Viking: Master of the Icy Sea-Chapter 66: Attack

Ch 66: Attack
Morning, one hundred Vikings and an equal number of prisoners went to the forest to cut wood. The branches were covered with a light snow; they wielded iron axes and chisels to strike the trunks, their bodies emitting steaming white mist, the dull thud of axes cutting into oak trunks startled ravens into flight.
“The tree fell!”
Accompanied by a clear call, one oak tree after another was felled. The Vikings wielded axes and saws to cut away obstructing branches, working together to drag the logs to the sleds. Suddenly, the sound of a bowstring vibrating buzzed through the forest.
The next moment, an arrow pierced the back of a young man. He fell beside the pile of logs next to the sleds, his blood searing holes in the snow-covered ground.
“Enemy attack!”
Countless arrows rained down like hail, the surviving Vikings pinned down behind cover, unable to move. After a few minutes, a large number of Mercian soldiers emerged from the depths of the forest. Outnumbered and outgunned, the logging detachment was forced to retreat.
Northwest Camp, two nobles had finished breakfast and were playing Hnefatafl in a warm and comfortable room. Ulf, holding a game piece, was deep in thought. Upon hearing news of the attack on the logging camp, he “accidentally” knocked over the board in his fluster.
“Those fellows are truly hateful. Why don’t they bother others, but keep pestering us?” Putting on his black cloak, Ulf muttered as he climbed the watchtower on the edge of the village. Looking out, he saw dozens of Vikings running from the northern forest across the desolate snowfield.
Soon, a large number of militiamen equipped with square shields, spears, and pitchforks emerged from the edge of the forest. A rough estimate put their number at seven or eight hundred.
“What to do?”
Vig, standing beside him, replied: “What else can we do? Deal with them in the open, it’s better than letting these militiamen enter Tamworth.”
After a brief discussion, Vig led four hundred men to intercept, including all sixty soldiers. Ulf commanded the remaining two hundred to defend the camp.
While his colleagues mustered their troops, Ulf ordered two signal fires to be lit in the open space, requesting reinforcements from the East Camp.
“Hope it’s not too late.”
Ulf muttered softly, watching Vig proactively face the Mercian army, twice his size.
The distance shortened to two hundred paces. Vig drew his longsword, signaling the troops to form a shield wall around him, slowly advancing towards the enemy.
After walking dozens of paces, he heard the urgent sound of a horn from behind. Vig turned his head and saw Ulf frantically waving his arms from the watchtower, pointing towards Tamworth.
At that moment, the North Gate of Tamworth slowly opened, and Mercian soldiers equipped with swords and shields emerged from the city, forming ranks under the urging of their officers.
“Sir, what to do?” The shield-bearers on both sides spoke at once, but Vig did not retreat.
“Don’t worry about the rear. Our current task is to hold this Mercian force, preventing them from rushing into Tamworth. Unless something unexpected happens, Your Majesty has already received the news; reinforcements are on their way.”
The shield wall continued to advance. The distance shortened to seventy paces, and the enemy archers began to volley arrows. Vig, inside the shield wall, slowly moved his pace, the thud of arrows hitting shields sounded above his head, thud, thud, thud, like a flock of woodpeckers pecking at a tree trunk.
Fifty paces.
Thirty paces.
Ten paces.
On the eve of engaging the enemy, the ground trembled. The Vikings at the edge of the shield wall looked east, following the sound. They saw a hundred-man cavalry squadron charging fiercely, the rider at the front holding Ragnar’s royal banner. Not far behind the cavalry, a large number of light infantry were running towards the battlefield.
“Our cavalry has arrived!”
The news spread rapidly throughout the shield wall. Sensing the morale of his men suddenly soar, Vig hesitated no more. “Inn!” he shouted Odin’s name and resolutely commanded the shield wall to charge towards the Mercian reinforcements, twice their number.
The two armies clashed, screams filling the air. A few minutes passed in a flash. Gunnar, leading the cavalry, arrived at the rear flank of the Mercian reinforcements. The heavy bodies of the warhorses crashed into the crowd, instantly knocking down many unsuspecting enemies. Driven by the spurs, the warhorses neighed, forcing their way deeper into the crowd until their last ounce of energy was spent.
On horseback, the riders used their height advantage to swing their iron swords, cutting down enemies on both sides. Faced with these frenzied riders, the left wing of the Mercian reinforcements collapsed. The chain reaction caused the entire force to rout. They dropped their weapons and their wounded comrades, retreating back into the depths of the forest along the same path.
“Don’t chase, everyone turn around!”
Having driven off the reinforcements, Vig signaled the shield wall to turn towards Tamworth in the south. The five hundred Mercian soldiers who had come out of the city were less than two hundred paces away. Witnessing the rout of the reinforcements, they froze in place, unsure whether they should rescue or retreat back into the city.
Half a minute passed, the city walls of Tamworth sounded their horns, jolting the Mercian army out of their stupor. They retreated into the city gate at top speed. Vig led the pursuit, but unfortunately, he was a step too late and failed to catch the enemy force. The archers on the walls shot down a dozen of his soldiers, forcing him to withdraw.
For the rest of the day, Vig led his troops deep into the forest, purging scattered soldiers. At sunset, they returned to the camp.
“Fortunately, Ragnar acted decisively and dispatched the cavalry. Although they are somewhat unskilled riders, they were enough to inflict devastating damage on the militiamen.”
Currently, the entire army has only one hundred-man cavalry squadron, belonging to the Royal Guard.
Due to their experiences on the Eastern European steppe, commanders Gunnar, Niels, and Orm realized the importance of iron stirrups. Therefore, all cavalry were equipped with stirrups, making their combat power superior to Anglo-Saxon cavalry.
Unfortunately, horses in Britain are generally smaller, mainly used for agriculture and transport, with severely insufficient explosive power, resulting in a significant reduction in the cavalry’s charge effectiveness.
Furthermore, the cavalry lacks qualified horsemanship instructors. During daytime combat, Vig discovered that more than half of the riders dismounted after engaging the enemy and engaged in infantry combat, effectively turning themselves into mounted infantry.
“The advantage of cavalry is simply too great. After the war ends, we must find a way to employ instructors and purchase good horses from the continent to form a dedicated shock cavalry!”
In fact, Vig had long had the idea of forming a cavalry unit. Last year, he specifically consulted a wool merchant about prices and learned that warhorses from West Francia cost more than two pounds of silver.
Even more fatal was the fact that the risk of selling warhorses to pagan barbarians was too great, and several wool merchants rejected Vig’s request. Only one fearless merchant agreed to help, but gave a price Vig could not afford:
Five pounds of silver per mare, and ten pounds for a quality stallion!
Undoubtedly, this price was beyond Vig’s means. Unless he captured enough spoils of war in the coming battles, the plan to form a cavalry unit would have to be delayed for another few years.