Chapter 635: Battle of Rosen (2)
"God is the Greatest!"
"Allahu Akbar!"
"Charge with me!"
The battlefield echoed with the fervent cries of "Allahu Akbar!" as Abbas Pasha’s cavalry charged with unbridled ferocity. From atop the hill, they descended like a tempest, their bows taut and ready. The earth trembled under the thunderous gallop of their steeds, closing the gap between them and the Roman flank with breathtaking speed. They maneuverer with practiced ease, releasing a volley of arrows that rained down mercilessly upon the Roman soldiers. The impact was immediate and devastating – a dozen Romans fell in the first onslaught, throwing the left flank into disarray, threatening to break their formation.
Yet Abbas Pasha’s strategic mind was elsewhere, his gaze fixed intently on the Roman cavalry. He was a chess master, foreseeing moves ahead of him.
"Prepare the cavalries!" Abbas Pasha’s eyes widened, with a raised hand, he signalled his remaining cavalry, his eyes never leaving the Roman cavalries. He knew the dilemma he had crafted for them:
- Should the Romans redirect their cavalry to fend off the horse archers, they would leave their infantry vulnerable, stripped of vital protection.
- If they chose not to pursue, the Ottoman horsemen would continue their relentless assault of hit and run, chipping away at the Roman flank until it crumbled.
It was a tactical trap, honed through centuries of Ottoman warfare and the decades of Abbas Pasha’s own military experience. Abbas Pasha anticipated the Romans’ next move with bated breath, ready to exploit any sign of commitment. If the Roman cavalry veered off course, his forces would seize the opportunity for a crushing charge, slicing through the Roman ranks, decimating their cavalry, and then turning their ferocious momentum of the warlord’s footmen towards the exposed Roman infantry.
The Ottoman war strategy was ancient and time-tested, a dance of death perfected over generations. Abbas Pasha’s confidence in this historical approach was unshakable – a tactic that had served them gloriously in countless battles of yore. Why would it fail them now?
In his heart, Abbas Pasha prepared for the pivotal moment that could turn the tide of the battle, a moment where history and strategy would collide in a decisive clash of wills and warfare.
Suddenly, the commanding flag of the Romans started waving, and the Roman cavalries started to leave their left flank, skimming through in front of the formations.
Abbas Pasha, observing keenly, seized the moment. His hand dropped in a swift, definitive motion, his voice thundering across the battlefield, "Charge!"
A formidable sight unfolded as the second wave of Ottoman cavalries, each knight among the finest in Bulgaria, thundered across the plains. They were encased in heavy armours, meticulously gathered from across the region, designed and made to withstand the brutal onslaught of blades and arrows such that Abbas Pasha could proudly declare these men as being entirely ’invincible’ against any form of traditional anti cavalry methods. These knights, astride their robust steeds, resembled a volcanic eruption – an unstoppable force of nature, leaving a trail of dust and awe in their wake. Side by side, these five hundred knights bore down on the Roman army with an unyielding ferocity, a confidence stemming from their belief in their unmatched prowess.
The foreign delegates reacted with a spectrum of emotions to this formidable charge. The Serbian envoys scanned their surroundings, seeking a safe vantage point; Zaganos Pasha and his men erupted into laughter and applause, revelling in the display of martial prowess. The Hungarian King engaged in animated discussions with his courtiers, assessing the unfolding strategy. Skanderbeg, with his keen warrior’s eye, scrutinized every move of the Ottoman forces. Meanwhile, Ivan III, the Grand Prince of Moscow, approached Emperor Antonius urgently, his voice laced with concern. "Emperor! I strongly advise against sending your cavalry to reinforce the left flank. Recall them immediately!"
Antonius did not quite catch what he is trying to say among all the noise. "I’m sorry, Ivan, I didn’t quite catch that!"
"Withdraw your cavalries!" Ivan insisted, his tone grave.
Antonius, with a confident chuckle, clapped a reassuring hand on the Grand Prince’s shoulder. "Just sit back and watch, Grand Prince,"
With each step as the Ottoman cavalries move closer to the Roman formations, Abbas Pasha’s eyes widened as glimpse of hope started emerging from his eyes, that Antonius man, seemingly entirely inexperienced in facing such a cavalry charge, did totally nothing to confront such a cavalry charge that can possibly tear up his entire formation, even the most baselined commander knows that he needs to order the spikes and shields to the front with archers as covers to minimise the cavalry threat, but not this Roman thief, who still had his three lines of men holding fancy weapons on the first line of defence.
