212. Blood Is Thicker Than Water (2).
212. Blood Is Thicker Than Water (2).
Robert could no longer trust his own eyes.
'Were there truly this many people in the Maine lands? How did they gather them all in one place?'
He had thought he had put considerable distance between himself and Salomon during their frantic flight, but had they even moved for half a day? Soon, Robert and the valiant elite warriors of Le Mans discovered the warriors of Neustria suffering from an untimely traffic jam.
Had they not endured such peril and hardship precisely to extract this force safely to Le Mans? Yet what appeared before his eyes now was a tide of people that seemed to fill the well-paved road and the fields beside it, and within that tide, Robert's soldiers were floundering.
"Clear the way! I said clear the way!"
"The Margrave is passing through! Make way, quickly!"
The guards, concerned only with Robert's safety, drove their horses roughly, browbeating the refugees and the warriors around them. But as if some problem had arisen in the middle of the long column stretching far toward Le Mans, the lengthy body formed by the people would not easily move.
"My lord! Save us! Do not abandon us!"
"O Margrave Robert! Deliver us from those heathens!"
"Did I not say to move aside! If you have eyes, look around you! In this situation, how exactly am I supposed to protect you!"
"If you continue to get in the way, we will be forced to take rough measures!"
The eyes and faces of people frozen in terror and the shouts of guards flushed red with fury crossed before Robert's eyes. The scene was so surreal that Robert wanted to wake from this dreadful dream at once, but the aches and pains protesting throughout his body from sitting so long in the saddle informed him that this was reality.
"Enough! Guards, stand down. We raised our swords to protect these people. What use is it if I hack them all down to save only myself! That is not what God desires."
Shaking his head, Robert dismounted from his horse, his voice heavy with profound exhaustion.
"But, Margrave! The vicious men of Bresse are continuing their pursuit. If we do not move swiftly, they will catch us!"
With the sole objective of preserving Robert's life, his guard's fervent plea was logically sound from beginning to end.
But look into the eyes of these people.
Standing in a circle, those watching this commotion had no hope to be found in their eyes; only terror had settled there.
'At this rate, a retreat would only end in being cut down.'
Those whose hearts are already broken cannot face an enemy on the battlefield even if you hand them spear and shield. Could he possibly lead this vast number of people all the way to Le Mans? Even if they somehow reached Le Mans, not all these people could enter the fortress—so where would he put them?
After complex deliberation, what remained in Robert's mind were the faces of his two sons, Odo and Robert II, and the image of his wife Adelaide, who had already departed for heaven.
"Lieutenant."
For a brief moment, man's instinctive survival urge and his love for his sons, the promise with his late wife, and a leader's duty and responsibility to his people waged a fierce war within him.
But Robert's voice, having made his decision, neither trembled as before nor was it filled with an unfamiliar fear.
For Robert now stood exactly as he had when called "the Strong."
"Escort the refugees with the cavalry. Report to my son Odo in Rouen, and inform the Emperor of the crisis that Le Mans faces."
"Margrave!"
"Enough. Now is not the time to persuade me. Move quickly. I shall kill Salomon here."
The lieutenant, whose bushy-bearded mouth seemed to move to form words but could summon no word to mind, soon reddened his eyes and answered his lord's command in a loud voice.
"I shall carry out this order with all my life!"
"I ask this of you."
Nodding his head, Robert soon mounted his horse and shouted in a great voice toward the column moving far off toward where his sons were.
"Men of Neustria! Warriors of Robert! The enemies of Bresse approach to harm our brothers and sisters! Those who still have the strength and will to fight! Come to my side! I shall fight alongside you!"
Like a lion roaring, at this immense sound that seemed scarcely credible as coming from a human throat, the warriors of Neustria showed not a trace of hesitation.
Soon, from all across the chaotic road, the warriors who had been fitting broken cart wheels to advance even a little further, lifting heavy burdens, or carrying the wounded, hardened their gazes and sought out their shields and spears, swords, axes, and helms.
Without exception, wherever Robert's voice reached, the warriors moved toward the banner their lord flew, and their number soon exceeded three thousand, approaching four thousand.
