The size of the Danish fleet was so great that the distant red flames could still be seen on the shores of Calais that afternoon, and it was not the artillery fire itself that destroyed the fleet, but many of the dragon captains were shot by a kind of high-pitched and whistling flames falling from the sky in this "traffic jam" on the sea. The burning battleship was like a huge torch, and many of the hulls were scorched all the way to the waterline, even if the keel was still intact, it was no different from firewood.

"Has Olaf been confirmed dead?" Count Baldwin looked at the hell in the distance with a look of pity, his lean and noble face revealing the emptiness of the slaughter.

"Coming back to life from that ash? Unless he's the head of the phoenix. Ansgar said nonchalantly, his beard soaking wet and the sea dripping from his bald top, in stark contrast to the steel-clad Earl of Lincoln.

"My lord, we have only rescued less than a hundred Danes, and there is not a single Danish king's bodyguard." Captain Harding panted up the ladder and glanced back at the unpredictable waves.

"Go back, Your Majesty must know everything about this place - the Danish power has been destroyed." Ansgar suggested to the Count.

On the return of the English fleet, some of the dhow that had been blown into the sail by the storm was stranded as if it had run aground, and it took some time to evacuate the crew, but the huge swell was finally over, and the destruction of the Danish fleet in such violent weather made everyone feel like a lifetime away.

As a result of this delay, the communication ship sent by Lincoln's Baldwin had reached the port of Boulogne, and Count Eustace was relieved to hear the news of the destruction of the Danish fleet from his sickbed. At this time, the count had only a small Eustace at his side, and Godfrey was surrounded by the emperor's army at the castle of Bouillon in Lorraine, and the exploits of his youngest son, Baldwin, seemed to bode well.

That night, thunder and lightning roared from the sea outside the harbor, and the castle could be seen flickering with the blue fire of St. Elmo's on the ship's teeth. The Count, realizing that he was about to die, summoned his eldest son, Eustace, to his side.

"Listen, you're my heir, there's something you need to know now." The Earl grabbed his son with his cold hand, "Your other brother, Jeffrey, is coming here." ”

Little Eustace involuntarily showed disgust, Jeffrey was the illegitimate son of his father, and had been serving Duke William in Normandy.

"I know you don't like him, but he's my son and your brother. What's more, his wife is from the Mandeville family, and as the Count of Boulogne, you need to know what is going on in the principality, and Geoffrey is your ear. ”

Eustace finally regained his composure, realizing that his father, though seriously ill, was still the same far-sighted Count de Boulogne: "I see. ”

The transfer of power from Boulogne was thus quietly completed, and at the same time, Count Rodrigo and his party had just crossed the river, and on this stormy night, they had to sleep in the wilderness.

The wind beat against the cloth of the tent, and the gorgeous armor skirt was repeatedly washed away by the cold rain, and Count Rodrigo looked at the dark and misty road, and his heart was apprehensive, so he returned to the tabernacle, took out a copy of the Gallic Wars, and read the passages of Bill and the war.

He was afraid of the Norman knights who rushed out in the rainy night, so he sat in the tent with his armor on his arms and read a book, and before he knew it, it was dawn. As soon as Rodrigo looked up, he saw a squire bring in a bucket of water and place it on the table. The knight put down his iron hand, bent down and picked up a puddle of water, slowly sprinkled it on his cheek, and then drank another handful of cold water with the creak of metal parts rubbing, the tingling sensation of his tongue and teeth helping him regain his spirits.

The daytime was not fast, and Rodrigo had tried to find a path, but the convoy was not suitable for leaving the avenue, not to mention the fact that the marshes near the coast in this area were not covered with too much wood, and leaving the avenue might mean trouble.

Roger, Earl of Hereford, who should have been as nervous as he was, walked in front of his own door, and from time to time introduced the Bishop to the customs of Normandy. After noon, the clouds cleared and the rain fell, and the journey was not strictly so uncomfortable, and the archers even found some piglets as they passed through a village. When the afternoon sun had come out, and the Count had at last eaten a few slices of cheese coated with shallots, the peasant's food was a delicacy for a hungry stomach, and the ham that Alva had given him was given to the guards to distribute.

At some point, a rider was at the back of the convoy, and by the time the English spotted him, he had begun to flee south, looking at the shadow of the other man, and everyone knew that the stealth might no longer exist.

The bishop first found Rodrigo: "What are you going to do next?" ”

"Your Excellency, for now we can only move on, because we are sandwiched between two rivers." The Spaniard replied without thinking.

"This land is the enemy's sphere of activity." The Bishop had only heard Roger mention it, and he became worried.

"Yes, so we need a little deception." Rodrigo had already made up his mind, and immediately said bluntly, "Your Excellency's retinue and brethren are all on horseback, and our chariots have weapons and armor. ”

"But they don't know how to use weapons, and they can't help adults kill people."

"Of course, but the enemy doesn't know." The Spaniard smiled slyly.

Bundles of bows and arrows were removed from the wagons, and huge clusters of gray and white feathers were packed into quivers, and they did not have much time, and once they were dressed, they had to march in formation, and the advance line changed from a line to a marching pattern, and the perimeter of the convoy was covered by cavalry.

The sound of thundering horses' hooves came from the south, and in an instant, the Norman knights rushed forward in a large formation, like greedy wolves.

The sun was shining brightly on the squishy moor, where the enemy was not advancing fast, but it was full of arrogance that the victory was in hand. At this time, there was a horn sound among the English, so many horseback knights took off their cloaks to cover the rain, revealing the fine armor covered inside, the whole military array looked unusually strong, the steel between the rows glistened in the sunlight, and in the closely connected array, the sharp blades continued to protrude, like the lines of killing, and some of the cold blades were filled with condensed water droplets, revealing an awe-inspiring murderous aura.

There was a commotion in the Norman array, and the horses slowed down until they came to a halt three hundred yards away.