Wait, fancy weapons.
Abbas Pasha’s laugh froze on his face, as he finally, for the first time, started concentrating his eyes on these fancy rods at the front. He too have seen these kinds of things introduced by Sultan Mehmed II last time, but were quickly thrown away for their incapability in battlefield, surely Antonius cannot play any tricks with it, right?
Right?
"Please! Emperor! Antonius! Bloody Majesty! Think about your soldiers!"
Antonius did not bother replying, instead he kept solemn, staring at the front, with his hands up in the air, while counting the distance between his formation and the Ottoman cavalries.
The time is ripe.
Antonius too widened his eyes as he lowered his hands out of a sudden.
"Fire!"
Seconds after the order, the six artillery pieces behind Antonius roared to life, unleashing a thunderous bellow that resonated like an earthquake, rattling the earth and assaulting the eardrums of all within its formidable reach. Yet, this ear-splitting cacophony was not meant for them. The volley of cannon balls, calculated with mathematical precision by scholars and professors from the University of Thessaloniki, tore across the sky, hurtling towards their predestined target – the heart of the Ottoman heavy cavalry.
In the midst of their battle cries and prayers, the Ottoman cavalry leaders were abruptly jolted by the seismic blast. A forceful impact threw their world into chaos, the ground beneath them erupting in a massive upheaval. The last images etched into their minds were of their terrified mounts rearing in panic and the sight of their own bodies, still momentarily astride. The cannon balls, relentless in their destructive path, bounced and ploughed through the entire Ottoman riding force, claiming more victims in a merciless dance of death and destruction.
The heavily armoured Ottoman knights, proud and formidable, found themselves utterly defenceless against this new era of precision field artillery.
Abbas Pasha in a distance away almost had a heart attack from this sudden blasting of artilleries, but still his heart is indeed bleeding as he saw whole lots of his preciously built cavalry force getting thrown off their horseback lifelessly one by one, but still, due to the accumulated momentum, the cavalry force did not stop yet, and are still charging forward with a mighty force, as long as the cavalries reach there!
As long as the cavalries could reach there...
The frontline Roman field commander carefully calculated the distance between his men and the arriving cavalries, while some of his men in the frontline, who are unable to control their trembling hands and inner fears facing the terrific stomping of these horses, fired first, which of course hit nothing, but attracted a good old smacking and curses from his superiors.
Most of the soldiers, as disciplined as they are trained to be, stood in a line with their guns loaded and lifted up at a chin level, pointing towards the front. They are like on a suicide mission, though they have been trained on these for numerous occasions, but the soldiers know clearly that they will only have the chance for one shot before the hooves of the horses step onto their faces, the only power they can believe in is certainly not this single arquebus in their hands, instead it is the power in unity of the entire army.
The field commander’s voice cut through the tense air, his blade raised high.
"Position!"
"Eighty...Seventy...Sixty...Fifty..."
"Fire!"
In an instant, the once-clear plains were engulfed in a dense white fog, a cloud of war birthed from the relentless discharge of arquebus fire. An earth-shattering cacophony followed, a symphony of destruction that vibrated through the very bones of every soldier on the field. Round pellets, propelled with a velocity unfathomable to the Ottomans, tore through the air, piercing the once-impervious heavy metal armours of the Ottoman knights. The knights had no time to react, no time to comprehend the magnitude of the onslaught they faced.
But the Roman offensive was far from over. The front line of soldiers, disciplined and precise, swiftly knelt, allowing their comrades in the second line to unleash another deadly volley over their heads. Then, like a well-oiled machine, the third line followed suit. This relentless barrage formed a lethal curtain of lead, raining down destruction on the Ottoman cavalry with merciless precision.
The impact was catastrophic. The Ottoman forces, unprepared for such a ferocious assault, were caught in a maelstrom of confusion and terror. Many were frozen in shock, their minds unable to process the hellish scene unfolding before them. Horses, driven mad by the deafening roars and the relentless onslaught, bucked and reared, their instinctual terror overriding the commands of their riders. Chaos reigned as the once-mighty cavalry was reduced to a disarrayed mass of panic and fear.
"Quick! Crossbows!" The Roman archers too, woke up from the sudden shock they received, and assaulted the Ottoman cavalries with one final round of bolts, right before they disappeared into the white smog of the gunfire.
