268. Faith (2).
[Grarrrrng-!]
I couldn't distinguish the sound of thunder from the sound of a longship cleaving the sea.
[Grrrarrrng- Urrrrng!]
The ship, gaining speed by the vigorous rowing and the wind lashing from every direction, surged forward mightily and stirred terror in those who faced it.
"The Shayāṭīn are coming! The Red Skull is coming!"
"Áli protects us! Áli watches over us!"
"We are the Sword of the Prophet! Let us kill all the Franks!"
In truth, the ships relentlessly charging over the waves were manned by the people of Wessex, but to the Muslim warriors of al-Andalus, that was of little consequence.
Didn't they call all Muslims—whether from al-Andalus, Syria, Egypt, or the Levant—Saracens anyway?
By this point, the words Saracen and Frank had transformed into catch-alls for every foe that needed to be bitten, clawed, and slashed to death without delay.
[Shooaaa- Splash! Grrrarrrng!]
"Now—go! Ram that Saracen ship just like this!"
"The Saint of the Sea, Alfred, has spoken! We shall bring them salvation through death!"
"Jolly Alfred! Jolly Alfred!"
"Everyone grab something! The Lord's iron mace is coming down!"
"Let's go—!!"
[Shooaaa- Grrrarrrng-]
The longships of the Northmen were flexible and strong vessels. And the longships of the North Sea, though they might have lost some of that flexibility, had become far larger and stronger.
Over the past year or so, Alfred and the warriors of Wessex had resorted to every possible method to adapt to naval combat. At first, they lashed ships together in one spot to keep them as steady as possible, but now, with the volunteers (?) from across the North Sea steadily arriving as reinforcements, such methods were no longer necessary.
Having secured tactical flexibility, Alfred's pirate fleet used the superior speed and turning power of the longships to ram the flanks of the Saracen vessels. It was a skill that could not even be attempted without a thorough understanding of the waves, but Alfred's hand upon the tiller—seated in the center of the longship and reaching deep into the water—was unhesitating.
[Grrrarrrng- Shooaaa-!]
The dragon head of the longship appeared in time with a wave that was descending steeply before rising again. To the eyes of the Saracen pirates, the longship seemed to vanish for an instant and then reappear, and so they cursed the Franks for their wicked sorcery even as they braced for the collision in their own fashion.
"All hands, brace for collision!!"
"The Frankish Shayāṭīn are working their foul magic!"
"Áli watches over us! All is according to Áli's will!"
[Ooooong- Flash!]
A single dragon lifted its head with the surging wave. For a fleeting instant, the dragon's head, suspended in midair, gazed down upon the Saracen pirates below and revealed a grim stare within the flashing sky.
[Gurrrrng- Kwarrrrgh! Kwa-kwarrrgh! Kurrrrng-!]
At last, the longship hurled its body forward with the violently crashing wave and pressed down upon the Saracen pirate vessel with its barnacle-crusted hull. Along with the tardy thunderclaps that followed, men and wooden splinters flew up into the sky in companionable unison.
"Aack-!"
"Áli!"
"Lord!"
"Khk!"
[Grrrrrng-!]
Unlike the thunder that had gone silent, the commotion on the sea was only just beginning. Those who had been struck by the ship and sank directly beneath the waves or were flattened at least died instantly, spared from any particular pain.
The Muslims and Catholics thrown into the sky smashed their heads against tall masts, or upon falling back down, through sheer misfortune, landed on the hard deck or plunged toward the seawater.
If there was a common point, it was perhaps that the children of Abraham (meaning the followers of Judaism, Catholicism, and Islam) who were flung into the sky were all going to die?
But that was not to say the fates of the warriors from both sides who were lucky enough to remain clinging to the ships were unharmed.
[Wiiiing- Wiiiing- Shooaaa-]
The ceaseless sound of the waves could be heard beyond a ringing numbness in the ears. Even in the moment of violent rocking, Alfred, who had kept his grip on the tiller, shook his head to clear the tinnitus a little and moved his limbs about to check his body for abnormalities.
Good. Right arm, left arm, both legs, and the precious parts—all without fault. Then from here on out, it was time to earn some coin.
"Those of you still alive, make some noise!"
