Ch 30: Investiture

According to Pascal’s evaluation criteria: York, Mancunium, Leeds, and Sheffield are superior territories; Lancaster and the Humber Estuary are considered second-rate; and Tyne, Derwent, and Tees, etc., are inferior territories.

After a long argument, with coercion and inducement, seven nobles finally reached a result. Leonard obtained Mancunium, the territory second only to York, making him the biggest winner.

His old neighbor Ulf was the weakest, unable to compete with others, and ultimately chose the Mersey Estuary as his fiefdom. The largest settlement within it only had three hundred people, locally known as Liverpool.

On the map, the Mersey River flows from east to west into the ocean. Mancunium occupies the upstream, and Liverpool occupies the downstream. The two, after wandering from Sweden to Britain, ended up as neighbors again.

Seeing his old enemy suffer a setback, Leonard laughed uncontrollably. “I heard the Mersey River is rich in eels, Ulf. You’re in for a treat! Haha, why not stop farming altogether? Let your subjects focus on fishing; I’ll buy as much as you catch.”

Having received the worst territory, Ulf was already in a bad mood. Catching sight of Leonard’s hateful smile, he could no longer suppress his frustration.

“Damn,” he exploded, punching the man to the ground, then pounced and wrestled, like a drunken brawl commonly seen in the streets.

With laughter echoing in the hall, this far-reaching banquet declared its end.

Over the next two days, Ragnar had the surrendering clerks count the supplies and had the artisans cast eleven gold rings. When everything was ready, he gathered everyone in the square in front of the royal palace, personally slaughtered a bull to sacrifice to the gods, and then held the investiture ceremony.

Under the gaze of two thousand Vikings, he picked up the large king’s ring from the tray and solemnly put it on his right ring finger. The ring face featured a traditional lightning rune.

“Ivar,” he called out his eldest son from the crowd, “in the Battle of Mancunium, you captured the royal banner, twice the first to scale the city walls, and personally killed King Eilaud. Your military merit is unparalleled in the whole army. In the name of Odin, I appoint you Earl of Derwent（Jarl）. Are you willing to swear an oath to Odin, never to betray your king, and to dedicate your life to the kingdom?”

“I am willing,” Ivar knelt on one knee, holding Ragnar’s right hand, and gently kissed the ring face.

Immediately after, Ragnar gave him a ring. The ring face was a simple wolf head, a design chosen by Ivar himself. He seemed to have an inexplicable fondness for wolves.

It was Vig’s turn. He knelt on one knee as usual, swore allegiance in the name of Odin, and was appointed Earl of Tyne.

The design Vig chose for his ring was a dragon. Unfortunately, the Northern European barbarians were unsophisticated, and insisted on calling this five-clawed dragon without wings a snake. After repeated corrections, he helplessly acquiesced to this description.

The third noble to be appointed was Pascal, followed by Leonard, Ulf, and the other seven nobles.

Obviously, Ragnar used the order of the investiture to demonstrate his close relationships. Since two days ago, when seven nobles had jointly rejected Bjorn and others’ qualifications, he had secretly kept this matter in mind, vowing to take advantage of an opportunity to retaliate for their offense.

The investiture ended, the status of lord and vassal established. Ragnar successfully became the King of Northumbria. After receiving the cheers of the crowd, he ordered people to bring out chests of wealth and distribute them according to merit.

To cultivate relationships, Ragnar gave King Eric the most money—five hundred pounds of silver. Then came Leonard and Ulf, these “shareholders,” each receiving between one hundred and thirty pounds.

Vig’s turn came. Because he had invested all his savings of twenty pounds of silver before his departure, Ragnar kept his promise, giving him an equal amount in dividends. Considering his military merit, Vig now possessed a total of sixty pounds of silver.

An Earl’s title, sixty pounds of silver, a suit of chainmail, and a Damascus steel sword.

This was the property Vig had acquired after three years of hard work. His next task was to recruit soldiers and go north to take over his territory.

After dividing the spoils of war, the Viking army fell into a three-day-long revelry. Vig took the opportunity to cultivate relationships with the lower-ranking soldiers, trying to persuade them to work for him. Thanks to his accumulated reputation, many agreed to follow him, but these were only non-binding verbal agreements. Many forgot about it after they sobered up.

“They’re a bunch of good-for-nothing fellows.”

Having gotten rid of those drunkards, Vig took a walk alone on the city walls. It was autumn, and a small number of farmers were sowing winter wheat seeds on the opposite bank of the river. As the new king, Ragnar, at Pascal’s suggestion, declared the protection of the lower-class peasants. After all, they didn’t have much to be robbed of.

Arriving at the north side of the wall, corpses of the fallen were being burned outside the city. A strong smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the air. He covered his nose and mouth and hurried past. Passing a tower, he found the two kings on the top floor enjoying the view.

“Vig? Come here, I have something to ask you.”

Ragnar called him over and asked his opinion on the future situation. “Ælla and his queen were killed, only the prince escaped. Do you think he can raise an army to counterattack?”

Gazing at the lush oak forest in the distance, Vig pondered for a moment and believed that there would be no large-scale war in the near future.

“Lacking money and equipment, Prince Ælla won’t be able to cause much trouble in the South for long. He may be killed, or he may flee to Mercia for protection. As for Mercia, a large number of refugees have flooded the country. In the long run, this will strengthen their national strength, provided they have enough food supplies to feed them and help them cultivate new farmland. It will take at least two years before the refugees can become self-sufficient.”

“Hmm, two years is enough time.”

Ragnar was quite satisfied with his subordinate’s answer. “Good idea. The refugees will consume a large amount of Mercia’s food supplies, preventing Mercia from supporting a major offensive with an army of thousands. During this time, I will attract Vikings from Northern Europe to settle here. There is plenty of cultivated land here, and the natural environment is far better than the cold and barren Northern Europe. We needn’t worry about not being able to recruit people.”

Eric nodded in agreement. “Britain is indeed suitable for farming, but in the long run, the Vikings’ fighting spirit will be worn down. In my opinion, this is counterproductive.”

Vig shook his head. “Between raiding and settling overseas, if I had to choose, I would choose the latter. For decades, Vikings have been keen on going to sea to pillage, bringing back large amounts of gold and silver while neglecting agricultural production. As a result, the price of grain has soared, famines have become frequent, leading to an increase in the number of raiders, and a further decrease in agricultural output, falling into a vicious cycle that cannot be reversed.”

Running his hand along the weathered walls, he couldn’t help but miss the past. “Back when I was farming in the Gothenburg countryside, I encountered two raids a month. Most of the raiders were commoners who couldn’t get enough to eat. From this point of view, it’s better to change the environment and start over than to endure hardship in Northern Europe.”