Montisgard Part 2

Infidel, MOI Series.

Two lightly armored men with bow in hand raced along the dusty trail toward the King.
Their horses lathered and legs trembling.

"Hail my King we have them! " cried the first man excitedly. The other drew his waterskin slaked his thirst and said, “Aye mi Lord the sultan and his army lie just a league or two beyond us. They are making camp, milling about in their usual fashion. ".
Baldwin, flexed his bandaged hands. Good work men, see to some rest, we the Knights and Templars will take it from here.
Raynald, have our troops water horse and refresh themselves. We will pray then attack at once."

An hour later, the dust cloud of Baldwins meagre army was noticed by the enemy. Suliman, smiled, even in disarray such a small body of men would be little challenge. As the Templar, knights and Frankish men at arms approached they formed up at the quick step. Huge destriers kicked up dust, pennants snapped in the breeze from hundreds of shining lance points. The Templars paragon of virtue, noblest of all, and most honor hungry charged quickly.

Baldwin rolled his eyes as they veered left into the largest formation they could find. Baldwin was more circumspect.
Per each of his flag man's signals, the knights closed ranks, saddle to saddle, long lances at the port arms. Their gait was stately, controlled and terrifying to watch. Horse clo,ped in time. Ahead, the enemy scurried hither and fro, some racing to horse and grabbing weapons, others stood transfixed by the approaching army. We're these Christians insane?
1,000s of other's merely laughed at the puny force, and set to continuing their daily encamping. Surely the Suliman himself will send them packing.

The pace quickened, the warriors shook sweat from eyebrows under heavy steel helm, gripped weapons tightly, and settled into saddles. The heat was unbearable, but God was on their side. Hell would be nothing once sword cleaved through the turbans of the infidel, they will suffer at our hands they thought.
Baldwin raised his sword high, circling it twice over his head.
A muffled roar, and the massive horses lurched forward at a terrifyingly quick pace. Closing the distance in what seems like mere moments.
Shining steel points lowered to the horizontal, and then the Knights were upon them. Froth spewed from bits, horses leapt into man and beast alike.

Lances snapped, others tore thru men, pushing them from their mounts. Practiced daily, those knights loosened grips and allowed the Lance to rotate and as they passed by drug the weapon free. With massive forearm flick they rotated the Lance onto the next victim often cracking a skull as it descended. Others lances splintered. In they stormed cleaving a swathe of lightly armed and armoured enemies. All fell away before them

Others held the remains of their lance as a savage almost prehistoric club, and lunged forward and side ways bashing infidels left and right. The odd arrow deflected from helm, arm or chest, but the disordered enemy had no coordinated response.
Using their knees knights engage their destriers to rear pummelling horse flesh, which balked and bucked away throwing riders as they seek escape from these wild eyed massive Brothers who were several hands higher and weighed half as much again as any one of the Infidels nimble ponies.
A gap appears, though not in perfect formation, the noble Knights gather in two’s, fours and sixes, and charge forward. Knights use this moment to draw Swords. "for God and Glory, the swords sing from sheathes.

Mailed right hand sweeping high in an arc from the draw, the Swords sweep almost in unison right to left downwards, lopping horse ears, enemies arms, or faces. Then backwards and past their mounts flanks, upwards and then slashing across the chest left to right, in a rhythm of death. The enemies light armor, shorter swords or worse bows disintegrate at the might weigh of French steel. Blood splatters in arcs in all directions, once pristine white surcoats are soaked red.

The enemy breaks, turns and runs. Others mill about and attempt to fight back, slashing at legs, helms, or horses. Baldwins men wheel and charge again and again, driving back the enemy while in disarray.