NOVEL WEB Chapter 204: Ambush?
"Not yet."
"Inform the front to slow down the march, and have Philadephos make a louder noise to attract the enemy's attention. Also... have Arsossis (Captain of the Crotone Cavalry) withdraw the scouts. Now that the situation is clear, let's not waste our cavalry!"
"Yes!"
After giving the order, Myron cast his gaze towards the woods ahead. He was quite familiar with this spot. Just west of it lay the site where Melanthius's army had been ambushed. After the peace treaty with Dionysia was signed, Myron personally led the removal of thousands of bodies from there, both those of the allies and those of Crotone... The horrific scene would haunt him for a long time!
Myron tightened his reins: This time, Crotone will wash away this shame and avenge them!
The troops emerged from the woods, and before them lay a flat, elevated wilderness. The Trionto River narrowed there, making the water too deep to ford, which was why Melanthius had camped there.
"Enemy! Look at the enemy!" The soldiers near the riverbank were agitated.
Ahead of them, on the other side of the Trionto River, a heavily armed Dionysian force appeared, rapidly advancing westward along the riverbank.
It seemed the Dionysians had detected their movements and were preparing to prevent them from crossing the river. Myron wasn't too worried. Although he couldn't see the enemy's full presence on the other side, he had a feeling their numbers were small. Just as the secret letter had stated, the Dionysian vanguard sent to Castellon numbered fewer than 4,000 men. With the defense of Philadephos also on their side, how many enemies could possibly remain to block his army's crossing?
The upper reaches of the Trionto River rushed through a narrow valley between the mountains until it burst out of the gorge, encountering flat lowlands. Like a child freed from its restraints, it joyfully expanded its territory to both sides, expanding its width to thirty or forty meters. This slowed the flow and reduced its depth. After flowing slowly for more than two miles, the river narrowed and deepened again due to the rising terrain.
At this moment, on the south bank of the Trionto, Myron had formed his twenty-two thousand men (including two thousand light infantry) into a long, ten-line formation, stretching over two miles in length and winding across the entire fordable stretch of river. On the other side, the enemy, numbering only about five thousand, had similarly deployed a formation, but not only was it significantly thinner, its formation was also extremely loose. Myron was convinced that even with the Trionto's aid, the Dionysian army, with its vastly outnumbered numbers, would be unable to withstand the Crotone advance. Their thin line would inevitably be broken by the massive Crotone force.
"Attack!" Myron, at the rear of the central line, commanded his buglers with unwavering confidence.
The high-pitched call echoed across the quietly flowing Trionto River. With the exception of the two thousand men Myron personally led at the rear, who remained stationary, believing their numbers vastly outnumbered and unnecessarily unleashing their full force, the entire phalanx began to slowly move toward the riverbank...
Korebbus was one of those twenty thousand soldiers. Last time, he had been captured by the Dionysians and spent six months under guard, working to build a road. He had endured immense hardship, and his family had incurred a significant debt in exchange for his ransom. This time, he had been summoned by the city-state to engage in another battle against the Dionysians. Besides a burning desire for revenge, he also hoped to defeat the Dionysians, secure a considerable amount of spoils, and repay his debts. The riverbed here wasn't soft, fine sand, but a patchwork of pebbles of various shapes and sizes. The ground was hard and prone to tripping, so Korbus and his men walked slowly and steadily...
The Trionto River lay ahead. Korbus, in the front row, peered through the narrow eyelets of his Corinthian helmet and saw numerous enemy troops charging from the enemy lines on the opposite bank. Without waiting for his officer's warning, he quickly raised his round shield to his chest.
"Ding!" The Dionysian arrows struck his bronze shield with a piercing sound, but they failed to damage it. His right foot had already plunged into the river.
"Watch out for your head!" the officer's cry echoed faintly and distantly through the dense helmet. He instinctively looked up, only to see countless black dots plummeting from the sky.
"Damn it! It's a projectile!" He hurriedly raised his shield to protect his head.
At that moment, the officer called out urgently, "Watch out ahead!"
However, the heavily armored soldiers' hearing and vision were severely impaired, causing them to react more slowly than normal. Many, including Krobus, were unable to react quickly enough to respond. He felt a light punch to his chest, followed by a slight pain. An arrow lodged itself in his left chest. It should have penetrated the layers of densely woven, glued linen breastplate, but its kinetic energy had dissipated, and the tip barely touched his skin. Krobus, with experience, knew the damage wasn't serious.
