xymnovel Chapter 174 Encounter at Dabry Plain
Chapter 174 Encounter at Dabry Plain
Chapter 174 The Battle of Dabulai Plain (Part 1)
The next day, before dawn, the morning star was still twinkling in the sky.
Lyon's army had quietly assembled and, during the changing of the guard in Nicomedia, silently marched out of the city, continuing eastward along the road to Prusa and Dabry.
After walking several miles, as dawn broke, Lyon allowed the team to stop and rest temporarily behind a small hill.
Henry immediately pulled Lyon aside, unfolded the huge map, and whispered the contents of the letter he had seen the night before, along with his own speculations.
Lyon's expression grew serious as Henry continued his narration.
He stared at the location of Dabry on the map, then looked at Nicomedia and the vast Anatolian lands to the east.
"It seems Marshal Cantostefanos's concerns were not unfounded," Lyon said in a deep voice. "Branas's actions have indeed gone beyond the scope of a simple military response. The Battle of Dabry is probably more than just a fight against the Turks."
“We must be careful, Your Highness,” Henry said, pointing to the terrain around Dabry on the map. “Look here, the plains are open, but not without natural defenses. If Branas has other plans, he might use this battle to achieve something beyond military objectives, such as—further weakening any potentially disloyal troops, or demonstrating his personal authority in turning the tide. We, 1,100 men, cannot be foolish enough to become pawns to be sacrificed at will on his chessboard.”
"you mean?"
"Maintain independence." Henry traced a small arc on the map with his finger. "Upon arriving in the war zone, we won't completely merge into his main force. We'll choose a position that allows us to support the main battlefield while still enabling relatively independent operations, with clear positions for advance and retreat. Our crossbows and heavy infantry need favorable terrain to reach their maximum effectiveness; we can't let him arbitrarily throw them into the plains to attrition. We want to prove our worth in this battle, but more importantly, we want to use it to observe. Observe how Branagh uses his troops, observe which units he might consider his own, and which are outsiders. At the same time, we must show everyone that the army of Jerusalem is a force with its own mind and principles, not a vassal that can be manipulated at will."
Lyon pondered for a long time, his gaze shifting between the mountains, rivers, and roads on the map.
"Alright." Lyon finally made up his mind, pointing to a gentle slope on the edge of the Dabry Plain on the map. "Let's do it your way. We'll speed up, but remain vigilant. Once we arrive, try to occupy positions like this. In battle, focus on coordination and support, but we must maintain control of the formation. Henry, you are in charge of on-the-spot command."
"Understood, Your Highness." Henry put away the map, his eyes gleaming with fighting spirit. "Let's go see what kind of trouble that wild boar is planning to create on the plains of Dabry."
They continued their journey and two days later reached the west bank of the Sangarios River (now the Sakarya River), where Bithynia and Phrygia meet.
The morning mist had not yet been completely dispelled by the blazing sun, and the air was filled with the damp scent of the river and the smell of dust.
Lyon's army marched eastward along the riverbank road, with the wide, winding Sangarrios River to their left.
This river, which originates in the central Anatolian plateau, has gathered many tributaries here. The river is thirty to forty paces wide. Although the water volume has decreased in the height of summer, the current is still rapid and the depth can reach an adult's chest, forming a natural barrier.
To the right are the gently rising Fruguia Hills, a series of slopes covered with low oak trees and shrubs, ranging from two to three hundred meters in altitude. The slopes are gentle, but enough to hinder the smooth maneuvering of large cavalry forces.
The army maintained the good order that Henry had restored, but the atmosphere was somewhat somber due to the days of forced march and the mystery surrounding the direction of Dabry.
Suddenly, a series of rapid whooshing sounds and commotion came from the front of the column.
Several Catalan skirmishers tumbled and crawled down the slope of the hill ahead, arrows stuck in their bodies, their simple leather armor soaked in blood.
The leader was none other than the chieftain Catalan. His face was deathly pale, and an arrow on his shoulder was still trembling slightly. He stumbled and rushed to Lyon's horse.
"Your Highness! The scouts—encountered Turkic cavalry!" Catalan's voice trembled with pain and terror. "To the northeast, less than five miles from here, in an open stubble field—we've been discovered! Their arrows rained down like locusts—there was nowhere to hide! Several brothers were killed on the spot—only a few of us fought our way back!"
"What?" Leon's heart sank. "Did you see how many people they had? Did you spot any of Branas's army? What about the signs of battle?"
Catalan shook his head in agony. Another wounded soldier, helped up beside him, gasped for breath. He had been shot in the abdomen and spoke haltingly, "No—no trace of a large army—no flags, no smoke—"
Those Turks—like ghosts emerging from the earth—they spotted us first—the arrows came too fast—we were only concerned with escaping—”
At this moment, Henry had already dismounted and, together with Lyon, quickly checked on the wounded.
The wounds were all caused by typical Turkic complex arches.
The arrowhead penetrated quite deeply into the flesh and had barbs.
Lyon immediately ordered Henry, "Fetch my medicine kit! Alcohol, allicin, and clean linen!"
Amid the soldiers' grateful gazes, Lyon personally used his homemade high-concentration distilled liquor mixed with garlic extract to wash the wounds of the injured.
He applied pressure with a clean strip of cloth, which temporarily stopped the bleeding.
"Branas claims to have fought the main Turkic force at Dabulai," Lyon stood up, his hands still stained with blood, his face extremely grim. "But we're still more than a day's journey from Dabulai, yet here we've encountered a well-organized group of Turkic scouts and even their vanguard! Where is his main army? Has the battle at Dabulai ended, and the Turks won, and are beginning their westward sweep? Or is it that—"
Henry's eyes were cold as he continued, "Or is it that Dabry didn't have any major battles at all?"
The order that Branagh gave to Nicomedia may very well have been a trap, or at least a misleading one.
This speculation sent chills down their spines.
If Branas harbored ulterior motives, then his intention in leading the Jerusalem "supervisor" reinforcements directly into a dangerous area where Turkic activity might occur was quite sinister.
"We can't advance any further," Lyon decisively ordered. "All troops halt! Stand guard!"
Before the order could be fully relayed, a low, dense rumble came from the northeastern horizon.
At first it sounded like distant rumbling thunder, but it quickly became clear and continuous, eventually turning into the rolling sound of hooves that made the earth tremble slightly.
Upon hearing the sound, the Catalan wounded soldiers, whose wounds had just been bandaged, jumped up like cats whose tails had been stepped on, ignoring their open wounds and screaming, "It's their hooves! A large cavalry force! They're coming!"
Henry was already lying on the ground, his ears pressed against the ground, his face turning ashen.
He jumped up and declared decisively, "Your Highness, the number of riders is definitely no less than two thousand! And judging from the hoofbeats, they are mainly light cavalry, moving at an extremely fast speed. They will arrive in no more than a quarter of an hour!"