"Silly horse, I didn't expect you to be so sensitive. I should have listened to your opinion."
Patting his horse on the neck, Vig gestured for him to stop, then drew his Dragon Breath Sword, intending to deal with the Franks as quickly as possible.
Bam!
The two men drew their swords at the same time. The moment their eyes met, Vig's heart sank, and he lowered his eyes to watch his steps, a hint of anxiety in his heart.
Unfortunately, I did meet a master.
. Taking a deep breath, Vig looked at the knight in the nose guard and chainmail. By Frankish standards, this man was tall, about 176-178 cm, a few centimeters shorter than him, with a strong build and a confident gait, looking quite cunning.
After a half-minute standoff, Vig suddenly stepped forward and struck at his opponent's left shoulder.
This was his usual opening move. Usually, ordinary soldiers died without having time to react, or because of their slow reaction, they blocked too late. He could change the course and hit the enemy in the face with the tip of the sword, which was close to the blade.
However, this knight was not a weakling. He reacted surprisingly quickly and blocked the Dragon Breath Sword flying at him.
Finding his opponent's strength only slightly inferior to his own, Vig used the reaction force created by the blocked Dragon's Breath Sword to quickly raise his blade, twist his wrist, and strike his opponent in the right cheek. Frank saw through him again and dodged back to avoid the blow.
"What speed! What terms did Aethelwulf offer to borrow such a master from Charles the Bald?"
Vig and his opponent clashed at the edge of the open space. They alternately drew their swords and dodged. It seemed neither could do anything to the other.
Soon a cool breeze blew, and a few blades of grass flew past the two men. As a broken leaf fell on Vig's face, the knight suddenly rushed forward and stabbed Vig in the neck with his sword, holding it with both hands. According to his many years of fighting in Spain, this move can often pierce an opponent's throat through chain mail, and more than a dozen armored Berber warriors have died from it.
In an instant, a cold, deadly light was directed at him, and Vig quickly stepped back to avoid it. The Franks took advantage of the situation and easily parried the blade of the Dragon's Breath Sword while the enemy was unsteady. Vig retreated again, and the Franks continued to advance and struck a second blow in a row, so quickly that the men did not have time to react.
What a strange swing of the sword!
Unable to retreat, Vig stepped back, tilting his head to the right. All he heard was a sharp sound of friction, the tip of the sword scraped his iron helmet, and the force of the blow was transmitted to his brain through the iron helmet, causing dizziness.
Instinctively, he swung his right hand and delivered a slash, forcing the knight to take a step back and distance himself. In just a few seconds, both warriors were exhausted, staring at each other and breathing heavily, and for a long time they could not make a second attack. The knight
raised his chin, sweat dripping from his neat short beard, and the corners of his lips slightly curved into a smile with a hint of regret and admiration: "
Maurice de Montpellier." (Maurice of Montpellier, or translated as Maurice de Montpellier)
"Viger, Tyneburg."
Viger almost died on the spot from this sharp and strange "continuous thrust", his heart pounding, his chest rising and falling sharply.
He could no longer use the usual starting stance.
After a moment's thought, he changed his initial stance from a slashing overhead to a thrusting one, kneeling slightly, ready to wrestle the knight for the center line. His arms were slightly longer and his strength was superior to his opponent's, so taking the center line was not difficult.
For the next few minutes, the scene was strangely silent. The two men took the same stance, five meters apart, pointing the tips of their swords at each other's faces.
"My lord!"
Suddenly, six Viking hunters ran up to them with bows and arrows. Seeing this, Morris grabbed a handful of dust, threw it down, and then rolled to the side, into the thick bushes. The hunters fired a volley of feather arrows, but unfortunately, they missed.
"Don't chase, the Franks are still nearby."
Vig stopped the hunters and followed them out of the dense forest.
At dawn, the group returned to Lutterworth Castle. Vig concentrated on observing the situation in the outer camp. It was not bad there, and it seemed that the battle was not lost.
The hall of the fortress.
After seeing that Vig had returned safely, the nobles looked up one by one, and Ragnar sighed with relief: "Where have you disappeared to? I was just about to send more hunters into the forest to search."
Vig grabbed a piece of bread and ate it while he was hungry. Ulf, standing next to him, poured him a glass of mead.
"Ik, after I led the light infantry to surround the Frankish knights, I was besieged by the enemy and forced to flee into the forest. Later, I met a knight who was an excellent swordsman."
Vig took off his iron helmet, showed everyone the scratches on the top of his head, and demonstrated the signature fencing skill of this Frankish knight.
"Constant multiple lunges?" Ivar immediately perked up: "Isn't this guy tall, brown-haired, with a short beard and handsome? Isn't he the kind of handsome man that English-speaking ladies love the most?"
"Yes, you fought him?" As soon as
Vig spoke, the hall fell silent. Someone pointed to Leonard, whose face was bandaged: "During the fight, Lord Leeds was wounded in the throat by this man and died on the spot. Leonard rushed to save him, but accidentally received a sword blow and half his nose. Fortunately, the shield-bearer reacted in time and saved him."
According to the information received from the captives, Maurice was the third son of a Frankish nobleman and had no right to inherit the family castle. Therefore, he served for many years as a mercenary knight in Iberia, fighting the Berbers who invaded from North Africa. Not long ago, this man won the infantry championship at a tournament in Oxford.
Touching the sword mark on the top of the iron helmet, Ragnar whispered admiringly: "I did not expect that this champion knight would defeat Vig so. Perhaps I should hold regular tournaments to select outstanding warriors from the people."
Vig immediately stood up to object: "Your Majesty, I did not lose! The chances are almost 50/50. If I continue to fight, I will have at least a 50% chance of killing the enemy."
"Got it, next time I will help you deal with him," Ivar hugged Vig's right shoulder and smiled. "Everyone understands." Vig was speechless: "Hey, boring, I did not lose..."
After eating the bread, he briefly assessed the battle situation that day:
the incident happened in a hurry, and both sides were not fully prepared. When the Frankish cavalry fought desperately, the main force of the Angles did not manage to arrive in time, giving the Viking army time to fully deploy. After that, both sides confronted each other for more than ten minutes, and then silently retreated one after the other.
After hearing the others' stories, Wygh reflected that if he had a shock cavalry unit, he would never go into battle lightly, but would instead adopt the classic "hammer and anvil" tactics, using infantry to attack the enemy from the front, then allowing the cavalry to attack from the flank and rear. He secretly rejoiced: "When Aethelwulf first used cavalry, he made a fatal mistake - he did not allow the infantry and archers to cooperate with the cavalry advance. After this battle, the enemy cavalry suffered heavy losses, and subsequent battles will be much easier."