131.
131.
It was a chilly evening.
The river, having received the full force of the midday sun, flowed majestically on a night where a cold wind blew incessantly over its surface.
The fires within the fortresses of Glasgow and Govan knew no end.
If reckoned by the now-nonexistent 24-hour concept of time, it was perhaps around 8 PM. In the world of my previous life, this would have been the hour to finish supper and prepare for the next day's commute to work or school, or to ready oneself to burn the midnight oil.
In the world of 867, however, it was time to be going to bed, so it was a very rare occurrence for so many people to be astir at this hour.
"Now, now! Let's get this sorted quickly! Finish up so we can get some shut-eye!"
"Hey—! Over there! I told you to leave that be!"
My army, having joined with Halfdan, numbered around eight thousand in all.
Because so many troops could not enter the fortress in a single wave,
a camp naturally had to be established outside the walls, the designated site being the hill beyond Govan fortress.
In front of Glasgow, a moat that could still be called a social venue for all manner of pestilence remained, and I had heard that before Govan, the moat could not be dug to five lines deep because of a natural hill planted right in front of it.
Thus, we divided the troops into those who would billet inside the fortresses and those who would encamp outside the walls and began the work of clearing up in earnest, but, unexpectedly, the interior of the fortresses was not very popular.
The reason for this, as can be plainly seen, was that they had to clear the battlefield.
"Sob..."
"Lord, look after their souls..."
After the battle ended, the inhabitants of Glasgow and Govan, understanding that our army did not harm those who did not resist, hastened to lend a hand in clearing the towns.
And naturally, families dramatically reunited and those tragically parted could be found here and there.
Yet, life in the Middle Ages was harsh and ruthlessly strict;
it was not a world that permitted long sorrow, so a widow who had barely composed herself by holding a child's hand had to send off someone's husband and father with the help of neighbors and kin.
The people of Glasgow and Govan sent their dead to the graveyard where Catholic faithful are buried, led by the brave old priest. My warriors from East Anglia and Dair sent theirs to a sunny spot outside the fortress, beneath stones arranged in the shape of a ship alongside their spears or swords.
After sending off the dead in each their own way, tasks awaited for the survivors.
Fortuitously, we had not used fire, so we had only the wreckage of the Seongmun gate to clear. Blood and parts of human bodies had to be swept and wiped away, washed down with water.
The houses of those who had already fled were taken as quarters for myself and the Jarls, the surrounding area made a bivouac for the warriors.
As we worked through such a series of tasks, time truly flew like a loosed arrow, and soon the hour came when the people of the two fortresses fell asleep amidst unease and deep fatigue, and the warriors closed their eyes, swallowing the exhaustion and aftershock of battle.
"How interesting. The land is utterly worthless, yet these two fortresses of Glasgow and Govan are overflowing with utility."
[drip-]
[crackle- crackle-]
It was the house of a now-absent, nameless noble.
In the spacious living room of the building I had taken as my bedchamber, all the key figures of this battle were gathered and seated.
Halfdan, Djur, Guthrum, Stórolf, Thorbjörn.
Every one of them held a leather flask in hand and was tipping its contents into his mouth.
Here, where the supply line from Edinburgh barely reached, wine or mead, and even decent ale instead of the thick slop, was hard to find, so what filled the Jarls' flasks and my own was either water dipped from the local well or something that deserved to be called death rather than ale.
But none of that mattered now.
Because we had, in the end, surmounted these walls.
"That is so, Jarl Halfdan. The surrounding land may be half mud, with scarcely any soil to scatter seed... but holding these two fortresses certainly grants total control over the water routes of the River Clyde."
It was Guthrum who had answered Halfdan's remark.
This Jarl, who smoothed his hair back with a brown comb, had proven his ability to me in this battle. I would make great use of him.
"If you take the waterways from us Northmen warriors, what remains? As you two Jarls say, I wish our trading ships would hurry in and bring us some decent food and drinkable liquor. After days on nothing but salt-crusted jerky, herring, and this wheat mash swill, I am beginning to think of Miklagard and Cherson!"
Stórolf, who had endured every hardship alongside me but had also enjoyed just as much, smacked his lips wistfully even as he drained the last drops from his flask.
'With a build that size, he must need a lot of food.'
Of course, since I was the only person here larger in frame than Stórolf, I probably understood that sentiment best of all.
I had emptied my own ration of the swill long ago.
"Miklagard... Miklagard...! Were the food and drink there truly so magnificent?"
Come to think of it, the only men present who had been to Constantinople were Stórolf and Djur.
Considering that my cavalry commander and bodyguard chief Thorbjörn was a native of Árós drafted when the cavalry was first formed, making this his first overseas excursion (?), Stórolf truly had wide experience.
"Ah—! Jarl Halfdan, you absolutely should have seen it! The food and wine are magnificent, of course, but the nobles of Rome arrange a place for bathing within their own homes! To drink wine there while gazing out upon an open view...!"
"Ooh—!"
"Kyah—!"
[gulp- gulp-]
Using Stórolf's words as a relish, each of my Jarls let his imagination take wing.
Halfdan, who had been forcing down the wheat mash swill while bursting out in admiration, fixed his slightly widened eyes upon me as if something had just come to mind.
Seeing even his eyebrows twitch, he must have recalled his experience visiting the mansion I was newly building on the eastern hill of Árós.
Yes. Halfdan had seen what Stórolf described. Though the frame was not marble but fine wood, making it more akin in appearance to a Japanese hot spring...
