81.
81.
The king's command had fallen!
All the jarls who had been unable to join the last 'Ragnar's Sons' Revenge' caught the thick scent of silver.
Just how much had the Jarl of Gotland, who had secured a seat through the connections of Drottning Áslaug, gotten his hands on after the war?
The attention of Helgi Ragnarsson, the current overlord of the North, was itself money and honor. For Konungr Helgi had even established a massively lucrative trade route by drawing in Rurik, the king of the Væringjar settled across the Baltic Sea, into his sphere of influence.
People had half-jokingly said that the jarls of the Árós and Uppsala region earned silver simply by breathing where they sat.
With such prosperous times and favorable conditions, the Jarls situated in the inland forests, outside the coastal regions of Árós, Uppsala, and Gotland, were left dumbfounded.
Because, having virtually no point of contact with Konungr Helgi, aside from buying up cheap grain in bulk during the winter to stave off starvation, they had never really received any of the crumbs.
Of course, for people who had been eking out a harsh existence deep in the forests, no longer starving was a remarkable feat in itself, but humans are animals who, by nature, once they gain one thing, immediately think of a second.
The order that threw all of them into a fever pitch—those who had sought to use this wedding to make their faces known and get a foot in on the trade route said to flow with gold instead of water—had finally fallen.
The ones who stopped the Jarls, giddy with delight and ready to dash back to their domains at once, were the powers among powers acting on the Konungr's instructions: Jarl Erik and Refil.
"A moment, our wise and valiant Jarls, please speak with me for a short while."
"?? What is the matter, Jarl Erik! I am a man tasked with the great Konungr Helgi's command!"
"Regarding that command, there are matters the Konungr has entrusted to me. It will only take a moment."
"Ah, from the Konungr? Ahem— well then, there is no helping it!"
What Helgi aimed to engineer through this series of steps was a somewhat more systematic campaign.
His thinking was that wars could no longer be a matter of 'Waaaa! It's war! Gather the boys! Everyone here? Then let's go! Woah-!'. This was fervently supported especially by Refil, Stórolf, and their one thousand warriors, all of whom had experienced the wars of the Eastern Roman Empire alongside Helgi.
Having moved alongside those in the Eastern Roman Empire who truly waged war as a profession, they had opened their eyes to the importance of logistics and planning.
Therefore, from the very moment the war was declared, the great hall of Árós had been transformed into a general headquarters, and every figure of ability meant to lead a contingent had been summoned to this place and forced to wrack their brains.
Since they could not take every Jarl who charged in more eagerly than expected, plans were established one by one: to select only the elite of the elite for immediate deployment, while the rest left behind would be sent only after being drilled in collective tactics.
The preparations for support to the urgent front in East Anglia and to Northumbria, where the standoff was expected to grow prolonged, were finally complete seven days after Sigebryht's messenger had arrived.
Intelligence from East Anglia and Northumbria continued to arrive daily by sea.
With the enemy offensives prepared over the past winter finally underway, the entire northwestern marshlands save for Beodericsworth had been lost. To resolve East Anglia's situation—where they were nonetheless holding off Edmund's attacks behind their thick walls—Helgi finally roused the elite forces of Árós and Uppsala and moved his body.
Now was the first month of summer, its final day, in the year 867 AD. (May 17th by the Julian calendar)
*****
It was a day with a refreshing morning breeze, and the clashing of iron armor rang out loudly alongside the gentle sound of the waves.
[Chalgeurak- chalgeurak- cheok! Cheok! Cheok! Sswaaaa- chalgeurak chalgeurak-]
It was a scene always visible in a coastal city when preparing to set sail, but today, the sight was distinctly different.
Because it was the day the standing armies of Árós and Uppsala, tempered through countless rounds of feedback and grinding determination since my very first Great Expedition, were setting out all at once.
From the West Gate to the East Gate of Árós, the great fleet stretched long along the shoreline, and its appearance exuded, rather than joy, the slavering killing intent of a wolf pack poised before the hunt.
Hunting dogs, maddened and feverish with hunger for blood and prey.
