150. Fylkir and the North Sea (3).
150. Fylkir and the North Sea (3).
"Mother! I'm off now!"
"Take care, Hrolfragr!"
Dashing out of the house as energetically as ever, Hrolfragr called out in a loud voice.
Father, who had been spending his time playing about with the strange Roman that Philkyr had brought, seemed to have left home early in the morning.
Leaving his mother's worried voice behind him, Hrolfragr moved his feet lightly along the well-polished stone path.
[Tat! Tatat! Tat!]
"Huff- Huff! Sseup- Huff- Huff!"
He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, swung his arms around in time with his running steps, and took in the surrounding sights.
Hrolfragr's house stood on the left side of Konungr's Hill, and running straight along this road to the west gate passed by a large market.
"Hrolfragr! Good morning!"
"Boy! Here, catch this!"
[Hwik- Teop!]
The people of Arros were mostly diligent and hardworking, but especially during harvest time, the whole city stirred from very early in the morning, so naturally the market was bustling with all sorts of people.
And the son of Jarl Hrólfr, who ran along the road at this hour every day, was quite famous by now.
As expected, this noble scion who appeared without fail today had a naturally good physique befitting the son of a renowned warrior, and even at his young age, his competitive spirit was outstanding.
In his own way, he thought he would become a great warrior and trained hard, and all the people of Arros looked upon him with satisfaction. Of course, since he was no ordinary troublemaker, his mother's heart must not have been at ease... but weren't all boys that age like that?
After finishing a haggle with a customer, a merchant tossed a leather pouch containing something to Hrolfragr, and Hrolfragr, catching it deftly with one hand, grinned and expressed his thanks.
"Thank you!"
Taking in the sight of the merchant who immediately began haggling again with the next customer who rushed in, Hrolfragr turned around and lightly jogged forward again.
The small leather pouch held several pieces of smoked meat, clearly prepared at dawn. Thinking he would eat this after finishing his run, Hrolfragr had already left the large, crowded market behind and, departing the city center, entered along the site of the old wooden palisade where the city's first wall had once stood.
Though it had all been cleared away now to build the high, wide stone walls, the road where traces of the old palisade still remained had become a good course in itself.
In the first place, Hrolfragr had started running every day like this after seeing the city's warriors training along this course.
Feeling the invigorating air entering and leaving his lungs, Hrolfragr kept his eye on the warriors' buildings lined along the road—his father called them guard posts—as he passed.
[Hahahaha!]
Amidst the lively noise of the city, the laughter of warriors could be heard, layered over. Some sat on chairs tending to their equipment, others trained against a wooden dummy carved into a human shape in a corner, or talked amongst themselves.
Wearing the same armor, donning the same blue cloaks, even their beards trimmed similarly—the warriors looked organized and strong in a way that was very impressive to young Hrolfragr.
In short, to young Hrolfragr, they looked incredibly cool.
'I too, someday...'
He had heard that his father had once been a fearsome warrior, and had even personally taught Lord Philkyr when he was as young as Hrolfragr himself!
But why did the father he saw leave home each day with listless eyes and return with a tired face, going straight to bed...?
'Will I become like that when I grow older?'
Shaking his head firmly at such a dreadful thought, Hrolfragr soon crossed the bridge that spanned from the west to the east of the city.
[Tat! Tat! Tak! Tatak!]
Just like the stone walls still under construction, this great bridge was also made of stone, so the sensation was quite different from stepping on the roads mixed with small amounts of sand or gravel. It felt as if the force of each step was returned entirely.
Dodging passersby and occasionally encroaching on the large central road where wagons traveled, Hrolfragr soon crossed the bridge and set foot in the new district on the other side that had originally been Arros's opposite land.
'It's indeed big. Bigger and neater.'
Arros's old center, the left side formed around Konungr's Hill, was where Lord Philkyr's mother, the high priestess Asta, kind-hearted and beautiful like a goddess, had first established a site.
Those who needed the help of the goddess Hel had gathered from all over and formed a village centered around the temple, and that was the beginning.
Therefore, although the road was paved, it gave an impression of being complicated, with the buildings standing a bit haphazardly.
This place, on the right side of the small river that came down from the north and divided Arros. The new city center seemed as if everything had been planned in advance, centered around Philkyr's Hill.
Overall, it was shaped close to a large circle, built with room to expand at any time, and to Hrolfragr it felt a bit more exotic—like a place where beings from stories lived.
"Huff- Huff- Huff- Huff-"
'A little more, a little more!'
Moving his feet diligently, Hrolfragr entered the small hill square prepared beside Philkyr's Hill.
The last part of the running route was an uphill path, always a difficult challenge, but as always, Hrolfragr silently climbed the steps of the circular plaza.
[Tatat- Tak!]
"Huu- Huu-"
He caught his breath for a moment, kept supplying oxygen to his dizzy head, and when he lifted his head, a stunning vista unfolded before his eyes.
"Huuu-"
The feeling that the whole world was beneath his feet.
The feeling that he had become the conqueror of the world.
He wanted to let out a powerful shout, but if he did, the warriors guarding this place would scold him—he would have to endure an hour-long sermon—so he held it in.
'I too, someday, surely...'
He would become a great warrior. And for Arros, for himself, for Philkyr, he would accomplish great deeds.
"You're a bit late today, aren't you?"
From behind Hrolfragr, who was dreaming grand dreams befitting his young age, a voice even younger than his own was heard.
'So he came out today.'