In any case, just as Halfdan's eyes were curving into inscrutable crescent moons, Djur, the most composed of this group, asked me.
"Konungr. Glasgow and Govan here have lost all will to resist. What shall we do next?"
At the question concerning the army's next objective, the room, which had been boisterous only a moment before, fell instantly into silence.
As every one of those stalwart warriors fixed their gaze upon me, I quietly laid out what I had been thinking.
"Glasgow and Govan must remain in our hands for the time being."
Until we no longer had any use for this waterway.
"Halfdan. It will be hard, but you must coordinate with Uhtred in Edinburgh to guard against any possible provocation from the Kingdom of Scotland. At the same time, while the main force is away, you must also keep a firm boot on the necks of any local men of power who might get strange ideas."
If the task were merely to occupy a region, Djur, with his experience ruling Kiyiu alongside Haskuldr, or Guthrum, with his experience defending East Anglia alongside Sigebryht, would both be more than capable.
But for coordinating with other regions and keeping the internal situation pacified as well, there was no man under my command greater than Halfdan.
Look at the surrounding states, or even the case of the Eastern Roman Empire. Whenever titles went to high nobles or members of the royal family, it was because they had received such an education.
What they had seen from birth and growing up was court life, so they at least knew well how affairs were conducted.
On top of that, he had the sturdy backing of being my brother, so at least until the shock of battle wore off, none would dare oppose him. The moment the Seongmun gate of Glasgow was smashed down, among the onlookers by the riverside watching that spectacle, there would certainly have been spies sent by the local strongmen.
Thus, Halfdan would face no great strain. Not until I finished off Alt Clut.
"Just leave it to me, Konungr."
The usual roguishness was nowhere to be seen. Halfdan nodded his head before the official command without a hint of hesitation or discontent.
Heartened by the sight, I issued orders one after another.
"Alt Clut's silence is suspicious. We must hasten to Peartoc. Jarl Dir, Guthrum, Stórolf. Give the troops one day of rest. We march the day after."
"Yes, Konungr!"
"We shall prepare without the slightest deviation!"
"We follow!"
With the energetic replies of the Jarls, I closed my eyes gently.
'The help from Kilmarnock is greater than I thought. I will leave Halfdan here with four thousand, and lead the remaining four thousand forward. Since the warriors of East Anglia and Dair surprisingly worked well together, the troop composition will remain the same.'
This time, I intended to go not by land but by ship. The boats of Kilmarnock that Halfdan had put to good use in the amphibious landing.
'From the next expedition onward, I'll drag ships along by force if I have to.'
I had only now, paradoxically through this expedition, grasped how my Norse ancestors had managed to wander every nook and cranny of this Europe.
*****
The couriers from Refil, Oleg, and Pareogos, who had crossed over to Peartoc, did not arrive even during the full day of rest.
The distance between Peartoc and this place was a factor, and it was possible the situation there was turning more urgent than I had thought.
But because the alarm bells of my intuition had not yet rung, I decided to rest with bold composure.
Refil and Oleg were not commanders who would be easily rolled over, and I had great faith in the warriors of Árós whom Björn and Hrolf had personally forged.
Above all, what I relied on most heavily, lamentably, was the enemy's ability.
Put bluntly, they lacked the strength to face my heavy infantry in the field.
'If Refil and Oleg are defeated, it will only be when they encounter some unforeseen natural condition and reach their limit.'
Such as, for instance, rain falling for nearly a week like during the last march... a calamity like that.
And so, following my lead, the warriors who had rested in comfort seemed to have recovered their vigor considerably over the course of a single day.
The inhabitants of the two fortresses, Glasgow and Govan, were still stricken with terror. This was a problem that only time could resolve, so it could not be helped.
Another day of boasting and laughing and swapping tales of valor with the Jarls.
Boid of Kilmarnock, summoned by me at dawn, arrived with various supplies and the boats,
whose number had now swelled to a little over seventy vessels.
Excluding the one guide and rower familiar with the water routes here on each, every boat could carry seven warriors, meaning roughly five hundred warriors could move at a time.
"You have done well, Boid."
"It was a task done with a joyful heart, so it can hardly be called a hardship. Conqueror of Glasgow and Govan."
In truth, my relationship with Boid ap Wallace of Kilmarnock was akin to that of a superior and subordinate.
As befitted the scion of an influential house, he was quick-witted and clever, the type who accomplished two things when given one task. The optimal talent to entrust Glasgow and Govan to when I turned toward the Kingdom of Scotland.
If he did not betray my trust, I was inclined to give this pale-faced, red-haired man a great deal.
"Yet I cannot help but ask. Wherever did you manage to bring this many boats from?"
Especially in this land, which hardly produced any materials of its own.
I did not voice the rest, but the perceptive Boid was already smiling faintly, as if grasping the gist of my question.
"Alt Clut may be master of the River Clyde, but is the Clyde the only waterway in this land? The surrounding clans have now come to realize it. Ríheu—, no. Konungr. That a new tide is surging into this land."
Boid's smile was a pleasant one. A mischievous smirk, like that of a pirate who had found treasure swifter than anyone else.
"These are gifts sent by the clans of each district in order to ride the great wave that is the Konungr, so you need only accept them with an easy mind."
"Is that so."
So there is nothing different here, either.
The climate, the way they live.
A people and a land that, in many ways, reminded me of my homeland.
"We shall depart soon, Boid. I ask for your continued good service this time as well."
"Only give your orders. Kilmarnock shall always stand at the very front."
The time had come to support Refil's forces at Peartoc and put an end to Alt Clut.