
208. Rules Set by Man, Rules Set by Nature (2).
Heinrich(Heinrich). Or Heimricus was a powerful noble of Thuringen in East Frankia, the sharpest sword wielded by 'Louis of Saxony', the second son of the East Frankish Emperor.
His family was an ancient house known for its frequent use of the name Poppo, so that most of the cherished nobles of East Frankia called them the Popponen.
At the moment they were lying low under the check of Emperor Ludovicus, but fortunately Louis of Saxony cherished the Popponen family and secretly supported them.
The reason was precisely that the Popponen family held strong influence not only in Thuringen but also in southern Saxony.
To add to that, the lord of Hamburg, Bruno, was none other than Heinrich's son-in-law.
This veteran and dangerous noble, who could be called the de facto master of northern East Frankia, was on his way from Paderborn to Verden, leading his lord's soldiers to fulfill his duty as military commander (princeps militiae).
According to the writings of the ancient Roman Vegetius(Vegetius), who exerted immense influence on all Frankish military culture, the foundation of all military action was supply.
Therefore, it was vital to secure the rear before answering Hamburg's urgent request for aid.
And was the tale brought by the messenger of Heinrich's own son-in-law, Bruno, Comes of Hamburg and Dux of Saxony, not something hard to believe?
'Those Northman heathen barbarians are raising a wall right under Hamburg's nose...?'
Heinrich himself had witnessed walls being built with his own eyes many times, but a rampart was not something that could be piled up so easily.
Yet if Bruno's report was entirely true, it meant the enemy's capability exceeded Heinrich's expectations.
Therefore it was all the more imperative to hold Verden firmly.
Yes, it was imperative.
But what in the world was that?
"Wahahahaha! Plunder!"
"Take and steal everything! Load up anything worth silver!"
"You wretches! If you have nothing to give, then hand over even your hair!"
Like most Frankish forts and towns, Verden was a city on the Weser River. Naturally the threat of the Northmen, who were masters of all waterways in this age, was ever-present, yet it was a rare thing for a regular army to encounter plundering firsthand.
And now, before Heinrich's very eyes, those godforsaken Northmen dared to carry out a raid!
"Th-those...! Th-those...! What in blazes are they doing! Cavalry! Cavalry!"
"Summon the cavalry at once!"
Seeing the face of the strict drillmaster and commander Heinrich flush crimson, the adjutant beside him went white as a sheet and immediately blew the horn to call the cavalry.
[Bwam—! Bwaaam—! Bwaaaam—!]
That signal meant a cavalry attack, and naturally the stunned East Frankish riders hurried forth from the rear of the column, only to be confronted by Heinrich's face, now the color of a ripe apple and furrowed with thick creases between his brows.
"Dux Heinrich! You summoned us!"
Heinrich actually held no fief large enough to warrant the title of Dux, but because Louis of Saxony had personally appointed him supreme commander over all Saxons, he was using the title of Dux.
Thus Heinrich, who ordinarily displayed deep affection for the title Dux, now only raged as if no sound reached his ears, pointing at those insolent Northmen.
"Kill them all! No! Take at least one alive! I shall make their lair a heap of ashes!"
"Yes! Dux Heinrich!"
Strict discipline meant a rigid hierarchy, and moreover the East Frankish cavalry was renowned as the elite of all the Frankish realms.
Sharing in their commander's fury, the riders surged forth instantly, numbering no fewer than five hundred, and of course the clamor resounded loudly as they galloped toward the Northmen who were strangely loosing arrows around the fort.
[Dugudugudugu—!]
[Bwaaam! Bwaaam—! Bwaaaam!]
"It worked! The bastards are coming!"
"Now! Drop everything and flee!"
"We didn't get anything anyway!"
"Farewell, Franks! I shall return!"
"See you again, Verden!"
[Dadadada—]
[Dugudugudugu—!]
Light-footed Northmen fled, flailing their arms as if possessed, while the cavalry pursued furiously at their heels.
"Halt!"
"You honorless wretches!"
"Plunderers! Heathens!"
The cavalry, as best they could, hurled what they considered insults at the Northmen who were already scrambling onto the ships' prows they had moored by the riverside, but since the words were all true, the Northmen showed not the slightest agitation.
"We are off! Valiant Frankish lords! Wahahaha!"
"You are quite fast! Let us see if you can chase us into the water as well!"
"Hey! You idiots! You had better be worrying about your main force!"
The Northmen and East Franks had been trading blows for a considerable time, and naturally those who served in the military camps of Northmen or Franks could understand each other's speech to some degree.
Of course, even without any linguistic knowledge, anyone who saw those detestable gestures being hurled from the longship — such as baring bottoms or boldly sticking out groins and tongues — would fully understand they were shouting insults.
