190. Hooves and Horns (4).
190. Hooves and Horns (4).
[Kkiruk— kkiruk kkiruk kkiruk—]
Just as humans were curious about the birds up in that sky, the birds were also curious about the humans upon the sea.
[Shwaaaa— chulssuk— shwaaa—]
It had been but a short while since we left the Frisian sea, where warm winds were already blowing, and made for the white cliffs of the isle of Britain.
In the meantime, several gulls that had been gliding through the sky with vigorous wingbeats flew very close to the humans slipping across the sea rather than over land, crying out.
[Kki—ruk kkiruk-kkiruk! Strange humans move upon the sea here!]
Soon after, following the brave one that had first approached us in a low flight, one or two others lowered their altitude, then hastily rose again, and continued the mischief of lowering their altitude once more.
Of course, my warriors, who had no interest whatsoever in those birds, only silently stared at the white wall visible beyond the horizon, and soon when the longship advancing at the head of the fleet raised a white flag, the ships strung out behind it began hoisting their sails one by one.
"Raise the sails—!"
"Raise the sails!"
"Don't you come near! You birdbrains!"
[Kkiruk kkiruk-kkiruk—]
The gulls, having grasped through several close flights that these humans upon the sea meant them no harm, came close enough to meet the eyes of my guards who were raising the sails, and a few even settled with a thump at the stern of a great longship.
Naturally, fair words could not be extended to bothersome creatures that interfered with the work. Yet those birdbrains could not understand the language of men, and so fluttered their wings this way and that as if mocking, circling for quite some time.
Thus, another short while passed waging an untimely battle(?) with birds.
Soon after, the longship at the vanguard first rounded the white cliffs and thrust its hideous dragon-head onto the soft sandy beach, and the other ships began to park one after another in its wake.
People who had already discerned our approach were out on the shore, helping to park the ships, and my eyes—sharper than those of the tenacious gulls that had followed us all this way—saw my brothers standing together in the distance.
I raised one arm in gladness, but it seemed my brothers still could not see my form.
[Peolleok! Peolleok!]
Having shooed away a gull that fluttered its wings, apparently mistaking my raised fist for a wooden post and trying to perch upon it, I calmly watched the sight of my fleet being parked.
The greatest advantage of a long, narrow, and light ship was its flexibility. The greatest strength of these longships, which could navigate even narrow and shallow rivers without much difficulty, was unfolding right before my eyes now.
I intended to build ships far larger than the great longship I was riding now in the future, but I meant to keep this tradition well alive. No matter how powerful a 21st-century aircraft carrier might be, it couldn't sail about all alone, could it.
[Shwaaa— chulssuk! Shwaaa— geureureureuk—]
I felt the keel of my longship, which had naturally surrendered its body to the waves rolling onto land, touch the sandy beach, and I lightly launched myself toward the sand, which was deeply furrowed here and there.
'Hut-cha!'
[Chalpak!]
The feel of the waves seeped past my leather boots, and as I took a step, I felt the soft, squelchy sand and water.
Was this the third time? For Britain?
The first had been to avenge my father, the second to chastise East Anglia and Mercia, the Gorge, and the Kingdom of Alba.
And this time, it was as a gathering point to strike West Frankia.
The reason my feelings were new each time I set foot on this island was perhaps because I had changed the political landscape of this island every time.
"Seueup— huuu—"
I drew a deep breath of the moisture-laden air and walked slowly.
Around me, Torbjörn and my guards fell in one by one, and I could see Ræv, who had landed first, issuing various orders, while Stololf's booming voice rang out from behind.
To think those two were now the commanders responsible for leading my standing army.
With the thought that time flowed swiftly, I followed a somehow familiar uphill path and came upon a host of glad faces.
"Björn! Ivar! Ubba!"
"Ulfgrim."
"You have come! Helgi!"
"Ulfgrim."
[Cheok!]
The pitch of the voices greeting me each differed, but all of them were brothers smiling as they saluted with their right fist to the left side of their chest.
Björn and Ivar, who were said to have retired, seemed younger than when they were in Áróss, perhaps because it was a rare stint in the field(?), and Ubba was as ever.
Beside them were Sigebriht and Guthrum, who had arrived earlier, Leofric, Egbert and Uhtred, and Tostig too.
All my core figures who ruled North Sea Britain were gathered in one place, and I felt a sense of reliability different from when I was with the lords of the east.
And among these uniformly well-built men, I spotted one man as familiar as the uphill path I had just climbed.
"Ulfgrim of the North Sea. I thank you once again for thus honoring Dover with your presence. Ealdorman Eadberht of Dover, on behalf of the people of Dover and Alfred the Cyning of Wessex, offers his greetings of welcome."
"Oh— Ealdorman Eadberht! How long has it been?"
The first man I had encountered on the isle of Britain. The Ealdorman of Kent, who with patience and wisdom had treated the Norse vanguard, including Ivar and myself, as guests rather than clashing with us.
With truly glad heart, I extended one arm toward this man, still white-haired and straight-backed.
Then Eadberht grasped my forearm with a careful motion. On his right hand, the ring of Allah's sorcery that Ivar had given him long ago was displayed in its splendor.
"It is unworthy of Ulfgrim's great renown, yet I have prepared food and drink to the best of my ability. With your permission, Dover wishes to host Ulfgrim and the warriors of the North Sea."
"Ealdorman Eadberht. Why do you behave as though meeting a stranger for the first time? I shall enter your hall any time, so let us go inside at once. There are many words to be shared."