Holding the leashes of these drooling beasts, I had left Refil, Erik, Stórolf, Oleg, Djur, and the others bustling about for final inspections behind me, and was sharing the final moments before departure with Inga.
"..."
"..."
She and I did not say many words. We simply held each other tight, our heads leaning against the other's chest and the crown of the other's head.
But we, a married couple who had already held many conversations through body heat, hand gestures, and glances, were calmly accepting the unprecedented situation of a war breaking out during our honeymoon.
Even though we had fiercely craved each other for the past week, overcoming a thirst that still burned, I simply held her tight in my arms.
And what roused me, as I dazedly breathed in her pleasant scent, was the touch of Inga's hands gently pushing against my arms.
Lifting the head she had leaned against me, she whispered in a low voice. The rims of her eyes were slightly red, but not a trace of wavering could be found.
"Helgi. In my dream last night, a great sun rose. Rising from the Baltic Sea, that sun flew across the sky and came before me, but it was so bright and vast I could not find a place to hide."
Had she felt anxiety at the sight of her husband departing immediately after the wedding? In case that was so, I pulled her waist in even tighter, and my wife, offering no resistance, smiled faintly and leaned into me all the more.
"But strangely, it was not hot at all. Rather, as if to enfold me, that sun gradually drew nearer. Until finally, all directions were full of that light... An amusing dream, isn't it?"
Because our faces were pressed so close, the breath of Inga's whisper near my neck was sweet.
"Even the sun protects you. I can set out with even greater peace of mind."
"Do not worry about me."
Pushing me away again, Inga this time cupped my face in both hands and murmured a phrase familiar from somewhere. The blessing of the Goddess Hel, which my mother had always breathed into me.
Because I had never once been sincere in my faith, I did not know the exact details, but it was something akin to a prayer, asking for impure things to be driven away and for only good things to abound.
For a sham believer like me, it was not the words but rather Inga's heart in thinking of me that touched me all the more deeply and soothed my bitter feelings.
"You must come back to my side, safe and sound. Without fail."
"Without fail. I will, Inga."
It was an exceedingly cliché line. And, as the finishing touch, Inga pulled my head down and even pressed her lips to mine.
At this point, I even had the silly thought, 'Had the sun from Inga's dreams been trying to warn me about this kind of cliché?' But I decided to focus a little more on that soft sensation that never seemed to pall.
Soon enough, the two of us, having pulled apart to draw breath, took each other's hands and walked downward.
Toward the place where both our mothers, Björn, Sigurdeu, Halfdan, Botilda, and Æthelthryth were waiting.
Ivar and Ubba would move with me this time as well, but all the other family members would remain. Halfdan and Sigurdeu protested with expressions of disbelief at my decision, but Halfdan had to return to Roskilde first to look into the situation there, and Sigurdeu, was Æthelthryth not pregnant right away?
What if he went off to war and suddenly a child was born? Knowing how long this war could drag on...?
It was an unavoidable thing for the times... but if I could help it, I did not want to create a situation where my brother would be nagged by his wife for the rest of his life. We would not be short of hands anyway.
'And I had other tasks for Sigurdeu anyway...'
Since Sigurdeu loved art more than anyone, he had a side that was well-versed in all sorts of myths and legends. I was about to have my brother create a Northern European version of a Romance of the Three Kingdoms of myths.
Weaving together various fun myths to create a saga. The final chapter would be the 'Ragnarok' I had first presented in this world.
In other words, it could be called the groundwork for creating the holy book of the new religion people called Hel-tru (those who believe in Hel).
At the same time, Björn and Hrolf would remain here, reborn the Jarls who would arrive later and their soldiers into Árós-style warriors, and utilize those forces for more productive tasks rather than just throwing them blindly into Britain.
It was not as if we could all hold hands and go 'haha hoho' just because someone said, 'I want to go to Britain!' We would undertake a massive civil engineering project and start a shipbuilding enterprise.
On this occasion, we would also build a grand fleet capable of moving a massive army at once! And eliminate the remote places far away where news barely reaches!
...I said it heroically, but in truth, it would probably be no more than a job of turning the existing footpaths into somewhat more proper dirt roads. Of course, since this was also an official part of the operation, it would be treated generously.
