Ch 20: Shield Wall
Jogging back to the camp, Vig inquired around and found Ragnar playing a game of chess with someone.
“Thank goodness, thankfully this person isn’t drunk; there’s still a chance.”
Seeing his subordinate arrive, Ragnar raised his hand to stop him from speaking, intending to finish the game before discussing important matters.
This game is called Hnefatafl, originating from Northern Europe; it’s the most popular board game in Viking society.
The rules of Hnefatafl are simple and easy to understand. The defending side has one king and twelve pawns; the winning condition is to escort the king to the corner of the board. Comparatively, the attacking side has twenty-four pawns, and their goal is to surround the king.
“Well, a moment of carelessness led to a disastrous defeat. It seems I don’t have a chance.”
Ragnar hesitated for a long time before announcing his surrender, giving his opponent two silver coins, and turning to Vig, “Instead of finding amusement, you run here to bother me. Are you short of money?”
“No,” Vig’s expression was serious. He declined the offered silver coins. “I have devised a strategy to defeat the enemy, and I need you to summon the nobles.”
Recalling the past, Ragnar laughed heartily. But on second thought, he had actually lost to a former fool of a king, and a strong sense of frustration welled up inside him. He waved Vig away, but the latter resolutely disobeyed, using the chess pieces to simulate the next day’s battle.
Vig placed fifteen chess pieces on the left side of the board, representing Eilaud’s fifteen hundred soldiers, and ten chess pieces on the right side, representing one thousand Vikings.
“Both armies will use shield walls. We are at a disadvantage; if we hold on, we will eventually suffer a loss. Therefore, I suggest concentrating our elite troops on the south side, quickly defeating the enemy in front of us, then occupying the hillside on the south side of the road, allowing the archers to shoot from a high position at Eilaud’s location.”
After listening, Ragnar’s eyes gradually brightened, and he immediately went around looking for people to hold a meeting. However, these guys seemed to be busy with their own affairs.
Leonard was battling two shield-maidens and didn’t have time to pay attention to Vig.
Ulf, holding a small pot of honey wine, was leaning against a trunk and fast asleep. Vig went over and pushed him for a long time, suspecting that he was drunk and possibly dead from alcohol poisoning.
The drunk Ivar was arguing with Bjorn, debating the combat effectiveness of Jörmungandr and Thor.
In the camp filled with the atmosphere of an apocalyptic feast, Ragnar and Vig went around talking to people, and it was late into the night before they barely completed the tactical adjustments.
AD 843, May 5th, morning.
According to the pre-battle deployment, all Viking warriors equipped with iron armor were arranged on the left wing. After forming a shield wall, everyone spontaneously used their weapons to rhythmically strike their shields, slowly advancing towards the west.
Dong, dong, dong.
As time went on, more than a thousand square shields of the enemy army gradually emerged in the morning mist. To boost morale, they also began to strike their shields. Two parallel wooden walls gradually approached each other.
A hundred paces apart, a shower of arrows flew from behind the enemy’s shield wall, like dense rain hitting the heads of the Vikings, occasionally eliciting a few shrill wails.
Because the front row of Vikings on the left wing were all equipped with iron armor, they suffered the least damage, and their speed was not hindered much. In contrast, the pace of the center and right wings slowed down significantly, ultimately causing the Vikings’ left wing to protrude significantly, and the shield wall changed from a straight line to a diagonal line.
To conserve stamina, Niels, leading more than a hundred archers, did not counterattack the entire time, which puzzled the Anglo-Saxons, who suspected that the Vikings had run out of arrow reserves.
Two minutes passed, and the two sides were less than thirty meters apart. The closer the distance, the slower the pace of both armies, and their breathing became heavier. Vig stared intently at the soldiers opposite him; they also stared back at him, uttering continuous curses, intending to disrupt the Viking barbarians’ minds.
Unfortunately, he didn’t understand the English of that era.
Half a minute later, the two shield walls collided. Vig seized the opportunity to thrust his sword. The sharp sword blade cut a deep wound on the opponent’s cheek.
In severe pain, the enemy staggered. Vig struck again, this time precisely piercing the opponent’s throat. Before he could rejoice, a shadow suddenly attacked from the right. He instinctively ducked, only feeling a dull thud on his iron helmet.
That was close.
Vig looked up again and found that a larger and stronger soldier had taken the place of the fallen one. This Anglo-Saxon man seemed to have inexhaustible strength, repeatedly wielding his iron axe and striking his shield, making his arm sore.
Realizing that the opponent was a novice, Vig didn’t bother to engage him. While the opponent was wildly hacking at his round shield, he easily pierced the man’s leg with the Dragon’s Breath Sword, eliminating another one.
“Valhalla!” At this time, a roar erupted from the left. Several strong men wearing bearskins used great axes to create a breach in the enemy’s shield wall and rushed in without hesitation. Nearby Vikings spontaneously followed. Under the continuous fierce attack on the left wing, the Anglo-Saxons’ shield wall was pushed back step by step, eventually giving up the entire southern area.
“Hey, it’s our turn.”
From the rear, Niels, who had been itching for action, roared and led a hundred archers to the hillside on the south side, concentrating their fire on the mounted figure in the center of the enemy formation.
After three volleys of rapid fire, the crowned rider fell to the ground with his horse. Niels didn’t have time to rejoice and ordered the archers to continue showering arrows on that area.
Enduring the soreness in his arms, Niels shot all thirty arrows he carried. He exerted too much force, so the bowstring was stained crimson with blood seeping from his fingers.
Hu, hu.
Amidst heavy breathing, the exhausted Niels collapsed to the ground. Looking into the distance, after being subjected to the covering fire of three thousand arrows, the Anglo-Saxon soldiers in that area suffered heavy casualties, especially the white horse that had fallen to the ground, its body densely filled with arrows, resembling a huge hedgehog covered in spikes.
“With so many arrows, it should be dead.”
Niels took out a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding from his right hand. He witnessed the enemy leading a warhorse, helping a figure who had been hit by several arrows onto its back, then surrounded him and retreated.
The king’s life was uncertain, and the fighting spirit of his soldiers waned. The shield wall instantly collapsed.
To facilitate their escape, the court guards threw away their cumbersome shields and iron swords. While running, they didn’t forget to throw away their iron helmets and remove their heavy armor, only seeking to escape the Vikings’ pursuit. Even the flag representing the royal family, with its red and yellow stripes, was captured by Ivar.
Looking at the messy battlefield, Niels muttered, “This time, Vig has made a great contribution. I wonder what Ragnar will reward him with?”