Chapter 416 The Battle of Ella Port Guard

Port Ella.

On the mist-filled pier.

The Saracen fleet, flying the flag of the Holy Fire, sailed towards the shore at high speed. The rows of oars extending from both sides of the ship were rowing rapidly at the urging of the captains.

Accompanied by the roar of boulders cutting through the air.

The boulder thrown from Siegfried's Tower, like Thor's hammer sung in pagan mythology, struck a damaged trireme. This large ship, which could carry hundreds of people, was probably The keel supporting the entire ship was hit, and the ship's ribs were broken at all.

The whole ship let out an overwhelmed wailing sound, and immediately after, both ends were tilted up, and it was on the verge of sinking.

The sound of gunfire continued.

From time to time, large ships were hit, sending sawdust flying.

If the Siegfried Tower was not built next to the city wall, but was built where the lighthouse was in the port, with the terrifying firepower of this tower, at least half of the ships would have perished in the sea if the fleet wanted to dock.

The cannonballs from the tower accelerated the fleet towards the shore. Some fierce Saracen sailors did not even plan to drive the ship back, but just hit the beach and roared to the shore.

The enemy raised their shields and began to line up on the beach.

Muller, who was guarding the intersection, carefully observed this unknown enemy force through the gap in his face mask.

Their composition is quite complex. Some are just wrapped in an Arab-style headscarf and a piece of leather armor under a wide robe; some are wearing dark ring mail or scale armor, obviously belonging to the enemy's officer class.

In fact, this army includes many Berbers from Morocco, Turks from Asia Minor, and many Cuman and Turkmen mercenaries. Some are professional sailors, and a considerable number are mercenaries who are not good at water warfare. .

The leading officer led his own bodyguard and used his sword to urge a group of rowers who came up from the bottom of the cabin to the front of the team.

The oarsmen were generally slaves, including a considerable number of white pilgrim slaves brought from Europe, Rus slaves trafficked by the Cumans, and a small number of black slaves from Nubia.

Now, armed with crude weapons, they were forced to rush to the front line.

"These damn beasts!"

Andreas cursed angrily: "Archers, wait until the enemy is within a hundred meters before shooting."

Orders were issued at all levels, and the archers who were ambushing on top of the port buildings or in the buildings had their arrows ready for use at any time. Many of these archers were Saracens who had converted to the "right faith". At this time Facing the so-called compatriots, he had no intention of holding back.

These enemies are robbers who want to rob their property; villains who want to destroy their hard-won happy life; enemies who want to occupy their fields and houses, rob their wives and daughters, and kill them.

The first rowers charged.

They raised simple shields. Some people's shields were even a simple ship plank, without even a handle, and they needed to be held in front of them with both hands.

These people are purely cannon fodder.

Their faces were full of fear and despair. Due to years of hard work, their thin and stooped bodies obviously did not have much fighting power, but they were still able to destroy the traps prepared by the defenders of Ella Port and fill in the temporarily dug trenches. , between life and death, burst out the last courage.

"put!"

The soldiers guarding the city drew their bows and set arrows.

The deadly rain of arrows quickly suppressed the momentum of the oarsmen's charge, but at this time, the enemy had already assembled on the beach. The dark Saracen soldiers probably numbered as many as two thousand at a glance.

The number of rower slaves used as cannon fodder is still higher than this number.

At the urging of their masters, the slaves only stayed in place for a moment, and then rushed upwards again, holding their shields and braving the rain of arrows. From time to time, someone was shot to death by an arrow halfway, but the simple shields in their hands still stood up. It works.

Even if they were shot in the hands and feet, they did not dare to stop moving forward at all.

boom!

The polished boulder hit the intersection with a loud bang, killing several Saracen soldiers. At the same time, it also rolled down the high slope and crushed them all the way down, greatly frustrating the enemy's offensive of the soldiers following the slaves.

Muller shouted: "Guard, bring me a shield and ten heavy javelins - Andreas, when I was young, I was also a good thrower of javelins. I used to be thirty meters away, Throw a javelin into a barrel.”

He took a javelin from the guard, held it in his backhand, and threw it hard.

boom--

The javelin pierced the enemy's shield, and the sharp cone pierced the enemy's arm holding the shield.

The defenders who had been well prepared also threw javelins one after another. Once these long-range weapons came into contact with the enemy, there would be no time to use them, even if it seemed a waste to use them on these "cannon fodder".

But we are outnumbered and outnumbered.

The battle finally came to a head-to-head fight.

Andreas was wearing well-maintained plate armor with patterns on the edges. He raised a spear with a double-headed eagle flag tied high and roared: "Form up and meet the enemy."

"Huha!"

The soldiers at the forefront held up their shields and stood shoulder to shoulder. These well-trained town guards held shields in their left hand and held their spears upside down in their right hands, raising them over their shoulders. They used the hoplite phalanx fighting method of the classical era.

These soldiers, who could barely be regarded as professional sergeants, were Port Ella's most elite military force in this battle, and were placed on the front line of the battle.

Andreas is among them.

He took a javelin from Muller's hand and pierced it with all his strength. When the enemy was about to touch the defense line, he threw it fiercely. This shot, with majestic force, cut through the air at the same time. It actually accurately hit the head of a "Supervisory Team", passed through his eye socket, and nailed his head to the ground.

The arrow hit Andreas' helmet, but bounced away with a click.

This is like a signal to start, the sound of crackling metal, the muffled sound of arrows nailed on the shield - the enemy can recognize Andreas, a gorgeously dressed knight, as the commander of this battle at a glance. Many are good at shooting. Both Cuman and Turkic soldiers shot arrows at Andreas.