The owner of that sweet voice, which had already captivated several of the city's girls, Constantin, approached with a beaming smile.
Recently, Constantin's mother had come from afar, so he hadn't been seen for a while. Now it seemed he had a little more leisure.
"Here, catch."
[Hyu- tik!]
"Ah! What if you suddenly throw it!"
The carelessly tossed leather pouch landed on a wide, flat rock, and grumbling, Constantine picked it up and grinned when he realized the contents were fragrant pieces of meat.
"Oh? Can I eat it all?"
"Leave two pieces. I'll eat them when we're done."
Oho—
With a strange sound, Constantine tied the pouch shut again and stuffed it into his sleeve.
Then, after warming up by moving his limbs about, Constantine wiggled his eyebrows at Hrólfr.
"You're not tired yet, are you?"
"Who? Me?"
[Tadat! Tat!]
"I'm going first!"
Quickly moving his short legs, Constantine ran off giggling.
Hrólfr, who had been watching his running mate's figure with a smile, took in the vast sight of Árós one last time with both eyes, then chased after him.
And so, the gigantic stone statue of the goddess Hel silently watched the children leaving the plaza.
*****
867. The fifth month.
[Kiiiik- Eussya! Help over there!]
The world was stained entirely gray from the rain that fell last night.
Unlike the gloomy, dreary weather, however, the Norsemen's movements were vigorous and full of happiness.
Crossing the North Sea was not an easy task even for men who had become part of it, and it was especially dangerous when moving a large number of people.
The fleet, which had avoided the sudden rainstorm that hit them en route and struggled over great waves, finally arrived at Philkir's land a little later than planned, suffering the loss of some cargo.
The smiles that appeared on their faces were surely something like, 'We survived!'
'Árós. Philkir's cradle. Philkir's city. The golden city.'
Philkir, who through a great war had now made his name known to all in the land of Britain.
Soon after, everything about this man who had declared a vast empire became the hottest topic of the year.
The merchants constantly coming and going to the conquered lands, and the goods loaded on their ships—food, woolen cloth, candles, high-quality drinks, dyes—quickly turned the conquered people into part of the North Sea.
Naturally.
All that those arrogant rich lords or kings had done until now was plunder, seize through taxes, and finally demand their very lives.
In contrast, Philkir of the North Sea, who had newly appeared, poured goods in as if he had conquered in order to give. Even after Philkir's men left the island of Britain, they took only one-tenth of the harvest and no other interference.
The tenth of the harvest was not small, but because that was truly all, the British farmers—no, the people who had now become Norsemen—could not believe the environment that had changed so drastically from before.
'At first they cannot believe it, then with surplus grain or silver coins they ask the merchants for new things... and in the end, they will be subjugated under the power of silver.'
All of this was actually something the people of East Anglia, who had first come under Philkir's banner, had already experienced.
Now, leading people who had no nostalgia whatsoever for the old kings and showed only blind faith in Philkir, Sigebriht finally reached Árós.
'Was it called Alfred...'
There was a reason why Sigebriht, the Jarl of Beodricsworth in East Anglia, had arrived so close.
It was because he had to conclude negotiations with Wessex, which, though called a "trade agreement," was in fact an armistice.
'If it is true that Æthelred's health has worsened, then the next king of Wessex will be Alfred.'
Æthelred, who had always been said to be in poor health, seemed to have taken a considerable blow from the sudden great war.
If the information sent by spies planted in Winchester was true, it was highly likely that the next king of Wessex would be Alfred, whom they had faced at the negotiation table.
Æthelred's son was too young, and Alfred was too outstanding.
And to Sigebriht, the man called Alfred was someone who would never give up.
Even if his opponent was the ruler of the North Sea, even if it was the actual Bretwalda (ruler of Britain) who held all the British Isles in one hand—Sigebriht could read the eyes of a man who would never give up.
'But then, if that's the case... what happens to Æthelred's son, Æthelhelm? Is there a way to use this?'
Something like a picture was forming.
As Sigebriht watched the warriors busily unloading and spun threads of intrigue, a thick hand appeared beside him and touched his shoulder.
"Jarl Sigebriht! Truly a refreshing voyage! Hahaha! Rowing after so long brought back old memories! Perhaps I should enter the oar-jumping competition myself!"
"Haha. Jarl Guthrum. What connection there is between rowing well and jumping over the oars... I really do not know."
"Oh! I haven't shown you yet! Even if I know nothing else, aboard this ship I move like a cat!"
[Sak- sak-]
The sight of Guthrum hopping about as if to demonstrate was so amusing that Sigebriht could not help but laugh, intrigue and all.
"Come, let's stop all these complicated thoughts and go in! Lord Philkir is waiting!"
This Norse jarl, who had together held Wessex and Mercia in check in East Anglia, was unexpectedly perceptive and shrewd.
Deciding that was correct, Sigebriht composed himself.
'Not just Lord Philkir, Guthrum. Not at all...'
Though Guthrum was no ordinary warrior, where was there a mediocre figure under Philkir?
Lord Philkir opened a place of unity, but beneath that, fierce competition of wits would unfold.
The world outside Philkir's great shadow was still chaotic, and to some it could feel like an opportunity or a threat.
"You speak rightly, Jarl Guthrum. Then, let us go."
"Good! Let us certainly leave a grand mark for East Anglia in this athletics competition! Uwahaha-!"
In this dynamic city, another struggle to attract Philkir's attention had already begun.