34.
34.
As it happened to be around the time the harvest and grain storage were wrapping up, the fervor of working while also zealously feasting and drinking finally came to an end after a little over a week.
It was an incongruous thing, but when we laid our father's physical body to rest, we also mourned and rejoiced together in this festival for the spirits of our fallen warriors, buried in the earth beside him.
For they would reach Valhalla, and when this life was over, we would meet again.
Ever since that Karl of the Franks burned the Saxon lands and their sacred tree, how long we had yearned for such cathartic vengeance! Countless great kings and lords had challenged them, but had always been thwarted by the armies of those who stood beneath the cross and their stout walls.
The emergence of Helgi Ragnarsson, who finished off the two Konungrs of Northumbria and seized their land, was utterly shocking even to the hardy Norsemen.
A father murdered in a dishonorable fashion by a man without honor, and the son who flawlessly achieved that vengeance.
If this alone would have been enough to earn considerable sympathy, what if he was also a demigod-like existence, with rumors abuzz that he directly wielded the grace of Goddess Hel?
Árós, which was already practically his domain, was a given, and in Uppsala, the city of the most honorable Norsemen right next door, they appointed him as their king without even considering his own will on the matter(!).
Presenting him with a famed sword inscribed [Courage] as a gift.
Gradually, in the minds of the Norsemen who had gained such a heaven-sent king, a greater thing, a grander objective than the farming, herding, trading, raiding, and mercenary work they had done for long ages began to take root...
Where that final destination lay would now rest solely in the hands of Helgi Ragnarsson.
*****
Leaving behind the frenzy of the festival held in Uppsala and having roughly finished the return of the troops, the distribution of spoils, and the commendation of my comrades who had toiled, I entrusted everything else to Björn and set out on the road to Árós.
In any case, Björn had lived for many long years as the lord of Munsö island, situated just below Uppsala, so he would be able to govern Uppsala without much difficulty.
Besides, Uppsala was now essentially the spiritual heartland of the Norsemen, while the true political, economic, and military center was Árós, was it not? This city, growing larger by the day, would one day completely swallow up Uppsala.
"You seem to be in good spirits, Konungr."
Hrólfr casually spoke to me as I spurred my black horse along the road filled entirely with green.
"Of course, Hrólfr. How long has it been since I came home?"
It was gradually becoming the last month of summer. Befitting a season when the sunlit hours were steadily dwindling, cold winds blew from the snow-capped mountains to the north.
The winter here was exceedingly long and harsh, so every possible preparation had to be made. Checking the livestock's health, stacking firewood, organizing the harvested grain, pressing merchants to buy and sell goods needed for winter...
Whenever my party passed along the well-paved road, the faces of the farmers who stopped their work and hurriedly bowed their heads were entirely covered in beads of sweat, but not a single one of them looked afraid. They were all beaming brightly.
It was a good thing.
"If my Konungr is pleased, then this old body feels as though it could fly. Isn't the weather simply splendid?"
Hrólfr's words were meaningful as he chattered on and turned his head into the distance.
'This old man... what is he scheming?'
Whenever he acted this sly, something troublesome always came up.
Just as I was about to open my mouth and press him directly, I faintly saw a very familiar figure standing far ahead, before the palisade that had at some point been expanded through construction work.
"...We'll talk later, Hrólfr. Hyah!"
Hrólfr's dark ulterior motives were not what mattered. Mother was out there.
A childlike smile hung on my lips as I hastily urged my black horse forward and dashed ahead.
*****
Perhaps because of the memory of having roamed every corner of the North Sea with my fleet not so long ago, the colossal city of Árós, which had expanded its reach to the distant mountain ridges, looked to me as if numerous ships had been flipped upside down.
Its estimated population alone was already thirty thousand.
For the Norsemen, who previously had not a single settlement worthy of being called a city, this had been an enormous change.
