155. Festival and Sacrifice.
155. Festival and Sacrifice.
This scene was just like, the subordinate pirate fleet of Åros.
Or rather, the subordinate mountain bandits of Åros?
The wind that Eret stirred up—the Sámi labour broker and the channel of communication with the wealthy southern Svear, a people who mostly lived by hunting and gathering—had turned into a storm.
With a little exaggeration, it had made every tribe on the Scandinavian Peninsula within reach of the news roll up their sleeves and step forward.
Someone once said, war is an unending season.
And there was little grain to harvest anyway; all the Finnic peoples—Sámi, Suomi, Kven and the like—had to survive winter on stores of wild raspberries, fish soups, and meat hung from the ceiling, so they were already full of the idea of making a quick score before this clearly unusual winter began in earnest.
In a way, this was a festival.
The same one that always repeated itself, only this time it was a great festival on an unprecedented scale.
Before long, the envoys of the chieftains were coming and going from Eret's farmstead in northern Norrland, east of the long mountain range, inquiring about precise rewards and objectives.
And Jarl Miroslow, finding the task too heavy by himself, had pulled Jarl Leon—who had been wholly absorbed in the athletic games at Åros—away from there.
The key cities along the trade routes linking Britain and Scandinavia paid with surplus grain that had become troublesome to store, and those who should rightly be called the Pan-Finnic coalition—not the subordinate pirate fleet of mighty Åros—would secure the right to the marble quarry from the Karelian Finns.
Spilling the blood of other tribes for the sake of a warm winter for one's own.
The chieftains of the Suomi and the Sámi, thinking this no losing venture, sent envoys to Takala of the Karelians.
And at the same time, they themselves also began quietly sending warriors east across the sea.
Such was the rule of this land: if something good turned up, it had to be shared out. Trying to monopolise it the way those Karelians did was simply asking for trouble.
The tribes, deeply incensed by that sight, hoped to use this opportunity to cure the Karelians of their insolence and, furthermore, to develop a more constructive relationship with the dragon of the south.
Of course. It was the way of the world that if some laughed, others wept.
Karelia, which had been living well but was now suddenly at risk of being blindsided, could only stand there dumbfounded.
Their neighbours around them had abruptly gone mad and were creeping about, ready to draw blades, were they not?
Naturally, they could not simply die a meek death, and the warriors who had been scattered all about began to gather in one place; yet the envoy arrived before the house of the outraged and bewildered chieftain Takala on the very day after the summons had been issued.
*****
"So... you are saying... this whole disaster has come about because of that utterly useless rock lake...?"
"It is no useless rock lake! According to the words of Jarl Eret and the foreign Jarl Leon, if only you permit us to make use of that rock lake, they say they will see to it that we can spend this winter with full bellies!"
A brave but dim-witted fellow.
That was Takala's assessment of the envoy who stood before his own eyes and spoke in such a self-assured tone. The very image of a typical Sámi warrior.
Though his clothes were unmistakably those of a Sámi who herded deer and rode sledges, he bandied about terms like Jarl as though he himself were a proper Norseman...
'A man without a shred of pride...!'
Steadying his heart, Takala prayed to Ukko and Kuu for wisdom, and soon sank into deep thought.
'What value could that rock possibly hold...?'
It was no salt-bearing rock, just literally a rock. If he handed it over, they would give him grain? No matter how he thought about it, it simply did not add up.
'If this talk of rock and grain were merely a pretext to seize our land...?'
Outsiders always wanted more. Just as it had been when his own ancestors first came into this land. Had not the weak always been forced to yield?
Right now those people were merely asking for the right to quarry stone from the lake, but what would happen when more time had passed? What if they built a fortress there outright?
"Look here, envoy. Think on this yourself. If a complete stranger suddenly wanted something on your land and demanded you hand over the rights to that land, would your tribe permit outsiders to enter?"
Truly, Kuu was wise.
When he laid out the wisdom granted by the goddess of the moon and the hunt through his own person, the warriors around him all revealed a low, admiring air without disguise.
Only this barbaric Sámi, still standing about blankly without the slightest trace of intimidation, merely tilted his head.
