82.
82.
Do you know what the problem with Britain was?
It was that this land was maddeningly humid. In fact, compared to the summers I experienced on the Korean Peninsula in my previous life, it was heaven... but still, I hated humidity.
Perhaps the only drawback of this blessed body? Because every sense had been dehumanized, all manner of unpleasant sensations also came through more vividly.
'Sticky and clammy.'
[Hoo-.]
A sigh I let out the moment I stepped down from the prow. I had the illusion that my breath was pushing away the currents of moisture in the air.
A land thick with moisture and wreathed in mist. The coast of East Anglia, filled with fens and marshes, was treating me to a different flavor from the last time I left.
Had Edmund and the Mercian host not yet pushed as far as this coast? The quay at Sutton Hoo, which Sigebryht had cultivated, bustled with people who had come out to greet us, and at the top of a tall lighthouse, the misty sea was being illuminated despite the early morning.
"Konungr Helgi! This Sutton Hoo is yours!"
Though it was not much different from my homeland, warriors wearing the familiar armaments of Norsemen came rushing toward me, who was acclimating to Britain's land and wind like astronauts adjusting to gravity.
They were three in number. The number I had set as the minimum action unit. So to speak, these warriors who came running as a combat squad caught their rough breaths and gave me a military salute.
[Cheok!]
Warriors who mercilessly slammed their own eagle fists to their left chests, to the point I worried the rivets fastening their mail might have dropped. The idols of all Norsemen, my every word and deed, were naturally widespread among the merchants and lords, and the warriors under me who had been granted a Hugh-like manner. This season's Norseman fashion was apparently this military salute.
After returning from Rome with me, my warriors had been saluting me at every opportunity whenever they saw me, and it seemed to have looked cool... Since it didn't seem bad, I was leaving it be. Would this raise discipline even a little?
"Well met, warriors. Are you Jarl Sigebryht's warriors?"
"We are not, Konungr. We are under Jarl Guthrum's command. Both Jarls are defending Beodericsworth!"
"Both of them are there? It seems Edmund has been putting his whole strength into it."
"Yes. That is correct. They rushed in quite frantically, but now that you, Konungr, have come, those bastards are finished!"
[Ssik- ssik-]
Having taken part in the recent battle, upon a closer look, all three warriors' armor and helmets were not in good condition. Despite that, their fighting spirit was not diminished but rather, at my appearance, they were pulling their morale up considerably.
Some corner of my heart felt a little more reassured.
"Good. Then, shall we go lift the siege of Beodericsworth first... Refil."
"Yes! Konungr."
On the flagship with me were Refil and Stórolf, who stood beside me as always, awaiting orders.
"The veteran warriors will have to move first with me. You will finish the disembarkation here and head directly to Beodericsworth as soon as the ranks of the new recruits are arranged. Since we do not know how the battle will turn out, you must certainly operate many scouts."
"It shall be done as you command."
"Good. I will trust you. Stórolf! We depart. Lead the column."
"Yes! Understood!"
[Kung!]
Though Stórolf's body, which grew ever stronger with age, could not compare to mine, it was still too much to regard him as an ordinary person. The sound of his forceful salute was like the hammer blow of Randi the blacksmith.
Randi... Randi. Now that I thought of it, I had this sword.
[Seureureureureung-]
A gigantic greatsword. Especially, a sword of this absurd size was not something you put in a scabbard and wore slung across your back. If you had a horse, you hung it on the saddle; if not, you carried it slung over your shoulder.
The black blade that slid smoothly down the chain of my armor from my shoulder conveyed a masterful sense of balance. Lighter than iron of a similar size, yet double the weight of conventional weapons. A weight that was just right for me to hold and swing. Because the center of weight was somewhat evenly spread toward the blade, the force felt even more concentrated when swung than its actual weight, but that let me deliver an even more lethal attack. A weight heavy enough that if I just dulled the edge standing sharply straight, it could be used as a bludgeon at once. Since it was poured wholly of meteoric iron that fully withstood my strength, this in itself was a treasure.
'I didn't expect to use it so soon.'
Seeing the messengers who had suddenly gone dead silent like mice before the huge sword I had drawn, I hastily lowered the tip of the blade to the ground with an "Oops" in my heart.
[Cheok!]
"Could you look at this here for a moment...? What do you think of my sword?"
"It is... large and beautiful... Konungr Helgi!"
"I have never seen such a sword in all my life...!"
"It is a magnificent blade perfectly befitting your majesty, Konungr!"
Though I had not even held the sword to their throats, a terror even showed on the faces of the warriors who were flattering me frantically.
Indeed, seeing someone swinging such a thing with one arm right in front of your eyes would be frightening. Whether you were a seasoned warrior who had fought a hundred battles or a novice pup.