Numerous settlements strung out along the coastline. People who had lived clustered together, forming populations of merely one or two thousand at best, had begun to gather in one place.
Naturally, the local lords (it was more accurate to call them village chiefs, but they were called Jarls nonetheless) would be agitated, and Árós's abundance would continue to draw people in, with the population naturally increasing further.
The local 'Jarls' would inevitably face a time when they had to choose.
Whether to oppose me to protect their paltry vested interests, or to come under me and, even if they lost their autonomy, enjoy a wealth and prosperity previously unimaginable.
Even without any particular intention on my part, I was, through the effects of the various traits I carried in this body, achieving a centralization of the Norsemen that no one had anticipated.
As I always say, what if just ten years passed like this? And then another ten years, and ten more after that?
People would no longer wish to return to the past state of mutual killing, the war of all against all.
There were already plenty of enemies outside our fence, and the threats remained.
Of course, none of this was important to me at this very moment.
"Have both of you, my mothers, been in good health all this time?"
"Yes, Helgi. Hearing news of you gave me strength I didn't know I had. You have worked so hard. Truly, thank you. I do not know what more words I can offer you. Thank you, Helgi."
My mother Áslaug stroked the back of my hand with pride in her eyes.
For some reason, I had not been able to see her at the festival in Uppsala, and I had not expected her to be here rather than in her homeland of Gotland.
Up until the time I set sail, she had shown the very image of a hardy Norse woman, and where had all that momentum gone, the force with which she had subdued the Jarls who were on the verge of agitation?
With how much mental anguish she must have suffered in just over a year, my heart was uneasy seeing how worn her face had become.
"To think you would thank me. I merely did what I had to do; rather, it was Björn and Ivar who toiled the most."
Though I spoke not out of self-deprecation but sincerity, my stepmother Áslaug simply shook her head gently.
"Now that I have seen your face, I must take my leave. Asta will have far more to say to you than I do..."
Guuh-
My birth mother Asta and I both supported Áslaug's arms as she rose with difficulty.
"Go in safely, Mother. Sigurd and Ubba will return soon as well, so if you are ever lonely, seek me out at any time."
"How could one who sits upon the seat of a Konungr be asked to come and go so easily? Now you must also think carefully of your own position..."
Though she scolded me sternly, the smile that played at the corners of her lips told me my words were not wholly unwelcome. Yet the moment she brought up Sigurd's name, she furrowed her fine brow.
"Ubba may be troublesome for sending too many tidings, but from Sigurd I have received none. The last I heard was that he had met some woman and lost his entire heart to her, and ever since, I have not received so much as a single letter from the wretch."
A colt in heat—.
The voice with which she vented her quiet anger was steeped in hardened fury. At such times, it is best to hold one's tongue.
"Now that I think of it, Helgi, you as well... ah, it would be better for you to hear this directly from Asta. I shall go in first then. Let us meet at the evening feast."
"Yes, yes? I shall see you this evening, Mother."
After escorting Mother Áslaug, who had begun to say something only to stop herself and make her exit, my birth mother Asta took my hand and guided me toward a small table.
Of course, no matter how fiercely she might tug, this powerful body of mine would never be budged an inch... but what, are family matters settled by strength alone? I, who was little more than a mouse before a cat in my mother's presence, could only move wherever she led.
Since I had already finished the deeply moving reunion before Seongmun, embracing her with "Mother, your son has returned!" and hearing "You have returned safely, my son. I am proud of you," I well knew that the inescapable nagging all sons the world over must endure would now follow.
Yet, I say once more, there was no avoiding it. I simply raised my chin firmly and braced myself to endure.
"Good heavens, Helgi. When you were outside I did not notice, but you have grown so thin in the past year...! Did you go about starving yourself in Britain?"
"..."
My mother, who had looked at me with a thoroughly worried face and inquired about every detail of my eating, drinking, and shelter, finally gave a satisfied nod after I had promised that I would unconditionally eat well, sleep well, wash well, and go about properly—and then she immediately dropped a bomb.
