Chapter 45: The Battle of Ireland (1)

After the entire army was ready, the priests that John had specially prepared took the stage.

The priests from Dublin held up the cross high. The cross, inlaid with gems and gold, seemed to reflect the glory of God. Other priests carried holy images and ceremonial items, reading from the Bible.

They set off from the square of Dendram, parading through the streets. Along the way, soldiers, upon seeing this scene, knelt down and made the sign of the cross on their chests.

The solemn Catholic ceremony, the holy appearance of the priests, and the ethereal chanting brought infinite solace to the soldiers.

People always need a spiritual sustenance, and in this era, the best support is religion.

From birth to death, Catholic rituals can cover a person's entire life. From baptism at birth to burial after death, Catholicism has a complete set of rites. Although these things may not bring substantial benefits, they indeed provide comfort.

John, who had been quite interested in religion in his previous life, also clasped his hands together and prayed silently.

Having traversed to this world, how could he not believe in gods and spirits?

"...Warriors, the Lord will bless you and lift your souls to heaven..."

The leading priest chanted in a prolonged tone, and John could barely make out a bit of it. In essence, this ritual was a placebo.

After completing the pre-battle sermon, the priests gave each soldier a small piece of bread. In addition to the regular meal of the day, every soldier would receive this small piece of bread before going into battle.

According to the priests, this was a gift from God.

But in reality, it was something John had specially prepared. Eating this piece of bread would sustain the soldiers to fight longer.

When everything was ready, the gates of Dendram slowly rose. John's army filed out of the city and quickly formed ranks under the city walls.

Such a large-scale movement immediately alarmed the lords on Rodri's side.

Soldiers poured out from the three large camps, holding high flags with Irish characteristics, mixed with some flags from Norman families—those were the Norman knights under de Courcy's command.

And to John's left, the raised flag surprised him.

"Guillaume, if I'm not mistaken, that should be the flag of the Earl of Thomond's family." John pointed to the flag, feeling a chill in his heart.

The Earl of Thomond, Domhnall, was Irish, but he had sworn allegiance to Henry II many years ago and held a key position in Ireland. His main task was to guard the Munster region in southwest Ireland.

But now, seeing him standing with the High King Rodri, John felt a chill down his spine.

No wonder he hadn't received any news earlier; it turned out that he had joined the rebellion too.

To John's right, the banner of Lord Simmis fluttered high. Seeing that flag, John would always think of Kaman's face. No one knew that beneath a brave and robust appearance hid a treacherous heart filled with duplicity.

The situation was very clear: the enemy John faced was larger in scale than his own forces, but they were noticeably more disorganized.

"Don't worry about it. Order the entire army to advance," John said, composing himself and giving orders to the bugler beside him.

The bugler took a deep breath and blew into his bugle. His face turned bright red as the sound echoed across the three armies. The royal banner of the Plantagenet family was raised in the center, taller and more splendid than all the other family banners.

The red and blue flag symbolized the royal power of England, representing the royal authority that Henry II had painstakingly built over the past decades.

In England, raising this banner could almost make the enemy flee in terror. But in Ireland, many young people had already forgotten how Henry II's army had demonstrated its might on this land ten years ago.

What John needed to do was to remind them of the English longbows, the Norman iron hooves, and the authority of the Plantagenets.

"For the kingdom, long live the king! Long live His Majesty! Long live the Prince!"

The knights on the right wing shouted. They were knights who had come all the way from England, proving their loyalty by following their prince to such a distant place.

The shout from the center was entirely different. The Breton mercenaries yelled in their dialect, "Hold formation! Keep pace!"

That's right, the center was composed entirely of phalanx troops. One phalanx after another, like pieces on a chessboard, spread across the central formation in waves. Filling the gaps between these phalanxes were the Norwegian warriors brought by Rolf.

With these warriors skilled in close combat filling the gaps, the strength of the phalanx was significantly enhanced.

And in front of them, the Lancaster longbow militia were walking casually, scattered in small groups at the forefront of the formation. No one could imagine the power of the longbows in their hands.

However, the depth of John's battle formation was much less than that of Rodry's.

Rodry's army, although not as elite as John's, was gathered under his banner with a large number of warriors from all over Ireland. These men might lack discipline, but they were experts in breaking through formations.

They charged almost recklessly, like their Celtic ancestors, capable of overwhelming nearly any enemy.

But now, they faced the Normans, who were also skilled in charging. As the formations advanced, the right wing of John's army began to move faster, causing some distortion in the formation.

What should have been a straight line formation had its right wing moving ahead.

John was at the forefront of the formation, with the royal guards following behind him. A slight turn of his head showed him that the right wing was indeed moving faster than the center.

But this was exactly what John wanted.

John's plan was to quickly break through the enemy's flanks and then encircle their center. To achieve this, he needed to increase the speed of the advance.

Guillaume was beside John, helping him calculate the distance.

As they got closer to the enemy, the knights began to gently squeeze their horses' flanks, causing the warhorses to gradually accelerate.

The knights didn't charge at full speed from the beginning. They would measure the distance, starting with a slow trot, then increasing to a faster trot, and finally breaking into a full charge.

During this process, the knights would form a tight line to enhance the overall impact.

Following the knights were their retainers. These retainers would quickly follow up after the knights launched their charge, filling the gaps left by the knights and protecting their flanks.

As the distance closed, John could see the enemy more clearly.

He began to notice the decorations on their shields, many of which bore the crests of the Simms family.

"Accelerate! Charge!"

Guillaume's experience told him that it was time to charge. He yanked the reins forcefully, squeezed his legs tight, and his warhorse surged forward. The other knights followed closely, charging towards the enemy together.

The Norman knights had been trained in the art of jousting since childhood. One of the most crucial lessons was the use of the lance in a charge.

They leveled their long lances, tucking the butt under their armpit, gripping the shaft tightly with their right hand to form a solid triangle with their arm.

This technique allowed the lance, rider, and horse to become a single entity, unleashing immense kinetic energy upon impact with the enemy.

For John, this was his first time on the battlefield. His warhorse galloped faster and faster, its breath steaming in the cold air, and the enemy grew ever closer. John could even see their terrified faces and trembling legs.

In the face of a cavalry charge, morale was paramount.

If the enemy could maintain a tight formation, even the powerful impact of the Norman knights would suffer significant losses against such a defense.

Unfortunately, the Irishmen before them lacked such discipline.

The front ranks of soldiers lost their courage instantly upon seeing the imposing charge of the Norman knights and tried to retreat to the rear. The rear soldiers, pushed by the retreating front lines, began to fall into disarray.

The lord of Caimen could only widen his eyes in despair as the Norman knights, like a hammer, smashed into his ranks.