147.
147.
East Frankia. Regensburg.
The riverside fortress that the legendary The Emperor of ancient Rome, Marcus Aurelius, had built for the Third Legion Italica (Legio III Italica).
Under the reign of Charles the Great, Charlemagne, it served as a spearhead and forward base against the enemies of the Empire's eastern frontier.
And now, it was the home of Louis, The Emperor of East Frankia, and the seat from which he governed the loyal ally to the east, the people of Bohemia.
The master of that place, Germanicus—Louis of East Frankia—was preparing for a campaign.
His adversary was Rastislav of Moravia.
Though it was only a small-scale expedition, a routine border patrol, Moravia's brazenness, swollen of late by the support it received from the Eastern Roman Empire, meant the king had to stand ready to crush it at any moment.
At the same time, Louis' thoughts turned to his own children.
His eldest daughter had already knocked on Heaven's gate a decade ago, and his second daughter had followed her sister barely last year. His two most beloved daughters had left him first, careless as could be, and all that remained were sons filled with nothing but ambition.
His firstborn, Carloman, had risen twice in rebellion, demanding the kingdom be given up, and had ended up carrying off Bavaria.
His second son, Louis the Younger, had taken Saxony—after joining his elder brother's revolt!
He had then placed what hopes remained on his third son, who was brimming with religious zeal, only to discover that this one, too, had dabbled his toes into the firstborn's rebellion and promptly carried away the southwestern part of East Frankia, Alemannia.
It was a situation that drew out one heavy sigh after another. The Emperor of East Frankia, Germanicus, could feel that his old self was no longer what it once was. Yet, in a sense, this was exactly what a Frankish royal's life was meant to be.
Brother against brother, father against son.
Splitting and dividing, until they all came together under whichever one was the luckiest or the strongest.
'Or else they all die off.'
Where in this world was there anything that lived forever?
If even his own children were rotting his heart, the neighboring barbarians needed no further mention.
He had fought his whole life and would probably fight until the day he died—against those Moravian barbarians, and even the Magyars lurking beyond them, ever watching for a chance to plunder.
Furthermore, the invisible rivalry between Rome and Constantinople was sharpening by the day, and here, in the eastern part of his great grandfather's empire, tensions were steadily mounting.
There were moments.
When he truly wished to let go of it all and live a tranquil life with his wife. But there was still work that he himself could do.
There were things his half-raw sons could not yet accomplish. Ludovicus Germanicus murmured low.
"Twenty years ago I failed, but Carolus—the rightful ruler of West Frankia is I."
And Lotharingia in between. And Italy beyond the mountains, too.
If not myself, then who on earth could do it?
"We march."
"Understood. We march!"
"We march!"
At a single word of command from their lord, the warriors hoisted their standards all at once.
Look at those reliable Dux (generals, later to be called Dukes) and Comes (commanders, later to be called Counts). Look beneath them at the proud sons of the Franks, who had crushed those barbarians and defended the civilized world.
'First, you. Rastislav of Moravia. And after that...'
Recalling his father's dying charge—always attend first to the task before your eyes.
Mounted on a pure white horse, Germanicus then thought of Lotharingia. And of his unfortunate nephew who ruled there, Lothair II.
A kingdom without an heir?
'I harbor no personal feelings. Dear nephew. It seems you are not going to be able to get that divorce after all.'
*****
"So what happened?"
"You should have seen it yourself. I had no idea a person's eye could turn at that angle, I tell you."
This was my home. The great bed in my inner chamber.
The bed itself had become the fashion from the very moment I had risen to prominence in Norse society, and by now any half-decent Norseman's house had one. But this particular bed right now was special, because my beautiful wife, the mother-to-be Inga, was lying beside me.
"I stalled for now, saying we should all discuss it once the jarls are gathered. But I suppose I'll have to keep Leon under watch. If we leave him be, I've no idea what he might get up to."
For instance, charging off to Karelia on his own... or setting the merchants in motion and cooking up some intrigue.
Upon a bed with nothing but a cotton cloth covering our bodies, Inga kept burrowing into my arms in search of warmth.
She would sometimes mimic the sound the house cat made when it was in a good mood, burying her face against me. Every time her soft voice reached me, her breath against my skin was ticklish.
"I had no idea Leon had that side to him. Jarl Hrólfr only ever described him as an amusing and tiresome man."
