Ch 61: Expedition

Arriving at the Royal Palace, Vig was the first lord to arrive, handing the list to Goodwin. After completing the procedure, Ragnar inquired about Bjorn’s condition, “How is he doing?”

Involving members of the Royal Family, Vig increased his vigilance, calmly narrating information about the Icelandic settlement.

“For nearly twenty years, legends of the far west have indeed circulated. I never imagined that Bjorn would be the one to discover it.”

Opening sea routes and discovering unknown islands are the two achievements most valued by navigators. Ragnar felt proud of his second son’s accomplishments. Unexpectedly, the Queen, seated to his right, suddenly asked:

“Lord of Tyne, according to what you just said, Bjorn returned to Iceland after the transaction and has no intention of paying his respects to the King?”

Perceiving a hint of hostility in her words, Vig remained calm, “Yes, the North Sea waves are too large in winter, the sooner Bjorn sets off, the safer he will be.”

“I know the North Sea waves are large. Since he cannot come in person, he should have entrusted you to help pay.” Sola wanted to say more, but Ragnar stopped her.

“I did not ennoble Bjorn, and I have no right to demand that he come to pay his respects.” Ragnar raised his left hand, signaling that the matter was concluded.

About two hours passed, and the lords arrived one after another, along with an envoy from Mercia, delivering a warning on behalf of Crown Prince Burgred.

The envoy, who called himself Theodulf, wore a brightly colored woad-blue tunic, with a brooch and bracelet forged from pure gold, and an outer deep red wool cloak, a typical Anglo-Saxon noble’s attire.

“Listen well, you filthy Norse barbarians! You have until next spring to get out of Britain, or else I, Burgred, will lead my army north next year to uphold justice and raze every wicked Viking settlement!”

The envoy’s words ignited the anger of many nobles. After they had finished arguing, Vig also couldn’t help but speak:

“Burgred is not fighting for justice; otherwise, he would not have stood by three years ago while the Vikings captured Northumbria. Moreover, Prince Aella refused to stay in Mercia, preferring exile in Francia. He must have seen through your true intentions.”

“That’s right!” Ragnar took the lead in applauding, and the crowd joined in the uproar.

Theodulf didn’t bother arguing about this: “Since you refuse the Crown Prince’s mercy, we can only settle this with weapons on the battlefield.”

After the envoy left, a group of nobles discussed attacking Mercia. Ragnar leaned against the throne, pondering for a long time, then motioned for everyone to be quiet,

“Three years ago, the Viking alliance captured York. Vig and I had a conversation. He said that a large number of people moved into Mercia, which would strengthen their power in the long term but consume food supplies in the short term, leaving them powerless to launch an attack. Now, three years have passed, Mercia has completely absorbed those refugees, greatly increasing its strength, and now has the confidence to wage war against us.”

Mercia’s national strength is at the same level as Northumbria’s. Ragnar was unwilling to engage in a protracted war and planned to defeat them in one go.

“Attack! Attack now! Before the enemy reacts, strike in one go and advance into the royal capital, so as not to let them gather thousands of conscripted soldiers next spring to fight us to the death. Compared to Northern Europe, the winter in Britain is not too cold; we Vikings can withstand it. Everyone, immediately return to muster your troops and gather at Sheffield within half a month!”

The King made his decision, and the nobles could only obey. They didn’t even have time for lunch before leaving the city and heading to their fiefdoms.

Four days later, Tyne Town official residence.

“Winter warfare? Ragnar has gone mad?” Upon hearing the news of the war, Herigifu, with a slight belly, came to her husband’s side, her eyes full of worry.

“Your Majesty’s plan is indeed somewhat adventurous, but it has a certain feasibility. The Anglo-Saxons are intolerant of the cold, and their winter mobilization is slow. If we take advantage of the empty border and capture Tamworth, the capital of Mercia, we might be able to end this war in a short time.”

Vig helped Herigifu back to her seat and continued, “Winter warfare has another advantage: during this time, the North Sea waves are large and unsuitable for sea travel. While I am out, I don’t have to worry about raiders from Northern Europe attacking Tyne. You are pregnant; you should rest quietly during this period. I’ll have the shield-bearers summon your mother and younger brother to keep you company.”

After comforting his wife, Vig went to the storehouse to count the supplies. Due to the winter warfare, each soldier must be equipped with a thick wool coat.

“Four hundred and fifty coats, barely enough.”

Currently, Tyne has a total of eighty shield-bearers. Vig planned to leave half to guard the home, leading the remaining forty to war, in addition to conscripting four hundred Viking commoners, including one hundred archers.

Three days later, in the morning, the biting cold wind made the Dragon Banner flutter. Under the worried eyes of their families, this hastily assembled Viking army set out on its journey.

Compared to the severe cold of Northern Europe, this level of low temperature was within the tolerable range. The morale of the troops was normal. Most people discussed the wealth of Mercia and looked forward to getting more spoils of war after the war.

As King, Ragnar had the right to conscript nobles and commoners into the war, but not more than forty days per year. If the deadline is exceeded, the Royal Family must pay corresponding wages, and the tribute paid by the nobles the following year will be reduced.

Considering the cost factor, Vig guessed that Ragnar would end the war at the latest before the summer harvest next year, preventing it from dragging on too long and causing his nobles and militiamen to desert.

On the way south, the closer they got to Sheffield, the more desolate the countryside on both sides of the road became. Occasionally, a few corpses lay dead by the roadside, and more than a dozen ravens with round bellies perched on the corpses, enjoying the feast.

Bandits pass like a comb, soldiers pass like a sieve.

The various lords arrived with their troops, inevitably harassing the local people along the way. Some even deliberately allowed their soldiers to vent their anger.

On October 24th, Vig’s army arrived at the Low Hill north of Sheffield. Counting the banners of each noble’s family, besides his own, only Ivar had yet to arrive.

After showing his identity to the sentry, he was allowed to enter the chaotic and dirty camp.

In medieval Europe, armies lacked systematic logistics, so military merchants emerged. The Viking army was no exception; the camp was mixed with many irrelevant people: blacksmiths repairing weapons, tailors mending clothes, merchants providing drinks, smoked meat, and other non-staple foods, women doing laundry, and a large number of prostitutes.

“One day, when I lead troops alone, I will definitely eradicate this chaos!”

After secretly making this vow, Vig dismounted, handed the reins to the groom beside him, and walked straight into the command tent.

Lifting the curtain, Vig only found Pascal’s figure. He was sitting behind the long table, busy dealing with various accounts.

“Where is Your Majesty?”

Pascal looked up, weakly pointing in the direction of Sheffield town, “According to custom, the local lord has an obligation to entertain the Royal Family. Your Majesty and the nobles are all stationed in the town. Judging by the time, tonight’s banquet is about to begin.”