There was already more than enough money, and with the Golden Horn stretching beyond the Baltic Sea all the way to Constantinople in my grasp, there was nothing left that could restrain me.
'If it is an unavoidable war, then I would eat my fill twice, no, three times over.'
The goal was to make certain there would be absolutely no one lazing about and freeloading...!
'I cannot bear to watch such a sight. I will make them dig dirt at the very least...!'
Feeling the warmth of this soft hand in my left hand, I hardened my resolve.
And that day, with the sound of resounding horns that seemed to reach even the northern mountains, fifty longships sailed out into the sea from Árós in unison.
*****
867 AD. The second month of summer.
The island of Britain. East Anglia, Beodericsworth.
[Chaeng! Puk! Peok! Sswae-aek- sswae-aek- peok peok!]
"Block them! Do not let the enemy climb the walls!"
"Throw everything you have, men of Beodericsworth!"
"There will be a great reward for the first man to climb that wall!"
"Hail to Cyning Edmund! Hail to our God!"
Yaaaaaa-!
It was a place where the madness of the battlefield swirled even in broad daylight.
The eyes of Edmund, looking at the place that had been his fortress and home just one year ago at this very time, were utterly sunken.
'Why? Why did he hold out so stubbornly? Sigebryht. This fool...! Had he become so blinded by ambition that he had abandoned his own people and even God...!'
In Edmund's mind, since he was the rightful king of East Anglia, all those beneath him had a duty to follow him according to the law the Lord had established.
So why did they resist so tenaciously? Could their eyes truly not see his banner?
In truth, this was a wish that was rather difficult to grant from the subordinates' perspective. Especially for a lord like Sigebryht, who was skilled at seeking opportunity and had no small measure of ambition, there was no need for further words.
The sight of Edmund, constantly calling upon God while bowing his head to the king of Mercia and bowing his head to the king of Wessex, would surely have been far from satisfactory.
If it was merely a matter of face, perhaps it could be overlooked, but when territory, people, and even scarce silver and grain kept draining away under the guise of tribute, this kind of backlash was, in a way, a matter of time.
However, to Edmund, such trivial matters were all just vain human affairs.
For this devout Catholic, who believed he was executing the will of heaven above, only the Lord's will mattered. Edmund could not possibly allow this land, passed down by their ancestors, to be taken by the barbarians from beyond the sea.
Of course, it was ironic that those great ancestors of Edmund had pushed out the natives of this land in a manner very similar to the Norsemen now.
He was, to the very end, the sword of God. The instrument of God.
Edmund's voice, pressing home the promised victory, overflowed with certainty and strength.
"Hunta. I do not see Sigebryht."
"My Cyning. That coward will not even show a shadow on the walls."
"Right... he always was a fox-like figure. Even so, how can those people fight without retreating like that...? Have they all forgotten that I am their lawful Cyning?"
Was it a lament, or admiration? Seeing his king let out an ambiguous sigh mixed with words, the warrior Hunta, who had endured the past winter enduring all manner of hardships with him in the marshlands, had sparks flying in his eyes.
"What would those ignorant louts know? The moment you break the walls and retake the city, every last one of them will kneel, so please wait just a little longer...! My Cyning!"
"...Of course, I know that well. What would they know? It is just regrettable, so regrettable."
The reason the people of Beodericsworth were resisting so fiercely was, more than anything, because the Mercian forces that had come in were plundering East Anglia indiscriminately, but the two men, the lord and his retainer, burning with vengeance and a sense of religious mission, simply blamed the warriors and citizens within the fortress.
Just as, despite their stubborn defense, the height of the walls seemed to grow lower under the fierce onslaught of the thoroughly prepared Edmund-Burgred allied forces, the sound of urgent hoofbeats reached Edmund's ears, where frustration and the anticipation of imminent success coexisted in a corner of his heart.
Edmund's expression hardened on the spot as he heard the news from the panting messenger.
"Norsemen longships have reached the shores of the English once again...? They are here already?"
It was, indeed, at a lightning speed.