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Anno Domini 829, April-21
"The themata forces will position themselves on the right flank, and I will place around one thousand cataphracts there along with five hundred horse archers. That way we prevent the Bulgarian cavalry from overexploiting the flank," I said, pointing to where the future battlefield would unfold.
"Eh… Basil… Strategos… but the right flank is usually the flank of honor, where the best troops of the army are placed. I do not think the themata forces should be positioned there," said Kentarchos Bardas, who looked somewhat nervous knowing that battle was imminent.
"Yes, I know that very well. I am going to place my best troops against the best troops of the Bulgarians, my veteran Varangians and Greeks. My intention is to shatter their professional forces, since the majority of their army is composed of tribal levies from multiple Slavic tribes. I made sure to observe that while trying to force a battle. Many of those Slavic tribes use reused Roman equipment, so I must assume they lack formal training and that their discipline is poor," I said, indicating where the Bulgarian forces would likely be positioned.
"For that very reason we should press them with everything on the right flank with a force like your Varangians, Strategos. They would cause havoc and allow us to break their left flank quickly and then pressure the center," said one of the tourmarches, attempting to contribute.
"And that would leave us very vulnerable to a Bulgarian cavalry charge combined with pressure from their elite troops, breaking our flank just as quickly. I will not place the themata there only for them to collapse easily and weaken our center. I prefer to sacrifice a little of our advantage on the flanks to secure the line. If we begin pushing them back… that is where you come in," I said, pointing to the tourmarches in charge of the cavalry.
The tourmarches nodded.
"If we manage to force the Bulgarians back on their right flank, we will create a gap in their formation, because we will advance in oblique order. The left flank will move first, then the center will advance, and the right flank will be the last to engage. If everything goes well, we will have the Bulgarian elite forces retreating, and the cavalry will move behind our lines to strike the center, creating chaos… but they must not be overtaken by Bulgarian cavalry," I said, pointing at the map while envisioning how the battle should unfold.
"And what about the Bulgarians inside the city?" asked a drungarios.
"Leaving the same four thousand men there should be enough to keep them contained, and they must hold them inside for as long as possible. It is certain they will attempt a sortie at that moment. It is their best opportunity to assist the army outside. If they do not, they will be trapped in a long siege while we begin moving and taking the rest of the locations south of the Danube until they manage to gather another army," I answered confidently.
"Any specific orders for the center, my Strategos?" asked one of the tourmarches, watching anxiously as he licked his lips.
"The center must advance slowly, but not so slowly that the Bulgarian center decides to strike our left flank. As long as you keep them occupied, that is enough. There is no need for maneuvers or counterattacks in that sector. Simply keep them engaged, nothing more," I replied. "The right flank must simply hold its ground, and the cavalry must never commit to a prolonged engagement. If they clash with Bulgarian cavalry, never pursue them. If you push them back, hold your position and prepare to strike at the opportunity. If we do that, we win without difficulty," I said as I continued visualizing how the battle would unfold.
With nothing more to add, and having explained the battle plan to the commanders, we began preparing for combat.
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POV of Sigurd
"Finally… a battle worthy of us," I said with a grin, raising my arms and gripping my polehammer in my right hand.
"Basil promised us this fight many moons ago, and at last the moment has come. We will have an enemy before us upon whom to spill blood. The gods and the Valkyries will be watching as our foes fall beneath our steps," said another of Basil's hird, as eager as I was.
"The All-Father will watch for the great warriors who fall today. It will be a glorious battle. We will win and be remembered in sagas for this great victory, or our deaths will be remembered if we fall after slaying dozens of them," declared one of the jarls who had sworn allegiance to Basil as he began to drink ale. It went against orders, but it was the ale of the berserks, and I noticed several others drinking as well.
All of Basil's most trusted warriors had been gathered there, for we were to face the Bulgarian champions. The best against the best. As the lines formed, we observed the dense ranks of the Bulgarians and their strong cavalry presence. We had been told the enemy held a slight numerical advantage, though we surpassed them in the quality of our equipment.
At last the trumpet sounded the order to march. To the rhythm of the drum, we advanced, keeping step to hold the ranks firm.
"Remember, men of the North: tight ranks and heads down when their arrows fall. Shields high. When the time comes to strike the Bulgarian infantry, cast the shields aside," shouted one of Basil's kentarchos in our tongue before repeating it in Roman.
We kept walking as my blood burned with the thrill of finally finding a battlefield worthy of dying upon. I noticed the center had not even begun to move.
No one cared when, halfway across the field, the center finally advanced. We watched as Bulgarian cavalry moved before us and began loosing arrows that struck against our shields or glanced off the fine armor Basil had given us, armor that nearly mocked their shafts.
Basil's cavalry surged forward to pursue the Bulgarian horse archers. They repeated what they had done for weeks: endless pursuits, wheeling back and forth while releasing arrows at full gallop.