A comrade beside him, however, was shot in the thigh, unprotected by armor, and fell screaming into the river, his blood immediately staining the water red. Watching his struggling comrade, Klebus wanted to help him, but he was powerless. The cunning Dionysians, using both projectiles and direct fire, had each of them preoccupied with their own affairs. Seeing his comrade finally stop struggling and float to the surface, Klebus felt a surge of sorrow...
"Forward! Forward!" the officers shouted, urging the soldiers to cross the river faster.
The water wasn't deep, barely above the knees, but the pebbled bottom made it slippery. Klebus and his men half-crouched, shielding their heads and chests with round shields. With the water shielding their legs, their chances of being hit by arrows were greatly reduced, though their speed was slow. After the initial panic, the soldiers gradually calmed down, slowly moving forward, shielding themselves from the arrows and reorganizing their previously chaotic formation as they advanced.
Nearly halfway through the river, the water depth had barely increased. Even Korbus, on the right flank of the phalanx, felt no force due to the long formation on the left blocking the flow. Then, he observed another force bursting from the enemy line on the opposite bank, almost reaching the riverbank. Within twenty meters, the spears in their hands gleamed coldly in the sunlight... Korbus' heart raced, and he instinctively sat down, practically immersing himself in the water.
"Beware of javelins!!" The officers' voices rose significantly, for javelins were significantly more damaging to heavy infantry than arrows.
Korbus heard a whistling sound of wind, followed by a resounding "bang!" and a shrill cry from his comrades behind him. The javelin struck his round shield, its tip piercing the copper, shattering the wood, and impaling his left arm. The powerful impact sent him reeling, bringing down the soldiers behind him. If it weren't for the immediate help of his comrades, the heavily armored soldiers would have been choked and suffocated by the seemingly harmless river water. The sheer force of the enemy's javelins sent panic through the front ranks of the Crotone army.
At this moment, the light infantry in the rear ranks followed suit, finally able to return fire. Their arrows rained down on the riverbank, forcing the enemy javelin throwers to retreat from their reckless close-range attacks on the front ranks.
The Crotone casualties were a drop in the bucket compared to the vast army. Though somewhat distressed, Myron didn't dwell on it. He was simply surprised that nearly half of the enemy's 5,000 men on the other side were light infantry. Their skilled coordination, clever tactics, and ferocious, precise attacks were unprecedented in his previous battles, and this aroused his vigilance. But the outcome of this battle was undeniable, for—
"General! Our troops have reached shore! We've reached shore!..." his men cheered.
Previously, Myron had assumed crossing the Trionto would be easy, but the bodies floating on the river and the relief on his men's faces revealed the enemy's light infantry's formidable strength beyond their expectations.
"Beat the drums! Don't let them escape!" From his horse, Myron could vaguely see that as the vanguard of his troops stepped onto the riverbank, the enemy's light infantry had already quickly slipped through the gaps in their formation and retreated to the rear.
"Yes, General!" The messenger had barely finished his words when a high-pitched military bugle call echoed from the opposite bank. The deafening blast required at least ten buglers to play simultaneously.
Myron couldn't hide his shock. Could it be that Dionysia had sent more than the five or six thousand troops at the front?! This alarming thought flashed through Myron and his men's minds simultaneously, their eyes fixed on the rear of the riverbank.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!" The rapid beating of the drums reached the ears of Korbus, who had already reached the shore, inspiring him.
"Attack! Attack!" Without the barrage of arrows and javelins, the officers' commands were filled with excitement.
The Crotone soldiers shouted the name of the god "Apollo" as they strode forward to charge the enemy.
But even louder battle cries erupted from across the riverbank. A crimson military flag suddenly rose in the distance, followed by an endless tide of soldiers packed in tight formation. To the pounding beat of war drums, they surged forward to join the comrades who had acted as bait in front.
The sight of the banners whipping in the wind stirred bitter memories in the Crotone captives, men like Klebus.
Tricked! Ambushed! The same realization struck every Crotone soldier at once. Their soaring morale collapsed in an instant, replaced by hesitation and dread. They faltered at the shore, shrinking back, powerless to stop the Dionysian army from linking up with the earlier detachment and swiftly reforming their battle lines.