angled-off5
was moving back, farther up the slope.Harald sheathed his bow, looked along the ridge. The legions were a little more than sixty yards from the line of archers. He signaled; somewhere a horn call, whistles. The Ladies, abandoning their pavises, turned and ran down the back slope of the ridge towards the massed cavalry. The crossbowmen were moving back as well. The army was retreating. He turned to the King.
"Cavalry to get ready to charge."
"Charge? The legions aren't broken. You said . . ."
"Do it."
The King spoke to the trumpeter downhill; the trumpet call rang out, was echoed. The lower slope of the ridge to the south came alive, men mounting, lances.
The King felt Harald's hand on his shoulder, turned, looked. Behind the Imperial army, a line of mounted men came over the ridge, started down. A second line. A third.
Downslope of them, where the command group had been, was a tangle of bodies.
"Hrolf's back."
The King stepped clear of the pavise to see better. Harald pulled him back.
"They still have archers. Not much longer."
On the Imperial left their cavalry, attacked from behind, men falling, fled east out of the battle. The riders on the right wheeled, charged into a storm of arrows, made it halfway to the advancing cats before what were left broke and fled.
The front line of cats was moving down the slope faster and faster, lances lowered. Behind them the second and third lines, shooting as they came. Too far to see arrows, but the Imperial archers were chaos. The line of lancers hit what was left of them, went through, shifted to bows, poured arrows at short