Ch 35: Hadrian’s Wall

Resting overnight, Vig left thirty Viking peasants behind, instructing them to load supplies and the wounded onto ox carts and return to Tyne, while the rest continued their journey.

The troops traveled west for most of the day, and Harry pointed to a stretch of city walls in the distance, disappearing into the dense grass: “Sir, this is the Great Wall left behind by the Romans, stretching all the way to the West Coast.”

Hadrian’s Wall?

Vig rode his grey horse closer, a brief memory flashing through his mind.

In AD 122, Emperor Hadrian inspected Britain. To defend against the Picts of the northern mountainous region—the Romans called them Caledonians—he adopted a once-and-for-all method: constructing fortifications, stretching from the River Tyne in the east all the way to Solway Firth on the west coast, over a hundred kilometers long, approximately 4.5 meters high, and 3 meters wide at the base.

Vig climbed the steps onto a relatively intact section of the wall. Several birds suddenly darted out from the cracks, and two light brown feathers fell mid-air. Reaching the top, he touched the battlements, worn by time, and gazed at the vast, desolate plains, feeling a mix of emotions. He subconsciously recited the latter half of Ossian’s poem.

I, Ossian, King of Kings.

My achievements surpass all, driving you to despair.

His gaze extended to the desolate surroundings.

Nothing else but ruins, surrounded by lonely, yellow sand, stretching endlessly.

“Good poem, good poem.”

Although Micham and Harry didn’t understand the language the new lord was speaking, it didn’t stop them from enthusiastically applauding, their noisy cheers disrupting Vig’s mood. The troops continued their advance.

Three hours passed, and they arrived at their second target. The same attack method was used; the battering ram successfully broke down the gate. Unfortunately, the manor lord and a small number of men had retreated into the stone watchtower, clearly prepared to defend to the death.

“Don’t charge; retreat!”

After breaking open the small gate of the stone fort, Vig stopped the soldiers from further attacking. Instead, he ordered them to pile a large amount of kindling on the first floor, using the strong smoke to force the garrison to surrender and end the battle before dusk.

Because the area was smaller than the previous manor, this auction only brought in ten pounds of silver. The loot of grain and livestock was also scarce, except for the wine cellar, which held many barrels of ale, allowing the entire troop to indulge themselves.

The next day, looking at the drunken men everywhere, Vig helplessly declared an extra day of rest.

However, it was this precious day that allowed the remaining four manors to react. They secretly discussed and finally managed to come up with a plan.

Two days later, Vig found four figures in fine clothing standing ahead on the road, guessing that the four manors intended to unite and fight him.

“Excellent, let’s settle them all at once; it saves us from running around.”

A manor’s young men did not surpass fifty, so even if they all came out, there would be only about two hundred people. Vig didn’t take this force seriously.

“Form the shield wall; prepare for combat.”

He looked around from his horse, trying to find traces of an ambush, but found nothing.

Where are they hiding?

Vig stared at the dense grass in the northeast, thinking that two hundred people couldn’t hide there, and there were more than a dozen brightly colored pheasants pecking at seeds nearby. The probability of an ambush was close to zero.

After a while, the four figures slowly approached. Joren looked up at Vig: “Sir, I think they are surrendering.”

Surrendering?

Vig found it hard to believe. He had thought they would muster all their young men to fight a decisive battle, or sneak back to Tyne, but this was the result.

A few minutes later, the four gentlemen knelt on one knee, their faces distraught. “Sir, we absolutely had no intention of rebelling. We just had some urgent business and couldn’t attend the banquet.”

To protect their family estates, the four were willing to each pay two pounds of silver, plus one horse, two oxen, two pigs, and six sheep, begging the lord to forgive their neglect.

“Let me think about it.”

Vig turned his head to look at the gentlemen and village head at the end of the line, asking for their opinions.

Although a few people coveted the four gentlemen’s manors, the majority opinion was to accept the surrender and hope that the campaign would end.

“Makes sense,” Vig stroked his chin, thinking there was no need to kill them all.

Settling two, leaving four behind. This showed sufficient strength and tolerance. After all, he would still rely on the locals for taxes and shouldn’t make the relationship too tense.

“That’s it; I hope you’ll learn your lesson.”

Vig extended his left hand, and the foremost gentleman quickly cupped his hand, kissing the gold ring on his ring finger; the other three followed suit.

Then, the four waved their arms toward a hillside. Twelve peasants emerged from behind, driving livestock to meet them, offering the corresponding ransom.

“Micham, check the amount.”

“Yes, Master.”

After the inspection, Vig led the troops back to Tyne and dismissed the remaining ninety-five raiders from their employment. As compensation, he paid each raider five silver coins, totaling four hundred and seventy-five, approximately two pounds of silver. （1 pound of silver equals 240 silver coins）

The cooperation ended, and these raiders set off south in search of opportunities. Before leaving, Vig asked them to help spread the word after returning to Northern Europe, saying that Tyne was recruiting Viking peasants, granting thirty acres of land free of charge, and exempting taxes for two years.

“Got it. One day when I can’t fight anymore, I might move to Tyne.”

After seeing off the raiders, Vig tallied the income; a net profit of thirty-one pounds of silver, plus a suit of chainmail, and several livestock.

“Horses, pigs, and sheep will be raised in the cattle sheds, employing people to take care of them, and let them graze on the fallow wasteland during their leisure time. As for oxen, one ox can handle fifteen acres of land; each household needs two oxen.”

After considering for a few minutes, he decided to sell the oxen to the Viking peasants, allowing them to pay off their accounts within three years. He also issued a decree strictly prohibiting anyone from privately slaughtering oxen, with severe penalties for violators.

In addition, even if the subjects were allowed to slaughter oxen, they had to hand over the cowhide afterwards. Since iron armor was too expensive, Vig planned to hire leatherworkers to make leather armor, and then inlay dozens of iron plates on the chest and abdomen; it could barely work.

“Sigh, I was originally thinking of raising a few more shield-bearers. I’ll have to find a way later.”

According to Vig’s personal experience, the combat power of shield-bearers and royal guards, this kind of standing army, far surpassed that of militiamen, but the cost was too high.

Besides paying wages and providing decent equipment, their food could not be neglected. To support the twenty shield-bearers, he asked the villagers to provide twenty river fish and the same number of eggs daily, and the shield-bearers needed to have alcohol every now and then to ensure their loyalty.

In a daze, Vig recalled a typical negative example.

According to tradition, when the Tang army went on expeditions, each soldier would receive the following rewards: two liters of alcohol, two kilograms of beef instead of mutton, five hectoliters of white rice, two flatbreads, one steamed bun, one steamed cake, and five ounces of mixed vegetables. Later, Emperor Dezong of Tang violated this custom, ordering Wang Xu, the magistrate of Jingzhao, to give some inferior food and drink, which triggered the Jingyuan mutiny. Emperor Dezong thus became the third emperor to flee Chang’an.

“This aspect of expenditure cannot be saved. I have to find other ways to make money.”