142.
142.
[kiiik- cheolsseok. kiiik- cheolsseok.]
A ship resembling a great dragon churned through the swelling sea.
The Norse longship—crafted from long-cut timber woven into a flexible form and secured with quality iron nails—compromised with the rough sea with a sensation of gliding softly rather than cresting the waves.
Atop my vessel, which indeed offered a greater sense of stability than the smaller boats, I gazed together at Kaupang, the great city of western Scandinavia, drawing ever closer, and asked Olaf.
"Olaf. I have not asked until now, but what is your relation to Halfdan 'Svarti (the Black)' of Kaupang?"
Hvíti and Svarti.
The White One and the Black One.
The very nicknames placed before each of their names seemed to mark the sticky rivalry between them, did they not?
What in the world was the history between these two?
This question of mine was, in truth, a light question meant to ease my increasingly heavy and stiff shoulders and mind—I who now felt a growing responsibility as I watched Kaupang, which, noticing our approach as we drew nearer, was bustling with hurried preparations to receive its guest.
But as if it had been a far heavier question than my light intent, a deep furrow carved itself between Olaf's white, thick eyebrows.
"Halfdan and I are... distant kin. Konungr."
Family, you know~.
Olaf rolled that last word only inside his mouth and swallowed it past his throat, but my hearing was at the level of a biological radar that could distinguish the sound of feathers flapping from a bird far away.
Naturally, I heard that sound, but I pretended not to.
"I am ridiculous to speak such things to the Konungr. But the throne is a magical beast that drinks blood. Whether that blood is an enemy's, a dear friend's, or my own flesh and blood's. Once tangled in it, no one can escape."
Olaf, who had been about to lament something carried by a momentary emotion, soon shook his head.
"Growing old makes useless words multiply. Continuing my answer: that friend Halfdan and I are distant kin. I am told that if you go up about three generations, the branches split as brothers. But, as you know, the law of us Norsemen has its convoluted corners, and somehow the Lögmaðr came to know that I too possess a right to Kaupang."
Of course they did.
An inheritance system where, in addition to brotherly succession, once tangled across a few generations, nephews, third cousins, and even eighth cousins emerged to claim rights.
This had to be sorted out no matter what. For the stability of the realm, unconditionally.
"Naturally, Halfdan could not possibly be pleased with this. Of course, I am wronged, but seeing as it fell into my hands, I resolved to use it well—and thus it has come to this. Hahaha!"
And while at it, you had secured your influence in your homeland as well, hadn't you? For it would be Phil-necessary to have mainland power, in any case, to lend strength to Tostig left behind in Dublin and the Kingdom of the Isles.
He acted the simpleton, but he was no different from Bágsekr, who stood behind pretending to whistle while eagerly straining his ears.
These old foxes.
"Is that so?"
"It is so."
What more words were necessary between those who already knew everything about each other?
I reflected on how things had grown to this magnitude and surrendered my body to the gentle waves.
*****
Kaupang.
The fourth month of summer. The second day.
The terrain called a fjord was a truly God-mysterious place.
As if a single teardrop had been stamped into the earth. When one looked upon the jar-like indentation set into the gently curving coastline, one might truly begin to wonder: did something colossal once exist there?
Of course, as the possessor of a brain like a biological computer from a 21st-century God-origin, I knew—thanks to remembering every last period from a documentary I had glanced at in passing in my former life—that such terrain was the legacy of glaciers.
But our ancestors, who knew no such fact, had deemed this place God-sacred and built a harbor here.
The atmosphere of a city steeped in long history was outright like a corpse.
'This was not the welcome I expected.'
As if reflecting the recent chaotic atmosphere, the city itself had split in two, with everyone merely awaiting my disembarkation.
The gazes held fear and worry, and even faint expectations. Seeing these, I felt as though I had dragged this problem out too long.
If it was to come to this anyway, I should have moved more actively.
Had I unnecessarily put these people through something I should not have?
'No. On the contrary, perhaps the fruit had ripened precisely because I took my time. Had I tried to force a merger, the resistance would have been fierce.'
[kkigigeok- kkigigeok- kkigigeok- cheok]
I stepped down the temporary stairs made for easy disembarkation, and soil not much different from Åros' received my stride.
Ground slightly muddy, but covered in soft, round gravel overall. A place where grayish earth and green grass were scattered here and there like decorations, stirring a curious sensation in the beholder.
Behind me, as I stood quietly drawing in and releasing breath, Olaf, Bágsekr, and Ivar descended after me.