A group of fully armored black-armored warriors immediately targeted Andreas.

Muller looked at the dark enemy's main force in front of him and swallowed subconsciously.

"Young man, can you hold on?"

Andreas's eyes were filled with bloodshot eyes, and the strong smell of blood permeating the battlefield made his heart, which had become silent, start beating vigorously again.

"Of course, it's not that simple if they want to kill me."

He raised the spear in his hand high, and with his other hand, he grabbed the flag from the attendant behind him, and stood in the most conspicuous place. The plate armor on his body was reflected in the sun, like an angel descended from heaven.

"Heavenly Father protects us, Saint Gabriel protects us, the sacred tree protects us, and the patron saints of this land are watching us. We will be invincible in this battle!"

Andreas roared.

"Heavenly Father!"

"Kill all these bandits!"

The soldiers also screamed strangely to express the fear in their hearts.

These new recruits do not have much combat experience. Even experienced warriors like Old Hassan have never experienced the feeling of two armies confronting each other and standing on the front line on the battlefield. What they have experienced more often in the past is Small scuffle.

ahead.

The black wave crashed into the defense line arranged in advance at Ella Port.

A slave oarsman shouted with fear on his face and hit old Hassan with his shield, but was easily knocked to the ground by him.

Immediately afterwards, another black-armored warrior jumped out from behind the fallen enemy. He swung the sharp blade in his hand and wanted to cut off old Hassan's head, but was stabbed in the armor plate on the chest by a tribesman next to him. , causing him to take several steps back.

Old Hassan didn't care to catch his breath, and immediately aimed at the black-armored warrior's head, swung the flail used for threshing wheat in his off-hand, and struck the black-armored warrior's metal helmet with a snap.

The shock made his head spin for a while, and his nostrils and mouth were filled with blood. Old Hassan kicked him to the ground.

"Thank you."

"The matter of your son borrowing my armor has been settled!"

No time to take a breath.

Later, more enemies came up.

The swords collided and the boulders rolled down.

The port has become a huge meat grinder.

Old Hassan felt that his physical strength was plummeting, and he was fighting for life and death every moment. When he was young, he might have been able to hold on for another quarter of an hour, but now he felt that his lungs were breathing hard like a blacksmith hammering iron. The bellows is used.

The town guards mechanically thrust out the spears in their hands, and the solid shield wall was like a rock on the shore, allowing the enemy's black waves to hit it and shatter them into pieces.

Gradually.

The town guards began to reduce their numbers, and the pressure on the front line doubled.

"Reserve team!"

Andreas shouted orders.

Commands were passed down layer by layer.

Before Old Hassan could react, he felt someone grabbing him from behind and staggered back several steps.

Immediately afterwards, the militiamen recruited to defend the city began to replace the former and came to the defense line.

Many of them had experience in the military, but they were far from elite. If they were to take over, they would inevitably suffer heavy losses, but now was not the time to care about these things.

The enemy's offensive was too fierce.

They didn't seem to even consider retreating.

It was as if there was some kind of monster lurking in the ocean behind them that was ten times more terrifying than the enemy in front of them. They would rather spill their blood on this beach than dare to take a step back.

Old Hassan retreated to the back with his clansmen. A Lazarus monk wearing a black priest's robe ran up to him and took out a medicine jar to clean his wounds. Only then did he realize that the leather armor on his waist had been damaged by someone. A gash was opened, and blood and sweat dripped down the clothes.

An officer of the city guard came to them, with a hint of admiration in his tone: "Well done, old guys."

Old Hassan nodded weakly in response.

There were also bloodstains on the officer's body, and he had obviously just been removed from the battlefield: "Take the time to rest, I may need you to help me later."

…

The battle lasted for about an hour.

Blood dyed the entire beach red.

Blood flowed down the drain.

The number of corpses left by the Saracens on the beach was close to a thousand, and the losses of the city guards had already exceeded a hundred people, and most of the enemy's losses were oarsmen who served as cannon fodder. In this narrow terrain, Not only did the combat effectiveness not decrease, but it began to increase.

At this time.

On the sea, in the mist.

A long trumpet sound sounded.

Immediately afterwards, the huge black ship cut through the waves, like a fog beast that suddenly broke into the real world, and plunged into the ship docked on the shore.

You could vaguely see an extremely huge narwhal, which collided with the black ship.

The large galley docked on the shore, such a huge ship, was instantly smashed into pieces like a beach castle made of sand and gravel.

A man wearing a captain's hat and a black leather coat fluttering in the wind stood at the bow of the ship with his hands folded across his chest.

The smashed ship sent sawdust flying, some of which even rubbed against his cheek, but could not leave the slightest trace on his body.

He laughed and raised the sword in his hand: "Hahaha, boys, crush these little mice that escaped!"

Accompanied by bursts of shouts.

A terrifying army that seemed to have returned from hell, just like this, flowing with water, fought out of the misty sea.

Yaroslav waved the giant ax in his hand and roared, followed by the two-meter-tall giant first mate who rushed to the front of the team. This prince's son from the Rus area was flashing with green fluorescence and his face was full of energy. A bloodthirsty smile.

Regardless of his own safety, he rushed directly into the crowd.

The enemy's weapon slashed at him, but not even a drop of blood flowed from the wound, only the hideous rolled flesh.

"It's those dead pirates."

"Ghost ship, it's coming!"

The Saracen soldiers were terrified, and their morale visibly plummeted to the bottom.

Before they landed, they had already been attacked by the Ocean Disaster. If not, they might have prepared to retreat or land in another place when their battle losses exceeded 1,000.