After lightly shaking the arm clasped with the tense Eadberht, I headed toward the longhouse of Dover together with him.
*****
Unlike the stone buildings that remained here and there in Dover, the longhouse of Dover—built in the traditional and historic(?) timber style—had undergone a slight expansion compared to before.
Though it was called the longhouse of Dover, it was in truth the home of its Ealdorman, Eadberht. Knowing this gentleman's frugal and humble nature, I had expected no such luxury, but seeing Ubba's stern yet satisfied gaze from behind me, I suspected that Wessex had applied some degree of care.
Come to think of it, had Æthelred died? His successor, Alfred, would not find it easy to act the Cyning of Wessex. Kent in the east of Wessex still remained, but Devon, the shield of the west, had been lost.
The hopeful news for him was, at best, that I no longer had much interest in military activities on the isle of Britain.
"While Ulfgrim was making his way here, the alliance of Cymru, Cernyw, and Breis moved first."
While precious grape wine, mead, and clear ale slid down the throats of those seated here—one cup, perhaps two, according to each man's taste—Ræv and Stololf, who had finished the rough coordination, also took their seats.
The formal dialogue of a guest thanking the host's hospitality ended, and the quietly resonating harp and drum changed their tune.
With Ubba breaking the ice, the war council began in earnest.
"Rhodri of Cymru, Dungarth of Cernyw, Salomon of Breis. The three kings have joined their will."
"Was it not a chance far too precious for them to abandon as well? I heard that Salomon of Breis, especially, is the most zealous."
It was Salomon who had moved Hæsten, effectively a mercenary, even in the Great War of Britain. I heard that this time he came in person, having truly steeled his heart.
"Word has come that the armies of the three kingdoms will soon confront Robert, the Margrave of Le Mans."
A fight between Hæsten and Robert, the Margrave of West Frankia, then.
"In other words, one could say it is the optimal time for us to move."
At Ubba's low voice, the Jarls of the North Sea nodded their heads in unison.
Gazing at the sight and nodding along with them, I shared the latest information I had brought back from Frisia with my commanders.
"Konungr Hrørekr of Dorestad had an interest in the Verdun to the east. Hamburg and the lands of Saxony shall suffer quite a bit from the assaults pouring in from all sides. That being so, what remains is the Margrave of Flanders, but the Emperor of Lotharingia said he would somehow devise a solution for that side. However, let us move while bearing in mind that we may clash."
Flanders was a place somewhat more loyal to West Frankia than Frisia, which was near-total neutrality.
Baldwin, the Margrave there—I had seen him in person in Britain as well—was a man loyal to Charles of West Frankia.
Rather than not trusting Lothair, I simply did not trust any of these European sovereigns at all.
"In any case, if we go up the Seine, battle cannot be avoided. The true fighting will take place near Rouen, and their Emperor Charles and Margrave Baldwin will have to choose. Whether to relieve Rouen, or to fall back and defend the rear."
It was Björn who took up my words.
We all stared down at the map of the northern coast of West Frankia and the Seine, which Björn had been scrutinizing—a map drawn with suspiciously detailed precision for some time.
Though half written off, it was still the land of West Frankia. The northern coast of Francia, which would later be called Normandy.
Naturally, there were warriors defending that place, and Rouen was an excellent fortress.
However, being merely excellent would not be enough to repel this attack.
"In two days' time. Let us set out with the soldiers of Áróss first. When I descend from the coast along the Seine, behind me the armies of Mercia and East Anglia will follow, and the Northumbrian army shall focus on maintaining order across Britain and transporting supplies. Jarl Tostig and the forces of the Kingdom of the Isles will stand by in East Anglia and then descend along the Seine basin secured by the vanguard."
""Yes! Ulfgrim!""
"There will not be a hair's breadth of error!"
"It shall be done!"
The Jarls answered in unison to my words, which were the final review of the plan.
Amidst it all, the sight of Eadberht frozen stiff was both pitiable and amusing.
"Then let us all raise our cups! To Eadberht, who has prepared this place! To the warriors of the North Sea and the glory laid before them!"
"To Ulfgrim!"
"To Hel!"
"To the North Sea!"
Though the cups were raised for Eadberht, they all raised their cups calling out my name or the goddess's name.
Exhaling the honey-scent that softly glided down the throat through my nose, I continued to look down at the map.
As if the correct answer were lurking just beyond it.
*****
Jumièges. The abbey at the mouth of the Seine.
The monks, in the midst of preparing for Easter with the long-awaited spring's arrival, were all merely standing still in one place, as if nailed down.
"Make way! Move aside!"
[Dageudak— dageudak— dageudak—!]
The reason was a single horseman driving his steed across the road as if mad.
"Huh? What's happening that he's galloping so busily?"
"Oh my, just look at this dust! Hack! Why's he doing that?"
Unlike the grumbling farmers' complaints, the monks of this place had read the Imperator's emblem in the armor and flag of the herald who had just passed by.
'What is unfolding...?'
The direction the herald had ridden from was the harbor, situated where the great land of West Frankia ended.
The direction the herald had ridden out to was where the fortress guarding Neustria and the Seine, Rouen, and Paris beyond it, lay.
Whether they were monks who had recently entered the abbey, or monks who had long been here.
The image of a dragon-headed ship lurking beyond the grey mist rose in all their minds.
"Lord, save us. Protect us."
Despite the fear-filled prayer of an old monk, they soon could tell why the Imperator's herald had passed through this place with such a urgent expression.
Far off, from where the harbor lay, people came running like sheep chased by wolves.