Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 74 Cavalry
In an instant, the shield wall formed by five hundred Viking warriors collapsed. Many were demoralized by the devastating charge, and when casualties reached a critical point, the shield wall scattered.

"The army has collapsed like a house of cards. Damn it, why did we have to invite Frankish reinforcements?"

Vig rode his horse north in a frantic escape, his mind constantly recalling the cloaks worn by the knights. The cloaks varied in color, but most of them were printed with golden irises.

Without a doubt, the iris was the iconic emblem of the Frankish royal family. His heart sank into an icy abyss, yet he was utterly helpless. Originally, he had only intended to attack Mercia, but who could have imagined that Charles the Bald, far away in Paris, would suddenly intervene, sending four hundred well-trained cavalrymen at once!
Soon after, Vig fled into Ivar's ranks and witnessed Niels's crushing defeat. Ivar's men were terrified, and even before the battle began, some of them had shifty eyes, glancing at the woods to the west from time to time.

"Without spears, ordinary iron swords and axes are not enough to deal with cavalry; we must change our tactics."

After a moment's thought, Vig realized that Ivar was determined to hold out to the death, so he continued riding north to join Gunnar's hundred-man cavalry.

"We must deal with this Frankish rider team, or everything will be over."

Having witnessed what had just happened, Gunnar agreed with the other party's statement, "What do you want to do?"

"In cavalry warfare, speed is the most crucial element. Once the enemy breaks through Ivar's lines and slows down, lead your cavalry to engage them, and then let our infantry use their numerical advantage to surround and completely annihilate this cavalry force."

While the two were talking, the Frankish cavalry reorganized into a wedge formation, and at a glance, their numbers were less than fifty.

After discussing the matter, Vig headed north to seek reinforcements, while Gunnar led his cavalry south. When the cavalry arrived, the Frankish cavalry were locked in fierce combat with Ivar's forces.

“Vahalla!”

Drawing his longsword, Gunnar braced his legs against his horse's flanks, spurring it to charge at the enemy at top speed. The Frankish cavalry, exhausted and scattered, were instantly felled by this sudden charge, with over thirty men falling in an instant.

Shouting the names of their respective kings, the two sides engaged in fierce combat. The Frankish warhorses were tall and magnificent, but after two consecutive charges, the riders and horses were severely exhausted. Even with their overwhelming numbers, they could not defeat the Vikings in a short time.

Warhorses neighed, swords clashed. Gunnar's horsemanship talent far surpassed that of ordinary people, but unfortunately, he lacked experience in mounted combat and could only rely on his brute strength to fight his enemies.

After cutting down one man, a dark figure suddenly rushed towards him. Gunnar instinctively ducked to avoid the thrust. In response, he thrust his sword horizontally, the gauntlet's bracers wedging the hilt of the enemy's sword. Using the momentum of the charging horse, he forcefully pressed the blade into the gap in the enemy's shoulder armor. Crimson blood flowed down the blade, mingling with sweat and dripping into the mud.

As the two horses passed each other, Gunnar drew his sword, and the enemy's body fell to the ground, marking his fourth victory in this battle.

After an unknown amount of time, the Viking riders became increasingly sparse, and just as the cavalry was about to collapse, Vig finally arrived with a squad of nimble light infantry.

"The Franks were clad in iron armor and prioritized attacking their mounts."

The cavalry, having lost speed, became significantly less of a threat. Vig ordered his infantry to surround them. At this moment, he was clearly determined; even if it meant trading three light infantrymen for one cavalryman, it would still be an advantage for his side.

Surrounded, Frankish riders fell from their horses one by one. Instinctively, they tried to get up, but were pinned down by groups of Vikings. Since many knights wore well-made chainmail, the Vikings chose to stab vulnerable areas such as the armpits, eye sockets, and inner thighs with daggers.

"Well done, haha, every type of soldier has weaknesses, that's how you deal with them!"

Seeing this, Vig on horseback exclaimed in praise, but his gloating attitude attracted a lot of hatred. Several Frankish riders charged forward, trying to kill the enemy general and salvage the situation.

Oh no! Vig had spent the last two years learning Latin and had little time to practice his horsemanship. Seeing five fierce-looking Frankish riders charging towards him, he instinctively turned his horse around and dashed into the woods to the west.

The light in the forest flickered, and the newly sprouted oak leaves rustled in the wind. Vig took a blissful sniff of the fragrant air.

Just then, he heard a few angry shouts behind him. He didn't understand Frankish and had no interest in fighting the knights to the death, so he continued deeper into the dense and vast forest.

As time passed, the curses of the pursuers came and went. Suddenly, the gray horse stumbled as it walked, almost throwing Vig to the ground.

Looking down, he saw the roadside covered in damp moss. He sighed and was forced to dismount and walk by the reins. After a long while, the pitiful neighing of a horse slipping and falling echoed from behind, followed by faint curses that eventually disappeared. Vig breathed a sigh of relief; he had finally shaken them off.

With most of the pressure that had been building up inside him dissipating, a deep weariness washed over him. Vig leaned against a tree stump to rest for a while, intending to return along the same route, only to discover a stark reality—he seemed to be lost.

"An old horse knows the way; do you remember the way back?"

"Huff, huff." The gray horse shook its head and snorted in dissatisfaction, indicating that it was still young and not one of those senile old fellows. Then it stuck out its wet tongue and licked its master's cheek.

"Stop fooling around!" Vig pushed the gray horse's head away forcefully, took a bag of dry rations from the saddle, and the two of them ate it together.

Then, he climbed to the treetop, roughly oriented himself by the sunlight, and slowly walked along, holding the reins. After a busy day, Viggo's linen shirt was soaked with sweat. A cool breeze blew, and he couldn't help but sneeze, the sound spreading and echoing through the dense forest.

Soon, he heard the faint sound of running water. Vig looked at the empty water pouch on the saddle and decided to go find some water to drink.

By the stream, a man and a horse were drinking heartily with their heads down when suddenly, the gray horse shoved Vig's body with its head, almost causing him to fall into the water.

"You stupid horse, are you crazy? In what way has the master ever treated you badly?"

The gray horse did not stop moving, pushing its master to hide in the bushes behind it. Half a minute later, a small group of Frankish soldiers appeared on the opposite bank, also holding water bags and bending down to fetch water.

What's going on? How did I end up in enemy-controlled territory?

Vig held his breath and waited for the Frankish soldiers to leave before climbing back to the top of an oak tree. With the help of the increasingly dim setting sun, he reconfirmed his location.

Walking alone in the deep, quiet forest, Vig grew increasingly bored after more than ten minutes, and could only talk to his mount to distract himself:

"Stupid horse, what do you think of this direction? If you agree, say so; if you disagree, say so twice."

"Huff, huff, huff."

The gray horse neighed wildly, and the next moment, a Frankish knight walked out from behind the bushes, covered in blood and looking exhausted, leading a tall and strong black horse behind him.

(End of this chapter)