"Is it not a far better bargain to let someone who knows its use do as he pleases with a land that is of no use anyway, and thereby fill the bellies of your family?"
'What a simple fool!'
"...We have already gathered as many as three hundred warriors. How much can your chieftain and the chiefs beside him move with winter just ahead? This is Karelia. We are the guardians of the lakes and the hunters. We will never give way."
In truth, the difference of opinion regarding the land had its origin in the dissimilar ways of life between the Sámi (hunting, gathering) and the Karelians (agriculture), but more fundamentally it bore the character of a traditional raiding war.
Only, Karelia was not weak; it was, if anything, strong, and therefore Takala could not accept it.
It was the same for the tribes to the north and the west, where the lives of their tribesmen hung in the balance.
"I understand very well, Chieftain. May Ukko watch over you."
"May Ukko watch over your journey home."
'For Kuu will never forgive the road that brings you back this way.'
Having merely confirmed their mutual difference in stance, the envoy of the Finnic coalition turned about, and Takala together with the Karelian warriors could feel a great battle approaching.
The warriors already gathered alone numbered a full three hundred. If those warriors the news had not yet reached were to move as well, their numbers could surely approach five hundred.
As for the Sámi folk, they were so widely scattered and so few in number that they were of no great concern, but the Suomi living right along the seashore next door had a strength not a whit inferior to his own people.
'I will make certain we exact a heavy price for this. The insolent wretches.'
Was it not said that crisis is also opportunity? The great chieftain of Karelia, Takala, instead sought out new chances before this great storm.
He wanted to make one single land of the sacred territory of the great sky and thunder god Ukko.
A vast ambition stirred in the great chieftain's breast.
*****
"Ready—! Go!"
"Ee-yaaah!"
[Tat! Tatat! Tat! Tat!]
At the great waterfront of Åros.
A scene quite unlike the ordinary was unfolding at this vast waterfront, where ships numbering easily in the hundreds came and went every day.
[Tat! Mikkeul-]
"Whoa!"
[—Pungdeong!]
"Wah-hahahahaha!"
"No, you should have moved your feet faster there!"
"Oh, damn it! My money!"
That was because the oar-jumping contest of the 'Great Northern Sea Athletic Gathering' was in full swing.
The competitor who had dashed forward with a rather solemn expression at Leifr's signal had seemed to manage the middle sections hopping along quite well, but the moment he entered the fiendish stretch he slipped and fell.
Next to him, the people of Åros who had crowded around in great numbers were laughing and chattering as they enjoyed drink and food, while from the seats of honour, advice poured in from every side amidst an overflowing of delighted and regretful laughter.
On the long ship specially built for this contest, holes had been bored in the sides and long, sturdy oars had been fixed.
As in a twenty-first-century climbing competition, the height and spacing of the oars had been set differently, and here and there a few tricks had been installed, with oil spread over them to make them slippery trap cards.
Thanks to this idea of mine, the oar-jumping had transformed into a more dynamic contest and had become a spectacle where people laughed and enjoyed themselves together.
Once the contestants had run, the folk who had brought boats over from far beyond the control line would eagerly dash across the oars themselves to try it out, fall into the water, laugh, drink, and whenever someone got too drunk and began to gurgle and sink, they would fish them out.
In the midst of all this bedlam, the staff who silently kept the contest going—Leifr, Oleg, and the rest—were the truly remarkable ones.
Some of the Konungrs and Jarls in the seats of honour even came out to try it in person.
Guthrum, who had gone out blustering loudly, and Leofric, who had dashed off declaring that no one could match him in nimbleness, both ended up looking like drowned rats and becoming objects of the crowd's laughter.
Originally, the diving was to have continued after the oar-jumping, but when I heard Hrólfr's report that it would likely be postponed until the next day, I was pondering the future schedule when Inga, seated on my right, gently tugged at my arm.
"Helgi. How would you do it?"
With a playful smile, her eyes slightly curved, drawing one's gaze in.
Smiling likewise, I scratched my trimmed beard and spoke.
"If it were me, I would probably leap over it at once."
"Over that middle section? Good heavens, is that possible?"
The startled look as her two eyes rounded was exactly like a cat.
In truth, I had meant leaping over the entire course, not just the middle section, but I merely nodded.