Halfdan had headed to Ribe with his wife Bóthildr, taking Bágsekr's place—and Bóthildr's expression I had seen once more as we exchanged farewells was like a wolf's, while Halfdan's expression was like a sheep's, Arthuring enough that I could expect good news before long.
A nephew was coming...?
Even now the thought made laughter rise, but this was no place to laugh.
'Shall I go, then?'
People who had parted to either side, showing me the way with their entire bodies.
Through them, I moved my steps.
The harbor-village scents peculiar to such places—the smell of water, the smell of fish, the smell of water-soaked wood—were familiar, and the faces I glimpsed here and there, though divided by names like Svear or Gutes, were unmistakably my own kin.
"Konungr."
"Konungr Helgi."
At the end of the crowd that did not hide its respect and admiration for me as I passed, there was a large open space.
No—what I had taken for an open space turned out to be closer to a semicircular theater. Should I call it a plaza?
There, people in somewhat neater attire all wore solemn expressions and were split into two halves.
And two men stood between each group.
Halfdan Svarti. 'The Black King'
Harald Hárfagri. 'Fair-Haired'
Black hair and golden hair; behind me, white hair. And had the white-haired son, Tostig, been here as well, there would have been red hair too.
Setting aside the idle thought that somewhere in a world full of rampaging ninjas there might exist an eye-color free-for-all, while among us there was a hair-color free-for-all—I offered greetings with due courtesy as a guest.
"Konungr Halfdan. Jarl Harald."
Though I had certainly called their names in the same tone, opposite reactions followed.
"Konungr Helgi." "Konungr."
Konungr Halfdan was courteous but maintained wariness, while Jarl Harald even bore a small smile.
Now it was time for me to set things straight.
"People of Kaupang! I am Helgi Ragnarsson! At first the people of Kaupang, Uppsala, and Ribe were hostile to one another and repeatedly reconciled. But now the whole world cries out that the time has come for all to become one!
Is there anyone here who has never tasted Åros' bread? Among my warriors who fought in Britain across the rough North Sea, there are your brothers, your kin!
Since matters have already come to this—declare that you will roam a greater world together with me, using me! That sea awaits us! People of the Gutes!"
Like a bubbling, seething swamp, a ponderous current rose among the people of Kaupang who surrounded the three kings and the jarls beneath them.
It could perhaps be called fervor. The moment when these rough warriors of the Scandinavian west coast, born as sailors by nature, finally realized their mission.
Was that too grand an explanation.
But the people were seething with that much intensity.
What was firmly pressing down on all this heat was a single man's name.
The Black King Halfdan calmed the atmosphere of the hall with a single sweeping glance, glanced at his son, and then met my eyes.
"Konungr Helgi. What you say may be right. What my son says may be right. But the world is not made of rightness alone. You are one who does away with the old laws. One who seeks to bring a new order.
As ever, when we face a problem that can no longer be solved with words, there is a method we have long used."
[Seureureung-]
The Black King gestured, and a Kaupang warrior who had been waiting in advance brought out a well-maintained sword and shield.
That sight was so familiar by now it was almost sickening.
'Good God, again?'
If I leafed through the book of my fate, the word 'duel' would certainly be written large somewhere in it.
"Let us determine right and wrong by duel, as the sacred law decrees and the Gods witness. Those who cannot bow to this duel must speak now. If I win, Kaupang will walk alone. If Konungr Helgi wins, then the Thing of Kaupang must rightfully welcome a new Konungr.
Anyone who objects, step forward now!"
[Kung-!]
Konungr Halfdan struck his shield with the sword he had forcefully drawn.
Those standing behind the Black King all looked clearly flustered, as if this turn of events had been quite sudden, but no one stepped forward.
The Black King's forcefulness was formidable, but more than that, they seemed to be watching for my reaction.
Even for the sake of Halfdan's honor, I was about to wrap things up quickly when Olaf, who had been standing behind me, stepped forward.
"Halfdan! You old fool! Your mind has aged and you know nothing of how the world turns! You dare cross swords with Konungr Helgi?! You, who can barely hold onto Kaupang alone, now prattle about laws and whatnot!"
At those razor-sharp words, not only I but everyone in the hall drew a breath, but Halfdan, the target of that insult, actually sneered.
"Olaf. You've been mingling with the barbarians across the sea, and now it seems you live without washing! Look at yourself. Born in the same winter as I, yet you've already finished preparing yourself to be buried in the dark, cold earth!"
"That bastard that shaved off his beard and hair..."
Olaf, shaking his snow-white hair in a flurry, looked at me with pleading eyes, and I could only nod.
