Chapter 347 249: Byzantine (Part 2)

And now, while Giscard was away from Apulia leading an expedition against the Greek Empire, it was simply inconceivable that he would have Roger handle a rebellion in a core region like Bari.

"Doesn't Roger know you're here? Why make up such a clumsy lie?" Otto asked, frowning.

"He's making up this lie precisely because he knows I'm here," Eric said, shaking his head.

His uncle, Roger, possessed an uncommon shrewdness, one more flexible than Giscard's. His friendly gestures toward Eric were perfectly measured, carefully maintaining a state that was neither distant nor close.

This way, he avoided being drawn into situations where he might be coerced or receive requests he couldn't refuse.

"He's telling me that he's willing to be my friend, but that I must know my limits. And he has absolutely no interest in what I'm doing right now," Eric continued.

"He could have just said so. If he had Aunt Judith..."

"We've brought so many troops with us; he's probably worried we'll use the situation to coerce him. He might be somewhere in Messina right now, watching our every move."

"If that's the case, then this money he gave us..." Otto glanced at the eight chests to the side, which held one thousand pounds of silver coins.

"It's our compensation. It's meant to both appease us and prove to the Pope that he, Roger of Sicily, has no intention of opposing the authority of the Holy See. He's simply too preoccupied with other matters to travel to the East."

"By the way, I heard an interesting piece of news this morning you might find interesting. It seems your cousin Bohemond had a falling out with his old man. He was stripped of his command and sent back to Apulia not long ago."

...

After staying in Messina for four days, Eric and his men set out again. They traveled east along Calabria and, in less than a week, reached the port of Leuca at the heel of Italy.

In Leuca, they purchased sufficient provisions. It then took them three days to cross the Ionian Sea and arrive at Vasiliky Port in the Byzantine Empire.

The distance was roughly equivalent to traveling from the Cotentin Peninsula in Normandy to Cornwall in England, and perhaps even shorter.

However, their progress was not smooth. Likely due to the climate, some of the Normans failed to acclimatize, suffering from vomiting and diarrhea. Robert even contracted malaria.

As a result, Eric and his men were forced to remain at Vasiliky Port.

Vasiliky Port, Byzantine Empire

Noon was approaching, and the land baked under the summer sun.

On an empty plot of land not far from the port, a dozen or so straw targets had been set up.

Facing them were thirteen strong Pisan and Genoese crossbowmen, handpicked by Eric.

They were brimming with confidence and cracking jokes, holding small competitions among themselves as they waited for the King to arrive.

They were also showing off their superb crossbow skills to the Norman nobility who were present.

In addition to the crossbowmen, there was a Welsh longbowman who was utterly disdainful of what he considered the flamboyant attire of the crossbowmen.

For the past few days, Eric had the Pisans and Genoese teach some of the Norman Knights how to use the crossbow. It was a smaller model that Eric had commissioned from the Genoese, intended as an auxiliary weapon for the knights.

"Do the Saracens and the Turkic people use crossbows?" Belem asked Eric, holding one of the small crossbows.

"No. Nearly all of them are mounted archers," Eric replied.

"I've heard of them. They can ride for days on end, sleep in the saddle, and even switch horses at a full gallop. Throughout their lives, they spend more time on horseback than on the ground.

They aren't just riders; they're also herdsmen, grooms, horse-trainers, horse-traders, and blacksmiths."

Stephen was fiddling with a Welsh longbow. It was different from what he'd imagined. It was made of surprisingly high-quality yew wood; he'd been under the impression that Wales mostly had oak and elm.

"That means they'll fetch a good price," Belem said with a laugh.

"They say the Turkic warriors have four eyes—two in the front and two in the back—and that their vision is incredibly sharp. Trained to ride from childhood, they're masters of every aspect of horsemanship.

They're skilled with ropes, are tenacious hunters, can adapt to any extreme weather, and can fire an arrow in any direction from a galloping horse." Stephen tried to draw the longbow; its draw weight was significantly heavier than that of an ordinary bow.

"Who isn't?" Belem retorted. "I've been training since I was a child. I could ride by the time I was six and never once fell off. I can even dance on horseback."

"Their cavalry are more skilled with the bow and arrow than the lance," Eric explained. "The lance charge is still a relatively new concept for them, one they've been gradually learning through their conflicts with the Greeks."

"The Greeks? Then they picked the wrong teachers. No cavalry can stand against a Norman Knight. Fighting them is like swatting flies," Belem said with a sneer, tossing the small crossbow in his hand.

"Which is why they won't be foolish enough to face you head-on," Eric said. "They'll use their bows to constantly harass us and disrupt our lines. Then, when we try to charge and rout them, they'll immediately retreat to avoid a direct confrontation.

The moment we break formation to pursue them, they'll turn back, surround us, and pick us off one by one.

Their bows may be lighter and have a shorter range than those of foot archers, and their arrows might not penetrate our shields to kill us, but they will certainly wound our warhorses. And once we lose our horses, we'll be taken captive."

"A feigned retreat. Sounds like a trick the old King would use," Belem said with a shrug.

"They're like a swarm of horseflies. You wave your arm and scatter them, but the next moment, they regroup and come back to bite you. They execute these tactics as naturally as breathing, as if by instinct. Every one of their cavalry units employs these tricks. The Turkic cavalry archers are more destructive than the Saracen cavalry archers we've faced before, simply because they are more numerous than flies," Lagman, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke up.

Eric glanced at Lagman in surprise before continuing the explanation.

"Lagman is right, which is why we must not pursue them. Their horses aren't as large or strong as ours, but they are much faster. Most of them wear leather armor, which makes them even more agile.

Therefore, chasing them would be extremely unwise."

"So we're just supposed to sit back and take their attacks?" Belem demanded.

"Remember Hastings?" Eric countered. "If the old King hadn't had archers, how would he have forced the Saxon shield-wall to break formation and charge down the hill?

We learn from our old King: we bring our own archers and crossbowmen. Cavalry archers don't have the range of foot archers. We'll answer their rain of arrows with our own and form up a shield wall or a square with long spears and shields.

One contingent of knights will maintain a tight formation, ready to charge at the opportune moment—but pursuit is forbidden. Another contingent will dismount and reinforce the shield wall. Ideally, we'll keep fifty knights as a reserve, positioned far from our main formation and out of the enemy's line of sight.

When the two sides engage in earnest, this reserve force will charge and strike the enemy's line. That will be the move that decides the battle," Eric said.

"I know, I know! The reserve force, the reserve force... how many times have you said that? My ears are going to fall off," Belem grumbled, covering his ears.

Just then, a figure covered in blood rushed frantically onto the training field. Following him was a sentry with a bleeding head.

Eric recognized the blood-soaked man. It was Belem's Knight Commander, Richard Thorn.