Ch 17: Setting Sail

The Sacrifice Ceremony ended, and Ragnar led the largest fleet in history out to sea.

Currently, there are two routes from Northern Europe to Britain:

The northern route departs from the west coast of Norway, replenishes fresh water at the Shetland Islands and Orkney Islands, and then arrives in Northern Britain.

The southern route is riskier, requiring a direct crossing of the North Sea from southern Norway, following the North Atlantic Current, and finally arriving in eastern Britain.

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The fleet was large, with twenty slow-speed supply ships, so Ragnar chose the safer northern route. He led the fleet slowly along the Norwegian coastline, and then briefly rested in Bergen.

Three thousand five hundred raiders caused a commotion there for two days, annoying the Lord of Bergen. Due to the power disparity, he dared not show any disrespect on the surface, enthusiastically entertaining these uninvited guests until they set sail westward.

“Odin above, please unleash a storm and send these vile wretches to feed the fishes!”

Departing Bergen, the fleet officially embarked on this unpredictable voyage. Vig’s longship carried forty warriors, with Ivar as captain.

As Ragnar’s eldest son, Ivar had been going to sea with his father since he was fourteen. Besides the common operations of using a sundial and North Star for navigation, he also mastered a rare skill of using a sunstone for orientation.

Facing Vig’s curious gaze, Ivar briefly demonstrated: “If you encounter a gloomy overcast day, and the sun is obscured by thick clouds, you cannot directly determine its position. At this time, point one end of the sunstone at the clouds, and it will decompose into two beams of light. Adjust the angle until the two beams of light… Then this direction is the sun’s direction.”

After trying for a while, Vig quickly mastered the technique, but still felt that the sundial and sunstone techniques were too primitive, far inferior to the technology of the Age of Exploration.

“Sigh, this is pure gambling with one’s life.”

At night, the sailors took turns rowing. When Vig was awakened by his comrade, he found a gray-white mist surrounding them. He raised his head, trying to find the North Star, only to see a gray, hazy night sky.

“What should we do?” He asked Ivar, who took out a horn to contact the other ships. The low, muffled sound spread continuously into the mist, but there was no response.

They had become separated from the fleet.

The next day, continuous dark clouds piled up overhead, making it hard to breathe. Ivar used the sunstone to determine their direction at intervals, constantly adjusting the longship’s course. After sailing for three whole days, they still could not see the Shetland Islands.

“Release the raven.”

As custom, each Viking longship carried 2-4 ravens. These carrion-eating birds, when released, tend to fly towards land to forage. If a released raven flies in one direction and does not return, it proves that it has found land, and the longship can sail in that direction. If the raven circles in the air a few times before returning, it indicates that there is no visible land nearby.

At Ivar’s command, the sailor opened the cage, and a dark-feathered raven flapped its wings into the high air, then returned to the ship to the disappointment of everyone.

Sensing that the situation was bad, a young sailor lost control: “This is Jörmungandr’s mist; we’re going to be eaten by it!”

“This man’s crazy, tie him up.” Ivar knocked the man down with a punch. The worst thing during a sea voyage was for sailors to talk nonsense; if this panic were allowed to spread, it would lightly affect morale and seriously cause mutiny.

The following two days were also overcast, with increasing waves; the seawater tossed the ship back and forth. Someone suggested holding a sacrifice ceremony, choosing an unlucky person to throw into the sea, but this resulted in Ivar beating them.

“Remember, only the captain has authority on this ship. If anyone disagrees, feel free to duel me!”

Looking at the many avoiding gazes, Ivar felt a growing sense of unease. Violence could only have a temporary deterrent effect; if they didn’t find land soon, the crew would eventually riot. Who would then stand by his side?

Bjorn, Vig, Niels

Five names flashed through his mind; only five.

Time came to the eighth day.

The sky was still gloomy, but the waves were much smaller. Ivar regarded this as divine mercy, urging the crew to row desperately. He himself stood at the stern, steering the ship, occasionally making some inspiring speeches.

At noon, the gray clouds revealed a little yellowish light. Ivar, under the expectant gaze of the crew, opened the cage and released the last raven.

After cawing several times, the black bird circled above the longship, then suddenly flew away towards the southwest without looking back.

“Follow it!” Ivar roared, and everyone rowed with all their might. Five hours later, Nielson, who had the best eyesight, suddenly shouted: “Land! It’s a cliff!”

On the gray coastline in the distance, steep cliffs pierced the clouds like the teeth of a giant. Although they didn’t know the exact location, they had finally found a piece of land.

The longship ran aground on a gravel beach; the creaking sound of the hull scraping against the gravel startled a flock of seagulls. Leaving ten men to watch the ship, Ivar led the rest inland to scout the situation.

Soon, they discovered several thatched-roof farmhouses on a hillside, with smoke coming from the chimneys. When Ivar kicked open the door, the people inside were cooking soup around a fire. Seeing these raiders, they immediately picked up axes to prepare for battle.

Ivar: “Are you Vikings?”

“Yes.” The residents inside responded coldly.

“Put down your weapons.” After a tense few seconds, Ivar decided to spare these kinsmen and revealed his identity.

Hearing that this person was the famous Boneless, a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy couldn’t help but exclaim, “You’re Ivar? Can you take me with you?”

The next moment, the male head of the household covered his son’s mouth, responding with a pale face: “Take whatever you want, just don’t hurt us.”

“Don’t be nervous, I’m not one of those berserkers obsessed with killing.” Ivar gave what he thought was a friendly smile, pulled out two silver coins and tossed them over, asking if they had seen a large fleet.

“Yes, three days ago, a large fleet sailed south.” The male head of the household poured him a bowl of hot soup, explaining that this was Pictish land, with rough, poor soil, only slightly better than Northern Europe.

Picts, the future Scotland?

In Vig’s memory, the concept of “Scotland” did not yet exist at this time. It was only after the eastern Picts and western Gaels slowly merged over a long period that a new nation—the Scots—gradually formed.

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Similarly, “England” did not yet exist. It would only appear after Alfred the Great, the monarch of Wessex (AD 849–899), defeated the Vikings. Afterwards, his descendants gradually took over the lands of the “Seven Kingdoms,” ultimately unifying them into the Kingdom of England.