22.
22.
866 AD. Mid-second month of summer. Tyr's Day (Tuesday). Northumbria, Eoforwīc.
I did not know well how many people there were in the entire world at this time, or especially how many lived on the island of Britain.
However, from what I had seen coming up the eastern coast from Kent, the southernmost tip of Britain, this place, Eoforwīc in Northumbria, certainly had the most people.
There could be many reasons, but first and foremost in my mind was the fact that Northumbria and Wessex were currently the most powerful kingdoms.
This was not an age where borders were blocked with iron fences, so people wandered here and there to escape frequent wars, becoming bandits or being captured and sold as slaves... or, if they were lucky, reaching a large city and being absorbed into the local community.
Sheep, regardless of the era, always sought a strong fence.
In that respect, the alliance of Ælla and Osberht was certainly threatening.
"I thought he was just a coward, a bookworm with a bit of luck. You have more up your sleeve than I thought, Ælla."
At the northern gate of Eoforwīc, where repair work on the walls was in full swing.
Amidst the brothers scattered about, each doing their own work, Björn, who had singled me out to accompany him, spoke against the backdrop of noise made by stone, hammer, wood, and rope.
After deciding to observe Ælla and Osberht's response in the first council held after entering this beautiful city, we had spent the last two weeks very busily focusing on consolidating our control over Eoforwīc.
But it seemed, unfortunately, we were not the only ones who had been busy.
"Fifteen thousand..."
Northern Northumbria, that is, Bernicia.
The army raised from the two main cities of Edinburgh and Bamburgh and their surrounding areas was a number that felt somewhat burdensome even to our brave brothers.
"An astonishing number, Helgi. The problem is, that number is highly likely to grow larger with each passing day."
'Because all the towns and cities besides Eoforwīc, which we have taken, will side with Ælla and Osberht.'
In other words, as time passed and the two kings of Northumbria marched south in earnest, more people would join their ranks.
This was not simply a racial issue like "I've always hated Norsemen," or a religious one like "God wills it...!" but a deeply political matter.
In short, it was a matter of picking a side.
When you thought about it, it was simple arithmetic. 8,500 Norsemen? Or 15,000 Northumbrians? Moreover, the kings of Northumbria were tyrants and dark lords who did not hesitate to overthrow each other, but that was something all previous kings had done, an utterly familiar thing. And were the Norsemen not foreigners in any case?
In that sense, the defection of Eoforwīc must have been a great shock to them.
Unlike the common romantic ideals and fancies about the title of king, powerful metropolises were fearsome in this respect. Was it not just like its namesake, the boar, to butt even a king if it took offense?
Anyway, after comprehensively judging all these factors, the worst-case scenario was that we and this city might have to face a great army of 20,000 or even 25,000.
"Are you afraid, Helgi?"
As if somehow reading my complicated thoughts, Björn asked abruptly.
"Afraid? Not at all! I am merely searching for a way to win, Björn."
"Yes, that would be like you, Helgi. A skilled hunter and warrior does not tremble in fear with the opponent before his eyes. Such trivial emotions are dealt with beforehand, before entering the real fight. So that when you actually face the enemy, you can focus solely on that situation..."
Björn, who had walked a little ahead and swept his large hand once over the heavy gate, spoke in a tone that held a hint of weariness.
"The truth is, I am afraid, Helgi. I do not fear throwing my own body into the fight against the enemy, but the fates of others that will change depending on my choice... that is too fearful and heavy."
I had never seen this side of my eldest brother before, so I remained silent.
"I have spent quite a long time on expeditions and made countless decisions, yet this weight never grows lighter. Ivar's constant wandering outside is probably because somewhere in his heart, an empty hole has formed."
For some reason, a deep sense of pain could be felt in Björn's words as he spoke with a very calm expression.
"You must be bewildered now, Helgi. Wondering why I am saying this to you, at this very moment."
Shaking his head, Björn swiftly pulled himself out of his emotions and once again wore the expression I had always known, a face like steel.
"There is something our father intended, that the elders of Uppsala agreed to, and that we brothers have agreed to. Helgi, do you have the heart to become Konungr?"
However, since I was not a man of steel like Björn, my expression at hearing those words crumbled to pieces.
*****
'You must make a choice. Helgi Ragnarsson. Though, truth be told, fate does not seem to care much about your choice.'
Björn's final words kept ringing in my ears.
No wonder he singled me out. As if I wasn't busy to death already.
No wonder Sigurdr and Ubba, who loved to bluster and poke their noses everywhere, left me alone to move only with Björn.
Thinking back, it was all suspicious.
All of my brothers' actions during that time. No matter what, I was the Jarl of Árós, yet when a Thing was urgently convened in Uppsala, not one of them told me it might be a good idea to show my face there at least once.
I had simply brushed it off, thinking I must have been too downcast back then, making it hard for them to approach me.
Fine, that was all well and good. There must have been some reason I didn't know. I didn't particularly want to know either. What did it matter what these Norsemen, so outwardly simple yet so inwardly sly, were thinking? If I didn't want to, I simply didn't have to!
But what I was curious about was why it had to be now.
'Why now? Saying such things with a battle right before us?'
The solemn Björn did not seem like the type to say such things out of boredom, so perhaps he had been thinking of death.
A mere warrior simply fights a strong enemy, and if his skill falls short and he dies unluckily, he goes to Valhalla, and that is the end of it. But was the story not different for a king?
Someone had to lead the people.
However, that was the thinking of my brothers and my father.
'Who said I'd let you die? What are you thinking, going to Valhalla? I'll send you all to Hel's side. Without fail...'
