Ch 76: Expectations

The two armies disengaged, the Vikings returning to Rathworth Castle and holding the high ground. On the other side, the Wessex army withdrew fifteen miles south and made camp on a large manor.

Although they had failed to crush the Vikings in one go, the Frankish Knights’ breaking through two formations greatly boosted the army’s morale.

Just four hundred cavalry, consecutively routing over a thousand Vikings, fought their way out of the enemy’s encirclement after falling into a disadvantageous situation. To celebrate this rare victory, Æthelwolf ordered a banquet for these foreign knights.

At the banquet, looking at the young knights below, the Old King felt much:

Viking pirates’ longships were unsuitable for transporting horses, meaning that during pillages they could only rely primarily on light infantry, powerless against a large-scale shock cavalry. Unfortunately, the Anglo-Saxons lacked stirrups for a long time, and could only use massed infantry to fight the enemy to the death.

Now times have changed. With the introduction of stirrups and high-quality warhorses to Britain, the pirates’ once-proud infantry advantage is greatly diminished, and there is finally an opportunity to end the decades-long pillaging spree.

At this time, the Oxfordshire Earl inquired about the follow-up war plan. The Old King slowly said:

“Cavalry. Now I understand that the key to war is cavalry. After yesterday’s battle, we have over two hundred riders left, and only eighty warhorses fit for battle. I intend to rest here and wait for enough horses to arrive from the rear before engaging Ragnar in a decisive battle.”

“Your Majesty is wise.”

Everyone loudly praised him and continued to enjoy the food on the long table. Although at the front lines, the Court Steward still found ways to requisition livestock from nearby residents to ensure sufficient beef and mutton, and the atmosphere at the banquet was lively, except for one person who was unhappy.

After much hesitation, this person came to Æthelwolf, “Your Majesty, about my previous proposal?”

After repeating it twice, the Old King recovered his composure and replied with a slightly stiff tone: “Sir Theodulf, I have been considering your request; there’s no need to constantly remind me.”

After leaving Nottingham, Theodulf led more than a thousand refugees south to make a living and barely managed to settle down. He learned that Æthelwolf was about to attack the Vikings, so he came to seek opportunity.

In his view, the Mercian Royal Family was destroyed, and the remaining two branches were dissolute and notorious, unworthy of inheriting the Mercian crown. Coincidentally, his wife and the Royal Family had a kinship; why not let her be Queen and himself King, ruling Mercia together?

Ten days ago, Theodulf informed Wessex of this plan and received an ambiguous response.

Five days ago, Theodulf asked again, and the Old King said he was considering it and asked him to wait patiently.

The delay until today made him increasingly uneasy. Rejected again, he helplessly walked out of the gate for a stroll, considering whether to give courtiers more gifts.

Passing by a granary, Theodulf heard someone mentioning his name and tiptoed closer to eavesdrop.

Inside were several drunken Court Guards who had stolen a small barrel of ale from the kitchen and were hiding there to chat and slack off.

“Burp, Theodulf is such a fool, actually wanting to become the King of Mercia. Did His Majesty spend a vast sum on the Northern Expedition just for justice?”

“That’s right, when the Vikings are driven away, His Majesty will personally take over as King of Mercia, and the manors in various places will be granted to us. After all the hard work, we should all get some reward.”

As he listened, Theodulf’s anger grew. From the drunken guards’ idle chatter, he learned that Æthelwolf was courting the Church and powerful nobles in various places, persuading them to support him in the Council of Wise Men.

As for the chips, they were naturally the ownerless lands.

In the Battle of Tamworth, many nobles and gentlemen were killed, and Æthelwolf planned to donate these lands to the Church or reward them to powerful nobles.

Chester, Worcester, Cambridge…

Following the drunken men’s rambling, Theodulf even heard the word “Nottingham.”

What’s going on? I’m not dead yet, and they’re going to give away my territory?

A gentle breeze blew, and his anger vanished, replaced by endless fear.

Yes, he had lost his territory, leaving only over a hundred loyal soldiers and more than a thousand pitiful refugees. If he hadn’t shown ambition to become king, Æthelwolf might have granted him a fiefdom—on the condition that he had the support of the Council of Wise Men.

However, since Theodulf openly declared his intention to become king, his status changed from a potential ally to a competitor, becoming a thorn in the side to be suppressed and squeezed out.

No, it’s more than that.

Recalling Æthelwolf’s look at him, similar to villagers looking at a poultry destined for slaughter, Theodulf shivered.

“No, how could he do this to me.”

Theodulf trembled as he left the granary, returned to his room, and after agonizing over the night, made up his mind.

The next morning, he found the Court Steward and gave the latter his wife’s last dowry—a gold necklace.

The Steward skillfully pocketed the necklace and pulled Theodulf to a corner, “Sir, what are your orders?”

“Uh, about my wife’s claim to the throne?”

Before the other could finish speaking, the Steward smiled reassuringly, “His Majesty is considering it and will ensure a safer and more stable future for your country. Among the many candidates, he does favor you the most.”

“Really, thank you very much.”

Theodulf turned to leave. He sensed that the Steward’s words were full of perfunctoriness and evasion, and at this point, the last illusion in his heart vanished.

That night, Theodulf changed into commoner’s clothes and escaped from a corner of the manor. He didn’t plan to join his troops—they wouldn’t be of much use. After escaping the manor, he traveled north overnight and arrived at the outskirts of Rathworth’s camp the next evening.

Facing the Viking sentry’s bow and arrows, he raised his hands and repeatedly chanted “Vig.”

The sentry didn’t understand Anglo-Saxon, so he took the suspicious youth to the castle. If this guy was up to no good, he had ten ways to kill him.

In the hall, the nobles were having dinner. Hearing that an Anglo-Saxon was looking for him, Vig left his seat and found an old acquaintance standing outside.

“Sir Theodulf? What can I do for you?”

“Surrender.”

“Why now?” Vig’s vigilance was at its highest.

At Nottingham, the other had insisted for three months and was still unwilling to pledge allegiance to Ragnar, instead leading his troops south. It was hard for him to imagine that this kind of person would actively seek refuge with the Viking army.

“I intended to succeed as King of Mercia, but I was suspected by Æthelwolf, who also wanted to wear that crown. Alas, I feared being murdered, so I came here seeking help.”

Judging that Theodulf’s words were at least three-tenths credible, Vig had his guards search him and then brought him before Ragnar.