When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#334 - Battle of Moncruz (V)

A single thrust of the spear felled a Night Watch guard. Pulling back his weapon, Jourdan stepped back as the spearmen on either side of him filled the gap.

"After we finish this wave, we'll rotate shifts!" Jourdan shouted to the battle-monks around him. "Just five more minutes!"

Standing aside to rest, Jourdan watched the peasant soldiers surge forward and retreat like the tide.

Most of them were villagers from the south. They would break and run after seven or eight of them were killed, only to be forced back into the fray by the men-at-arms.

But there were simply too many of them, hundreds at a time, attacking in shifts.

The Salvation Army spearmen clearly routed them, but they couldn't pursue and expand their advantage.

They could only watch as the routed peasants were forced back into formation by the Night Watch guards, pushed back onto the battlefield by armored soldiers and men-at-arms.

Eventually, as the pile of corpses at the base of the low wall grew, the peasants' goal was no longer to breach the city, but to carry buckets of dirt and dump them at the base of the wall.

After completing this task, they would run away with their buckets.

If they could dump three buckets of dirt at the base of the wall, they wouldn't have to attack the city again that day.

This was a common tactic used by the knights when besieging a city. The peasants weren't good at direct combat, but they were capable of carrying dirt.

The dirt and corpses gradually formed a slope, and their subsequent attacks no longer required human ladders.

Panting, Jourdan wiped the blood from his face and shouted to Bernardo, "Scribe, what are the current casualties?"

"Fifteen wounded, three dead. But we've killed over thirty Night Watch guards, and taken about twenty wounded prisoners."

In the Salvation Army's statistics, peasant soldiers didn't count as kills, so even if they killed hundreds of them, it was still only counted as a collective achievement for 'defending the wall'.

Jourdan pinched his tired brow. Those damned Night Watch guards and even the armored soldiers hid among the peasants, occasionally jumping out to attack. If you weren't careful, they would scale the wall.

Although the Night Watch guards couldn't break through the spearmen's line, they still caused some casualties.

Essentially, the Night Watch guards were using peasants as cannon fodder, and the knights were using Night Watch guards and peasants to exhaust the holy bullets.

But if the battle-monks didn't use the holy bullets, and the Night Watch guards and armored soldiers managed to open a gap, it might take even more holy power to push them back down.

Jourdan wasn't sure when reinforcements would arrive, so he could only prepare for the worst, conserving strength while saving as much holy power as possible.

Picking up his water bottle and taking a couple of sips, Jourdan saw Laurent walking up and immediately put it down. "Did the Night Watch guards break through on your side just now?"

"Yes, two armored soldiers and about ten Night Watch guards came up," Laurent said, taking the water bottle from Jourdan and taking a couple of sips. "But I had the spearmen cooperate with the holy bullets to take care of them. No one was injured."

"Good." Jourdan straightened his helmet. "Get ready. We'll fire a shot from the second level in a moment, then we'll start rotating shifts."

A company commander asked, "Aren't we supposed to be saving holy power right now? Why bother having the second level scatter the gathered peasants?"

Laurent returned the water bottle to Jourdan. "Idiot, as soon as we rotate shifts, the knights will charge. Then the peasants will be in front, acting as cannon fodder for the knights, and they'll rush up here.

Having the gunners fire the holy wind when the enemy peasants are densely packed forces them to retreat, reducing the pressure on our spearmen and preventing the knights from taking advantage of the situation.

If we wait until the knights charge to fire, the first shot will scatter the peasants, and before the second shot can be fired, the knights will be right in our faces."

Laurent's words were rough but true, but his tone still made the company commander's face flash with displeasure.

Jourdan immediately smoothed things over. "Alright, we can talk about it after the rotation. Each rotation can last for more than two hours. I don't believe they're made of iron."

With the sound of orderly gunfire, the surrounding peasants scattered immediately, and the Night Watch guards using the peasants as cover naturally retreated with them.

Such an obvious movement naturally couldn't escape Heerwin's eyes.

He shouted to the sergeant of the armored soldiers, "Bring fifty armored soldiers, and twenty men-at-arms on foot. Follow the next batch of peasants and charge up. The first to reach the top will be rewarded with 2 gold pounds!"

Seventy strong soldiers wearing breastplates or chainmail immediately put on their surcoats and mixed into the next batch of attacking peasants.

…………

"Ah! The chevaux de frise on the road have been moved!" Declama was right next to the slope leading to the second level. As soon as he saw the chevaux de frise moved, he immediately jumped out of the pit.

