95.

The people of Huntadun were truly lively people.

I had even wondered if the perpetually gloomy weather that served as the base had made their laughter all the more abundant.

I had thought we were an occupying army, but seeing them urge us to partake of their meager grain and beer, saying they must observe the custom of hospitality, I felt a pang of sympathy and ordered the East Anglian merchants, who had greatly expanded their influence around Beodericsworth, to bring grain, meat, drink, and the like.

Thanks to that, all the villagers and warriors mingled and made merry together, but now it was time to move again.

Since they became my people the moment they surrendered, we took Earl Leofric, who needed to prove his loyalty, along with a few marshlanders who volunteered as guides, and on the old Roman road—Örn—we advanced north once more.

This time, a fortress called Stanford greeted us.

'Hmm? That was peculiar. This place looked more like a plain than a hill.'

Of course, true to their obsession with high ground, they had created a low artificial hill where none existed, but by any measure it was far lower than the fortresses we had seen so far.

It was just about level enough to call a plain.

But since it was completely surrounded by a stone wall, it seemed it would be difficult to lay siege to with our total lack of siege engines.

'The inside of the fortress was quiet, and no one came out to wait for us. There wasn't a single human shadow on the sown fields... So this place either intended to oppose us or had not yet made up its mind.'

Perhaps because I had roamed far and wide, my clever brain now brought me a great deal of information just by taking a slight look at the battlefield's atmosphere.

'In that case, there was no need to waste energy here.'

"Refil, ask them if they intend to surrender. Stórolf, have the troops stand by ready to move. Tell the Jarls in charge of each column to stand ready to move immediately."

"Yes, Konungr!"

"Understood!"

[Dagadak- Dagadak- Dagadak-]

By now, the commanders and even the adjutant-level officers were gradually being mounted on horses. Thanks to that, communication across the whole army felt a bit faster.

Although every time I gave orders I still desperately missed the radios of my previous life... wasn't a great commander someone who moved according to the situation? I was finding my own way to cope.

Soon, the long line of troops centered on me entered a tense, Hugh-like state, and Refil, having an adjutant carry a white flag, energetically urged his horse forward toward the fortress wall.

Seeing that sight brought to mind the image of Ivar and me from before. Had it only been a year or two?

Back then, there were those who suddenly shot arrows... Was it Canterbury?

The sorrowful face of the Bishop of Canterbury as he looked at me would not be forgotten. He certainly must have had a hand in Edmund of East Anglia suddenly rising up.

Beyond the Bishop of Canterbury, there were Æthelred of Wessex and the Pope.

Come to think of it, was the old and wise Ealdorman of Dover, Eadbert, doing well? Was he still keeping the magical ring of Áli that Ivar had given him?

As my stream of consciousness drifted, I heard from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠afar Refil's voice, which much resembled his father, and the voice of someone answering from atop the wall.

Vaguely, things like "Open the fortress gate and surrender! I guarantee your lives and property!" "We cannot do that right now! Give us a little time!" were exchanged, and soon Refil and the adjutant with the white flag turned their horses and headed back to our main force.

'The negotiations broke down.'

Indeed, looking at the surrounding terrain, Stanford seemed better off than Huntadun. A slightly larger fortress, more supplies, more people.

Probably the people of Stanford intended to gauge us a little longer.

They should consider themselves truly fortunate. If I had been a Khan of the Mongol Empire, I would have stormed the city the moment the negotiations broke down.

Of course, I was Helgi Ragnarsson. A man of ability who could find romance in this brutal reality.

[Dagadak- Dagadak-]

Ivar and I had negotiated on foot, shielding ourselves from blind arrows with our shields, but seeing Refil dash back and forth on horseback made me feel that I had indeed brought about some change.

"Konungr Helgi! Stanford's Ealdorman refused the offer to surrender, saying he needs more time!"

"What!? Those frozen bastards dare...!"

"Konungr! I'll go cut off those insolent bastards' heads right now! Send me!"

"If they're acting arrogantly because they trust that wall, I'll make sure they realize what a grave mistake that is!"

The Jarls who had gathered around me all raised their voices at once. These people... somehow seemed to have grown more aggressive lately.

I didn't dislike seeing them move so briskly, so I let it be.

"Enough. Shedding blood needlessly is foolish. They didn't insult my honor, did they? I made an offer, and they simply said they need more time."

Then I only needed to lighten their burden of worry.

"We will continue north like this."

"...!"

"Then..."

