The sun rose punctually the next day, no, it could be said that it came earlier than usual, and the eastern side of the gorge pass of Nicaea was a brilliant glow, and it was rare to encounter such a bright and warm weather in winter, and even white clouds were very rare. In the muddy mountain pass fortress, when the group of pilgrims from yesterday's killing, plundering, and drunkenness had slowly come to their senses, they climbed to the battlements, and looked back and forth: in the meadows to the west, the camp of their army was still silent, and everyone slept very well, and most of the men were exhausted by the move last night, and only a small number of men, and without any vigilance, carried willow baskets, axes and saws, and went to the hills and forests around the pastures to cut down timber for wages.

To the east, the pilgrims, bathed in the glow of holiness and drumming their minds under the influence of alcohol, burped a few times and wondered what an exhilarating scene it would be to be able to storm this great and sacred city at once. Treasure, fame, there is no shortage of them.

But soon they heard a bang, very soft, like a mosquito snorting in the corner of the room in the vast valley field.

A pilgrim who was not at all wary climbed to the mouth of the tall pheasant battlement, then stood on it, took off his trousers, and then flew down to the light of the sun.

The urine struck the walls of wood and stone, sparsely, but two more bangs rang out in quick succession, and then more and more bangs rang out violently, and in a very orderly manner, as if someone were answering each other with this. In an instant, it resounded throughout the field.

Birds and grass fluttered all over the sky on the slopes below the castle. Countless Turkic warriors in dark and black robes and turbans suddenly stood up from their hiding place, and the precision and consistency of their movements were astonishing. Together, they raised their composite bows, made from the bones of wild beasts, and the mournful whistle of "Woo Woo Woo" mingled with the sound of thousands of arrows piercing the sky, and pounced on the curtain walls and battlements of the castle.

The sun was blackened.

The pee, with his back to everyone, burst with blood all over his body, as if torn apart by countless sharp claws, and then with countless clusters of arrows on his body, he rolled a few times and fell under the curtain wall.

5,000 Roma Turkic soldiers. Maintaining his stoic discipline, under the orders of Parkuad and the other officers, he silently marched from the camp of Nicaea, set up the attack line one after another, and then lurked until the sun rose and the signal for attack was given.

The rest of the pilgrims, some of whom were shot, and others crawled backwards with blank faces, hoping to climb beyond the range of the Turkic bows. The whole castle was in chaos, and the sound of drums and trumpets sounded one after another. The arrows were like a sudden rain that came down from the castle to draw water, feed the livestock, and the rest of the idlers who walked around. Instantly shot dead and wounded, everywhere there were groaning crawlers, but infidel punitive arrows. Or shoot in round after round without any gaps, without any mercy.

The Sultan's flag bearer, Pak Ade, ordered. All the archers are divided into three columns and take turns drawing their bows and shooting arrows. Expel all the guards from the battlements.

The pilgrims within, many of the brave young peasants, roared with rage, and they bravely ran to the battlements with stones, in an attempt to resist the onslaught of the Turks, but most of them were shot down in the middle and fell heavily under the battle path. In an instant, the curtain wall of the entire castle was covered with arrows and feathers, and more arrows flew in, so that many arrows were clustered and cut into the feathers in front of them before they could stand on their heels, and there were more and more arrows, looking from a distance, like layers of snow covering the castle.

At the sound of a whistle, the Armenian mercenaries in armor and shields on their backs in the Sultan's ranks, guided by the banners, poured out of the array of arrows and bravely climbed the hillside to approach the gate of the castle.

They were clearly going to break down the gates of the fort, and then they came in and went on a killing spree.

The pilgrims who were guarding it waved their flags at the foot of the hill on that side, and the sound of the battle alarmed the camp below, and both Forchet and Rainold ran out of their tents, disheveled, and then mounted their horses, and shouted everywhere that the men should take up arms and go to the castle for reinforcements. But in a hurry, tens of thousands of pilgrims could not successfully assemble at all, and the whole camp was chaotic to the peak, and there was nothing to be done.

This panic soon spread to the camp of Chivet, Walter. The Knight of Sanzabal was always restless last night, afraid of the disaster, but he didn't expect it to become a reality the next day! "Lead the horses, mobilize and encourage those who can still hold weapons, and go to reinforce their comrades." Despite his old age, Walter resolutely put on his armor, picked up his sword, and shouted loudly in the camp.

At this time, Walter heard the cries of many people, as if the end of the world was coming, and he looked back, but saw that the emperor's officials, as well as the merchants and sailors from Constantinople, had slipped into the ship, hoisted their sails, and began to sail towards the other side of the strait. Many women and old men, crying and rushing into the water, raising their hands and holding babies, asking the group not to abandon the camp, Walter then saw the Greek magistrate and began to shout on deck the price of the containment personnel: thirty silver coins for a woman, twenty for an old man, and five for a child.

Throughout the water, people threw their jewelry and money onto the deck, begging for help: a few lucky people climbed up the rope and abandoned their loved ones; Some were swept away by the waves, others cried and crawled back to shore in despair.

"Abominable Greek emperors, shameless Greeks!" Walter's eyes were like those of a tiger, and he was about to breathe fire, roaring and slapping his mount with his sword, and leading all those who were still willing to raise their flags to fight against the Sultan's sharp and ferocious attack. At this moment, a young man dressed as a knight in chain mail ran up to Walter, "Your Excellency the Flag Bearer, I am Dorus from the Rhineland. Lambert, my father's youngest son, I am willing to gallop to the fortress of Nicomedia to ask for reinforcements from the Emperor. ”

"If you look at this scene, is there any hope?" Annoyed, Walter pointed his sword at the Byzantine ships that had left him behind in the confusion.

"If Nicomedia is not willing, I will borrow a boat from them and go to the other side of the channel, where it is said that there is a camp of the Normans, and that of the princes of the Franks." Dorus made an impassioned speech, and with the approval of the flag bearer, he rode through the chaotic crowd toward the fortress of Nicomedia on the other side of the valley. (To be continued.) )