A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Chapter 420: Chapter 296: On Foot, Knights

The last of the camels finally entered the bend in the road.

Eric gripped Guy’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “Go tell Count Evler it’s time. Tell them that after the charge, they are not to pursue. Do not pursue.”

A moment later, a deep rumbling told Eric that the Knights of Normandy had mounted up and were now descending the mountain at full speed, heading for the edge of the valley.

Norman Knights were slightly different from other Frank Knights. Their equipment was typically lighter, giving them high mobility and allowing them to charge and change formation quickly.

This also made them better suited for ambushes than other Frank Knights. They would crouch low, hugging their horses’ necks to avoid being seen by the enemy on the road, thus preserving the element of surprise for as long as possible.

That was why the Norman Knights were at the forefront to launch the first wave of the charge, with the Frank Knights and German knights following up with the second wave.

Although Eric felt his battle plan and arrangements were flawless, he was still worried. He lacked absolute Reputation in this motley army, and his orders might not be accepted by those unruly Counts and Barons.

He could only hope that tonight, no Norman, Frank, or German would get it in their head to try and become a hero of epic poetry.

Just then, Eric heard the sound of someone crawling up behind him. It was Hook Eye.

“Count, it’s the Turkic Cavalry Archers. They’re at the rear of the supply train, and it looks like they’re heading this way,” Hook Eye said in a low voice, nodding his head toward the village road.

“How many?” Eric asked.

‘This isn’t necessarily bad news.’

Even though the night was dark, Eric could sense him shrug. “I can’t see clearly, my lord.”

‘That means there are probably over two hundred of them.’

“Have they spotted us?” Eric continued to ask.

Hook Eye shook his head. “If you don’t hurry, they will soon.”

Two figures ran stooped from around the corner of a building. It was Eustace, Count of Boulogne, and the Count of Pontieu.

The Count of Pontieu let out a cold snort at Eric, probably because Eric had given the honor of leading the charge to Count Evler.

Eustace was a young man of about the same age as Eric, tall and rather slender, with a neatly trimmed short beard that was perhaps light brown or slightly gray.

He wore a unique surcoat. It had originally been a Cultivator’s robe, simply modified to be worn over his Chain Armor.

The dark brown cloth had faded slightly over the years, and one could even see mended patches on the shoulders and hem.

There was no ornate embroidery, no gold or silver adornments common among the Nobility, nor a large Cross embroidered on the chest like other Warriors. There was only a small red Cross on the right shoulder, stitched on with a few simple, neat stitches.

His belt was not the leather one typically used by the Nobility, but a hemp rope common to Cultivators, tied casually around his waist in a simple, unadorned fashion.

Compared to the Count of Pontieu, he was as calm as a Holy Image in a Monastery.

Eric told them about the Cavalry Archers approaching from the rear.

“I’ll send them to Hell.” The Count of Pontieu’s lips curled into a broad smile. “What’s your plan, Gloucester?”

“I need you and the Count of Boulogne to have all your Knights dismount. They will form a defensive square with my Knights and Belem’s.” Eric gestured toward the valley with his thumb, though there was no need.

“Utterly absurd! Knights fighting on foot…” the Count of Pontieu said resentfully, his brow furrowed and his eyes filled with disdain. “A Knight’s glory is found charging into the fray on horseback! If we dismount, what makes us different from common Infantry? My Knights and I would rather die than abandon our Warhorses.”

Eric watched him calmly, his tone firm and unyielding. “Count of Pontieu, I mean no offense, but you must understand that the Turkic Cavalry Archers are no ordinary enemy. Their volleys of arrows are like a sudden squall. If we charge, they need only fall back a few steps to pick us off from a distance.”

“We hold the high ground on the mountaintop, while they are below us, climbing the slope. If we charge, they won’t even have a chance to loose their Arrows. And don’t forget, it’s night. For an Arrow to find our chests, the sun would have to suddenly rise.”

“We are on a mountaintop. Do you expect all the Knights to charge at full speed on a mountain path as if it were a flat plain? The night is an obstacle for us as well. If one loses control, a Knight and his Warhorse will go tumbling down the mountain.

Furthermore, the Turkic People’s warhorses are more Agile and swift than ours. They can move and evade far more easily than we can.

If we dismount, we can at least form a dense square to block their volleys and negate their advantage in mobility.

This is not about denying our glory, but about staying alive to defend it. Today, we must cast aside the posture of glory in order to preserve our lives and our honor.”

The Count of Pontieu remained hesitant. He glared at Eric, his eyes filled with resistance and dissatisfaction. But in his heart, he knew Eric was right. This narrow mountaintop was unsuitable for a cavalry charge, and the Speed and mobility of the Turkic Cavalry Archers made them difficult to pursue.

But he still couldn’t bring himself to compromise and lose face to Eric.

Just then, his arm was grabbed. It was Eustace, Count of Boulogne. The young Count said to Eric, “My Knights and I will fight alongside you. Even on the ground, we will not lose a Knight’s pride.”

“Eustace, you… A bunch of brats, you win!” The Count of Pontieu shook off Eustace’s hand.

After that, the men began to rally the Knights under their command and prepare, gripping their Shields tightly to form a solid defensive line.

The Knights stood firm behind the shield wall, an unshakeable iron bulwark, calmly watching the approaching Turkic Cavalry Archers.

Eric’s commands were issued crisply and efficiently. The Dismounted Knights held their Long Spears and Shields, their ranks like a sturdy stone wall, immovable against any external force.

The thundering hooves of the Turkic Cavalry Archers shook the earth. They broke through the darkness of the mountain path, closing in on the Knights’ position.

The whinnying of horses echoed through the air—caltrops scattered across the path had precisely pierced their hooves, causing excruciating pain. The horses bucked and lost their balance, and some Riders were thrown from their saddles, caught completely off guard.

Before the Turkic People could organize a counterattack, they were met with a storm of Long Spears flying toward them. The spears pierced the bellies of their Warhorses, splattering blood. The stench of it filled the air, instantly shattering the Turkic People’s formation.

The Turkic Cavalry Archers tried to retreat, realizing a frontal assault was no longer advantageous. However, before they could even catch their breath, urgent battle cries erupted from their left and right flanks. Two squads of Dismounted Knights, holding Short Swords and Long Spears, were rapidly charging the Turkic Cavalry Archers from the sides.

Surrounded by darkness and panic, the Turkic People tried to counterattack on instinct, firing their Bows and Arrows wildly into the night in an attempt to disrupt the oncoming enemy. But the Dismounted Knights were swift, holding their Shields high to deflect most of the Arrows as they charged directly into the enemy’s midst.

The battlefield instantly descended into chaos. The Turkic Cavalry Archers, their vision limited by the night, were flustered by the Dismounted Knights’ assault. They tried to draw their Short Bows to fight back, but every attempt to draw a bowstring felt impossibly difficult. The enemy’s Shields and armor blocked most of their firing angles, and some Knights even tackled the archers directly, their blades mercilessly finding the gaps in their armor.

The Turkic Cavalry Archers gradually broke and scattered, their original formation completely shattered. Meanwhile, the Dismounted Knights advanced like a relentless tide, wave after wave, progressively forcing the enemy into a dead end with no escape.

The Turkic Cavalry Archers finally realized their predicament, but it was too late. Soldiers swarmed in from all sides like a torrent, sealing off their escape routes.

Having lost their advantage in Speed and distance, the Turkic People were helpless. They tried to flee in terror, but the darkness and the unfamiliar terrain had become their tomb.