Considering the cavalry that had broken off under Robert's orders and the warriors who had not yet managed to join them, this would be of some small help to Le Mans.
No one would have blamed him, yet stubbornly, Robert looked into the eyes of each of his foolish subordinates who were doggedly following him into a place of death.
His gaze soon scattered beyond the low, distant hill where the forces of Bresse were revealing themselves.
"Neustria! Shield-wall circle! Form a shield-wall circle! Prepare for battle!"
[Shing-!]
The renowned sword Ulfberht sang with a clear voice. The scouts had already identified not only the Bresse forces from the west but also other forces approaching from the south and north.
Thus, a circular formation. A shield-wall drawn in a circle, just as their ancestors had fought.
[Shuk! Shuk! Shuk! Shuk!]
Since the objective was to fight, hold out, and buy as much time as possible, they could not even consider any other formation. Nor was there time for it.
[Peurreuk- peureuk!]
In the center of the warriors drawing a wide circle and pressing shoulder to shoulder, Robert once more set foot on the ground.
"Go. Run hard, all the way to Le Mans."
[Slap! Ihihihing! Peureuk! Peureuk! Ddak-dak-dak-dak-]
He struck the hindquarters of his warhorse—which had known nothing but hardship under a worthless master—with all his might, sending it racing eastward. Behind it, the guards' horses followed as one.
They numbered roughly twenty horses.
Now what remained in this space that formed a perfect circle was only men and a few insects among the grass.
The hearts of the warriors who had steeled their resolve were as cool as if frost had settled upon them, and along with the fading noise of the refugees, a welcome silence descended upon this space.
Amidst it all, someone sang a verse of a song.
It was not a hymn praising God as taught by the church's bishops and monks, but a rather bawdy song commonly heard in the streets. The song about flowers and maidens blooming brightly when spring came soon swelled into a great chorus, growing louder amidst the warriors' laughter.
Since assuming the high seat of Margrave, he had never once uttered such an undignified song for the sake of decorum. Yet, strangely, the verses he had carelessly sung along to as a child naturally flowed from Robert's lips.
Even as they sang the song that had already cycled back for a second time together with the guards around them, the eyes and faces they met were full of laughter.
[Buuuuuuung-!] [Buuuuuung-!] [Buuuuuuung-!]
Soon, horn calls were heard in succession from every direction except the east, but the warriors of Neustria did not waver and continued to sing.
*****
"Robert. You are truly a mighty warrior."
Hásteinn, gazing at the circular shield-wall before him, could not help but admire it.
He and Robert had quarreled for no small amount of time. Hásteinn had thought he knew Robert quite well, but seeing him again today, Robert was a far greater warrior.
To drag this out any longer would be an insult to them.
"Sound the horn. We fight them."
"Yes, Jarl Hestein!"
Just like Hásteinn, his adjutant, from whom the usual slovenliness was nowhere to be found, gestured, and the resounding blasts of horns roared long and loud from all across the ranks of the Nantes warriors.
[Buuuuuuuuuung-!]
A sound that, though many had set out separately, ended as one in the end.
Listening quietly to that horn call, which was almost like a funeral dirge, Hásteinn stepped forward.
One. Two.
[Cheok! Cheok! Cheok! Cheok!]
The momentum of the heavily armed warriors intensified with every step, and beyond the unceasingly singing shield-wall of Neustria, the heavy sound of footsteps resounded from the north and the west alike, together with the call of horns.
Among them, from the camp of Brace's forces in the west, light cavalry dashed out without hesitation.
Under the javelins that flew in unison toward the sky, the sound of screams and swallowed groans rang out, and soon after, arrows loosed from within the Neustrian formation caused the sorrowful cries of horses and the screams of men.
[Shwaaack- Shwaaaaack!]
"Arrows!"
"Look out!"
[Hududuk! Hududuk! Pabak!]
Next, a fierce volley of arrows glanced off shields and helms, but regrettably, the number was not very great.
The ranks of Nantes continued to walk forward without any particular halt, and soon Hásteinn and his warriors could see the round shields and the cool gazes beyond them.
Those who were prepared for death would not yield a single inch of ground, and Hásteinn was of a mind to utterly finish every last one of them today.
