Act V: The Prince's Expedition (XIV)
fourteen
"Send the light cavalry up the hillside and find the archers in the forest," Batur ordered again. "The heavy cavalry continue the charge."
The messenger immediately relayed the order. Yubi watched the flag waving and nervously gripped Yakov's hand. "Is the situation very bad?" he asked in a low voice.
“Disadvantageous, but not terrible.” Yakov watched as the twins’ light cavalry retreated further and further away. “Yesterday there was a hailstorm, so we couldn’t burn the forest with fire arrows. But horse archers are harder to hit than regular archers. Once they successfully climb the slope and engage in close combat, von Brunel’s archers have no chance.”
Yubi gave a half-understanding "hmm," then nervously pursed his lips and looked towards the battlefield. Just as Yakov had said, the twins' cavalry, having received orders, were stealthily navigating the serpentine uphill path. Arrows whizzed past them, breaking the spears of some soldiers. Yet, they remained two large forces of light cavalry, their movements agile and their momentum formidable. Yubi suddenly realized that the battlefield was so symmetrical, as if the twins truly shared a telepathic connection.
“I have two good children.” Batur’s fingers kept clasping together and then loosening. “They are well-trained and will not make any mistakes.”
The two cavalry units were about to maneuver around to the summit, getting closer and closer to the forest. Fewer and fewer arrows were being fired from there. Yubi thought, the Tatar cavalry are indeed formidable, almost invincible. He held his breath, waiting, but a vague premonition lingered within him.
Like a sudden clap of thunder, a troop of fully armed knights, lances in hand and clad in black robes emblazoned with white octagonal crosses, burst forth from the western forest. Alkin, leading the charge on the west side, was struck head-on, thrown from his horse without warning, and tumbled into the icy grass. His horse, startled, reared up, lost its balance on the steep slope, and crashed heavily onto its master, burying his brightly colored battle robe.
The symmetrical battlefield collapsed from the west.
Yubi rose from his seat in shock. Like an avalanche, the horses, carrying men and snow, lured and knocked down even more horses behind them. In the blink of an eye, the cavalry and their horses tumbled down the mountain like a mudslide. The horses neighed, their trembling flesh covered in frost. Some had broken legs, others had snapped necks. The surviving Tatar cavalrymen among them struggled to crawl away, only to be immediately finished off with a lance; seeing their leader fall, the remaining cavalry scattered and fled.
“…Is that Pascal?” Yubi looked at the group of knights, counting their numbers and horses. “I recognize his horse!”
Unbeknownst to him, Batur beside him was a man with bloodshot eyes and trembling hands. The Khan's mouth was slightly open, gazing at his fallen eldest son. Suddenly, he fell silent. "This happens often," he said.
On the eastern slope, Albert's other light cavalry force had successfully captured the forest and seized the high ground. Her mother, leading her cavalry across the grasslands below, had carefully broken through yet another phalanx, and the remaining two were also surrounded and cleverly lured away from the archers' range—however, the Hospitallers made no stop and charged straight at the elite heavy cavalry, attempting to tear a gap in the phalanx.
"Send Albert down the mountain," Batur ordered. "Aim at that crusader."
“Once she goes down the mountain, she’ll be shot down again by archers on the opposite high ground,” Yakov suddenly said, looking at the battlefield. “Her arrows will also wound her mother. She won’t want to do that.”
“I won’t allow her to stay in the forest doing nothing.” Batur interlocked his fingers again, leaning back as if to feign composure. “This is the only way to win.”
“You can also tell Turana to withdraw her troops,” Yakov said, “so she can rest and regroup before fighting again.”
"This battle must be won today." Batur turned his head through gritted teeth. "How dare you point fingers at me?"
Yakov fell silent. He simply placed his hand on Yubi's shoulder, a silent warning to him not to speak.
The Khan's orders were still relayed, but Albert's troops were slow to obey. Down the mountain, the Hospitallers were locked in a fierce battle with Thurana's heavy cavalry. The two armies circled in front of their phalanxes, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing—Pascal's army was clearly at a disadvantage. Yubi observed closely and noticed that Thurana's troops used dual scimitars, leaving no openings on either side and possessing formidable destructive power; while the knights were all right-handed, their longswords only usable from the right, and they were outnumbered. But the soldiers in the phalanxes continued to resist stubbornly, trying every possible way to attack the Tatar troops.
