were caught off guard by two volleys of javelins that broke through the Vikings' previously dense formation.
Seeing this, the Pictish coalition launched a furious attack, their formations breaking, small clans attacking the enemy's weak points.
To shock the enemy, many Picts smeared their cheeks with indigo oil, brandished short swords and iron spears, their long, unkempt hair dancing in the wind. In contrast to this wild image, the Viking warriors looked more civilized.
Soon the battle descended into close combat, the clanking of shields mingling with shouts. The furious attack of the Indigo raiders left the Viking warriors vulnerable.
In the meadows south of the battlefield, Jorun, Shrike, and others, stunned by the loss of their formidable foot force, begged Wig to send in the cavalry.
"No, not yet."
Wig, impassive on his grey horse, watched from afar as two thousand of his carefully trained footmen were stunned by the reckless charge of two and a half thousand Picts. Their formation wavered slightly, but did not break.
After a moment, he sent more than three hundred Viking raiders, accompanied by Shrike's Welsh archers, back to the eastern side of the battlefield to attack the Picts' flanks.
Before leaving, he repeatedly reminded Shrike, "Remember, this is an attack, not a decisive battle. The Welsh excel at archery, not hand-to-hand combat. A hasty charge is too risky."
"As you command,"
Shrike gave a shrill whistle, leading away a company of green-cloaked mountain infantry.
Within ten minutes of the battle, Wygh had deployed all his forces, save for the cavalry, hidden behind the southwestern hills.
By then, he had only about twenty shield-bearers left, led by Yoren.
Some time later, Shrike's forces withdrew to the east of the battlefield. Without stopping for breath, he ordered his archers to open fire rapidly, shooting twelve arrows a minute, hitting the flanks and rear of the Picts.
In just two minutes, much of the Pictish left flank and center had been destroyed. Some warriors retreated in confusion, forming a shield wall facing northeast, unsure whether to continue the attack or give priority to the archers.
Taking advantage of the enemy's slowdown, the Vikings reorganized their shield wall. With only a third of their armor, they gradually gained the upper hand and began to push back the enemy line, forcing them to retreat.
The battle became tense, with the Vikings maintaining the advantage on the eastern and central flanks, while the Picts gained the upper hand on the western.
After some deliberation, the Picts made their final move: thirteen nobles and three hundred guardsmen.
These troops aimed at the eastern part of the battlefield, trying to drive off the Welsh archers and prevent the Picts from falling there first.
As soon as the enemy deployed their reserves, Wygh sighed with relief and gave the order to the impatient Goran:
"Tell the cavalry on the southwest flank to outflank the Picts to the west of the battlefield."
"Aye, sir!"
Goran, with his feet gripping his horse's belly, urged it on as fast as he could towards the southwest hills.
Meanwhile, two hundred bored cavalrymen sat listlessly on the grass beyond the hills, one hand on their reins, the other combing their collars for lice. When they saw Goran, they perked up and began to gather up their equipment.
"Men, the Lord has commanded an attack on the Picts to the west of the battlefield!"
Hearing this, the cavalrymen leaped into their saddles and formed into two loose horizontal lines. Before Goran could blow his horn, some of the more impulsive knights suddenly shouted:
"Wahalla!"
Under their direction, the cavalry spontaneously moved at a trot towards the battlefield, located two kilometers away. The ground shook, the clatter of hooves sounded like thunder, and as the speed increased, the noise of the wind rushing past their ears grew louder and louder. Noticing the enemy cavalry approaching, the Pictish army on the southwestern flank detached 400 men to block it.
The Picts had long had neither horses nor organised cavalry. The commander thought that sending 400 infantry to fight this small force of cavalry was more than enough.
Under the indifferent gaze of the Picts, the cavalry charged to a distance of 100 paces, and its speed increased again, like a great wave rolling towards them.
Before the 400 infantry could react, the distance between them was reduced to 30 paces, and the speed of the warhorses increased to the limit. The knights in the front rank raised their spears and aimed. at this bunch of fools.
The next moment, the spearhead, filled with incredible force, pierced the enemy, easily penetrating the shield and the body behind it. The cavalrymen threw away their spears, snatched the long swords from their saddles and urged their horses to continue the attack.
Within minutes, most of the Pictish infantry that had come out to intercept them had been killed or wounded. Their allies stood dumbfounded at the devastating scene, watching helplessly as the cavalry regrouped and launched a second attack...
By the time that attack was over, the Pictish army on the western flank of the battlefield had been completely routed. This catastrophic defeat had a knock-on effect throughout the Pictish coalition, and the once-powerful Indigo raiders fled in droves, their former enthusiasm gone.
In the rear, Vig, watching the enemy forces disintegrate, sent out shield bearers to his troops with the message:
The Viking warriors should rest. and tend to the wounded, while Shrike's cavalry and mountain infantry continued their pursuit, aiming to return before nightfall.
"I did not expect the Pictish infantry to be so ferocious. Without their cavalry we probably would not have been able to defeat them for some time."
He recalled the Roman texts describing the Picts. Some of these books praised the barbarians who inhabited northern Britain, claiming that their "disregard for life and death" had inflicted heavy losses on the imperial legions.
In 117 CE, the Roman Ninth Legion, the Hispana, disappeared in northern Britain. Thousands of soldiers were missing, a mystery that has bedeviled historians for years. The most plausible hypothesis is that they were completely annihilated in battle with the Picts.
Eventually, Rome finally gave in. In 122 CE, Hadrian, one of the "Five Good Emperors," built Hadrian's Wall in northern Britain, marking the end of the Empire's conquests in Britain.
"Phew! Thank God I dealt a heavy blow to the main enemy force in a field battle. Otherwise they would have held the city or penetrated the mountains and forests to launch a protracted attack that would have resulted in many casualties!"
Half an hour later, reinforcements arrived from the south, including a medical team led by the Ravenspeaker. Their treatment options were limited; the standard procedure was to flush the wounds with water and stitch them up with needle and thread.
In addition, if soldiers caught a cold or fever, the shamans would give them a mixture of freshly squeezed garlic (containing allicin) and a decoction of willow bark (containing salicylic acid).
This combination of factors significantly accelerated the recovery of the wounded, far surpassing the various herbal concoctions used by generations of Scandinavian shamans. Pleased, Vig instructed the Ravenspeaker and his team to record the results of the treatments, draw on their experience, and establish a hospital in Tain after the war.