21.
21.
Eoforwic, the heart of Northumbria, lay in a breathtaking position, flanked by the River Ouse and its tributary, the River Foss.
'I can tell just by looking. That's no city built by Germans. That's Roman work.'
It was a shameful and self-deprecating thing to admit, but let's be cold about it. We Norsemen and the broader Germanic world hadn't possessed the capability to build such standardized, large-scale fortresses in the past...
Now? Now, I was here, was I not? I was determined to make Árós into the Miklagard of the North.
'The walls are no different from others I've faced so far. Though the scale is the largest yet.'
Centered on the River Ouse, to the left—directly ahead of the path we had marched up—stretched a long encircling wall, and beyond the Ouse, another wall was visible.
It was a configuration of two fortresses connected by a bridge, with the river running between them.
The river was a bit too wide to cross in force (alone, I would have had no trouble, but the risk of sending troops across that river was far too great), and although I had led a sizable army of 8,500 men, it was woefully insufficient to encircle this massive city.
However, there was no need to worry too much. The numbers were enough to assault one section of the wall. If we could just manage to scale the walls by some means...
What truly mattered was whether Northumbria's Cyning Ælla was indeed here.
And to confirm that fact, we spent a day establishing a camp before the fortress.
The following day, while we captured the people of Eoforwic who had failed to flee and put them to work as laborers, plundering livestock and grain from nearby farms and preparing siege engines like ladders, battering rams, and lightened sling onagers,
Björn, Ivar, and I—forced to accompany them by the two brothers' intense demands—approached the fortress gate, where signs of hasty repairs were visible here and there.
Of course, since an arrow could come flying out of nowhere this time as well, I had brought along a large shield.
"Helgi. They say your voice is so loud and booming it could be heard in Valhalla. Would you care to step forward and give it a try?"
I had naturally assumed Björn would step forward, so I couldn't help but tilt my head at the sudden prodding suggestion.
'Huh?'
"Yes, Helgi. In matters such as this, seizing the initiative is crucial! You are the mightiest warrior, so surely you know that well? As you know, Björn and I are at an age now where a cold wind makes our knees ache, and when we sleep, we hear the Valkyries of Valhalla calling us. So you step up."
'Damn it.'
I knew it. It was Ivar again. This insufferable second brother must have whispered something to the eldest. Truly, an incarnation of Jormungandr, a serpent upon Midgard...
"Fine, I'll do it."
But the only thing a youngest sibling in a family can do against brothers old enough to be his uncles is acquiesce. So, once again resigning myself to playing the reluctant diplomat, I lightly tapped the flank of my black horse and rode forward.
[Prrrr-]
"Whoa— whoa—"
A sensitive beast. I had heard that any animal with a black coat tended to be fierce, but the one I was riding didn't seem particularly ill-tempered. Just a bit sensitive.
"Ælla! Cyning of Northumbria! Where is Ælla! I am Helgi Ragnarsson—!"
My brothers' judgment proved accurate, as a sound I could hardly believe came from my own throat soon thundered forth, echoing. -sson!-sson!-sson!... Now a full-blown echo, a voice that startled the beasts along the riverbank into a flurry.
Shortly after, not a man's head, but a white flag smoothly rose over the wall.
[Flutter- flutter-]
"Min jarl! I am Ealdorman Ecgberht of Eoforwic! Ælla and his henchmen are not here! We desire peace!"
'What kind of bullshit is this now?'
I didn't know who this Ecgberht was, frantically waving his flag behind the wall, but Ælla wasn't here? What kind of king abandons a strategic point this important and where would he go? Had he not heard the reports of a great army marching up the old Roman roads?
'Surely they aren't still mired in internal strife among themselves?'
Unable to grasp how the situation in this place was unfolding, I decided to first speak with Ecgberht, the owner of that white flag.
"Very well, Ealdorman Ecgberht. Let us speak!"
"A moment, just a moment, wait!"
The incessantly fluttering flag finally lowered, and upon the wall that had shown no sign of life, heads of brown, red, and yellow hair and eyes finally appeared, their gazes restlessly darting between me, my brothers behind me, and the countless warriors arrayed beyond.
'What the hell is going on here...'
[Rumble— screech—]
Before my bewildered eyes, astonishingly, the sturdy fortress gate of Eoforwic began to open, little by little.
A moment later.
What emerged from the gate, opened just barely wide enough for a single person to pass through, was a heavyset man drenched in a cold sweat. His build was closer to fat than brawn.
"I meet you for the first time, renowned Jarl Helgi. I am Ecgberht of Eoforwic."
This man, whose hair and beard were a fitting blend of brown and red, immediately bowed his head to me with a courtesy more suited to his own king.
"This is rather bewildering, Ealdorman Ecgberht. We have come to fight you. We have come to kill your Cyning."
"If you speak of Ælla, that bastard is no longer our Cyning!"
When I honestly declared that I had come to fight them, Ecgberht, at the mention of Ælla's name, suddenly flared up in anger. He stomped his plump feet and snorted sharply through his nose.
Sss- sss-
"That shameless wretch cast aside the devotion of us people of Deira and fled alone to the filthy Bernicia in the north! If you knew how much we have devoted ourselves to him all this time, the Lord himself could not hold back His lament!"
'How is there internal strife everywhere I go?'
I knew these Germanic chiefdoms couldn't even dream of concepts like centralization, but to be this utterly fragmented...
"We, the wise people of Eoforwic, declared last night that we shall no longer recognize Ælla as Cyning of Deira and Northumbria!"
