Ch 82: Stonehenge

While everyone celebrated the victory, Vig, in the outer city camp, wrote in his battlefield diary under the bright candlelight.

Although Wessex had surrendered, he did not dare to relax his vigilance at all. He volunteered to guard the camp. If he were caught off guard at the victory banquet, such a death would be too suffocating.

Hearing the cheers from the city, Vig raised an eyebrow, spending two hours completing the final part of the 《British War Chronicles》 Wessex chapter.

Afterwards, he took out a roll of new parchment and began a long and arduous task—writing military manuals.

The military manuals are expected to be divided into three parts: training, logistics, and tactics.

Considering that this content would be passed on to future generations and confidants, Vig wrote it in great detail. The 《logistics》 section on setting up camp took over two thousand words to complete, and he also put a lot of effort into drawing sketches.

“Whew, so tired.”

Busy until midnight, the camping section was still not finished. Vig rubbed his sore wrists, went out to inspect the camp, then blew out the candle and went to bed.

The next morning, he heard news of the expedition to Francia next year and was shocked.

To this, Ragnar explained somewhat awkwardly: “As a king, publicly declared statements must be fulfilled; otherwise, it will damage one’s authority. I have no intention of occupying Frankish lands; at most, I will conduct an armed march as a warning to ‘Bald Head’ Charles.”

After half an hour, the nobles who had been celebrating all night arrived one after another and began to divide the spoils of war.

Ragnar took the ledger from Goodwin and flipped through it from beginning to end:

After more than half a year of war, the Vikings achieved an unexpected victory. The total value of precious metals, jewelry, armor, weapons, warhorses, cattle and sheep, and woolen cloth exceeded twelve thousand pounds of silver.

After a long while, he cleared his throat: “Soldiers and junior commanders get four and a half tenths, the royal family gets one and a half tenths, and the nobles divide four tenths. In this battle, Ivar, Vig, and Gunnar made the greatest contributions. Let them choose first. Then…”

Ivar’s territory was deeply embroiled in war. He chose three hundred sets of damaged armor, six hundred purple-clothed bows, and fifty thousand arrows, and the remaining share was converted into silver coins.

It was Vig’s turn. His share of the spoils of war was six hundred pounds of silver.

Turning the ledger that registered the spoils of war information, Vig first thought of warhorses. Unfortunately, the number of exchangeable horses was limited, and he only obtained thirty Frankish horses, including twenty mares and ten temperamental young stallions.

Each mare was worth five pounds of silver, and the price of stallions doubled, totaling two hundred pounds of silver.

Then, Vig demanded two hundred sets of damaged armor. Since the Anglo-Saxons were shorter in stature, they would probably need to be modified to fit the Vikings.

Having nothing else he wanted, he closed the ledger and returned it to Goodwin, “Give me another two hundred pounds of silver.”

Next was Gunnar. As the cavalry commander, he also requested thirty warhorses, followed by a small amount of armor, weapons, and six thousand sheep.

“The land in Cambridge is flat. Why abandon farming and choose pastoralism?” Vig wondered inwardly. The only reason he could think of was that pastoralism was less troublesome.

With the help of shepherd dogs, one shepherd can manage two hundred sheep. Six thousand sheep only require thirty shepherds. In the plains region, each acre of pasture can support three sheep, roughly requiring two thousand acres, equivalent to two large manors.

“Besides wool, the flock can also provide sheep’s milk and meat. If Gunnar focuses on pastoralism in Cambridge and allows the flock to continuously multiply and grow, the price of wool on the market will likely decrease.”

After dividing the spoils of war, before the army set off, the military shaman, Kemi Wildfire, found Vig. “Sir, there are rumors in the army that there are large ruins twenty kilometers west of Winchester.”

“Ruins? I hope you’re not lying to me.”

With nothing better to do, Vig led a small number of shield-bearers to visit. Under the guidance of a local shepherd, they arrived at a desolate and quiet grassland.

From afar, dozens of greyish-white stones formed several concentric circles. The tallest stone was about seven meters high, and some long stones were laid across the top.

“Stonehenge!”

Sensing its master’s excitement, the grey horse suddenly accelerated, reaching the destination before all its peers. Vig reached out and touched the nearest stone. The touch was rough and cold, and the corners showed obvious signs of weathering.

At this time, a gentle breeze blew across the grassland, and several hoarse cries came from the air. Several black ravens landed on top of the stones.

Taking out a roll of parchment, Vig sat on the grass and depicted this scene, which had a mystical quality, with clumsy strokes. Shaman Kemi, leading a group of shield-bearers, shouted and collected money to buy a sheep and two chickens from the shepherd to temporarily hold a sacrifice ceremony.

By the time they were finished, Vig’s artwork was almost complete. They spent a night camping outdoors and returned to Winchester the next day.

Ragnar was now facing a problem.

The war was over, and the army was about to set off. He originally planned to choose a nice manor in Tamworth and send his new lover, Aslaug, there as compensation for accompanying him for more than half a year.

However, during the evening dinner of the allied army’s high-ranking officers, Aslaug suddenly stood up, calmly stroking her belly, and announced that she was pregnant.

Instantly, Vig suppressed his smile and looked down at the fish soup on the table. The other nobles reacted similarly, as if they hadn’t heard anything, silently eating their food.

“What are your expressions? This is great news!” Ivar was the first to speak approvingly, bringing up an experience from twenty years ago.

At that time, Ragnar was just a pirate living from hand to mouth, occasionally going out to pillage and spending the rest of his time farming at home.

One cold winter, a traveler wearing a ragged black cloak asked for lodging. He had an aged face, one eye, and carried a sturdy oak cane. Ragnar and his wife took him in.

At that time, Ivar was an eight-year-old child, and Bjorn was even younger, only five years old. The two of them pestered the traveler to tell stories. The traveler was knowledgeable and seemed able to answer all their questions.

Finally, Bjorn asked a tricky question to challenge the traveler: “Can you predict the future?”

“What an interesting little fellow. What do you want to know?”

Bjorn, “Every spring, Father accepts employment from the lord to go out to sea to pillage and returns in the autumn. He said that when he saves enough money, he will stop going to sea and stay home to play with me. Will that happen?”

“No, he has more important things to do.”

Beside the warm fire pit, the old traveler took a sip of cloudy ale and smiled at the two children, “Ragnar is destined to achieve great things. He will have three wives and five offspring. Sadly, he won’t have enough time to spend with you.”

After recounting this past event, Ivar suggested that his father take Aslaug back to York. Since Queen Sola disliked him, he might as well find her a rival to occupy her time and energy.