"Urgh! I think I'm still alive! My Cyning!"
"Uh—I can't find one of my fingers!"
"The fellow next to me is just coming down now!"
"—...Yaaaaaah!"
[Thud!]
"Agh!"
"Good! It seems we have a fair few more survivors! Those who can move, take up your weapons! Sons of Wessex! Warriors of Alfred! Let us bring salvation to all these Saracens! God wills it!!"
"Eeerrryah!"
"Let's go! You herring-pickled bastards! Move your filthy arses this instant!"
"Arrrrrr, seize them all and kill them!"
"Eeyah!"
[Urrrrng- Ku-gung! Shooaaa-]
Having bravely dashed across the ship, which swayed precariously as it was unsteadily lashed, Alfred immediately hurled his hand axe at a Saracen pirate whose wits had already fled.
[Shing- Shing- Shing- Thock!]
"Huh?"
Of course, it was not the case that projectile weapons always struck true simply because they were thrown or shot. But Alfred, who was fanatically obsessed with Helgi Ragnarsson's wars and battles, sought to emulate his everything. So he threw another hand axe, and this time the hand axe flew and struck the thigh of the dazed Saracen pirate.
[Shing- Thuck!]
"Agh!"
"Die!"
[Hooong- Thudk!]
"Khk—"
Now close, Alfred leaped from the longship in a single motion and brought his sword down without the slightest exertion. Alfred's blade indifferently bit into the enemy's nape and came to a halt near the neck bone.
[Kki-geek- Slicck! Pu-hook!]
Alfred's sword, having thus cut through the blade, severed the enemy's neck. At once, the spouting blood rained down upon the Saracen pirates who were just beginning to regain their senses one by one.
"Fran—"
"Eyah!"
[Puk!]
"Khk!"
"Shay—!"
"Die!"
[Thwack!]
"Ughk!"
Right after, the Wessex warriors who had followed Alfred down, bearing short daggers, axes, and hammers in both hands, began to strike, stab, and slash every Saracen pirate who dared meet their eyes, felling them the moment they saw them.
Of course, there were many among them who, by anyone's reckoning, looked to be warriors of the North Sea. In any case, the warriors of Wessex seized the Saracen pirates' vessel without much incident, bound the few pirates who had survived by luck tightly with ropes, and moved back to the longship.
While his proud sailors carried out their sacred duty today as well, the saint of the western North Sea quietly took in the operations unfolding around him.
[Yaaaaa! Urrrrrng— Grrrrurrrng—! Thud! Kwagwagwang! Kwagwang! Aaaaak! Kill them all!!]
The crashing sounds of longships and Saracen ships colliding here and there, the thunder growing ever closer. Even the blood spatters riding the strong wind along with the raindrops that were beginning to fall.
In the midst of all that chaos, Alfred stood as piously as a saint who had attained true enlightenment, and in the corner of his eye he saw the Örn wing led by Odda driving off the enemy.
The last Great War had once greatly shaken the world of Britain, and changed everything for the people living under it. The way they lived, the goals they had to pursue, even their faith in god.
Once Oda of Devon had been a fine ealdorman and general, but now there was no Ealdorman Odda of Devon. Instead, that position was occupied only by Odda, the fierce naval Jarl.
There was no longer Alfred, the Cyning of Wessex who had tried to fight for the protection of the Catholic world. Now, in his place, there was only Jolly Alfred, sweeping across the western North Sea.
"Everyone move quickly! The storm is coming! Can you not hear Njord crying out to withdraw?!"
"Ay! Ay! My Cyning! You slugs! Move quickly!"
"Why is this Saracen so heavy!? Just go to Njord!"
"Al-lah! Al-lah!"
[Thwack!]
"Ack!"
[Splash! Shwaaaa— Urrrrrng—!]
"If everyone's aboard, take the oars! We're pulling back!"
"Pulling back! Sound the signal!"
[Bwoooong—! Bwoooooong—! Urrrng! Kwagwang!]
The horn blasts blown by men were merely pitiful before the approaching storm, but those on this battlefield were seasoned sailors who had repeated such deeds countless times over the past year or so.
They would all get themselves out on their own.