The brief contest of willpower was over in an instant, along with a shout that Hásteinn let out like a thunderbolt.
"Kill them all! Brothers! Attack-!"
"Uaaaaah-!"
"Attack! Attack!"
"Jarl Hestein! Jarl Hestein-!"
[Dudududu- Hwik- Hwirik- Hwik- Puk! Peobeok! Eok! Ak!]
In the space between the warriors charging as one and the warriors holding the line before them, vicious hand axes flew this way and that; blood sprayed and men collapsed here and there.
After a moment, the battle began in earnest with the simple, brutal noise of mass crashing against mass.
[Iyaaaaa-! Kung! Kukung! Puk! Peok! Chaeng! Seogeok!]
In a place where every sound that could be expressed by iron and human flesh ran rampant, Hásteinn's innate strength and the experience he had accumulated up to now shone brilliantly.
"Eurya!"
[Hwung- Pak!]
The axe he brought down with all his might buried itself in an enemy's wooden shield, and the enemy screaming beneath it thrust out the spear he clutched tightly, but Hásteinn instead let the spearhead glance off, pinning the shaft under his left armpit and rendering the foe utterly helpless.
"Eureop!"
[Ppak! Keok!]
Then a headbutt with his helm, aimed squarely at his opponent's nose bridge.
With a single, sharp scream, scattering teeth and gouts of gore, the enemy staggered backward, and in the midst of it, thanks to the spear and shield he still gripped tightly, he ended up dangling like a pendant. Soon, with Hásteinn's gesture of drawing the dagger from his left hip, the man breathed his last and lay his body fully upon the ground.
[Teolsseok!]
"Yaaaaa!"
"Where do you think you're-!"
[Kung! Euk!]
With no time to close the eyes of the fallen enemy that glared wide open, an enemy rushing in from the side was thrown to the ground bodily by a warrior of Nantes, and Hásteinn promptly tilted back the head of one of the two warriors tangled up like a hornet's nest and drew a red line across his throat.
"Ggeureuk- Ggeuk- Keuk-"
Leaving behind the sight of the man vomiting crimson fluid, Hásteinn helped up the warrior who had thrown himself forward for his sake and surveyed his surroundings. The honorable combat, thick with the sweat of men, was in full swing everywhere.
He had been the very first to face the enemy and swing his axe, but before he knew it, the seasoned warriors of Nantes had already passed Hásteinn and were breaking through the first line of defense.
Hásteinn, too, taught his son how to swing a sword and how to move his feet, but in truth, a battle of this scale was decided by numbers rather than individual capability.
Little by little, the circular shield-wall began to crumble, and he could see the enemy warriors who had been on the outer edges of the fight hastily joining in to defend the thinning defensive line here and there.
'Foolish. I understand the sentiment, but it is not a good choice.'
Subsequently, just as Hásteinn had expected, Brace's light cavalry, which had been lying in wait, could be seen prowling toward a hole that had been punched through the enemy line.
'Where are you! Robert! Where are you!'
He did not wish for a warrior of such renown to vanish into nothingness.
Hásteinn, with frantic movements, practically flung aside the enemies blocking his way and forced a path open, and soon he was able to face the familiar countenance with a long gash across its face, its helm sent flying off somewhere.
"Robert!!!"
At the sight, the voice Hásteinn had poured out in a shout miraculously reached Robert beyond the vortex of the battlefield, dense with ferocity and desperation, and soon the two men were able to meet each other's gaze.
"..."
"..."
Amidst bitter resentment and enmity, a faint respect flickered, and the two warriors began to step toward each other as if entranced.
Soon after, Hásteinn cast aside his dagger, and the greenish sword he drew and Robert's blade struck at each other without yielding a single inch.
☆☆☆☆☆Reference Materials☆☆☆☆☆
Zabulle, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
It is the statue of Robert the Strong at Notre Dame Cathedral...!
Jules Cesbron-Lavau, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
An imaginative depiction of Robert on the eve of his final battle in actual history.
According to what has been passed down, Robert had momentarily taken off his armor while besieging the church where Hásteinn had barricaded himself, and it is said that he fell during the fierce engagement with Hásteinn's forces, who happened to launch a sudden charge at that very moment.