Ch 28: Banquet

“Explain?” Vig picked up the fallen candlestick of pure gold, gazed at the exquisite painted patterns on the walls, and responded nonchalantly:

“In any engagement, some prisoners will fall into the hands of the opposite side. Perhaps Eilaud captured a few Vikings and interrogated them about the fleet’s location. That’s all.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Eric growled a threat. “Someone covets the crown of Northumbria and deliberately leaked the fleet’s location to lure the enemy into destroying it, forcing more than two thousand Vikings to stay behind and fight a bloody battle. If this news gets out, how many people do you think will believe it?”

There were three thousand five hundred Vikings at the departure from Gothenburg. After months of melee combat, only a little over two thousand remain. According to Eric’s estimate, once this vile lie is exposed, the vast majority of Vikings will stand behind him.

“Ragnar Lothbrok, Ivar the Boneless, and you, Vig the Chosen One, I know you have great reputations. Unfortunately, even the greatest reputation can’t save you.”

Eric made a few hand gestures. “Knowing the truth, how many people would be willing to stand behind you? A hundred? Two hundred? Or three hundred?”

“More than that.”

Vig pointed towards the camp outside the city walls. “You forgot the two thousand seven hundred prisoners in the camp. I’ve had Niels’s men take over the storehouse and are ready to issue them weapons at any time. The prisoners don’t care who provided the fleet’s location; they only know you intend to kill them all, but Ragnar has been protecting them. If a fight breaks out, where do you think the prisoners will side?”

This man is mad?

Discovering that Vig actually had the intention of rallying the Anglo-Saxons against his fellow Vikings, King Eric’s expression was one of utter astonishment.

“Good, good. So everything was premeditated. It seems you are better suited to be deceitful and despicable Anglo-Saxons.”

Vig: “Premeditation? How much better are you yourself? Everyone out there is either scheming against each other or being schemed against. Back then, your brother inherited the throne of Oslo. Legend says he was tempted by an evil spirit to jump off a cliff one day. Perhaps the so-called evil spirit never existed, it was just an excuse for a certain younger brother.”

“Vig, say a little less.” Seeing Eric speechless, Ragnar stepped forward and put his arm around his shoulder,

“Eric, we are family. Sola is your beloved younger sister and my beloved wife. If she hears news of her brother and husband fighting each other, I don’t know how heartbroken she would be.”

Using his wife to draw closer the relationship between the two, Ragnar suggested continued cooperation in the future. Eric would return to Oslo to become King of Norway, and he would remain in York to become King of Northumbria. Everyone would have a bright future.

“Cooperation or conflict? The choice is yours.”

As night fell, under the concerned gazes of many, Eric and Ragnar walked out of York Cathedral, arm in arm, their smiles radiant, like two brothers who couldn’t be closer.

“To Ragnar, the great Viking hero. Besides him, no one is worthy to be King of Northumbria.” Eric raised the other’s right hand, publicly acknowledging his rule.

In return, Ragnar also shouted at the top of his lungs, “To Eric, the unparalleled ruler of the Norway region. May Odin bless his family.”

Behind them in the Cathedral, Vig stood in the shadows, quietly watching the boisterous crowd, his eyes deep and unreadable.

Unsurprisingly, the next step is the crucial distribution of spoils. Having planned and participated in this extremely dangerous gamble, he hoped to get a satisfactory share of the spoils of war.

In the Royal Palace, still stained with large pools of blood, the high-ranking officers of the Viking army held a grand victory banquet. The nobles enjoyed the food to their hearts’ content, but they stayed away from their usual favorite wine and honey wine.

Clearly, they were all anticipating the upcoming council, not daring to let alcohol numb their minds.

Candlelight flickered, and it seemed that everyone was whispering. Their shadows stretched on the walls, clawing and shifting, like demons from hell.

Vig sat in the middle of the long table on the right, his face calm, because he stayed behind in the cathedral to listen to the two kings’ negotiations. Many people came to him to inquire about the news and ask about the future of this land.

“I don’t know, and I’m not qualified to interfere.” He kept his mouth shut, not even revealing anything to his closest associate, Ivar.

At this time, a thin, fair-faced Anglo-Saxon noble in a black linen robe entered the hall. Ivar recognized him immediately. “Pascal?”

Aware of the unfriendly gazes of the crowd, Pascal adjusted the sapphire brooch on his chest, slowly walked to the front of the throne, knelt on one knee, and swore allegiance to Ragnar as the new king of Northumbria.

After the ceremony, Ragnar helped him up and introduced him publicly, “Pascal, the hereditary lord of Tees, familiar with the situation in Northumbria. I intend to appoint him as Finance Minister.”

Under the watchful eyes of many, the two kings took Pascal to a room on the right side of the hall. After they left, the whispers at the dinner table quickly turned into disputes, especially among the seven surviving nobles.

As shareholders in this pillage, they contributed both manpower and resources, and had to bear extremely high life risks. Now that it has come to this, the two kings have excluded them from the private discussions in the secret room, preferring to take in a newly surrendered Anglo-Saxon over trusting their fellow Vikings, completely disregarding any sense of loyalty.

“This Anglo-Saxon dwarf is thin and pale; he probably can’t even beat a shield-maiden. Why should he be the Finance Minister!” Leonard slammed his goblet repeatedly on the table, angrily criticizing the two kings for not following the rules.

“That’s right,” Ulf growled, gnawing fiercely on a pig’s trotter. “And he also gets to keep his hereditary territory of Tees. By the way, where exactly is Tees? Could it be in the Southern Region?”

Running through Britain, the terrain becomes rougher and the climate colder the further north you go, while the land in the south is flat and fertile, making it favored by the nobles. Especially the lands around Mancunium, Leeds, Sheffield, and the Humber Estuary.

Mentioning hereditary territories, the nobles instantly perked up. Leonard presented his contributions to prove that he deserved Mancunium, a settlement with stone city walls.

“At the departure, my territory brought a total of three hundred and twenty men, including forty suits of iron armor and seventy sets of bow and arrow.”

From this moment on, the already meager celebratory atmosphere vanished, and the conflicts were laid bare on the table. Some boasted about providing ten longships, others showed off their five thousand arrows. Each of the seven had their own arguments, unwilling to concede even a little.

As the nobles vied for power and profit, those who hadn’t yet risen to power became even more anxious. Niels stayed by Vig’s side, constantly asking what Ragnar and the other two were doing in the secret room.

“What else could they be doing? As an outsider, Ragnar’s top priority is to inquire about the general situation in Northumbria,” Vig frowned, repeatedly stroking his chin with his right hand. “It’s probably going to take a long time. Just wait patiently.”