With the immediate threat of horse archers reduced, we continued advancing toward the Bulgarian ranks until we saw hundreds of arrows beginning to fall.
We raised our shields again. Everywhere came the dull thud of iron tips striking wood and steel, the scraping against armor, and now and then the groan of a man whose flesh had been pierced. Even so, they continued forward, some with shafts still lodged in their bodies.
"Victory or death, do not lose heart. Better to die fighting than to live as a coward in the embrace of a maiden," I shouted at the top of my lungs as we increased our pace.
"Victory or death, do not lose heart," dozens answered.
"Victory or death, do not lose heart," nearly all began to roar as we advanced, keeping our step firm.
More arrows fell, striking my shield or glancing off my sallet, until at last the Bulgarian infantry stood before us, clad in lamellar and mail, spears leveled and formation tight.
Before we closed, we saw cavalry on both sides clash to our left. Hundreds were hurled from their horses, broken by impact or impaled on lances, then rising to fight on foot while horse archers continued shooting along the flanks. A small group of infantry had run to support the cavalry fights, many of them Basil's veteran Romans engaging fiercely along the wing.
At last the rain of arrows ceased. Our losses were few. We pressed on, the Bulgarians braced before us with leveled spears.
"DO NOT CHARGE. KEEP ADVANCING SLOWLY. DO NOT IMPALE YOURSELVES," I roared to my men.
Maintaining steady momentum, I cast my shield aside and met the thrust of spearpoints driving toward us. Several slid across my steel cuirass without piercing.
I raised my polehammer, and when the Bulgarian before me lifted his shield, I kicked it with all my strength. He lost his balance as the men behind shoved him forward, leaving his skull exposed.
I did not hesitate. I crushed his head with a single blow and he fell. A small pool of blood began spreading beneath him. I was already seeking my next victim when I heard the howls and screams of the others. Many had fallen into a trance from the ale, swinging their weapons as if seized by uncontrollable fury. I would not lag behind.
I slammed my shoulder into the next Bulgarian who stepped forward with shield and sword. I threw him to the ground and began striking left and right at anything that stood before me.
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POV of Bardas
"The Bulgarians are withdrawing," I said, watching as the northern cavalry pursued them, the two forces still clashing and loosing arrows at one another as they rode.
"Yes… hold your positions," the tourmarches replied, breathless, wiping the blood dripping from his sword with a sharp motion of his hand.
"We could… pursue them… or try to break their left flank," I suggested. The struggle between the northerners and the Bulgarians was becoming too uneven. The Bulgarians were dying in growing numbers, forced steadily backward. Those heavy hammers the northern men carried were smashing through Bulgarian armor with alarming ease.
"No. We have the strategos' orders. We wait for his signal before charging the center," the tourmarches said, his eyes fixed on the fighting.
"So we stand idle while others bleed," I muttered, cleaning my own blade.
"Exactly. The plan unfolds as the strategos designed it. There is no need for change," he answered firmly.
"I understand…," I said, scanning the battlefield while trying to steady my breathing.
The Varangian cavalry returned after a brief pursuit, but it soon became clear that the enemy horsemen were reforming their ranks, preparing to charge again.
"Spears, here!" shouted one of the soldiers, bringing forward replacements for those that had shattered.
They were distributed quickly as the infantry supporting us formed up behind our line. Everything pointed to another collision with the Bulgarian cavalry. Their left flank continued to fall back and seemed to weaken further. I noticed movement from their center and right, troops shifting to reinforce their hard-pressed wing.
"Those Varangians fight like demons," a drungarios remarked, watching the Bulgarians struggle to withstand the assault.
We lowered our spears as the Bulgarians charged once more.
I kept mine steady, aiming at the oncoming riders. Again I saw bodies hurled from saddles on both sides. The thunder of hooves and the stench of blood crashed over me. I felt the jolt as my spear pierced a Bulgarian rider's mail and impaled him.
I released the shaft and drew my sword. I engaged another Bulgarian; our blades struck again and again as we searched for an opening. Then Basil's infantry burst into the melee, seizing legs and dragging riders from their horses. Some were subdued on the ground, others kicked and beaten, many finished with crushing hammer blows.
For reasons I did not question, those men showed the Bulgarians no mercy. Few were taken alive.
As we pushed their cavalry back once more and arrows thudded against my armor, the trumpets sounded the order to charge.
When I looked toward the center, I saw the path had opened. The Varangians had nearly shattered the enemy flank.
"Quickly, charge! We will hold the Bulgarians here!" the tourmarches shouted.
"Forward! Those who still have spears, to the front!" I cried, urging my horse on. A section of our line disengaged. The cataphracts and Varangian riders who still bore lances moved ahead, and as we reformed, we began our advance.
We cut through the rear of our left wing and ride straight toward the Bulgarian center.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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