At ten o'clock in the morning the weather was clear and the wind was light. Almost twenty thousand men formed a battle line along the banks of the Seine, stretching for more than a kilometer from north to south. The grand spectacle attracted many Parisians to the bridgehead on the south bank to watch the battle.
. At this moment, the Vikings built a twenty-foot platform on a low hill to the west. Vig hesitantly climbed the long stairs to the top, where he had a panoramic view of the entire battlefield.
Commanding an army of almost ten thousand men was no easy task. The only suitable candidates were Vig, Ivar, and Gunnar. Ivar chose to lead his thousand heavy infantry, while Gunnar was to lead the cavalry. With the two tied together, Vigé naturally assumed responsibility for overall command of the battlefield.
Everywhere he looked, he saw piles of heads and flags fluttering in the wind. Vige took several deep breaths, his chest heaving as he could not control his inner excitement. "
I never thought I would live to see this day."
He looked at the Frankish line opposite. A thousand cavalrymen were advancing toward the southern edge of the battlefield, where the terrain was open and ideal for a massed charge.
To deal with this formidable force, Vige grabbed two small red flags from a wooden basket and waved them toward the southern edge of the battlefield.
Seeing this, the two phalanxes of spearmen on the southern edge began to move, like two slowly moving forests, one in front, one behind, slowly approaching the Frankish cavalry.
Seeing the power of the spear phalanxes, the Frankish cavalry, ignoring these slow turtles, confidently retreated to the southeast.
To free the cavalry, Charles the Bald sent his guards to the southern edge of the battlefield and ordered the Frankish infantry to advance.
As the Frankish infantry advanced, Vig shouted to the horsemen on the platform below: "Send Ulf and Bjorn forward,
to deal with the levied militia."
The reason for sending the horsemen was simple: with the exception of two thousand spearmen who reported directly to him and two insightful commanders, Ivar and Gunnar, the rest of the troops could not quickly master the language of flags and were forced to use primitive cavalry messengers.
Soon, under the banners of the river fish (Ulf) and the seagull (Bjorn), 1,500 Vikings formed a shield wall to meet the enemy infantry.
The battle had officially begun.
In keeping with long-standing tradition, the West Frankish kingdom devoted most of its resources to the cavalry, leaving the infantry as cheap expendables. From the start, the Frankish infantry was routed, leaving Ulf and Bjorn somewhat confused, as they assumed it was a trap.
After a few moments of hesitation, the standard bearers with the river fish and the seagull continued their advance, gradually approaching the Frankish lines.
On the southeastern edge of the battlefield, the retreating Frankish cavalry, seeing their decline, began to stir.
Their long-standing tactics, honed to the point of primitiveness and skilled in charging the enemy in close formation, were ill-suited to this turn of events. Led by a few reckless knights, some of the cavalry refused to retreat and returned to the battlefield.
As time went on, more and more cavalry deserted, until the commander realized that only about fifty men remained.
"It's over! These fools are ruining us!"
Despite the loss of strength in their horses, the Frankish cavalry circled the lines of spearmen, preparing to outflank Ulf and Bjorn. Before they had gone halfway, something unexpected happened.
"Vahalla!"
To the west, nearly four hundred Viking horsemen gradually emerged from behind the hillside. Formed in three loose horizontal lines, they followed a banner depicting a fierce brown bear on a white background, charging the Frankish cavalry hundreds of yards away.
In the grassy desert, the muffled sound of hooves pounding the ground became a loud roar.
The Frankish cavalry spurred their horses to meet the charge, brandishing long swords and chain hammers as they charged toward the enemy spears.
As the distance closed, both sides gained speed. Gunnar, at the head of the column, held his spear steady, the tip trembling slightly with the jolts of his horse.
Fifty meters.
Thirty meters.
Ten meters.
The dark figure was approaching quickly. Gunnar aimed at the enemy's chest at the last moment. With unprecedented strength
his spear instantly pierced the well-protected chainmail. He quickly released the spear, then pulled a long sword from his saddle to parry the enemy's next blow.
The swords clashed, the two horses crossed, and Gunnar stabbed the enemy in the back with the back of his hand. Behind him, there was the sound of a heavy object falling, but he did not turn around. The charging cavalry, like arrows from a bow, could only continue their onslaught against the endless black shadows ahead.
Blocking and slashing, Gunnar's longsword, dented and chipped, hurled itself forward, cutting down one enemy after another. Gunnar's longsword, dented and chipped, hurled it at the nearest enemy, then drew a second. Suddenly a warhorse charged from the side. He threw down the reins to avoid the attack, then smashed the attacker's nose with the hilt of his sword.
The smell of rust grew stronger, and the horse's hooves began to slip. After fending off countless attacks, it suddenly cleared up. There were no more Frankish cavalry ahead. "
Whistling, whistling."
A light breeze blew, and Gunnar wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand. He saw the phalanx of spearmen and the troops of Ulf and Bjorn approaching at full speed.
"If we destroy the enemy cavalry at the very beginning, we have a 60% chance of winning."
More Viking horsemen gathered around him. Gunnar took a wineskin from someone and drank half a sack of mead in one gulp. The clear, sweet drink washed away the fatigue.
"Excellent!"
Gunnar snorted and looked at the central platform. Vig was waving two small flags: red and white. Gunnar understood his intention: he wanted the cavalry to retreat to the rear to rest and regroup, waiting for the right moment for a decisive attack.
By then, the phalanx of spearmen had deployed in a horizontal line, completely blocking the enemy's path. The crossbowmen fired at the slow Frankish cavalry while the spearmen advanced, shouting slogans. The cold, sharp iron spikes scared the horses.
The main body of the Frankish cavalry was trapped.
Seeing this, the retreating Frankish infantry turned west, trying to rescue the trapped knights.
Just as most of the survivors had gathered, Gunnar suddenly had a bold idea. With a large number of Frankish infantry rushing to help, the enemy's left flank (the southern flank) was clearly cut off from the center.
Bang, bang, bang.
Faced with this priceless opportunity, Gunnar's heart began to pound. He glanced back at Vig on the platform, deciding to ignore his signal.
"Wait for the right moment? Ha, what better opportunity than this?"
Gunnar glanced at the cavalry on either side. "I'm going to break through this gap. Does anyone want to retreat?"
No one said a word.
Sensing the impatient glances of his men, Gunnar drew his sword. "Follow me, even to the ends of the earth!"
A wind suddenly blew, tearing nearby grass into haystacks. More than two hundred horsemen drew their swords in unison: "To the ends of the earth!"
Following the leader, they resolutely rushed towards the crowd moving nearby.