Ecgberht spoke as he proudly puffed out his chest.
"Spare our lives! We have nothing to do with that tyrant Ælla! We shall give you money, food, houses, even our women, only please grant us a single condition!"
Then, at the words that followed, I nearly clutched my head without thinking.
"Become our Cyning!"
'Good lord.'
At the onset of summer, we captured Eoforwic.
*****
We had swallowed the heart of Deira, southern Northumbria, without lifting a finger, but the situation was far from easy.
"Ælla and Osberht have allied? Weren't those bastards fighting over the throne?"
As befitting a place that once housed a Roman military command, the city center was laid out in a precise square grid. Seated in the most splendid building there, we brothers were now discussing the intelligence brought to us by Ecgberht, who had transformed into our operations advisor, our stooge.
"It's better this way. Rather than having to bother moving to two separate places, if they unite, it's actually more convenient for us."
Smacking his lips and toying with the ring on his left hand, Ivar's gaze was like that of a snake before its prey.
'A Viking fiddling with Áli's ring right in front of the Angles wearing cross necklaces...'
Wasn't this scene the very essence of the Germanic nature? Plundering people, plundering land, plundering even the name of an empire, and finally plundering religion itself.
The timeless tradition of the 'what's yours is mine' spirit... I must never forget it.
"Hehe. Allow me to explain, Jarl Björn."
Ecgberht rubbed his palms together so vigorously his ample jowls quivered. Soon, this ever-loyal Ealdorman pointed a chubby finger at the crude map laid out on the table around which we sat in a circle and continued speaking.
"They say the two met at Bamburgh, the foul and godless heart of Bernicia. I can almost see it before my eyes, those two who were once so desperate to kill each other, now instantly cowering and trembling in fear! Is this not all thanks to the awe-inspiring might of the valiant Norsemen warriors?"
'This bastard is remarkable, in a different sense.'
His desperate flattery, which drew my admiration, unfortunately did not seem to pique the interest of Björn, our overall commander. Under the silent, expressionless gaze of Björn, Ecgberht collected his voice and, finally seeming to grasp the temperament of us Norsemen, got straight to the point.
"According to the information brought by my loyal underlings, those two shameless individuals have even extended their reach to the people of Edinburgh, and beyond them to the Picts, the Scots, and Strathclyde, so the word goes."
"There is no need to worry about the people to the north and west of Northumbria. Our 'friends' will be visiting them all soon enough."
"Ah! Is that so! I knew Jarl would have a plan! I, Ecgberht, am simply in awe!"
The 'friends' Björn spoke of were probably Olaf of Dublin, who had shown his face here last winter.
Though Ecgberht spoke with an obsequious chuckle, a deep unease lay beneath his crescent-curved eyes. Indeed, for Ecgberht, our victory was a problem, and our defeat was also a problem.
Is the life of a traitor ever truly comfortable? From his perspective, our victory was the preferred outcome for his own chances of survival, but nothing in this world was certain.
The council grew increasingly heated.
Sigurdr raised his voice, insisting we must march at once to strike the heads of those two nemeses, while Ubba argued they should wait. As they clashed and Björn and Ivar added their own words, Halfdan was sweating profusely trying to mediate between the two opinions.
Amidst all this, I found myself more interested in Eoforwic itself and the circumstances of the two kings.
'The people of Eoforwic aided Ælla to deny Osberht's dominion, and now they have used us to deny Ælla's dominion.'
This alone showed how weak the royal authority of the so-called 'kings' in this land truly was. Add to that conflicts between regions, tribes, and even ethnic groups that stretched far back into history. How on earth had Rome governed this land? I couldn't say for sure, but many people must have died in the process.
"Enough, enough."
[Thud! Thud!]
"Good, Helgi. What are your thoughts?"
Amid the heated debate of five hot-blooded Viking warlords that had turned the council chamber into chaos, Björn forcefully struck the table and turned the arrow of attention onto me.
It was a sudden ambush, but this body's superior brain operated multitasking so naturally that I was able to answer without any problem.
"No matter how fired up Ælla and Osberht are, it will take time for them to gather a force capable of opposing us and march it down here."
It was an obvious fact, of course, but everyone listened intently to my explanation as I calmly laid out the crucial context. Especially Ecgberht, who, unlike us Norsemen who could simply run away if things went south, had to fight here with the resolve to be buried in this land—his expression was the most priceless of all.
"Should we march out to meet them, or hold the fortress? It's one or the other. My thinking is that we must first continue to ascertain their numbers. We still don't know the true strength of Bernicia."
In Edmund of East Anglia's case, the uncooperative attitude of the eastern lords and his own rash movements had ruined everything, but Ælla of Northumbria chose to retreat rather than confront us immediately.
My brothers and Ecgberht ridiculed this action of Ælla's as the act of a coward, but to me, it felt closer to a strategic retreat. And then to immediately forge an alliance with his rival Osberht?
This fight, surely, would prove to be the most difficult battle we would face since setting foot on this land.
"Whichever of the two options we choose, we must first survey the local terrain, pacify the people inside the fortress, and prepare our defenses... The time given to us may not be so generous."
At my solemn reply, the fiery heat instantly cooled.
And as if pleased by this shift in atmosphere, Björn, smiling faintly, gave the order.
"Helgi is right. Before setting out on a hunt, knowing the terrain is fundamental. Then let us discuss the finer details."
At those words, the heat rose again among us brothers, and thick bloodlust churned in the air.