The cavalry, whose faces had heated to a hue much like that displayed by their commander moments earlier, could not even hurl back at the Northmen floating on the Weser, and had to hastily turn their horses' heads.
Because among their vile curses had drifted a warning about their main force that troubled them. Moreover, they could hardly fight the longships from horseback on the water.
"You filthy bastards...! We return!"
"We return—!"
"When we meet again, I will surely kill you!"
[Bwaaaam—! Bwaaaaam—!]
[Dugudugudugu—!]
As the East Frankish riders rode madly back, the ringing laughter of the Northmen reached their ears.
Along with countless varieties of mocking words.
But having clenched their molars and endured it all, the riders soon arrived at the scene where their main force was under attack.
[Shwaeek—! Shwaeek—! Hududuk! Hududuk pabak!]
"Saxons! Forward!"
"Move your feet!"
"Shields up and advance—!"
[Buuuuung—!]
A horn, which resounded across a wider space than the military instruments, let out a mighty blast, and the Saxons' fury moved its heavy steps toward the Northmen.
[Chuk! Cheochuk! Chuk! Chuk!]
It was not the knife-edge precision of the North Sea's formations, but it was an advance deeply faithful to the concept of raising shields in a massed body and driving the enemy back.
Before that blunt yet certain footfall, the Northmen who had been busily loosing arrows all at once flung their arms about and fled frivolously.
"Aaaagh— Flee—! Abandon the land—!"
"Odin—! The Franks are too fearsome! Flee!"
"Wahaha! Try and catch me! You sluggish bastards!"
The sight felt like something they had seen before, an overwhelming déjà vu, and naturally every member of the cavalry flared their nostrils and snorted heavily, while the warhorses, sensitive to their riders' mood and skill, snorted harshly in kind.
[Sshwik— Sshwik— Pururreuk!]
"Comes! Grant us leave to kill them all!"
"It is what I desire. Today, either they or we shall not watch the sunset...!"
"Comes! Grant us leave!"
After gaining nothing but a thick torrent of abuse at Verden's west gate and then returning to the main force near the south gate, I saw that those Norsemen clearly had no intention of fighting, only of mocking.
What ill-bred, barbaric behavior was this?
"If we go now, we can kill them all! Let's move!"
"Yes! Comes!"
"Form ranks! Form ranks!"
[Dogo-dogo! Dagak-dagak! Ihihing! Pururuk!]
I touched the horse's neck and felt its body heat rising and thick droplets of sweat beading. Likely this charge would be the day's last sprint.
'All the better. The horse's condition has warmed up; if we gallop straight ahead, we'll hit top speed in no time—'
But to the regret of the cavalry commander and the horsemen of East Frankia, they could not gallop, nor could they smash their blades and hammers into the backs of those infuriating Norsemen.
"Hwi-ik! Hwi-ik! Halt! The order to halt has been given to the horsemen!"
[Dagak-dagak-dagak!]
Just as a taut rubber band loses its tension and snaps limp in an instant, the resolute tension that had enveloped the cavalry snapped and vanished the moment the messenger's frantic shouts reached them as he raced his horse.
'Oh, damn it!'
[Pururuk! Pururuk!]
Likewise frustrated, the horse snorted roughly, bouncing in place and lodging its own complaints, but the commander of East Frankia's finest Saxon cavalry skillfully snatched the reins, squeezed his thighs, and calmed the beast.
"Whoa— whoa—!"
[Puruk— pururuk—]
"Comes! The Dux has ordered us not to pursue the enemy!"
At those words, the ember still burning in my chest flared and pierced through my eyes, but what fault did this messenger, who swallowed dryly, bear?
With a sigh I let the strength drain from my body, and in formation with the cavalry I rode swiftly toward the center of the main force.
There stood Dux Heinrich, his face still crimson but his gaze cold as he glared at the Norsemen fleeing with great industry.
"I take it the enemy at Verden's west gate have all fled?"
The instant I heard Heinrich's low, rigid question, the fire in my chest vanished entirely, leaving only a chill that straightened the postures and gazes of all who listened.
"Yes! My Dux! The enemy tucked their tails and fled before the might wielded by Louis of Saxony!"
"Our might...?"
[Sweuk—]
Heinrich removed his helmet and swept back his light-brown hair.
Following his gaze, I saw more than ten longships floating on the Weser River, gliding imperiously downstream beneath the bright sun hanging in the sky.
"There was no direct sign they even attacked the fortress. They merely put on a show of it."
While the Saxon commanders watched the rowing Norsemen and their merry songs in a daze, Heinrich's voice continued to ring in their ears.
