The cavalry gave a battle cry and moved into an earth-shaking gallop. The Taborites, although they saw sallets and the horses’ iron chanfrons growing larger, responded with an impudent yell as hundreds of glaives, pikes, bear spears, pitchforks and gisarmes emerged and were lowered through the pavises, while hundreds of halberds, flails and morning stars were raised. Bolts rained down, handgonnes and harquebuses roared, cannons blasted and spat shot. The lethal salvo lacerated Ruprecht’s Hospitallers. Wounding and frightening the horses, it also slowed down the cavalry from Ziębice and Oława. The bishop’s mercenaries and the iron knights of Půta of Častolovice weren’t to be slowed, however, and they crashed into the Czech infantry with full force. Iron thudded against iron. Horses squealed. Men screamed and howled.

“Now! Onwards!” Prokop the Shaven pointed with his mace. “Attack, Brother Jaroslav!”

An answering shout came from hundreds of throats. The mounted regiment of Jaroslav of Bukovina and Otík of Loza charged onto the battlefield from the left flank, and Tovačovský’s Moravians, Puchała’s Poles and Fedor of Ostrog’s unit struck from the right. Behind them, the infantry reserve—the terrible Slány flailmen—rushed onto the field.

“Haaaave at theeeem!”

They joined battle. The loud, resonant thudding of weapons striking armour rose above the squealing of horses and the yelling of men.