With the slope under his feet, Declama scrambled towards the passage, and the rest of the foremen rushed over in a swarm.

Declama wasn't the only one who saw the passage open. Hundreds of local villagers and laborers saw it as well.

Seeing Declama take the lead, they naturally didn't want to stay on the front lines of the battlefield and followed him towards the passage.

Amid the clamorous shouts and whistles, rows of holy bullet soldiers formed neat ranks on the second-level passage, preparing to descend to the first level.

Before they could take a step, they saw more than a dozen stewards and foremen jump out of the passage, arching their backs and darting up.

Moumly frowned, but ignored them. After all, there were only a few of them, and they weren't blocking the road.

He gave the order to himself: "When I blow the whistle, we'll go down the left passage."

Moving from the back of the line to the front, he led the first holy bullet division of fifty men towards the first level after hearing Jourdan blow the whistle.

Stepping on the gently sloping ground, Moumly had just stepped out of the gap in the low walls on both sides when he heard a cacophony of voices rising in front of him.

Looking up again, he saw hundreds of laborers and villagers stuck together like a large cloud of gray, the seething crowd pushing and shoving towards the passage.

Moumly immediately gasped. He drew the sword from his waist and ran quickly towards the laborers and villagers.

"Don't block the road, get out of the way, get out of the way!" Moumly shouted at the rushing villagers and laborers, brandishing his sword.

"Sir, please let us go up. We won't get in the way."

"Brother Declama just passed through here, please let us pass."

Moumly didn't respond to the villagers' requests, but instead shouted at the laborers, "What are you doing crowding up here? Trying to desert?"

The laborers, who had originally run over with the crowd, immediately had second thoughts. They shrank their necks, afraid of being seen by Moumly, and quietly moved backwards.

When the villagers saw the black-hatted military monks in full armor running over in orderly steps, they prepared to leave with the laborers.

But the crowd was already chaotic. Some wanted to go forward, some wanted to go back, and some even tried to slip past Moumly while he wasn't paying attention.

It's unknown who tripped whose leg first, but a scream of "Ah!" was heard, and first two or three people fell, followed by the laborers and villagers collapsing like dominoes.

They were already unsteady standing on the slope, and it was even harder to see on this gloomy day. On the road where Moumly was rotating shifts, they rolled into a tangled mess of congestion and wailing.

"Ouch, my leg!"

"I told you not to run, not to run!"

"Who? Who stepped on my hand!"

The crowd struggled, the lying and standing intertwined, crying and howling like a muddy swamp blocking the road.

The black-hatted military monks looked at each other, staring at the villagers blocking the road.

Moumly gritted his teeth: "Go back, we'll go down the other passage. Have the spearmen clear this road. Anyone who dares to block the way will be killed on the spot!"

…………

"What's going on?" Laurent spat out a few grains of sand that had flown into his throat. "Aren't we rotating shifts? The infantry are about to rush up again!"

The plan was to have each holy bullet division replace the second level in turn after firing a shot, but Laurent waited and waited, but they still didn't come.

Not only was it the case on his side of the line, but it was the same situation in the direction to his left.

"I don't know!" The spear company captain who was guarding the same wall as Laurent complained loudly. "Our holy bullet soldiers have gone up, but where are their holy bullet soldiers?"

Laurent gritted his teeth: "I'll go ask, you..."

He didn't finish speaking, but he saw a helmeted head pop up behind the spear company captain.

"Careful! Behind you!"

Before he could finish speaking, the sound of air being torn apart was accompanied by a shout of killing. Under the dark clouds, a dim sword light swept across the spear company captain's neck. In the writhing neck section of flesh and blood, blood spurted out like a fountain.

The head rolled to Laurent's feet. He instinctively fell to the left, and the armored soldier's longsword slammed into the spot where he had been standing.

Turning over, Laurent fell back to the ground, raised his spring-loaded gun, and pretended to pull the trigger at the armored soldier.

The armored soldier was so frightened that he leaned back on the spot, then rolled, then hit the wall with his elbow to change direction, before standing up in shock and uncertainty.

When he realized that Laurent was bluffing, the soldier's face immediately turned as red as pig liver.

"You're playing me?!"

Seven or eight armored soldiers wearing armor supported themselves against the wall, climbed over, and landed on the ground with a thud amid the clamorous shouts of killing.

The sweltering wind blew on Laurent's face, but he felt a chill.