novelSusiti Chapter 179 Encounter at Dabry Plain
Chapter 179 Encounter at Dabry Plain
Chapter 179 Encounter at the Dabulai Plain (Part 6)
The Turkic horse archers closed to a distance of about two hundred paces, which is the edge of the effective range of the composite bow, but for the Divine Arm Crossbow, this is already a high-accuracy range.
However, the crossbowmen behind the wagon formation seemed to react slowly, with only a few scattered crossbow bolts flying out at an angle, landing far in front of the Turkic cavalry, eliciting a scornful whistle from the enemy.
The horse archers grew bolder and began to accelerate, drawing arcs at a distance of 150 to 100 paces outside the wagon formation, hurling volleys of light arrows at the wagon formation like locusts.
Arrows clattered and struck the shields, vehicles, and the ground. Most were effectively blocked, but some landed inside the formation, causing a slight commotion and a few muffled groans.
The counterattacks within the vehicle formation remained sparse and inefficient.
The crossbow bolts had a long firing interval and poor accuracy, often arriving late after the Turkic cavalry had already passed by.
The defenses at the breach appeared particularly clumsy; the soldiers responsible for it seemed to be running around in a panic, their shields held askew, and the occasional crossbow bolts fired posed no threat.
This unequal archery exchange lasted for nearly half an hour.
The Turks paid a negligible price: a few warhorses were wounded by stray arrows, and several cavalrymen were grazed.
However, they believed they had obtained valuable intelligence: the Frankish army's long-range firepower seemed weak, the crossbowmen were poorly trained and slow to react, and the breach was particularly vulnerable, with the morale of the defenders appearing unstable.
As the horse archers retreated with the intelligence, a smile appeared on Kehosru's face: "See that, brother? They were at their last gasp! That gap is a gift from God!"
Mahmoud gazed into the distance, observing more closely.
He did see the flaws in the enemy's defenses and the crossbowmen's accuracy, but a lingering doubt remained deep in his heart.
Is all of this too much in line with their expectations?
The prisoners' confessions and the probing they were about to do seemed to point to the same conclusion: this was a weary, terrified, and isolated army with limited fighting capacity.
"Wait a little longer, until evening when the light is less favorable for them," Mahmoud finally decided. "Gather five hundred elite troops, equipped with spears and mace, and launch a main attack on that breach. Send two hundred cavalry to the flanks as a feint attack. Break through in one fell swoop and take the core!"
As the sun began to set, it dyed the Sangarios River into a golden ribbon, casting long shadows on the caravan.
In the Turkic camp, the sound of war drums thundered.
Approximately seven hundred Turkic cavalrymen began to assemble, five hundred of whom were elite Azerbaijani heavy cavalrymen. They were armed with light lances more suited to close combat and hammer-spears, which were adept at penetrating armor in close combat. They slowly advanced toward the wagon formation, their target being the gap in the southeast corner.
The other two hundred people dispersed, making a gesture to put pressure on other directions of the vehicle formation.
Inside the car formation, Lyon and Henry exchanged a glance.
The fish is finally about to bite the hook.
"Attention, all! The real feast is here!" Henry's voice echoed through the wagon ranks. "Crossbowmen, put away your laziness and show these donkey riders what it means to be called by Death! Bohemian lads, nail them to the spot! Valhalla warriors, Catalan gentlemen, sharpen your axes and javelins, prepare to entertain our guests!"
The somber atmosphere vanished, replaced by a long-suppressed murderous intent.
Without further hesitation, the crossbowmen silently and swiftly loaded the armor-piercing arrows into their crossbows, their arms as steady as rocks.
The Bohemian soldier slammed his large shield heavily on the ground, the Danish warrior licked his lips, and the Catalan weighed the javelin in his hand.
The Turkic cavalry began to accelerate.
The main attacking force of five hundred cavalrymen transformed into a torrent of earthen yellow, their hoofbeats thundering as they charged toward the tempting breach.
They saw panicked figures moving behind the breach, and they saw what appeared to be sparse defenses; victory seemed to be just around the corner.
One hundred steps, eighty steps, fifty steps —
The cavalry at the forefront could already see the situation inside the wagon formation behind the gap, and could even see the "terrified" faces of some soldiers.
They let out bloodthirsty shouts, crouched low, and prepared to rush through those last few dozen steps and tear through the defense.
Thirty steps!
The first few dozen riders suddenly felt their horses' hooves sink, and their speed decreased sharply.
The seemingly solid ground instantly turned into an incredibly sticky mud pit.
Slippery mud splashed up, the warhorse neighed in terror, its forelegs sinking into the mud, and the immense inertia threw the rider on its back forward violently.
"It's a trap!" The cavalrymen behind were terrified and tried to rein in their horses, but how could the torrent of high-speed charge stop in an instant?
The horses in front fell, and those behind, unable to stop in time, crashed into them. In a panic, more horses and men rushed into the cleverly disguised deadly muddy area.
Instantly, people and horses in front of the breach fell into chaos, and the momentum of the charge vanished.
In that moment of utter chaos, Henry's chilling command rang out from within the wagon formation: "Crossbowmen! Free fire! The target is a sitting duck in the mud!"