Despite my words to calm down, a look of surprise flickered in the eyes of the Jarls who had been angry as if their own names had been insulted, and Refil, who had quietly taken the place of my right arm, caught on to my intention with his clever brain.

"We join forces with Ubba and bring down the largest city first. Then they'll have no more reason to hesitate."

If they even think of striking our rear, that would be welcome. I would gladly meet them in the open field.

"I'll prepare at once!"

"Just give the signal! I'll move immediately!"

Jarls with flushed faces eagerly anticipating battle.

This was the power of an army that had only known victory. A spirit that never feared battle.

"Refil, send a messenger to Ubba at Lincoln and let him know we're approaching. I should see my brother's face after so long."

"Yes, Konungr!"

"Jarls, lead your respective columns. We move now."

"Yes!"

"Understood!"

"Blow the horn! We move immediately!"

[Buuuu- uuuuung-!]

"Moving!"

"Follow the vanguard and move!"

[Cheok! Cheok! Cheok! Cheok!]

In perfect order, the Jarls scattered to obey my orders, and the Norsemen's column began to advance steadily.

What would the people of Stanford and their Ealdorman, who must be watching this from the wall, be thinking?

'It didn't matter either way.'

I merely did not wish to shed blood in vain; if necessary, I could see their blood as much as needed.

My two eyes gazed for a moment at Stanford's wall and the people beyond it, then soon shifted my gaze straight ahead.

'Let's meet again, Stanford.'

"Let's go, Camembert."

[Purrureuk-! Dagak- Dagak-]

*****

"So, is what I heard certain?"

The central city of Lincoln, which lay astride the old road that ran vertically through eastern Mercia.

At the outskirts of this city, which effectively served as the hegemon of the broad marshland region in eastern Mercia (a series of rivers draining into The Wash), a host of warriors had set up camp.

At least five thousand troops seemed to be under the command.

Beneath a vast tent, tension hung in the air.

"Th-that is correct, Jarl Uva...! It is an unmistakable fact...!"

"How could I possibly believe that?"

"Uh- er- Earl... no, Jarl Ecgberht knows my face...! It's true...!"

"Is that so? Jarl Ecgberht. What do you make of it?"

"Hmm. The face is familiar, yes. Jarl Uva. He was one who refused to accept Konungr Helgi's rule and turned southward. To think I would meet him again in such a state!"

Ubba, commander of the expeditionary force from Dair in southern Northumbria.

And before him and Ecgberht—his aide and the reeve of Jorvik, so to speak—a shabbily dressed man stood with his head bowed. He seemed to be an acquaintance of Ecgberht's.

"..."

The man could not bring himself to lift his head under Ecgberht's rather sharp-edged sarcasm.

Ubba asked him once more in a voice devoid of emotional fluctuation.

"Your identity has been confirmed by Jarl Ecgberht, so I accept that. But it remains a claim difficult to swallow wholesale. Could you explain the situation once more?"

"Of course...! Jarl Uva!"

Then, perhaps because he had Ubba before his very eyes, the explanation that followed was somewhat long-winded, yet Ubba listened to the man's story in silence without so much as twitching an eyebrow.

Throughout, his gaze gleamed with an intensity that seemed ready to devour a man alive, as if seeking out any falsehood.

"So, to summarize, there are many within the fortress who will answer our attack, correct?"

"That is correct...! Those Mercians treated us refugees from Dair as beasts, as slaves. Even inside the walls, we were forced to settle in remote corners where the sewage flowed, and we had no way to eat or live except by begging...!"

Anger, resentment, and a thirst for vengeance flickered through even the fear he held for Ubba.

In times when food was not plentiful, no warm charity awaited those who had lost wars and fled.

'Such lovely tales are only possible in my brother's lands.'

"Good. Give this brave man water to drink and bread to eat."

"Aye! Jarl Uva!"

"Thank you...! Thank you...!"

So great must have been his hunger that the man devoured the pieces of bread and water set before him in a frenzy, seeming not to breathe, not to chew, but simply to swallow it all whole.

When he had done so for a moment, and having somewhat tamed his hunger, the man once more fixed his uneasy gaze at Ubba's feet. Watching this with a somber expression, Ecgberht cautiously spoke up.

"Jarl Uva. What do you intend to do?"

Opportunist and sycophant though Ecgberht was, he still could not simply laugh off the suffering of those who had once been his comrades and neighbors.

Fortunately, the words that came from Ubba's mouth did something to lighten Ecgberht's heavy heart.

