novelSusiti Chapter 177 Encounter at Dabry Plain
Chapter 177 Encounter at Dabry Plain
Chapter 177 The Battle of Dabulai Plain (Part 4)
"Keep asking," the Sultan ordered Qasim, his voice tinged with suppressed excitement. "Find out the details of their equipment, the commander's habits, the condition of their horses, everything useful. Cooperate with the interrogators until they've squeezed out the last word they know."
Then he turned to the outside of the tent and said in a deep voice, "Summon Mahmud."
Soon after, his second son, Mahmoud Kilij, lifted the curtain and entered.
Compared to his younger brother Kehoslu's youthful vigor, Mahmoud is more composed. His face inherited his father's fortitude, but his eyes held a more thoughtful look.
His elder brother Merrick fell out of favor due to his rash actions and was ambushed; now, he is the successor that his father is grooming.
"Father," Mahmoud bowed.
"A Frankish army has appeared on the banks of the Sangarios River. They are said to be sent by the Kingdom of Jerusalem, led by their crown prince, numbering about 1,100. They have been surrounded by Kekhoslu." The Sultan spoke succinctly. "I want you to lead your 3,000 cavalrymen immediately to join forces with Kekhoslu. The objective is to capture the crown prince alive. Remember, I want him alive. If that fails—at least bring back his banner and sword."
Mahmoud's eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he bowed to accept the order: "As you wish, Father. I will bring this generous gift back for you."
A day later, Mahmud led three thousand elite Turks to the Turkic camp on the banks of the Sangarios River.
The brothers met and quickly exchanged information.
"A meticulously arranged wagon formation, backed by the river and nestled against a hill, its defenses formidable." Kehoslu pointed to the silent, circular fortress on the distant riverbank. "I've observed them for two days; there's no sign of a breakout, nor any indication of reinforcements arriving. I'm holding back, waiting for the opportune moment. Brother, to maintain their formation, they must be constantly on edge, unable to sleep or eat properly, their morale will inevitably suffer. Now is the perfect time to probe, to break through even a small opening—"
Mahmoud did not respond immediately; instead, he climbed to a higher vantage point and carefully observed the Frankish chariot formation.
Vehicles, shields, fine chainmail, and crossbows gleaming faintly behind the vehicles.
The formation was indeed tight, but he also noticed the seemingly weak gap near the riverbank.
"Father wants the Crown Prince alive, which means we can't just launch a full-scale attack and risk a catastrophic defeat," Mahmoud pondered. "Your assessment is correct; exhausting their energy is the best strategy. But we can't afford to drag this out. The main force of Branas is on an unclear track. Although Father believes he might be tied down by other matters or our other troops, if he senses the change here and leads his army to our aid, we will lose this opportunity."
He weighed the risks and rewards: "We can launch a probing attack first. Use two or three squads of horse archers to circle around and fire, testing their defensive strength, range, and reaction speed. The focus should be on that gap. But remember, Kehosru, it's just a probe! Without my order, no large force is to approach the wagon formation, especially that gap!"
I always felt that—it was just too perfect.
Although Kehosru was eager to achieve something, he also respected his brother's caution: "Understood, brother. Let the horse archers go and give these Franks hiding in their iron shells a good talking to first."
The atmosphere was indeed somewhat somber during the days the Jerusalem expeditionary force was besieged.
Although drinking water and food were temporarily secured thanks to the river and ample supplies of cavalry, it was impossible not to be on edge with thousands of enemy troops watching them intently.
Bohemian heavy infantry had to take turns wearing armor and standing guard. The Danish warriors' energy became irritable with nowhere to be vented, and even the most composed crossbowmen couldn't help but show a hint of fatigue on their faces.
Henry was like a fish swimming in different corners of the wagon formation. The Turks could attack at any moment, so he had to keep these guys in line.
He first went to the corner where the Bohemian soldiers were taking turns resting.
These men from the forests and mountains of Central Europe were silently polishing their armor, their expressions solemn.
Henry plopped down on the ground between them and said in perfect Czech dialect, "Brothers, do you know why hunters in our homeland of Bohemia are hesitant to venture into the deep forests alone at night?"
Several soldiers looked up, their expressions showing interest; the topic of their hometown was always comforting.
"It's not because of wolves, and it's not because of bears," Henry lowered his voice, his eyes becoming mysterious, "it's because of the night spirits and the forest nymphs."
The surroundings fell silent instantly. These names were terrifying figures from folk tales they had heard from their grandmothers or old hunters since childhood.
“I’ve heard,” Henry began, recounting ancient tales as if by a fireside, “that the Night Demon takes the form of a pale woman who abducts disobedient children, or attacks lonely travelers at midday, freezing their blood with her chill and then draining it dry. And the Forest Sprite lurks in ponds and rivers, its hair aquatic plants, its eyes like frogs, dragging those who come near the water and filling their lungs with silt—”
The soldiers involuntarily held their breath, as if they could feel the chill of the story.
Henry abruptly shifted his tone, pointing to the Turkic cavalry patrolling outside the wagon formation: "Look at those guys out there, riding like the wind, but they're no match for the Night Spirits! They don't even dare to charge head-on, not even to fire arrows from a distance, trying to freeze our courage with fear and exhaustion. And look at the Sangarios River behind us," he gestured, "if we lose our position and retreat into the river, wouldn't we be the perfect prey for the 'Night Spirits'?"
The Bohemian soldiers looked at each other, their eyes hardening with determination.
"But how do we Bohemian men deal with these evil spirits?" Henry's voice suddenly became firm and powerful. "Not by running away, but by lighting bonfires, gripping axes and flails, and gathering together! Let the light of iron and fire drive them away! Now, our wagon formation is the bonfire, and your shields and spears are the exorcism weapons! Let these Turkic demons and water monsters see if the men from Bohemia will falter before them!"
The Bohemian soldiers paused for a moment, then sat up straight, their fingers gripping the handles of their axes tightly once more. In the glances they exchanged, fear was replaced by a raw determination.
Then Henry got up and strolled to the shady spot where the Danish knights were gathered.
These burly northern men, frustrated by their pent-up energy, muttered curses in the ancient Norse.
Henry leaned closer and shouted in his Northern dialect, "Thorfin! And you warriors wielding your Dan axes! Do you know how Ivar the Boneless fought in England?"