"What is Albert doing?" Batur roared, slamming his fist on the table. "Tell her to go down the mountain!"
The messenger relayed the order again. Soon, they sent back a reply. Yubi saw Batur's face contorted with rage, his nails digging into the table. He quietly asked Yakov, "What did they say?"
“It was Turalya’s messenger who ordered Albert not to go down the mountain,” Yakov replied, bowing slightly.
Yubi pursed his lips helplessly. He cautiously observed Batur's reaction.
Soon, the Khan's order was relayed for the third time. This time, the flag bearer wore a bright yellow banner—Yubi didn't know what it meant, but it didn't feel like a good omen. He looked towards the western slope of the valley—would Albert descend from there?
Soon, as if finally having made up their minds, the light cavalry charged straight down the hillside. As Yakov had said, the hillside opposite, which Altyn hadn't yet conquered, immediately unleashed a vast volley of arrows, almost covering the entire slope—the archers, now experienced, knew the Tatar cavalry would weave and twist to avoid the arrows, so they no longer aimed carefully, relying on sheer numbers—a strategy that proved effective. Half of Albert's horses were startled. The girl rode her horse through the forest of arrows, displaying her superb horsemanship to its fullest extent, resolutely leaping over the corpses of her men on the slope. Yubi watched her, secretly admiring her terrifying courage.
The remaining light cavalry were few in number, but still capable of fighting. However, Albert's troops did not head towards the area where his mother and Pascal were engaged in battle—she turned her horse around, attempting to cross the remaining barbed wire in the center of the battlefield to attack the archers on the opposite hilltop—her already meager force suffered further losses here, and the soldiers who lost their horses immediately crawled out from the piles of corpses and fled the battlefield.
"What is she doing?" Batur grabbed his fur hat and threw it into the mud. "Why isn't she listening to me?"
Yakov glanced at him silently.
The uphill climb was much slower than the downhill run, and Albert's horse grew tired. Yubi saw that she could no longer skillfully dodge the increasingly dense rain of arrows. Predictably, both she and her horse were struck by several arrows, yet they continued their desperate ascent. The light cavalry, having passed her brother's corpse, were utterly exhausted. The bodies lay in a gruesome line on the high slope before the forest.
Yubi was speechless. Only one contingent of Batur's troops remained on the battlefield, stubbornly resisting. He looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was already high in the sky. In just one morning, the thousand-strong army had been almost completely wiped out on the grassland before him. The corpses of men and horses piled up like mountains on the muddy, icy ground, their blood soaking into the soil, making it impossible to distinguish their color.
He remembered his sister's letter: "Win or lose." He wondered, could Batur really keep his word?
He tried to discern the Khan's expression. The thin Tatar was coughing violently, more agonizingly than ever before, even retching bile. "Where is Little Batur?" the Khan asked, covering his mouth with his sleeve. "Call him here."
“He’s your only child,” Yakov said coldly. “I’ve always been wondering, what for?”
His former master looked up and stared at him. His dark eyes were filled with a complex mix of emotions: contempt, jealousy, incomprehension, and hatred. "Call Little Batur over!" He lowered his sleeve, which was now stained crimson with blood.
The short child was brought before the Khan. Batur reached out and stroked the soft braid of hair. "I have high hopes for you," he said. "Your brother is dead. Now, you are the next Khan."
Little Batur's face wore a stubborn and serious expression, not the look a child should have. "I understand, Father," he said, glancing furtively at his large slave. His father immediately grabbed his attention, pulling him back with a stern look.
“Your mother is fighting a fierce battle down below.” The Khan stared into his eyes. He led his young son to his armor. He removed his helmet, took off the iron mask etched with a curved mustache, and placed it on little Batur’s head. “You are now the commander,” he said. “Go and gather the light cavalry your brothers and sisters have abandoned to support your mother.”
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