"There are two slippery oars in the middle, so if you have gathered enough speed, you can leap over them. That is exactly what they were put there for."
Seeing Inga's astonished look, I worried that I might have overestimated the contestants' abilities.
'Did I only think of my own views...? These weaklings...'
Still, the way people were enjoying it so much meant it was a box office success, but at this rate it looked as though not a single man would manage it.
"What the Fylkir says is true, Drottning Inga. The tale of how he cleared an entire cavalry unit in a single bound in Rome to save His Majesty the Emperor is still passed down like a legend even now."
Damian, who had watched with interest for several days but whose Norsification had now been completed, spoke to Inga beside me, cheering ardently.
"A cavalry unit?!"
Of course, Inga's expression upon hearing those words shifted from curiosity to consternation, and soon she was staring into my two eyes with lips pressed firmly together and a hard-set gaze.
Faced with that look brimming with deep concern and worry, I, who had been about to boast of my dazzling battle skill, soon changed my mind and gave an easy, broad laugh.
"That's an exaggeration, naturally. How could any man do such a thing? It was merely jumping over a single horse."
In an instant, the eyes of Thorbiörn, Stórolf, and Damian around me turned a little strange, but fortunately Inga let out a small sigh and leaned her body against my arm.
"I know you are strong and brave, but now you must be more careful..."
What could I say before Inga's hand gently stroking her belly.
I, the guilty one, answered that I would do so, and for a while my wife and I sat tightly embraced like that. Damian, for telling such an idle tale...
The reason that we, thus seated together, rose from our place was the next contestant. It was the moment when Guthrum, who had been made a fool of on the private(?) boat prepared beside the main arena, appeared in the main arena with a face full of resolve.
"Show them! Jarl Guthrum!"
"Guthrum! Guthrum!"
"Beodericsworth! East Anglia!"
When Jarl Sigbricht, who had lately grown very close to him, and the warriors of East Anglia shouted Guthrum's name so loudly that their throats seemed about to tear, and everyone in the seats of honour, and indeed all the people crowding the waterfront, were calling Guthrum's name.
Guthrum, focused as sharply as if he stood upon the field of battle, ran like a single waterbird the very instant Leifr's signal fell.
[Tatat— Tat!]
"Wah—! Wah!"
"Go! Go!"
Even Inga, who had been momentarily sunk in worry for her husband, cheered with vigour, and soon we saw Guthrum leap with power before the oars that, just as I had said, had defeated so many contestants.
"Wah— wah— wah— wah!"
"Gu— uu— aa— aa— ah—!"
Every sort of noise flowed past me like slow motion as I watched that scene with the utmost concentration drawn out; having calculated Guthrum's running speed, his jumping height, and the distances in my head, I knew at once that he would succeed.
'The brave man shall win after all.'
"—Aaaaah! Goooo!"
"Wah, wah, wah!"
[Bung— Tak! Tatat!]
[Iyyaaa—!]
"He did it! He did it!"
"Guthrum! Guthrum!"
"Waa-haa— did you see that, you bastards! I am Guthrum! I am the Fylkir's sword!"
Pushing off from the final oar and springing upward powerfully, Guthrum performed a series of mid-air spins and plunged into the water in grand style.
[Pungdeong!]
"Waaaaah!"
"Just give Guthrum tomorrow's diving victory too!"
"Guthrum! Guthrum!"
While everyone clapped and whistled, even Inga, who had been gloomy, laughed brightly and said with delight that my words had been right.
'Guthrum. I shall not forget this debt.'
I thought about the gift I would give to Guthrum.
*****
"... What did you just say?"
I had called Hrólfr over and was gradually discussing the gifts for the winners and the 'gifts' to be given to the Konungrs and key Jarls of each region.
Having heard something utterly unexpected, I had no choice but to ask the messenger, who remained seated in a sturdy posture, once more.
"Fylkir! Jarl Eret and Jarl Miroslow bade me say that the chieftains of the Sámi and the Suomi earnestly desire to see the Fylkir in person just once!"
My father-in-law and Miroslow? Was Leon not there also? No, I had ordered them to gather some information on the Karelians and the place where Marmaros was, so what in the world were they stirring up over there?