Ch 109: The Indigo Raiders
In the haste, they endured two volleys of javelins, and many breaches appeared in the Vikings’ originally tight formation.
Seeing this, the Pictish Alliance howled and launched an attack. Their formation was loose, charging towards the weak points of the enemy formation in small clan units.
To deter the enemy army, many Picts smeared indigo fuel on their cheeks, brandishing short swords and iron spears, their unkempt hair dancing in the wind. Compared to this wild image, the Viking soldiers were more like a group of civilized people.
Soon, the battle entered melee combat. The sounds of shield strikes and screams mingled together. Due to the frenzied charge of the Indigo Raiders, the Viking warriors fell into a passive position of taking a beating.
On the grassland on the south side of the battlefield, seeing that their own side was falling behind in infantry combat, which they were best at, Joren, Shrike, and others were shocked, and they all requested Vig to dispatch cavalry.
“Improper; it’s not the right time yet.”
Sitting on his grey horse, Vig was expressionless. From afar, he saw that his painstakingly trained two thousand infantrymen were stunned by the reckless charge of two thousand five hundred Picts. Their formation was slightly loose, but it was not yet about to collapse.
Waiting a moment, he dispatched more than three hundred Viking Raiders, cooperating with Shrike’s Welsh Archers to flank to the east side of the battlefield, harassing the Picts’ flank.
Before their departure, he repeatedly instructed Shrike, “Remember, it’s harassment, not a fight to the death with the enemy. The Welshmen are skilled in bow and arrow, not melee combat. A reckless attack is too risky.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shrike blew a loud whistle and led a group of mountain infantry wearing green cloaks to depart.
Less than ten minutes after the battle began, except for the cavalry unit hidden behind the southwest hills, Vig had played all his chips.
By this time, only Joren and his more than twenty shield-bearers remained by his side.
After some time, Shrike’s unit had flanked to the east side of the battlefield. Without pausing to breathe, he ordered the archers to open rapid fire, at a rate of 12 arrows per minute, frantically unleashing a volley towards the Picts’ rear flank.
In just two minutes, a large number of soldiers in the left wing and center army of the Pictish Alliance were shot down. Some soldiers turned around in bewilderment, forming a shield wall facing northeast in a clumsy manner, unsure whether they should continue the attack or prioritize dealing with these damn archers.
Taking advantage of the enemy’s slowing offensive, the Viking warriors reformed their shield wall. With one-third armor rate, they gradually gained the advantage, starting to push back the enemy’s formation, forcing the opposite side to retreat continuously.
At this point, the battle situation became tense. The Vikings had the advantage on the east and central battlefields, while the Picts were superior on the west battlefield.
After a brief discussion, the Pictish Alliance played their last chips—thirteen nobles and the three hundred guards they led.
Their target was the east side of the battlefield. They tried to drive away the Welsh archers to prevent the Picts on the east side from collapsing first.
When the enemy dispatched their reserves, Vig let out a long sigh and instructed Joren, who was eager to act:
“Inform the cavalry unit on the southwest side and have them flank attack the Picts on the west side of the battlefield.”
“Yes, sir!”
With the urgent military situation, Joren squeezed his legs against his horse’s belly, urging his mount to reach the southwest hills at the fastest speed.
At this moment, two hundred bored cavalrymen were sitting idly on the grassland behind the hills, one hand holding the reins, the other hand reaching into their collars to catch lice. Seeing Joren’s figure, they instantly perked up, spontaneously organizing their equipment.
“Gentlemen, the Sir has ordered an attack on the Picts on the west side of the battlefield!”
Hearing this, the cavalrymen climbed onto their saddles, forming two loose lines. Before Joren could blow the horn, some reckless and impulsive knights suddenly roared:
“Vahalla!”
Led by them, the cavalry spontaneously advanced, cantering towards the battlefield two kilometers away. The ground trembled, the sound of hooves like thunder. As their speed increased, the wind whistling past their ears grew louder.
Discovering the arrival of the enemy cavalry, four hundred men from the Pictish army on the southwest side were dispatched to block them.
For a long time, the Picts had not been equipped with stirrups, nor had they had any established cavalry units. In the commander’s view, dispatching four hundred infantrymen to confront this small-scale cavalry was more than enough.
With the Picts’ nonchalant expressions, the cavalry charged to within one hundred paces, their speed increasing again, like a monstrous wave surging forward.
Before the four hundred infantrymen could react, the distance between the two sides was reduced to thirty paces. The warhorses’ speed reached their limit. The knights in the first rank leveled their spears, aiming at these foolish fellows.
The next moment, the spear points, carrying unimaginable force, struck the enemy, easily piercing through the shields and the bodies behind them. The cavalrymen threw away their spears, drew their longswords from their saddles, and urged their mounts to continue their charge.
In a few minutes, most of the Pictish infantry who had come to intercept them were killed or wounded. Witnessing this terrible sight, their allies froze in place, watching helplessly as the cavalry reformed their formation and launched a second charge.
When this charge ended, the Pictish army on the west side of the battlefield completely scattered. Influenced by the scattered soldiers, the entire Pictish Alliance experienced a chain rout. The originally imposing Indigo Raiders fled, no longer possessing their previous frenzied expression.
In the rear, Vig, seeing the enemy army collapsing, dispatched shield-bearers to deliver messages to various units:
The Viking warriors were to rest in place and treat the wounded. The cavalry and Shrike’s mountain infantry were to continue the pursuit and return before nightfall.
“I didn’t expect the Pictish infantry to be so fierce. If we didn’t have cavalry, we probably wouldn’t have been able to handle them for a while.”
He recalled the records of the Picts in Roman books. Some books gave high praise to these barbarians who were entrenched in Northern Britain, claiming that their “reckless bravery that ignored death” caused significant casualties to the imperial legions.
In AD 117, the Roman Ninth Legion “Hispana” disappeared in Northern Britain. Thousands of soldiers vanished without a trace, becoming a mystery that has puzzled historians for many years. The most reasonable guess is that they engaged in battle with the Picts and suffered a complete defeat.
In the end, it was Rome that couldn’t hold on any longer. In AD 122, Hadrian, one of the “Five Good Emperors,” built Hadrian’s Wall in Northern Britain, announcing the end of the empire’s conquests in Britain.
“Phew, thankfully I managed to severely cripple the enemy’s main force in a field battle. Otherwise, if they had held the city or infiltrated the forest for protracted harassment, the casualties would have been several times greater than today!”
Half an hour passed, and reinforcements from the south arrived successively, including a medical team led by the Raven Speaker. Their treatment methods were few. The standard procedure was to rinse the wounds with clean water and then suture them with needle and thread.
In addition, if a soldier suffered from a cold or fever, the shaman would have them take freshly squeezed garlic juice （containing allicin） and boiled willow bark （containing salicylic acid）.
Overall, the cure rate of casualties had indeed improved, far better than the various herbs used by Northern European shamans for generations. Vig was quite satisfied. He had the Raven Speaker and others record the treatment effects, summarize their experience in practice, and open a hospital in Tyne Town after the battle.