"This is a warning from the Norsemen. A very vile warning that if things go wrong, they could plunder Hamburg and all the lands beyond the Elbe."
The flush of heated skin slowly calmed, and his chilly gaze now sank to a cold depth—yet the warriors of Saxony, who had fought shoulder to shoulder across east, west, and north, all knew one thing.
Dux Heinrich was now thoroughly enraged.
"Until we deal with those bastards, we cannot reinforce Hamburg. Cavalry commander, pursue them at once. They'll have a stronghold somewhere along this Weser."
"Yes! My Dux!"
"All heavy infantry and auxiliaries will encamp here in Hugh fashion. Messenger, inform the castellan of Verden that I request a meeting. I will remain here with the main force."
"Yes! Understood!"
The subordinates hurriedly distanced themselves from the human volcano that was Dux Heinrich.
Leaving only his escort, Heinrich planted his foot hard into the stirrup, rose from his saddle, and glared at the Norsemen's longships vanishing into the distance, deep wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes.
'You insolent bastards. You dare try to stall against me?'
The warriors he had led from southern Saxony numbered five thousand in total. Among them, cavalry alone were five hundred. With the addition of the Thuringian warriors Louis himself would lead, the army would swell to over a thousand cavalry.
How dare some barbarian-heathens from beyond the sea covet Frankish land where divinity dwells?
I will slaughter them all, just as Charlemagne himself did in days long past!
[Pururuk—]
At the well-bred horse's fussing, Heinrich settled his hips back into the saddle and once more suppressed the rage that kept threatening to erupt.
*****
[Buuuuuung—!]
The chainmail, riveted in place, produced a rhythmic noise in time with each marching footfall.
Just like the horns sounded by ships departing from a pier. The confidence of the advancing North Sea host soared high, as fierce and lofty as the fluttering flag of Hel.
Into the empty ground left by the retreating forces of West Frankia, into the plain between the North Sea encampment and Rouen's fortress, Helgi Ragnarsson's troops steadily filed in and drew up their ranks.
Meanwhile, Thorstein's fleet on the Seine left behind only a few longships to block the southern escape from Rouen, and finally crossed the Seine, turning their prows toward the lands beyond.
Watching all this nightmare unfold from the walls of Rouen, Imperator Karolus gripped the battlements, the blood vessels in his eyes turning crimson. Yet no miracle occurred—no lightning bolt fell from the sky, nor did the earth beneath the enemy's feet split apart and spew flame.
The nightmare had drawn near, and Carolus was forced to choose yet again.
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Dagur Brynjólfsson, CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
The proud, collected gait of a cute but handsome Icelandic horse (tölt, amble)
Let me say a little about this horse and cavalry... The Franks certainly seem to have been closer to horses than their neighbors, such as the Slavs or Goths...!
Among the records of Charlemagne's Avar campaign, there's an account that an epidemic swept through the horses, and out of thousands, only about ten survived...!
That said, scholars from Greece (the Eastern Roman Empire) didn't rate Frankish horses very highly—it seems there were slight differences in breed among the horses of Western Europe, Eastern Europe, and the steppe beyond...!!
This story is set roughly sixty to seventy years before the time I'm talking about, but by the era of Otto the Great, they say he raised 8,000 heavy cavalry to fight the Magyars...
No matter how you look at it, that seems a bit exaggerated, or they didn't distinguish between heavy and light cavalry, lol. Still, the Franks' cavalry strength really must have been formidable...
They say a horse cost as much as a spear, a shield, and a cow together, so they clearly put horses to active use in farming too... and the origins of this Frankish cavalry can be traced back to Charles Martel, the grandfather of Charlemagne and a great commander of the Merovingian dynasty...!
You could say they had the latent power to create a vast empire...! And under the towering emperor Charlemagne, the Franks actively used horses and wagons for logistics to such great effect that the Pope himself saw fit to bestow upon them the imperial crown of the Western Roman Empire...!!!!!
UnspecifiedVegetius [and] Frontinus [and] Modestus [and] Onosander, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
Vegetius Vegetius
Publius Vegetius Renatus. A late 4th-century Roman whose exact birth and death dates are unknown, y'know.
His work *Epitoma rei militaris*, or *De re militari* — 'Concerning Military Matters' — became the spine of the Western European military system thereafter...
Military organization, how to respond to specific situations, simple first aid and herbal remedies, the importance and methods of supply, how to fortify encampments, and so on...
Otto the Great later consulted this book heavily, and right up until modern times, military officers would gift it to one another—that's how important it was...!
In other words, it was the steady bestseller of military science, y'know...!
The image above is a 1494 Moroccan-printed edition...!
Jan van der Asselt, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
And lastly, the lovers of the century, the scandal of the age. A painting of Boudewijn and Judith...!