While Rostislav enjoyed the cheers and his hard-won relaxation, in the besieged Pei City, the Polovtsy launched another attack.
"Get up, get up, grab your weapons!"
Third Uncle put on his armor while walking to the bed, forcefully kicking awake the groggy fellow who was still asleep, not forgetting to give orders to the people he had already called over.
Above their heads, the warning bugle calls continuously echoed.
Vsevolod truly did not expect the Polovtsy to begin their siege again; yesterday they had attacked almost continuously for a day and a night, and yet they launched another assault so quickly.
Escorted by his personal guards, the Prince ascended the great gatehouse on the western rampart. The wooden walls and roof of the gatehouse had been repaired after yesterday's battle, now sufficient to protect the soldiers from an arrow shower.
The upper floor was already crowded with various Slavic soldiers. The morning sun's rays fell upon them as archers and spearmen found their positions, standing resolutely behind the city wall.
Third Uncle cautiously peeked his head out from behind the battlement, observing everything outside the city.
Beneath the city wall lay many bodies of Polovtsy and Slavic civilians who had been driven there, and some makeshift ladders lay in pools of blood.
The Polovtsian ladders varied greatly: some were crudely tied together with a few short, thin wooden planks; others were nailed from pine trunks with crossbeams; some were hastily lashed from trees with Felling marks at both ends. Their common characteristic was that they could be manufactured quickly and in large quantities.
Third Uncle was very careful, as he had almost been shot dead by a ballista below earlier. Heaven knew where the Polovtsy had gotten a few ballistas.
These things were used by the Nomads for decapitation tactics; even Vsevolod, the commander-in-chief, was almost killed by a ballista. After that close call with the Lord's summons, he became cautious in all matters.
Outside the city's range, the Polovtsian army was neatly arrayed across the land, with the siege infantry and the mobile cavalry clearly separated. There were also large cavalry reserves observing the entire battlefield, waiting for the opportune moment.
Countless light yellow military banners fluttered among the enemy ranks. The Polovtsian Khan, surrounded by his bodyguards and warriors, overlooked the battlefield. The Khan was surrounded by richly armored warriors, many of whom had iron masks inlaid with gems on their faces, and behind them were cloaks of various colors, full of embroidery.
Soon, the rumble of hooves sounded outside the city wall, and a large number of horse archers appeared outside. As always, they galloped outside the city wall, showering arrows from their hands.
Vsevolod pressed close to the wooden battlement, feeling the impact of arrows striking it. Everyone else did the same; under the sky-darkening rain of arrows, one had to keep their head down to survive.
Finally, the arrow shower stopped. Vsevolod immediately leaned out and indeed saw a large number of Polovtsian infantry charging forward, carrying ladders.
There were also many armored warriors escorting a battering ram towards the city gate. They held simple square shields, protecting the battering ram behind them. This battering ram was a section of raw timber, with neither bark nor branches removed, merely sharpened at the very front—simple, but effective.
Among the Polovtsian infantry, there were also many archers. Every few dozen steps they charged, they would release a volley of arrows towards the city wall, regardless of accuracy, and then continue forward.
"Counterattack! Stand up, Slavs! Counterattack! Counterattack!"
Vsevolod stood up and roared, and with his roar, the Slavs also stood up to fight the swarming enemies. The Slavic militia rose at the urging of the personal guards, using their weapons to strike back at the surging enemy.
The personal guards were the core of the entire Slavic army. They constantly conveyed the Prince's orders, corrected the militia's mistakes, and calmed their emotions. It could be said that without them, this army would simply not be able to move.
However, it was precisely at the moment when the Slavs collectively poked their heads out that the Kipchaks outside the city seized the opportunity. The archers collectively released a volley of arrows, and the arrows once again fell like rain. The militiamen who had just raised themselves had to hide behind the battlements again.
The enemy's ballistas took advantage, unleashing their power. Giant crossbow bolts struck the wooden battlements, carrying away the Slavic men hiding behind them, pinning them to the ground. Blood flowed like a small stream.
Just as the defenders on the city wall were forced to duck, the Nomads carrying long ladders and battering rams accelerated, using the precious opportunity gained by their comrades to quickly reach the base of the city wall.
But the personal guards above were not green recruits who would be scared by arrows. When the arrows came, these personal guards did not hide at all. They had iron armor; the painstaking work of the Slavic blacksmiths was enough to block arrows of this intensity.
And most importantly, if they also hid, then the Slavs would truly be suppressed by the Polovtsy, and no one would be able to counterattack the surging enemy.
Because the arrow rain had frightened the inexperienced militiamen, the personal guards could only scold and curse the militiamen beside them, telling them to stand up. Finally, they resorted to punching and kicking. Under this combination of blows, the militiamen were forced to stand up, braving the arrows, and, following orders, raised their bows and javelins.
With a whistle of arrows, many of the charging enemies instantly fell. The attacking Nomads were extremely poorly equipped and could not prevent arrows from penetrating their meager armor. Some unlucky individuals were shot directly in the forehead, dying on the spot.
As for the armored warriors at the battering ram, they received special attention from javelins. The javelins, with their fierce momentum under gravitational acceleration, were enough to pierce iron armor, though most of them only hit the square shields.
Although the Slavs fought back with all their might, they still failed to prevent the enemy from reaching the base of the city wall and setting up long ladders. The Polovtsy then began to ascend the wall.
And the Slavs on the city wall were not polite, throwing stones and arrows, everything they could. If that wasn't enough, they drew their axes and fought the Polovtsy hand-to-hand.
A militiaman with a long spear and a round helmet thrust at a Nomad on the ladder, but the Polovtsian dodged by simply swaying his head.
The Polovtsian then thrust his scimitar into the chest of the wide-open militiaman. As the militiaman fell, the Polovtsian seized the opportunity to climb onto the wooden wall.
With the first, came the second and third; more and more enemies successfully climbed the city wall.
Vsevolod immediately led his personal guards forward, slaughtering the Polovtsy like fallen leaves in autumn, then throwing their bodies down from the city.
As for the city gate, the battering ram, escorted by armored warriors, indeed reached it, but as several oil jars and torches were thrown down from the city wall, the battering ram and the nearby armored warriors all burst into flames, and the rest scattered in disarray.
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh—"
Just then, the bugle call for retreat sounded. Hearing this sound, the Polovtsy attacking the city wall abandoned the fight and retreated to their lines. The Slavs did not miss this opportunity, sending them off with a volley of arrows.
As the Polovtsy retreated, cheers erupted on the walls of Pei City. The Slavs, dragging their weary bodies, threw the corpses down from the city wall while cheering loudly.
The sun shone upon the earth, illuminating the battlefield covered in bodies and blood. The cheers of the Slavs stood out vividly amidst this scene.