In Alfred's mind, which was thinking thus, he began to worry about where he could sell today's big catch (the many prisoners) so that word would spread he'd sold them well.
Thus passed another ordinary day on the southwestern North Sea.
*****
While the Emperor of West Frankia was drawing up a massive counterattack plan with the heir of Aquitaine, and the Emperor of East Frankia was eyeing his blocked north and plotting an advance eastward,
the Emperor of Lotharingia was preparing to aid his brother in Italy.
In truth, Emperor Lothar II of Lotharingia, who had wrested victory against the powerful uncles on both sides, never overestimated his own capabilities—he had strong hikikomori tendencies and was a fool for his son, if one looked closely.
Therefore, quite naturally, Lotharingia's goal became to remain a true friend of that mighty North Sea, and this phenomenon began to accelerate even more thanks to the strong insistence of the delegation that had attended the North Sea sports competition and returned.
The bishops who quietly observed this wondered if they had ever seen the Emperor and nobles of Lotharingia so united; it was enough to prompt such questioning.
Moreover, the renowned bishops of Lotharingia, who had been struck by the excommunication beam of the previous Pope of Rome over Lothar II's divorce issue, gradually began actively linking up with the Patriarch of Constantinople, who was reaching out.
At the moment, no conflict was openly visible, but they were steadily stacking up seeds for future trouble.
The Roman Curia voiced concerns over this, but Lothar II and his older brother, the Emperor of Italy, consistently acted as if a dog were barking somewhere, immersing themselves more in their own interests that excluded Rome.
Thus, while the rift between the Roman Curia, Italy, and Lotharingia deepened both known and unknown, there was an issue where their interests aligned, and that was the increasingly bold and audacious movements of the Saracens.
The Saracen pirates of Al-Andalus plaguing the lands of West Frankia and Brace were none of Lothar or Emperor Ludovicus's business and drew little attention, but unfortunately, Saracens in this world existed not only in Andalus; those hailing from North Africa, Egypt, the Levant, and elsewhere had a far more vicious side.
If the Saracenquito(...) that swarmed out of Al-Andalus at least devoted themselves to fundamental piracy like slave-hunting and looting merchant ships, the Saracens pressing in from North Africa felt like a regular army seeking to seize land outright.
Southern Italy and Rome, now effectively in a state of war, could no longer simply take blows from these Saracens, who brazenly disembarked and even raided into southern Lotharingia! It was war!
Thus, the alliance of Lotharingia-Italy-the Papacy, riding a rapid current, drew in West Frankia, which was coincidentally preparing an offensive, bringing them to the establishment of a grand counterattack plan.
However, watching his uncle Carolus, who was confident of victory, and his older brother Ludovicus, Lothar II could not shake his doubts, and with reason—for his brother and uncle, being similar sorts of men, knew schemes and cunning but he had never once thought them skilled at fighting.
If his uncle of East Frankia had spoken instead, he might have trusted it more.
Thus, having finished a garden stroll with his son Hugh, Lothar II placed a letter he had carefully rewritten several times into a messenger's hand, and directed it toward Árós in the North Sea.
If my dear friend is the strongest person in this world, should I not naturally seek his aid?
Thus, the letter that departed from the palace in Aachen stopped at Hamburg, and together with the letter sent by Jarl Oleg of Liubice that joined en route, it traversed the well-polished transportation network to reach Árós in a mere seven days, a remarkable feat.
At that very moment, Inga's labor had just begun.
☆☆☆☆☆Reference☆☆☆☆☆
Peter Nicolai Arbo (Norway 1831-1892) Public domain.
A painting of the Battle of Svolder.
It's a painting of the fight between a 10th-century Norwegian king and a Danish king...!
Otto Sinding, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Another painting of the same battle.
Ignazio Danti, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
A view of the Battle of Lepanto, fought in the later 16th century.
You can get a rough idea of galley warfare...!
Of course, vikings also shot arrows, threw spears, and all that on ships...! But in the end, it always came down to ramming into each other and exchanging spears and swords...!
Now that I think about it, this seems to be the first naval battle in my writing...! Helgi will probably show an even more powerful side in naval battles... I'm sure you readers remember the swimming competition...! lol It's like a human torpedo...!!!