Part 3Perhaps more out of desperation than bravery, the surviving Pistoliers charged the large crossbow unit facing them. Meanwhile, Captain Vincent, horrified to see his noble Lord and master forced to flee from the foe, led his own Knights in a charge against Don Matthias and his Bodyguard. The Light Horse bravely attempted to support Vincent’s efforts by charging the other Black Company Lancers commanded by Rudolph Litzen.
Less dramatically, but no less dangerously for the men doing it, the Archers on the far left flank threw themselves at the Estalian Duellists in the trees, hoping at the least to slay the enemy wizard Van Junge.
Graf Edric, ashamed to be seen fleeing by his massed ranks of Foot soldiers, no matter that the cause had been impossible odds, halted his horse and turned to see what he could possibly do to regain his honour and assist his brave men. His two wizards had managed magically to imbue the Graf’s army with some little fortune as they both brought the second Sign of Amul to bear. Maybe a bit of good luck could turn the battle?
It seemed possible, for the Archers somehow broke the Duellists, who should have been very much their betters in combat. The Estalians, perhaps as they now knew the little copse of trees so well (having crept around for long enough within it), made their way more rapidly through it and thus outran the Mortensholm men. The wizard Van Junge ran with them, beginning to wonder whether he really ought to have sought out safety with a larger regiment rather than this band of desperadoes.
The Light Horse, though receiving some casualties, held their own against the Lancers, but Captain Vincent found that even the magical fortune summoned by the allied wizards could not help him. He and his own unit were broken and cut down by the Don and his Bodyguard, who crashed into the flank of the now (surely?) doomed Light Horse. The Pistoliers also failed to inflict a forceful blow, and were sent running off by the Crossbow.
As the Duellists failed to rally themselves and stumbled onwards in confused flight, and as the Black Company’s Light Horse charged a second time at the surviving Handgunners they had failed to wipe out in the first charge (and then yet again failed to finish them off), the massed Foot marched slowly forwards. Their movement was made more cautious by the unsettling proximity of enemy archers to their rear.
The Norsemen, wondering whether they would get to strike a blow at the enemy in this battle, now began a much more rapid march forwards. Graf Edric spotted them close by, and considered whether the best he could now do was to support his Foot soldiers.
When the two remaining artillery pieces fired again, they only managed to bring down four enemy halberdiers. The Crossbowmen on the right killed the two panicked Pistoliers galloping away from them, while the other Crossbowmen unchivalrously wounded Graf Edric, though he was so caught up in a world of concerns that he barely noticed the wound. Unsurprisingly, the Don, Rudolph and the Lancers easily dispatched every Light Horseman before them, and hurriedly set about re-ordering themselves for their next attack.
The Free Company of Mortensholm, happy that the Handgunners had held the enemy’s Light Horse long enough, now charged into the rear of those same Horse. Sheer weight of numbers prevailed, and after dragging a handful of riders from their mounts, they chased the rest of them off the field with a cheer. Their Lord, Graf Edric, moved to stand close by his Foot soldiers, and was trying to decide whether he ought to attempt to get them safely away, so that they might fight against better odds another day.
Out on the far left of Edric’s massed Foot, the Handgunners were busy – they had already poured several volleys into the advancing Pikemen, and their success was beginning to tell. For a moment the Black Company’s professional Pikemen faltered, as if they might turn tail and flee, but the Captain leading them refused either to flinch or falter, and they took encouragement from him to continue their bloody advance. As they did so, it was the turn of the regiment next to them to lose some men as the Archers in the rear sent a bout of arrows into their midst.
Now it seemed the real fight would soon begin. Both Don Matthias and his second in command urged their Lancers on, and the Norse picked up their pace. Even the Duellists chose to run no further, but instead turned to face the enemy Archers with murderous (if somewhat tardy) intent. Most ominously of all, the Black Company’s foot regiments now approached very close to the foe. If the rightmost Pike regiment could withstand one more volley, then all three regiments looked set to be in combat in mere moments.
The cannons sent another two blue and white garbed halberdiers to the afterlife, and as their torn bodies spun bloodily to the ground, spattering crimson blood in a wide arc, the Graf ordered the survivors to charge into the exactly similarly armed Paymaster’s Bodyguard before them. The nearby Mortensholm Swordsmen, however, stood and watched as the deadly, multiple lines of pike-tips advanced towards them. They knew that to charge such a foe would gain them no advantage, and their sergeant thought that he might buy the Graf a little time by holding his men back.
Edric beckoned the detachment of Swordsmen to move up beside him, in the hope that they might prove even a temporary match for the large body of Norsemen fast approaching.
The Handgunners and Archers once more shot at the dwindling Pike regiment on the far flank, but once more the Captain somehow encouraged them to keep their order. It occurred to him that soon there would be too little men left in his regiment to make any sort of difference to the fight, although perhaps their awful but real contribution had been to receive shot after shot that might otherwise have hurt the rest of the army.
In the huge, central melee the Paymaster and his bodyguard proved the better skilled at arms, yet the Graf’s men, desperate in their desire to drive off these invaders, stepped over their fallen comrades and fought on. Their bravery would prove of little use, however, as the Norse were now close enough to deliver their blow. Graf Edric could only look on helplessly as the frenzied northmen smashed into the flank of his halberdiers, his most veteran garrison soldiers. He knew that only the gods could help them now. A mere moment later, he turned to see that the Black Company’s Pikemen had finally come to blows with his swordsmen.
The horrible press had begun, the screams and cries building in an awful crescendo. Sword, pike, halberd and dagger slashed, swiped, cut and thrust. Mortensholm’s fate hung in bloody balance.
Last part to follow tomorrow evening…
