The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 178 Encounter at Dabry Plain

Chapter 178 Encounter at the Dabulai Plain (Part 5)

The moment the name "The Boneless" Ivar appeared, it immediately attracted the attention of all Danes.

This legendary Viking hero is the epic they have worshipped since childhood.

"He wouldn't be cowering in the back of the car like we are now!" shouted a young Danish knight, his voice filled with resentment.

"Exactly!" Henry immediately chimed in, his eyes gleaming. "But he didn't just foolishly charge into a shield wall of ten thousand men with only a hundred! Ivar is called the 'Boneless One' because his tactics are unconventional, like flowing water, devoid of bones! He seeks out weaknesses like a wolf, and strikes a fatal blow at the perfect moment like a bear! He lays out formations on the battlefield, feigns defeat to lure arrogant enemies into pursuit, and then tears them apart from the flanks with his well-hidden elite troops!"

He surveyed the warriors, their eyes gleaming with the stories of their ancestors: "Look outside! Those Turks, thinking they control the winds just by riding on horseback, are like a swarm of buzzing flies. They've forgotten that the Viking ancestors, sailing in longships, conquered waves a thousand times higher than the dust kicked up by their horses' hooves! Our waiting now is not cowardice, but Ivar-style patience. Our chariot formation is not a tortoise shell, but the steps of Valhalla's vestibule! When these flies can't resist getting closer, thinking they've found a crack—"

Henry drew his sword sharply, its gleam flashing: "That is the moment when we, Odin's berserkers, wield the Dan axe to shatter shield walls! Let their heads add to the taste of our mead tonight! Tell me, Danish eagles, do your axe blades still thirst for the blood of glory?"

"For Odin! For Ivar!" The Danish warriors' previous agitation was replaced by a bloodthirsty anticipation, their low growls echoing like muffled thunder through the chariot formation.

Then, Henry wandered over to the Catalan skirmishers.

These lightly armed soldiers from northeastern Iberia, usually so undisciplined, were now somewhat demoralized by the ongoing tension.

Henry switched to the Occult Latin he'd hastily learned in Catalonia and said with a grin, "Hey, my nimble-fingered brothers, I've heard a story about a miller and his daughter. Want to hear it?"

The Catalans immediately perked up.

Henry, beaming, recounted, "Once upon a time, there was a miller whose daughter's bottom was rounder than a windmill! Knights, monks, and bards lined up, all wanting to enter the windmill's gate. And what happened? Three men tried to enter at the same time, none willing to give way, and they got stuck. The miller rushed in, club in hand, only to find three heads lined up in the doorway, while his daughter laughed on the haystack: 'Father, look! Even God says, line up before you enter Heaven!'"

Laughter erupted, and some people laughed so hard they spat the jerky in their mouths into the fire.

Henry waited until they were doubled over with laughter, then suddenly composed himself: "Now, the Turks also want to get through our gates, but our gate is called the 'Wheel Formation.' If we let them in, not a single head will come back—they'll all be going to heaven—in the real sense!"

The Catalans understood and let out a vicious sneer.

Meanwhile, Lyon was not idle either; he went to the Jerusalem crossbowmen's position.

These royal guards, personally selected and trained by Lyon, are the most disciplined and the most silent.

The Bohemians, Danes, and Catalans are all mercenaries, which Henry can handle, but these crossbowmen are his personal troops, and he must deal with them personally.

When the crossbowmen saw Lyon arrive, they all stood up to salute him.

Lyon reached out to stop them and casually sat down on a rock.

"Your Highness, aren't you afraid?" a crossbowman asked hesitantly. "After all, this is our first time, especially yours—"

"Yes, of course I'm afraid," Lyon said solemnly. "But when I think of my brother—our holy and great King—in that battle when he was 16, I'm not afraid anymore."

"Mongisa?!" the young crossbowmen exclaimed, their faces filled with reverence.

"That's right. The courage that allows me to stand here, facing an enemy many times my size, comes from six years ago, on that scorching sandy ground of Montgisa." Lyon's gaze seemed to pierce through the chariot formation, reaching the distant south. "Back then, our King, His Majesty Baldwin, was seriously ill—may he recover. Faced with Saladin's elite army that had come with the entire kingdom, everyone was advising him to retreat and avoid their sharp edge."

He paused, his voice filled with power: "But His Majesty said: God protects me, and I will be invincible!" He not only did not retreat, but personally led hundreds of knights in a thunderous charge! He charged at the very front of all the knights, his leprosy body unable to conceal his radiance, like that of the Archangel Michael! He disrupted Saladin's entire plan, creating a miracle!

The crossbowmen's chests rose and fell slightly, their eyes blazing with fire.

"Today, we stand here, I am with you, and His Majesty the King is also praying for us in the holy city," Lyon said. "Our numbers are equally disparate, and the terrain is equally unfamiliar. But we have wagons, rivers, and hills—conditions far better than the desert of Montgisza! More importantly, we share the same blood, the same cross, and the same..."

He suddenly raised his voice: "Courage!"

"His Majesty the King created miracles with his charge, and we will create another miracle with our perseverance! With your crossbows, tell the enemy outside: the warriors of Jerusalem, wherever they are, have the fiery courage of Montgissar flowing in their veins! Every bolt fired is a continuation of His Majesty the King's spirit, a judgment of God against the infidels! For Jerusalem! For His Majesty Baldwin! For God and Christ!"

"For Jerusalem! For His Majesty the King! For God and Christ!" A deep and resolute roar erupted from the crossbowmen's throats.

At dawn, the Catalan lookouts issued a warning: "The enemy has moved! Three cavalry units are coming towards us!"

About two hundred Turkic horse archers broke away from the main formation and, like three separate streams, began to approach the chariot formation.

They maintained a loose formation, their horses galloping lightly, twisting nimbly in their saddles, ready to unleash their most proficient mounted archery harassment.

Lyon took a deep breath and whispered to Henry, "Tell the crossbow captains to proceed as planned. Reload 30% slower than usual when firing, and hesitate more when aiming," adding, "Missing a few shots is fine. The key is the defense near that breach; appear flustered but ultimately manage to hold it."

Henry nodded and shouted, "All hands on deck! Crossbowmen, listen to my command! Do not fire without orders!"

The order was quickly relayed.