"Thank you. I would like to express gratitude for your hard work, Leon?"
"Speak, O great one."
"...I told you to stop calling me that. Can you give them something to eat and drink?"
"Of course, O strong one."
...
Leon had started appending 'O so-and-so one' to the end of his speech at some point. Though it seemed to be reverence directed at me... it felt ambiguous because if I misheard it, it sounded like sarcasm. Anyway, that Roman scholar's adventurous spirit was utterly boundless, and having entrusted the construction and mining projects of Árós and Uppsala to high-ranking slaves of Muslim origin, Leon persistently clung to my side.
It was true that I had told him to diligently record this and that... but I worried whether he thought he was some kind of chronicler. He had hauled over a blank book that looked heavier than my sword...
'Ivar will go to Dublin and move with Olaf.'
In this war, only three brothers among Ragnar's sons were moving. Ivar, myself, and Ubba. The seats left empty by the three brothers would be filled by renowned war-lords. The names were Olaf of Dublin, Torgenvald of Orkney, and Hásteinn of Nantes.
'Ivar and Olaf's target is the kingdom of Strathclyde; Torgenvald of Orkney's target is the kingdom of Alba. Ubba will press from two sides in Northumbria.'
If they had the resolve to dare attack me, did they not also have to accept that their own bases would be attacked? I intended to tie up all the enemies in the north, and then I would fight Edmund of East Anglia, Burgred of Mercia, and. Æthelred of Wessex, who would be behind them.
'Wessex will not be able to move rashly. Mercia will also be unable to commit its full strength.'
If it went according to plan, Salomon of Brittany would soon inform his kinsmen, who dominated the western part of the isle of Britain, that a great opportunity was approaching, and once Hásteinn joined as well, not only Wessex but also western Mercia would become noisy.
"Konungr! Preparations are complete!"
Far away, Stórolf vigorously waved a banner on which a raven and the face of Hel were drawn together on a white field, and in an instant, over a thousand warriors in departure formation awaited my order.
"Good! We depart!"
Refil and Leon would remain here and lead a thousand warriors largely filled with new recruits to back me up.
I gave the signal to depart without hesitation, and soon the clear note of horns resounded everywhere.
[Buuuuuung- uuuuuuung-]
*****
There were many qualities of a soldier, and there were many qualities of an army as well. But from ancient times, only one quality was always considered important, and that was swift marching.
[Cheok! Cheok! Cheok! Cheok!]
The army of the Norsemen cut across this land—a land that in prehistoric times had known the tread of archaic humans, in the era Before Christ of Celts warring with natives, and after them of Romans, Angles, and Saxons in their turn—moving with stern and measured momentum.
[Dagak dagak dagak dagak-]
Mounted on my favorite warhorse, a black steed I'd named Camembert, whom I'd brought along on this expedition, I rode at the center of the column and watched my army's march in silence from my elevated vantage point.
The first time I'd set foot on this land with Ivar, I was soaked in rain and bivouacked in the field, a sorry sight approaching Beodericsworth in a state of utter beggary. That pitiful memory now overlapped with this present gallant array, and the contrast stirred an almost wistful feeling.
'Compared to back then, this really is a whole different world, isn't it. So much has changed. This world, and me, and my army.'
More and more commanders and leaders were no longer thinking only of battle, but were now concerned with supply and planning.
In particular, the troops moving alongside me right now had been reinforced entirely by the crème de la crème of those who had journeyed with me all the way to the Eastern Roman Empire. I could say with confidence that they had diverged utterly from the old ancestral warband, which had only trusted in strength and mobility and run wild.
As the planner who had pushed all of that into motion, the emotion I felt surpassed anything I had imagined.
"Konungr Helgi, a report from the scouts. Beodericsworth lies half a day's march away. They report they've encountered enemy skirmishers. Edmund will have sensed your approach by now."
Since I'd left Refil behind, Stórolf, who had taken up the role of my second-in-command, was enduring an extremely busy time.
With a thousand men on the move, he had to confirm that neither the head nor the tail of the column grew disordered, and he also had to devote attention to the scouting operations I so heavily emphasized.
Still, as a warrior who flaunted an extraordinary flair for combat, Stórolf seemed to flounder for the first few attempts before he quickly began managing the troops to a satisfying degree.
I had to develop their skills one by one like this. Only that would broaden my own range of movement.
In any case, quietly considering the sum of what Stórolf had just reported, the essential point was that we would soon face the enemy.
Had the situation possessed more leeway, I might not have known, but right now I was compelled to lift the siege of Beodericsworth, so I resolved to risk the danger.
"Increase the number of scouts and continue the advance. If the enemy mounts a surprise attack, we shift to battle immediately."
"Yes, Konungr!"