It would be best to put aside all thoughts of dying honorably. You sons of Ragnar.
You are all definitely going to Hel's side. You will groan and endure, suffering from all manner of chronic ailments as the price for abusing your bodies in youth, and endure and endure, until you finally die of old age.
I definitely had to see that sight.
'But first, I have to catch and kill Ælla.'
15,000, 25,000. It didn't matter.
Ælla must have had his own circumstances. The city Thing that wouldn't listen, the church, the utterly loathsome Osberht.
The real threat approaching from the south, and his royal authority growing more unstable by the day...
But whatever reason he might offer, cleanly abandoning this city was an immeasurable blunder.
To have to fight a siege on his own land, and against 8,500 elite warriors at that? And against the citizens of the city beyond?
Even before the Frankish Emperor Charles, the Dane's shield-wall had not crumbled.
In any case, the die was cast.
Now, nothing awaited us but to face each other's choices and their consequences.
*****
The third month of summer.
Judging by the memories of my past life, this was the month when summer began in earnest.
To be honest, having gained confidence by crushing Edmund of East Anglia, I had harbored some dismissive feelings toward Northumbria, Ælla, and Osberht... but their mobilization was faster than we had expected.
As soon as word reached us that they were gathering an army, they marched south, seemingly pulling people from every fortress, town, and village along the route to Eoforwīc. It was as if they had no regard whatsoever for the harvest.
But what could the farmers of Northumbria do? If they resisted the king's command, their heads would be cut off. Even if this war ended, one chance in a thousand or ten thousand, with Ælla and Osberht's victory, the people of this land would have to endure a brutal winter.
But there was no need to worry too much.
'Because we will win.'
We would smash Ælla and Osberht apart as quickly as possible, find out where our father was, and then give them a horrible end.
"They really did scrape together quite a lot."
We meticulously filled the gaps in the walls, dug the moat deeper and covered it with straw, marked positions for the archers who had stockpiled plenty of arrows, and sharpened the blades of spears, swords, and axes. We placed stones of suitable size for hurling up on the walls.
Regrettably, the northern wall of Eoforwīc was much longer and wider than the southern wall we had approached from, so defending it required a great deal of work, but we were able to finish the preparations to a roughly satisfactory degree.
Of course, now that I saw the great enemy army before my eyes, the thought that it would have been better if we had had a little more time kept lingering in my head.
"Helgi. Can your eyes see the number of those bastards too? How many do you think there are?"
"... Sigurdr. My eyesight is just good; I can't see through everything like Odin."
"It looks like roughly 20,000. Though I'm not sure if more people will join from behind them later."
Beside Sigurdr, who was treating me like some kind of robot, Ubba spoke with his strikingly calm eyes.
"Oh, Ubba. I never realized you had such an ability! How did you figure it out?"
"It's easier to count by grouping them into tens, and into hundreds. I always used to practice this whenever I went to see the sheep in Uppsala."
'That worked on people too...?'
He certainly had a natural sense for numbers. My future slave no. 1.
"Really? Hmm—"
Sigurdr frowned so deeply that it almost hid the serpent twisting in his eye, as if he was trying it himself after hearing Ubba's words.
"I'm not so sure. It doesn't work for me. More than that, I can see those two riding out on horses quite clearly."
Just as Sigurdr had seen, from the center of the vast Northumbrian encampment, two men rode forward, their fine bright-colored cloaks fluttering, with an escort clustered behind them.
'Ælla...'
According to the description by our loyal collaborator, Ecgberht, both kings of Northumbria were large and robust. However, he had said that Ælla was somewhat more warrior-like.
"Let's go, Helgi. Ubba."
To set eyes on the enemy who had finally appeared before them, the sons of Ragnar gathered at the center of the wall.
[Pururuk- puruk-]
A distance where others could see the Angles' faces, albeit blurrily, but I could see them clearly. A distance close enough to hear the harsh breathing of the horses they rode, close enough that an arrow might just barely reach them. At last, the enemy leaders opened their mouths.
"Insolent Norsemen—! Heathens! My name is Ælla, Cyning of Northumbria! What is the name of the one who leads you!?"
"Ælla..."
"So it is that bastard."
We had finally met. Ælla.
Amidst the growing fury of my brothers' spirits, Björn, like an iron wall, answered Ælla's question in a heavy voice.
"Ælla! My name is Björn Ragnarsson! You must have known well that I and my brothers were looking for you!"
"Ah—! Who else could it be but the sons of that notorious heathen, Ragnar! Forgive my memory! I had completely forgotten! The memory of killing your father was just so trivial! I had expected a bit more! After all, was he not the Ragnar!"
At first, he seemed to be feigning nonchalance, but then his face flushed red with anger as he shouted, his appearance nearly akin to a tantrum.
"That pig of a father of yours plundered my land! And his piglets are plundering my castle! I will surely, just as I threw your father into a pit of vipers! Kill every last one of you cruelly!"
As Ælla, full of rage, said his piece and turned back, Osberht followed beside him with a somewhat displeased look.
It must have been disgust at Ælla calling himself the king of Northumbria. But did he realise? That the problem at hand was not his petty power struggle with Ælla.
'Ælla. Such words are only spoken after you have won.'
The sound of grinding teeth could be heard all around me. The faces of my brothers and the warriors who admired our father's fame all flushed bright red.
Of course, I too felt fury rising.
'I will never, ever let you die peacefully.'
"Everyone, prepare for battle!"
Björn's voice, still the calmest among us, was nonetheless full of an irrepressible heat.
At Björn's command, the wall became busier, and amidst the swelling tension.
At last, the enemy moved.