[Scratch- scratch- pant-pant-pant- scratch- scratch-]
Unlike the traditional house layout that left the whole place open, I had made a point of fitting a door to my inner chamber, so the sound of paws scraping against sturdy wood and a dog's panting could be heard.
Inga, the heir to the reindeer farm, loved animals. Now that this place was just as much her home, she had begun raising all sorts of endearing creatures here.
In truth, keeping animals was entirely natural for all Norsemen, and it was I who was the peculiar one for not paying much mind to them. But now even my house was filled with the sounds of a dog, a cat, and a reindeer (?).
"Looks like Fluffy's woken up."
"It'll just be the sound of the wind passing through."
Ever since the baby had come into her belly, my wife had become sleepier and more prone to coyness—and this side of her was adorable.
"The wind doesn't make that kind of noise."
"Are you sure?"
The defiant way she looked up into my face was downright threatening.
[Scratch-scratch- scrabble-scrabble- whine- whine-]
"On second thought, that does sound like the wind."
"Ha-ha!"
Inga's bright, girlish laughter filled the wide space, and a scent not unlike flowers took command of my head.
I wished this moment could last forever.
But the merit and flaw of time is that it only ever flows onward.
It never goes backward, nor does it ever stop in between.
I, too, supposed I must follow suit.
"It's time to get up now. Helgi."
"...Are you sure?"
Perhaps the one indulging in coquetry was not my wise wife but me. Perhaps she was simply humoring my heart so skillfully.
"Just as I do, people need you."
One arm draped around my waist, the other resting over her belly where a new life was growing.
In that position, she pressed her lips to my jaw and regarded me from point-blank range, and in both of her eyes there seemed to dwell some force I could not name.
Faith? Courage? Whatever it was, it was a gentle power I could not resist.
With the greatest care, I stroked Inga's swollen belly and drew in a deep breath, as though to drink down the memory of this moment, every last drop.
When I slowly rose from that position, she shut her eyes quietly, planting a pretty smile upon her face.
[Buk- Buk- Heok-heok- Buk-]
A bastard who did not know how to give up.
I moved my steps to fetch Bok-sil's meal.
*****
Helgi's Hill.
The people called the highest hill in the city's center, on the right side of the stream that bisected Árós, by that name.
Conversely, the hill on the left side of Árós was Konungr's Hill.
Wasn't that intuitive? The place where Helgi Ragnarsson stayed when he was Konungr was Konungr's Hill. And since he stayed there when he ascended as Helgi, it was Helgi's Hill.
Yes.
Everything in this city belonged to Helgi. He was the one who was the center of the Norse world.
However, Hrólfr's mood as he climbed the hill to see that glorious figure was not entirely pleasant.
'Aigo. Why on earth did he have to build his house on top of a hill...'
Expanding the existing hill a bit more, laying down steps... in truth, Hrólfr's own hands had touched all of that work. But now that he was climbing up himself, the thought that arose was, 'I should have made it lower...!'
All this time, he had traveled the spectacular landscapes of Scandinavia with Leon, the capable scholar from Rome, reading the poems of old heroes, hunting, eating his fill, and working hard...!
Yet, the gaze Helgi directed at him was somewhat chilly... it was exactly the same look he used to give before assigning some great task.
'Had I been found out.'
He had sternly silenced the guards and Leon who had caroused with him, and of course the Norse warriors who styled themselves Leon's disciples.
"Hoo—"
Already out of breath from climbing the low hill in the morning wind, Hrólfr exhaled a sigh mixed with lamentation.
Now, the number of talented individuals was increasing—Erik and Refil, sons of Jarl Björn, of course, and Leon, Oleg, Dir, and Stórolf... well, maybe not him. But in any case, he himself could never rest easy.
The troublemaker of the household, Hrolfragi, was busy scampering about everywhere, and whether his father, weary from arduous work(?), was exploited by the terrifying Helgi or not, the boy had run out of the house today, saying he would play at the temple of the goddess Hel.
With things like this, was there any reason to raise children...?
'I too should seclude myself in Uppsala like Jarl Björn...'
The eyes of the veteran Hrólfr, a senior figure whose desire for retirement swelled mightily, soon caught sight of the mansion where the demigod dwelled.
A masterpiece Leon had painstakingly crafted. A new longhouse unlike any other Konungr in the North had ever possessed.