"We must use whatever can be used. Their walls may be sturdy, but in the end, it is men who man them. If there is support from within as this man says, then nothing is insurmountable, is it?"

Stroking his beard and looking at the man who stared only at his feet with his dark green eyes, Ubba finally rose to his feet.

Following him, the man raised his head, and hope filled his eyes.

"...Then..."

"They have already refused to surrender, so nothing remains but battle. Jarl Ecgberht, let us urge the people of Lincoln to surrender one final time."

"Understood! Jarl Uva."

"Then right away—"

"Jarl Uva! Jarl Ecgberht!"

Just as they were about to settle matters and move in earnest, an unexpected urgent cry seized the steps of Ubba and Ecgberht.

A messenger, clearly having run in great haste, stood bowing before Ubba and Ecgberht as they turned back with puzzled eyes.

The answer given to Ubba's question of what had happened sent a thrilling sensation through every figure present in the tent.

"Konungr Helgi is coming...!"

"The Konungr, already?"

'He has already toppled Huntadun and Stanford...?'

No, that was impossible by any reckoning of time.

No matter how peerless a warrior Helgi was, such a thing was impossible for any mortal...

'No, that is my own thinking. Is it not right to consider Helgi's capacity as immeasurable?'

His own brother, forever the element in his mind where all the world seemed clear yet that one variable remained beyond all prediction.

Having realized long ago that it was better for his sanity not to dwell upon him, Ubba soon stepped out of the tent with a faint smile.

The wind blowing softly along the riverside beside the encampment.

Upon that wind brushing through his hair, his Konungr was drawing near. What could possibly make his heart stouter than this?

"Jarl Ecgberht. We must add something to the surrender demand."

"Aye, Jarl Uva!"

"Tell them that Konungr Helgi Ragnarsson is coming here now."

Would they resist and die? Or surrender and save their lives?

Ubba's smile deepened steadily as he faced the wind.

*****

"Think well on this, all of you! Is there any man here who does not know the name of Konungr Helgi Ragnarsson!? He offers to spare your lives and your goods, to protect them—how can you still be so stubborn!?"

"You cannot deceive me! Earl Ecgberht! Below us lie Huntadun and Stanford, and no force can reach this place while ignoring those two strongholds! Our wish remains unchanged! Our lives and property, yes, but we also demand the right of self-rule! We have no wish to meddle in this quarrel between Burgred and your Konungr!"

"Hark, man! Think again upon your own words! Self-rule, is it!? Do you truly believe such an awkward neutrality is possible! Never in my life have I heard terms of surrender so generous, and yet you would heap even more conditions upon them!?"

"Then we have no more words to share! Be on your way!"

Before the walls of Lincoln.

Earl Ecgberht was shouting himself hoarse in argument with the man atop the wall.

The people of Lincoln likely thought much as the people of Huntadun and Stanford did. Their difference, however, lay in the scale of their town and whether they possessed stone walls or not.

But with all intelligence cut off, the two major towns of the eastern Mercian marshlands, save Huntadun itself, had both failed to make a sound judgment.

Konungr Helgi Ragnarsson was no man to sit idly by and watch an unstable ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rear, but rather a commander who could adopt a bold strategy without hesitation.

[Bwoooong- Woooooong-!]

At the hour of sunrise. The sound of horns came from far beyond the encampment of the Northmen pitched outside the walls.

Hearing it, Ecgberht instantly shed his self-assured expression and shouted toward those atop the wall, whose faces were filling fast with unease.

"The Konungr comes! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The hour is still passing even now—!"

This time, no answer came back.

☆☆☆☆☆Reference☆☆☆☆☆

Kelisi at the English-language Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons

The various rivers flowing into The Wash and the nearby towns. You can see some village names that don't exist at the time of the story... but since I'm only dealing with the major towns, it doesn't really??matter?? haha

Peterborough actually appeared before under the name Medeshamstede! It means the home of the Mede, or Meade people! haha

Midland_Map_-_5_Boroughs_912_AD.PNG: Robin Boulby.The original uploader was Robinboulby at English Wikipedia.derivative work: Hoodinski, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/>, via Wikimedia Commons

This is Helgi's line of advance.

Stanford omitted. He put it in the basket and moved toward bigger prey.

At Lincoln, Ubba and Ecgberht's forces had already fabricated siege engines in advance and brought them to the scene.

With their situation like a candle before the wind, what should the people of Lincoln do?

In western Mercia, the attacks of the Cymry have begun.

But the lords and forces of Mercia and Wessex are no pushovers... so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that front can also be said to have opened Hel's gate.