"Buzz! Buzz!"
The previously lazy and undisciplined crossbowmen have finally revealed their true strength.
A dense and deadly barrage of crossbow bolts whistled through the air. At such close range, against a chaotic and almost motionless target, the armor-piercing tips of the bolts easily tore through leather and piercing armor, penetrating flesh.
Screams and neighing horses instantly drowned out all the noise.
At the same time, two squads of Danish warriors, who were lying in ambush inside the gap, roared and hurled their heavy throwing axes, the spinning blades drawing deadly arcs as they slashed into the struggling enemy ranks.
The Catalan skirmishers threw precise javelins, pinning to the ground any cavalrymen trying to get out of the mud or control their frightened horses.
What was expected to be a breakthrough instantly turned into a slaughterhouse.
The mud restricted maneuverability, the chaos disintegrated the organization, and the efficient killing from within the vehicle formation ruthlessly reaped lives.
The two hundred cavalrymen responsible for the feint attack on the flank were stunned by this sudden turn of events, and their diversionary action became meaningless.
Mahmoud, watching from a distance, turned ashen-faced and slammed his fist into a wooden stake beside him.
Kaihoslu stared in disbelief, his eyes filled with shock and lingering fear.
It's not too late to make up for it.
Mahmoud was furious to see his troops in front of the breach becoming easy targets amidst the mud and crossbow bolts, but his mind instantly cooled down.
The cost of underestimating the enemy and advancing recklessly is already starkly clear. The urgent task is to cut losses and regroup.
"Withdraw!" he shouted sternly to the messenger. "Sound the horn! Order all troops, especially the riders on the west flank, facing the left flank of the Frankish wagon formation and close to the gentle slope of the hill, to immediately disengage and retreat to their own lines!"
quick!"
However, just as the bugle call to retreat sounded, before the syllables had fully echoed through the valley, a sudden change occurred in the west.
It was a sparse woodland located in the direction of Nicaea, between the hills and the riverbank, mainly composed of low oaks, beech trees and dense shrubs. It was not large, and although it was essentially a plain, the terrain was actually slightly undulating, and the trees were enough to conceal the movement of a large cavalry force.
At this moment, the tranquility of the woodland was utterly shattered.
First, a large flock of birds took flight in the sky above the woodland.
Immediately afterwards, a thunderous sound of hooves erupted from the forest.
The bushes at the edge of the forest were violently smashed and crushed, and a massive torrent of cavalry surged out like a burst dam.
They formed a sharp, wedge-shaped assault formation, charging with breathtaking speed and precision towards the flank of the Turkic horse archers who were slightly hesitant upon hearing the retreat horn on the west side of the wagon formation.
The vanguard of this cavalry force consisted of two hundred armored paladins.
They were fully armored, wielding extremely long lances, their tips pointing downwards, each step causing the earth to tremble.
On either side were about three hundred Latin mercenary lancers.
They wore chainmail and wore helmets of various styles, but were disciplined and held their lances at bay. Accompanied by fervent battle cries, they filled the gaps between the armored cavalry and widened the impact of the charge.
Behind and around the perimeter were about five hundred hired Pecheneg horse archers.
These light cavalrymen from the grasslands shared the same origins as the Turks, yet they served the imperial gold.
They raised their composite bows and followed closely on the flanks of the heavy cavalry lance formation, their arrows striking the Turks' mounts before the lances could even move.
All the cavalrymen's spear tips, banners, and helmet plumes were uniformly pointed towards the chaotic Turkic group on the west side of the Jerusalem chariot formation.
The flag, flying high, bears the double-headed eagle emblem of the Roman Empire.
The cavalry commander charged at the very tip of the wedge formation, lance in hand, leading the charge and moving even faster than the armored paladins behind him.
He wore an old-fashioned scale armor, covered by a slightly worn red battle robe, and a conical helmet with colorful horsehair decorations on top.
Beneath the helmet was the face of an elderly man nearing seventy, with a thin face, deep-set eyes, a hooked nose, and a beard that stood up like steel needles. His skin clung to his bones like dried leather, making his bones appear unusually high and prominent.
The Turkic horse archers, who were frantically trying to turn around and retreat, were met head-on by this thunderous charge, and their formation was instantly thrown into chaos.
Someone turned around in alarm and happened to see the face of the imperial general.
Desperate cries erupted among the Turkic people: "It's Branas!!!"
Before the words were even finished, the armored paladins and Latin cavalry had already charged in, their lances and hooves crushing the bones of the first rank of light cavalry. The Pecheneg horse archers followed closely behind, their arrows hitting the fleeing Turkic horses with pinpoint accuracy, causing the Turks to fall from their horses one after another.
Before the imperial cavalry could react, the Jerusalem expeditionary force had already spontaneously charged forward and chopped the Turks into mincemeat.
Lyon and Henry, who had been watching closely from within the car formation, almost simultaneously fixed their gazes on the veteran who was leading the charge.
Henry's throat was a little dry, and he muttered under his breath, "—What a real wild boar."
Amidst the shock, a chilling thought clearly surfaced in Lyon's mind.
Branagh may have been here all along!
From the very beginning, they were pawns of Branas!