They were said to be kinsmen, but a grudge deeper than enmity lay between them.
[Seureureung-!]
"Consider yourself lucky, Halfdan! It is only because Konungr Helgi has already pacified the entire sea that your homestead has not been set ablaze."
"I thought only your hair had gone white, but it seems your mind has completely rotted as well. You should be the one bowing to the new ruler. Had you faced me, you would have sunk into the cold sea, and not even the Valkyries of Valhalla would have found your soul!"
"Fine. Let's see if your swordplay is as flexible as that tongue."
"At your old age, can you even swing a sword properly? I'll give you a chance. Step back!"
[Jebeok- jebeok- huwung- pak! huwung! chaeng!]
With every word they spat, the two kinsmen drew a step closer, then swung their swords, blocked with shields, deflected with the flats of blades, and fought fiercely.
Thanks to the overcast sky, the whole world was dyed gray, and amidst it, black and white hair flew, several strands scattering beneath the chilly blade.
The gazes of my warriors watching that deadly exchange were quietly subdued, while the Gutes' warriors, starting with Harald, were visibly shaken.
As I took in all this spectacle, a premonition flashed through my mind that the moment of unification would be quite busy.
[Huwung- pak! peok! keuk! huwung- chaeng!]
The shields and blades that had already withstood several harrowing attacks were all notched, and the two warriors, sweat streaming down the bridges of their noses, clashed the hilts of their swords together and butted foreheads.
[Kung!]
"Give it up, Halfdan! Trust your son! Our era is over!"
"Who decides that!? You!? The dead Ragnar!? Look at me, Olaf! A Norseman's end lies nowhere but beneath the blade!"
[Ppeok!]
"Keuk!"
Halfdan headbutted Olaf forcefully, and even as bright red blood flowed, he continued to swing his sword.
Olaf's skill in silently receiving all those sword strikes was perhaps a cut above, but Halfdan was compensating solely with his spirit. The Black King was a fine warrior.
But as I said, it was time to settle all this.
[Jebeok- jebeok- hung- pak! huwung- huwung-]
As I walked toward the two warriors fighting like beasts, all eyes around fell on me.
[Seureureureung-]
I grasped the scabbard slung across my back and drew from it the sword that shone in a color exactly like my own gaze.
The greatsword that my warriors called the Meteor Sword, the Sky Sword.
Though it had passed through countless battles, this god-sword, exactly as it had first been forged in Randi's hands, still kept its form, and it made real what I intended.
[Shuwoong- chaang!]
With a downward strike like falling starlight, the two warriors' intersecting swords were cleanly split.
[Taeng- taeaeng-]
Halfdan and Olaf, who had been staring blankly at the two sword pieces fallen to the ground, and the gaze of countless people turned to me.
Having ended the sacred duel with my two hands, I proclaimed.
"No one will shed blood here today.
Warriors of Kaupang! Norsemen! I am the new order! I am the Konungr above Konungrs! Accept it! I am not a taker, but a giver! I will give only glory!
I am the Fylkir of the North Sea! The lord of this sea! Those who cannot accept, stand against me now!"
I would cut them down with that very blade.
[Ung- ung-]
The sound of the blade trembling faintly grazed my ear.
That sound was just like an excited beast hiding its elated heart.
☆☆☆☆☆Reference Materials☆☆☆☆☆
Gardar Rurak, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https: creativecommons.org="" licenses="" by-sa="" 4.0="">, via Wikimedia Commons
It's an imaginary view of Århus...!
You can pretty much see this as what most Nordic villages and cities looked like...! And not just the North, right? Most of Europe's timber culture would have been like this.
The moat is impressive, and you can see the path where ships come in, and the walls built even on the shore. Naturally for a place where people live, the lots are divided, and it's impressive how the ground was tamped down.
In the case of Árós, the walls are being replaced with stone, and the scale is incomparably larger.
Personally, I'm currently thinking something midway between this picture and Constantinople in scale. Of course, it'll get even bigger. With the population continuing to swell...
Wiki-vr, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
The fourth month of summer, 867. This is the European political situation in autumn.
It looks complicated, but actually the eastern Volga river region, western Iberia, and the southeastern Abbasid Caliphate haven't even appeared yet lol.
With everything in turmoil and chaos, it's no exaggeration to say Helgi has firmly seized control of the North Sea. But threats still remain. The enemies further south are all the more terrifying.
Green is friendly. Black stars are still ambiguous relationships.
The Eastern Roman Empire is special, so it's purple.