Couldn't hear the sounds around him, and now every breath he took tugged at the muscles in his face, more painful than a fish out of water. In the end, he was placed in an empty room, with a Seon guarding him, and the others had to join the battle immediately.

After identifying the approximate location of the enemy, Edgar's knights began to advance with their shields raised, their iron armor and heavy fur capes blocking the enemy's arrows, and the shield wall quickly obscured the scattered remnants of the sentinels in the rear, drawing the enemy's attention to the knights of the guard.

The birds in the sky cried out with joy, the blood spread under the eaves of the Danish village, and Edgar could neither see the enemy nor give any effective orders in the dense queue near the left, all of them were wrapped in armor, and in this narrow battlefield, everything sounded like thunder in the distance, only to make the ears buzz. Like steel monsters with long fangs, they kept moving forward by inertia, leaving solid footprints behind them.

The enemy seemed to be always ahead, but sometimes they appeared behind them, but their javelins and arrows were weak to the English, and those who rushed into the shield wall quickly died under their spears and swords. Edgar felt that everyone was getting a little restless and their pace was getting confused, but he had to keep moving forward to avoid a gap in the shield wall.

At the end of the ruins, the enemy's resistance vanished like dew, and the English even had some doubts about whether they had been attacked by ghosts just now. Edgar couldn't see the enemy group, but he knew that they were nearby, perhaps waiting for another detachment of men to meet up after eliminating his second detachment of sentinels—he had less and less time left.

After a little thought, he gave the order to retreat, and under the cover of the rear team, everyone withdrew to the village.

The Saxons of Count Otto were already in the village, and when the Saxon nobleman saw the King of England, he showed him his weapon and said, "Your Majesty, they are Kruto's men, and we are in ambush." ”

Edgar didn't answer immediately, he was quietly observing the other party, this matter was too strange, the enemy seemed to know their tracks, waiting here to intercept them, so that the troops would never be vacated, and their own information must have been leaked long ago.

Count Otto did not seem to notice Edgar's gaze and continued: "Your Majesty, look at this sword, and this corpse. ”

Edgar's gaze turned to the long sword in the other's hand, which was an amber-encrusted sword, and the blade even had a strange hexagonal texture inscribed on the blade.

"These are the emblems of Perron, the pagan god of thunder and lightning, and another bear-headed dragon pattern represents Willes." Count Otto said, "This corpse is dressed in Varyag scale armor, not from Danish or Saxon captives, and it also has Svarog's runes of Rune, which could only belong to the chief's personal guards. ”

Edgar agreed with the other party's analysis, and his doubts were still not dispelled, but now was clearly not the time to pursue the matter.

"We should get out of here immediately, we are twice as many as we are, and we are no match for a heretic army." Edgar didn't know about Hurward's injury at this time.

When Peterborough Sain returned from the smoky right flank of the village, their rear had been infiltrated, and a fanatical heretic crawled into Hereward's cabin, slashed Heriward in the shoulder with a Germanic knife, and was then pierced in the heart by the alarmed guards.

The surprise attack didn't deal a big blow to Hereward, his iron armor blocked the slash, and in fact the three-pound hilt long knife, though it looked sharper than Frost, was not suitable for armoured enemies, and it might cut through a linen or leather linen, but it was hardly enough to deal any effective damage to refined chain mail, far less than a Danish battle axe.

At this time, however, the wound on Hereward's face was deadly, and when the king's herald informed everyone that they were ready to mount and leave, the Peterborough people found that their lord had reached the most dangerous point.

"Your Majesty, that's the way it is." The East Anglian looked a little nervous in the face of the king, "Your Excellency can't move at all now, and the bump on horseback will immediately burst the wound." ”

"I'll never leave Hereward," Edgar yelled almost angrily, "I'm not going to do anything like that in front of tens of thousands of people." ”

Everyone looked moved, but they also knew what was the right choice at this moment.

"Tell Count Otto to let his men go first." Edgar seemed to make up his mind, "Just say we'll follow later." ”

The Englishmen did not show a look of embarrassment, and everyone began to calmly wipe the blood from their swords, and retracted the equipment scattered on the battlefield, intending to follow the king in their last resistance.

As if only a few breaths were short, and as if he had spent a lifetime, Edgar heard a voice in the silence: "Your Majesty, you are the hero of the North, are we Saxons cowards who have left their friends behind?" ”

He looked up, and the beard of Count Otto von Nordheim was shaking in front of his eyes.

"The addition of friends always makes the shield wall stronger," King Edgar simply nodded to accept the other party's kindness, and then pointed to the crumbling dark wooden house nearby, and said to all the warriors present, "Besides, we don't just have a shield wall now, I also have a castle." ”

By the king's orders, the whole village was put to use, and even the corpses scattered on the ground were not spared by the English, who, like the citizens of Paris in later generations, calmly repaired the barricades to meet the arrival of bayonets and shotguns.

"More than ten years ago, your father and I were in York, and I still can't forget that night of snow." Edgar said to one of the guards beside him, "Your father saw the Norman fires in the sky, and he looked like you do now, but we survived the night. ”

"It is my honor to fight with His Majesty to the end." Edwin, the son of the Earl of Moka, was a little embarrassed, he put up a shield decorated with stag textures, took out a bristle brush, brushed the blood mud from the white star pattern of his robe, and looked up at the busy English warriors around him, he gritted his teeth slightly, felt the heat of the bag of ale he had just drunk, and regained his strength.