I didn't know whether they had enough leeway to hide an ambush, but even if they did, it posed no real problem. Any ambush in this place, which was nothing but rolling hills, would simply lie over the next ridge. Without a systematic cavalry, they still had to fight blade-to-blade and axe-to-axe in the end.
Thus our army, buzzing with even greater activity, scattered scouts everywhere like an enraged beehive and kept moving.
And finally.
Having gained the road toward Beodericsworth and quickened our pace, we soon confronted a line of men who had already seized the low hills on both sides and blocked the road.
'Edmund. Or no—soldiers of Mercia?'
Their equipment and dress looked exactly like the warriors of Ælla I had faced last time.
Vigorous scouting had confirmed there was no ambush beyond the defensive line ahead. All that remained was to fight.
Though they should have been exhausted because they had moved without rest from Frankish lands aboard Örn at dawn since the small hours, the warriors' morale was high.
Still, there was no need for recklessness. First, let me smash that blocking force. I coveted the ground they were squatting on very much.
"Advance to bow range."
"Yes, Konungr! Advance to bow range! Forward!"
[Boong- boong- booong-]
"Forward!"
[Cheok! Cheok! Cheok! Cheok!]
A vast human wave that moved like a single body, obeying the commands that rippled from the center of a column formed in an instant.
The men guarding the choke point looked utterly spellbound at our inexorable approach. That they should react this way even after their scouts had met ours meant...
'Either Edmund's and the Mercian forces are communicating poorly with each other, or we moved far faster than they anticipated.'
Whichever the case, I could tell this was the moment to attack. I didn't hesitate.
"Halt in place."
"Halt-!"
[Boong- boong-!]
[Cheok! Cheocheok!]
"Vanguard shield-wall, rear ranks prepare to fire."
"Vanguard, raise shields! Nock arrows to the string!"
"Battle-ready! Battle-ready!"
[Boooooong-!!]
[Cheok! Susseuk- kkiieek-]
War machines that executed a ceaseless rain of commands without a hair's breadth of error.
I'd been deeply impressed by the Eastern Roman mad matériel and their advanced technology, and in order to catch up with them, I'd infused one more strength into my army.
That strength was discipline.
Strong discipline fit the Norsemen surprisingly well, men whose nature was to be deeply adventurous and to delight in fighting enemies without fear.
The warriors under my command, having gotten their first taste of what it meant to be "career soldiers" who were fed, quartered, and even paid, had transformed into something that transcended the limits of the age—according to my vision and Hrolf's design.
"Ready archers, loose."
"Release the string!"
"Loose-!"
"Fire!"
[Pyung! Pyupyupyung! Pyupyung! Pyung!]
At the command of the veterans standing at intervals through each rank—the second-in-commands—the arrows loosed in unison embroidered the sky and then fell upon the enemy line with ferocious sound.
[Sswaeeaeaek-! Sswaeaek-! ... Sswaeeaeaek-! Puk! Peopeopyak! Peopyak! Ting!]
"Kh!"
"Aagh! My knee!"
"Kek! ..."
Maybe five men fell for every five hundred arrows loosed. In truth, arrow-fire was hard-pressed to do meaningful damage to an enemy line with shields layered over each other, but perhaps because the draw weight of the bows—which I had designed with a great, heavy body of the bow itself—proved greater than I'd thought, I heard the enemy's screams here and there.
"Archers, spare not your arrows. Infantry, advance with me."
"Yes, Konungr! Beat the drums! We advance!"
"Yes, Jarl Stórolf! Beat the drums! Sound the advance!"
[Dung! Dudung! Dung! Dudung! Dung! Dudung!]
I had also revamped many of the army's signaling systems, and for a first attempt, they were keeping pace nicely. In truth, the rank-and-file soldiers were probably just watching their surroundings and moving by feel... but the quality of the second-in-commands had clearly risen.
[Seureureung-]
I dismounted from my horse and drew the great sword I'd hung from the saddle.
In the sunlight there lingered a chill on the blade. I lightly rested the great sword upon my shoulder toward Örn, slipped my left arm into the shield that hung behind my back by a strap, and strode forward with vigor.
"Warriors of the North! Forward-!"
[Kung!]
[Dung! Dudung! Dung! Dudung!]
At my powerful war-roar, the warriors stamped the earth in unison and slowly advanced behind me. In the span of a brief time, three more volleys followed, and before long the enemy line, reeling and unable to collect itself, was right in front of me.
☆☆☆☆☆References☆☆☆☆☆
Original: Jeff Schmaltz, MODIS Land Rapid Response Team, NASA GSFC (Goddard Space Flight Center), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
-Wikipedia
It's a multi-front war lol
A war of all against all...! Hobbes, you were right...
It looks like almost all of Britain has plunged into war.
A lot of the unnamed friends haven't appeared yet... they'll be updated eventually lol