In the green-dyed farm field, two reindeer with impressive, beautiful antlers sat dozing demurely, and atop them, two cats perched, gently swaying their tails.
Those large-bodied creatures, quick-witted as they were, had already noticed his approach and were glaring fiercely.
'Better you chase me away, you beasts.'
[Keut-keut-]
Laughing inwardly, Hrólfr's eyes caught the forms of a bear and a dog sitting side-by-side in front of the large building situated beyond them.
But soon, realizing they were the new pets of Helgi and Queen Inga, Hrólfr inspected his own appearance.
'Clothes worn from travel, eyes steeped in melancholy, a little sadder. Hair a bit disheveled.'
Hrólfr approached Helgi looking as pitiful as possible.
The flesh beneath those woolen clothes was still firm, and his beard was well-trimmed, having received his wife's affection just last night, but Hrólfr's acting had reached a certain realm.
"Ah. Hrólfr! A good morning to you. Here, won't you share some breakfast with me?"
But the acting of the old warrior, politician, administrator, and adventurer was of no use.
From across the puppy (though far too large to be a puppy) that was burying its head and emptying its bowl with mindless intent, Helgi, wearing a bright smile, held out the bread in his large hand.
Helgi's diet was, as he always said, 'balanced food.'
Bread, meat, and plenty of vegetables like cabbage.
On top of that, the clothes he now wore were wool, just like the ones Hrólfr himself was wearing, instead of silk.
At that unpretentious appearance, which lacked any trace of luxury, Hrólfr's resolution to show Helgi the most pitiful look possible today and retire went flat with a 'pfft—' sound.
"If you give it to me, I shall eat it gratefully, Helgi."
Retirement, my ass.
Stepping past the puppy (which was clearly not one, no matter how you looked at it) that did not even pretend to notice a person had arrived, Hrólfr sat down on a chair. He accepted the wide bowl offered by Helgi, who seemed in a gleefully good mood, and pushed the food into his mouth.
'It's delicious.'
Perhaps it was because he was hungry from climbing the slope. The food went down smoothly, and having received and drunk a cup of clean water too, his desire for retirement gently vanished without a trace.
Just you wait—! I shall come calling again—!
After leaving a sliver of lingering attachment and shaking off the gloominess that faded beyond the shores of memory.
He looked down at the open view below and thought to himself, 'You really have accomplished so much. You have accomplished so much...' As Hrólfr recalled Helgi from his little boy days, Helgi's voice, sounding as if he had something up his sleeve, came to him.
"Hrólfr. The warrior I can trust and rely upon the most! The guardian of the Temple of Hel, whom my father directly appointed! I suppose you already know that I have spoken with Erik to summon every Jarl and Konungr who heeds my voice to this harvest festival. But on top of that, there is one more thing I wish to try."
'An assembly of all Konungrs and Jarls...'
Hrólfr felt with his whole body that something big was approaching. Could it be that he intended to conquer Karelia?
'No, that is no longer much of a great matter to Helgi.'
The Finns of Karelia were fierce, it was said, but how could they compare to the Britons?
Perhaps Helgi meant to use this harvest festival to solidify Helgi's position to all the Jarls and Konungrs, and also to consider hosting that athletic competition thing he had spoken of before.
'So he means to entrust that task to me. It is no ordinary affair.'
The scale of the work was certainly large. But it was not something impossible to do.
He could get help from Refil, Oleg, and Dir, who had already done similar work, and even from Stórolf, though he was unreliable. It would be good if he could also receive help from Leon and Lady Maria.
'And Karelia...'
Lake Ladoga in winter would be difficult for a large army to move across, so he would ask the opinion of Hrorik (Rurik), Jarl of Novgorod, who was familiar with the geography there.
In a line that minimized bloodshed as much as possible, according to Helgi's intent...
Hrólfr, who had already more or less organized his thoughts, put on a pitiable expression once again.
"What might that be? Lord Helgi. As you can see, I am old and sickly, and it is even hard for me to—"
".... Hrólfr. I can tell just by looking at your muscles that you have been eating and living well, though."
'Damn it. So my information did leak from somewhere.'
With a resolve to ferret out and execute(?) whoever had spilled his secret, Hrólfr smiled quietly.
He truly had accomplished so much.
And he would accomplish more in the days to come.