Chapter 55: Drifting with the Shannon River

John's conscription order once again summoned a large number of soldiers.

This time, the situation had reversed for both sides. Countless young warriors flocked to John's banner, hoping to gain from this war. Meanwhile, under Roderick's command, only his closest loyal troops remained.

Just half a year ago, Roderick could still muster a sizable army, but now he was confined to defending various castles.

John's army gathered in Maringa, and across the river, the townsfolk watched in fear as memories of the chaos caused by Roderick's previous army passing through resurfaced.

However, such turmoil did not repeat itself.

The English army stayed only three days before swiftly departing. 

John stood atop a high hill, watching the massive army wind its way along the road. Among them were elite knights, stern soldiers, Norwegians from the North, and locals from Ireland. Banners of various families fluttered, as if to prove their masters' worth in this war.

Sometimes, John pondered why he had come to Ireland. If he were like the historical John, lying low as a winner in life, it wouldn't be so bad.

He could be in Oxford, drinking wine and counting gold coins, rather than here, roughing it with soldiers, eating black bread and salted meat, wondering if he might suddenly be taken out by the enemy.

He watched Jacques return from afar on an old horse, the sunlight reflecting off his face, revealing his youth and vitality.

"Your Highness, the road ahead is clear. Lord Rolf says he'll reach the designated location in five days to join you," Jacques reported to John, detailing everything.

After listening to Jacques' report, John suddenly realized that in this world, he was just a seventeen or eighteen-year-old young man. He had only been in Ireland for half a year, yet it felt like he had already lived half a lifetime.

"Good, you may return to your duties, Jacques," John said calmly.

Guillaume spoke leisurely beside John, "Your Highness, I thought you might give Roderick a chance to catch his breath and abandon the pursuit."

"That's not for you to speculate, Guillaume," Chevalier Petit Roches' tone was serious, "His Highness has his own plans."

Chastised by Chevalier Petit Roches, Guillaume turned his head away without saying another word.

John gently tightened the reins and said, "Our objective this time is simple: capture Roderick directly. We don't need to worry about anything else. This war is solely for Roderick."

Everyone looked at John, feeling a hint of fear in their hearts.

Those who opposed John seemed to meet grim fates. The Earl of Bedford, now similarly confined in Dublin, found his former power slipping further away. However, John displayed exceptional generosity towards his friends and subordinates, alternating between angelic kindness and ruthless determination.

Below the officers, servants strained to keep up with the knights ahead, pushing carts while the riders, unencumbered, strolled leisurely with their friends, boasting and enjoying themselves as if on a spring outing. The contrast between these relaxed knights and the infantry, burdened with heavy supplies on the road's edges, was stark.

Objectively speaking, John's military leadership was commendable even by Western European standards. Despite its size, his army maintained order without descending into chaos. Town militia and affluent farmers primarily composed the soldiers, ensuring smooth and natural progress for the entire force.

"Roches, I have a task for you," John turned to Roches, saying, "Lead a detachment of Lancaster knights westward to establish a forward camp opposite Aslon Castle."

The sudden task caught Roches off guard, and he couldn't fathom why John issued such an order. However, out of habit, he nodded, "I understand, Your Highness."

"Avoid direct confrontation with the enemy. Retreat if necessary," John added.

Roches looked solemn, and John sensed he took these words to heart. As Roches turned to leave, the tension around John visibly eased.

While Roches's loyalty was unquestionable, his straightforward nature sometimes clashed with those around John.

Silvio understood John's thoughts at a glance but said nothing. Red-nosed Hugo also grasped the situation instantly but remained silent.

"Your Highness, do you think William is trustworthy?" Guillaume expressed concern for Roches once more.

"He is capable," John replied, his trust evident in his words. "Though rigid at times, I believe in his ability to handle our enemies."

Guillaume nodded in understanding.

As the saying goes, "A tiger does not beget a dog," and indeed, Old Roches was an outstanding battlefield commander; it was certain that Young Roches wouldn't be lacking in that regard either. However, outside the battlefield, Young Roches fell far short of his father.

...

Young Roches led the Lancaster knights out of formation, heading southwest. Their numbers were few, just a few hundred, with attendants and a handful of soldiers accompanying the knights, separated from the main force as they advanced towards Aslon Castle.

They traversed the wilds of Ireland, crossing hill after hill, until they reached the opposite bank of Aslon Castle. Aslon Castle sat by the Shannon River, downstream from Shannon, the most beautiful and affluent city in western Ireland. Positioned at the source of the Shannon River, Aslon Castle's lord was an Irishman who had sworn allegiance to the High King Roderick. Blood ties linked him to Roderick as well.

However, Young Roches paid no heed to these details. Following John's orders, he established a camp on the eastern bank of the Shannon River.

After completing the camp's construction, Young Roches began gathering intelligence from the vicinity. Aslon Castle's strategic location ensured that Young Roches' camp did not disrupt their external communications, and he lacked the capability to force a river crossing. If he dared to attempt it, they had the capacity to repel him back.

Most importantly, on one night, a small boat quietly departed along the gentle waves of the Shannon River. On board was intelligence destined for Aslon Castle. If all went as planned, the boat would reach Shannon and deliver the information into the hands of the High King.

At that moment, Young Roches knew nothing of this, soundly asleep in his own tent.