Ch 86: Snake Eyes

In October, Vig took some time off to visit York.

Because this year they followed the Royal Family on campaigns, the nobles did not need to pay tribute; going to the Royal Palace for appearances was sufficient.

At the banquet, Queen Sola sat to Ragnar’s right, remaining silent throughout, drinking red wine alone. Aslaug, sitting to Ragnar’s left, was full of energy and, despite being pregnant, still chatted merrily with the nobles.

Ivar ignored Queen Sola’s occasional icy glares and chatted quietly with Vig, “Someone proposed that the Royal Family relocate the capital to Londinium. What do you think?”

“Let me think… this suggestion came from Pascal, Goodwin, and those civil servants?” Vig glanced at the Anglo-Saxon civil servants on the other side of the long table, and after deliberating for half a minute, gave three reasons for relocating the capital:

One, during the Roman rule, Londinium was the administrative, military, and trade center. The Romans built a large amount of infrastructure, as well as a road network leading to York, Chester, Winchester, and other places, which is still playing a role after hundreds of years.

Two, the Thames River is wide, connecting the inland of England to Oxford via inland waterway transportation, and can also trade with the Continent via the North Sea, exporting wool to Flanders to gain profit.

Three, the Royal Family moving to Southern Britain will help maintain rule over the newly conquered territories and deter the three lords of Wessex, Mercia, and East Anglia.

Finally, Vig summarized, “Comparing York, Tamworth, and Londinium, Londinium is more suitable as the capital.”

“It’s almost the same as Goodwin’s and their claims.” Ivar’s eyebrows furrowed, “If Father relocates the capital to Londinium, it will be closer to West Francia. To ensure safety, with his temperament, he will definitely choose to strike first, severely punishing Charles the Bald, making the other party dare not have the idea of a proactive attack.”

Speaking of this, Ivar’s mood became irritable, “Attacking Wessex this year, and West Francia next year, I completely cannot spare time to deal with Dyfflin’s affairs. By Odin, when will this end?”

“Me too. Bandits in the Northwest, raiders in the coastal areas—a bunch of trouble is plaguing me. Hopefully, next year’s raids will end early, and don’t drag into a long war.”

Besides Vig and Ivar, Niels, Orm, and Gunnar were recently ennobled, busy dealing with their own affairs, and equally opposed to sending troops to West Francia.

In contrast, nobles like Leonard did not have much to do, idling in their territories all day, so they supported sending troops to take advantage of the opportunity to earn extra money.

Thus, a rather strange situation emerged.

Ivar, Vig, and other confidants resisted the King’s demand to send troops, while nobles like Leonard, who were usually wary of, supported sending troops, and Pascal, Goodwin, and other Anglo-Saxon civil servants did not need to personally fight and took a relatively neutral stance.

But no matter what, in the face of Ragnar’s unparalleled reputation and authority, the nobles were powerless to refute and could only choose to accept.

Returning to Tyne, Vig asked Micham, the Treasurer, to find a few reliable merchants, asking them to collect local intelligence while trading in Edinburgh, focusing on the alliance news between the Picts and the Gaels.

“Sir, you don’t need to worry too much. The North has never been unified, the relationships between the nobles are complicated, there are irreconcilable blood feuds, only when the new generation grows up and gradually forgets the past hatred will the alliance truly be realized.”

“That makes sense, but I never put my hope on the enemy’s stupidity. Go and buy merchants now; money is not a problem.”

After dismissing Micham, Vig devoted his energy to next year’s war.

Given West Francia’s cavalry advantage, he recruited eight hundred Viking immigrants at once, two hundred shield axe men, two hundred archers, and the remaining four hundred spearmen.

Spearmen were equipped with round shields and spears, with a Viking standard iron axe at their waists.

The length of the spear was set at 2.5 meters, used for close-combat stabbing or defending against cavalry charges. Vig considered increasing the length, but it was not conducive to one-handed grip, so he gave up.

In the following months, besides focusing on the soldiers’ fighting skills, he also focused on training formations to resist cavalry charges.

In February 848, before the ice and snow had completely melted, a dusty court guard rushed to Tyne Town, “Sir, Pascal is ill, and His Majesty wants you to go to Londinium to prepare for the expedition.”

By the warm and comfortable fireplace, Vig handed the child to Herigifu, “Is it shipbuilding or military supplies?”

“Both.”

“Good, go and rest now, I will leave tomorrow.”

The next day, Vig bid farewell to his wife and children and led more than eight hundred people on their journey. Arriving at the South Bank by ship, he took a final look at the scenery on the other side. The dock was crowded with people of all kinds; the construction of Tyne Castle on the low hill was progressing smoothly. After this war, he would probably be able to move into the new house.

Four days later, the troops passed through York, and Vig entered the city to see the King.

Suddenly, his vision darkened.

“What’s going on?”

Vig instinctively jumped off his saddle and rubbed his eye sockets; the scene before him was still gray. He looked up; the entire sky was like parchment stained with ink, and the sun seemed to be covered by something.

A solar eclipse?

In an instant, the marketplace was in chaos, the crowd was crowded, the gray horses neighed uneasily, and the hunting dogs tied to the tavern door circled frantically. A shaman climbed onto the roof and shouted Odin’s name at the sky, asking Him to act quickly and drive away the monster that was devouring the sun.

This celestial phenomenon lasted for three minutes, and the world returned to light. Vig looked back at his shield-bearer, whose face was pale, and motioned for them to follow him.

Entering the palace gate, Vig noticed the tense atmosphere and asked the guards, learning that Queen Aslaug was about to give birth.

“Sir, His Majesty is not in the mood to handle affairs; please wait here.”

“Understood.”

Vig stood quietly in the hall, waiting for an unknown amount of time, until he heard two faint cries.

Amidst the whispers of the servant girls, the Queen gave birth to a boy and a girl. Ragnar named them Sigurd and Enya respectively. The baby boy’s eyes were a rare ink green, like a snake’s pupils.

Soon, the name “Snake Eyes” spread throughout the palace. Coupled with the celestial phenomenon before his birth, many Vikings subconsciously associated him with the legendary serpent Jörmungandr.

Until now, Vig remained expressionless, as if nothing had happened. Until the evening, Ragnar finally remembered to summon him.

“I have another son. How do you think I should celebrate?”

Vig made a proper suggestion, “Hold a celebration, let all the people in the city enjoy themselves.”

“That’s right, it’s time to celebrate properly.” Ragnar was excited, his speech slightly disordered. He patiently talked with Vig for two minutes before quickly returning to the babies’ room.