Ch 49: Island Alliance

Vig remained impassive, continuing to sip the mutton broth in his bowl, recalling the time he spent in the Gothenburg countryside. He had drunk mutton broth no more than ten times in his life, and the memory still moved him somewhat.

“Another bowl.”

Since Stein did not welcome him, Vig did not bother to join the festivities. Besides himself and his shield-bearers, the entire chieftain’s longhouse only possessed two suits of iron armor—Helgi’s chainmail and Stein’s old iron scale armor. With such poor equipment, the so-called attack on Glasgow was a joke.

“It’s better that I don’t participate, so as not to have news of the allied army’s defeat spread and severely damage my reputation.”

Now, Vig keenly realized the importance of reputation. A steady stream of Viking peasants rushed from Northern Europe to join him, partly because of the free thirty acres of farmland, but also because of his illustrious reputation as the “Chosen One” and the “Serpent of the North”. They agreed with this brand.

Furthermore, if Vig spread the word that he intended to attack the Picts of the North, he could very likely gather a raiding party of over a thousand men. These men would not require military pay, their morale was strong, and their only demand was to share the spoils of war after victory—they were perfect free thugs.

Soon, Helgi, leading forty men, set off on a longships. Vig stood on the cliff, gazing at the receding sails, his brow furrowed with worry.

Brita handed her child to a nearby slave and quietly asked, “Do you think this battle could fail?”

“Yes, war is a very serious matter. Before starting a war, one should gather as much intelligence and procure military supplies as possible, while also establishing a clear war objective. The Northumbria War and the Dyfflin War are just two contrasting examples.”

Mentioning the two wars, Vig sighed with emotion:

“Throughout the entire Northumbria War, the allied army was like a flock of headless flies, bumping around aimlessly. There was chaos at the command level; they didn’t know what they wanted. First, they were ambushed at Mancunium, then they lingered outside York, allowing the enemy ample time to recover their strength. We were only a step away from complete defeat.”

“As for the Dyfflin War, Ivar and I began preparations last winter. We built ships, procured military supplies, and invited the nobles of Mancunium and Lancaster to assist. Our war objective was also very clear—to completely seize Dyfflin. Ivar and I were in charge of decision-making throughout, and there were no major disagreements. We achieved our war objective in just two months.”

Having said this, noticing Brita’s troubled expression, he quickly reassured her: “Helgi is wearing chainmail; ordinary arrows and swords won’t hurt him. He shouldn’t have any major problems.”

Over the next few days, Vig, led by local residents, went to St Kilda. Disappointingly, the island did not have much guano, making the trip a waste of time.

Returning to the Isle of Skye, he found that less than half of the troops who had gone on the expedition to Glasgow had returned. Fortunately, Helgi was unharmed.

In the latter’s account, the entire operation was a complete disaster. A fleet of over four hundred ships arrived at a nearby bay, but they got lost and wasted two days finding the river mouth of the Clyde.

Rowing their longships upstream, the raiding party reached the walls of Glasgow. The Gaels had mustered over a thousand militiamen, waiting for them there. Both sides formed shield walls and engaged in a decisive battle.

With their overwhelming numerical superiority, the Gaels easily defeated the Viking raiders. The Island Alliance’s first military operation ended in a crushing defeat.

Hearing about the pathetic encounter of this bunch of worthless fools, Vig didn’t even have the energy to complain and decided to return home the next day. Before leaving, he invited his sister and her family to live in Tyne.

“Mixing with that vermin of the Island Alliance is a waste of life. It’s better to move to Tyne. The soil there is flat and suitable for cultivation; it’s far better than suffering on the Isle of Skye.”

Helgi spoke before his wife, “It was just a setback, not as bad as you say.”

Oh well, since his brother-in-law was reluctant to leave this desolate island, Vig didn’t insist further and returned to Tyne to continue managing his territory.

From the Dyfflin War, Vig had gained wealth valued at two hundred and forty pounds of silver, equivalent to three years’ tax revenue from his territory. With ample finances, he intended to allocate some funds to build a town and develop local commerce and industry.

In his study, he summoned Herigifu, Micham, and Joren and other core members. Vig spread out a sheet of papyrus and used a homemade charcoal pencil to circle a large open space on the east side of Tyne, with an area of approximately 0.6 square kilometers.

“Tyne is too small to accommodate too many workshops. I plan to build a wooden wall around the periphery; the enclosed area will be Tyne Town.”

He couldn’t make much money from agriculture, so Vig planned to shift his focus to commerce and industry, attracting small merchants and artisans from the surrounding area to settle there.

Micham strongly agreed with his lord’s idea, but still voiced his concerns, “As lord, you have the right to conscript your subjects for two weeks of unpaid corvée each year. However, the construction of the outer wall is a massive undertaking; two weeks is far from enough.”

“It doesn’t matter; we can just spend more money.”

The number of refugees on the south bank of the River Tyne now approached two thousand, and Vig planned to employ a construction team for long-term work.

Having made up his mind, he took a boat to the south bank. The refugees were reclaiming their own thirty acres of wasteland.

In ancient times, lacking large machinery, transforming uncultivated wilderness into farmland was a long and complex process.

First, the refugees needed to fell trees, burn the remaining tree stumps and bushes, and remove stones from the fields to build field embankments or houses. Most importantly, they had to completely remove the tree roots and grass roots deep in the soil to prevent these plants from regrowing and competing with the crops for nutrients and sunlight.

According to the agreement reached between Vig, the gentlemen, and the village heads, during the two years of land reclamation, the refugees’ food and tools would be supplied from various places.

The gentlemen and village heads dared not openly oppose the lord, so they secretly used underhanded tactics, providing bread mixed with sawdust and sand, causing two thousand refugees to complain loudly.

“Master, this bread is harder than a wooden stick!”

“The tools given are all defective, and the oxen are too old to plow the land.”

“This is clearly a way to starve us all to death.”

More and more villagers gathered around, and Joren, with a nod to his shield-bearers, surrounded the lord in the middle.

“Everyone, I am willing to hire you to build the wall, and I guarantee that I can feed your families.”

Sensing that the refugees’ mood was reaching its limit, Vig immediately offered a generous price, recruiting four hundred young men into the construction team.

With the addition of this labor force, the construction of Tyne Town’s walls proceeded smoothly. Vig stood on the watchtower, surveying the surrounding situation, and suddenly had an epiphany, “Employing refugees to build large-scale projects, thus feeding their families—is this what is called ‘relief through work’?”

Thank you to book friends Dao Wu Huaxia and Claudius for their rewards.