"So, Helgi. Now that you are Konungr, all the more should you not marry Örn or higher?"
"..."
Unable to bring myself to give the firm reply of 'I shall do so' this time, I desperately rolled both my eyes and my head.
Whereupon my mother, letting out a brief sigh, clasped my hand in both of hers and admonished me gently.
"Helgi, you cannot keep on avoiding it forever. I do not know why you are so, but think upon it carefully. Take a keen look at the women who pass by, try speaking to them first... of course you must have your own thoughts, but to a Konungr, the meaning of a Dróttning is not merely that of a wife, so you must reflect on this truly in earnest."
"Yes, Mother."
My mother's words were right. It was not a thing to be avoided forever. I truly had to think upon it seriously, yet for some reason, I felt only deeper relief for having evaded this topic just now.
"You, really..."
Of course, my mother, who surely knew every hidden corner of my heart, smiled as if resigned, and the symbol of Hel dangling from her faintly swaying necklace glinted in the firelight.
'Now that I think of it, I must carry out a religious reformation.'
To speak of a religious reformation makes it sound terribly grandiose, as if flames would burst forth everywhere... but looked at in truth, it was nothing of the sort.
It was rather closer to founding, for the very first time, doctrines that no one had ever written. The indigenous faith of the Norsemen at present was such that the teachings of village A and village B differed, and village C commonly had good and evil reversed, so...
Now that a shared identity was gradually forming around Árós, the first great city of the Norsemen, the unification of religious doctrine was not a choice but a necessity.
If it failed, then in the end, the Cross could not be kept from entering.
That too would not be so ill, but I, who faintly knew the harsh, bloody path of suffering the Cross would walk in the future, wished before that time to forge for the people here a religious view that placed human intellect first.
Was it not worth the attempt? Had I chosen to forgo it out of fear of failure, I would never have grasped the [Sword of Courage] Björn had offered me in the first place.
"You must be weary. I have kept you far too long. Go in now and rest for a while. Skilled hunters have caught many a rabbit and deer for you."
"Thank you, Mother. Then I shall seek you out first before the evening feast."
"Yes, do so."
Deer and rabbit? And mead with it? Hmm.
It would be best if none of the others at the feast (especially Hrólfr) so much as thought of touching meat tonight. For I would eat it all.
Swallowing hard the drool that was quietly gathering, I bid my mother farewell, and leaving the room whose mere sight alone stirred feelings of snug comfort, I set my steps toward my own chamber situated one story higher.
Laying stone ramparts had been thwarted because the elders of Árós had wept and pleaded with me, but the house I myself dwelt in had been built up by properly blending stone and timber, so a somewhat avant-garde beauty could be felt throughout the building, which lifted my spirits.
'What on earth is this "tradition" of theirs... Just you wait a little, I shall raise stone walls, mark my words...'
I was already exchanging dark plans, unknown to the elders of the Thing, with skilled masons. All that remained was to craft a prototype and persuade them. Of course, it would be good if I could learn more advanced fortification techniques before then...
To do so, I would have to go to the greatest city of this age, Miklagard. For the knowledge I required would be there.
'That is the reason I am loath to marry straightaway.'
"Konungr Helgi. Styrbjorn has reported that a guest has come."
Normally, upon the uppermost floor that my mother and I used, the steps of all but the guards were barred, but Refil—son of Björn, my adjutant, scribe, and something akin to a secretary—could convey tidings to me without any restraint.
"Styrbjorn? The man must be a person of consequence, then. Very well, who did he say it was?"
Perhaps feeling sorry for having disturbed my Hugh-style brooding, I gave Refil's stiff, robot-like shoulder a light thump and asked, and my blood-kin answered.
"Harald. He gave his name as Haraldr Halfdansson."
Ho—.
The hegemon of the west of Scandinavia had come.