Being a Viking Isn’t Fun – Chapter 16

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
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A leisurely day’s walk from Aros, or two days at an extremely leisurely pace?

If you followed the road I had built to keep the idle people occupied due to the overflowing population, you would eventually cross the strait and set foot on a large island.

Roskilde on the island of Zealand.

Long before even grandmother’s old stories, there was a Konungr whose name contained the word “Ro,” and because he often used many lakes and ponds, the city was named Roskilde, meaning Ro’s spring.

As you can tell from the story above, it was probably one of the oldest Norse cities, along with Uppsala. This meant that there were many families who had settled there for a long time, with many wealthy people living there due to its strategic position as a hub of east-west traffic.

In this era in Northern Europe, having many rich and traditional families in a city meant that the power of the Thing was strong. How strong? The influence of angry citizens could even bring down Jarls and Konungrs.

So, in truth, I had thought that Sigurd, appointed as the Jarl of Roskilde following our father’s reputation and people’s requests, would be the last of our brothers to arrive.

While the rest of us brothers, including myself, immediately crossed the sea, our eyes rolled back in our heads crying for revenge because our father had just been killed by Aella of Northumbria. There was no reason for people who, to be honest, had little interest in the death of my father, Ragnar Sigurdsson, to move actively.

But to arrive this early?

‘Unexpected.’

Summer had already passed more than half of its six months. Yet in this cool land that was still bearable compared to the heat I had felt in Korea in my previous life, I embraced this makeshift bard with a truly welcoming heart for the first time in a while.

“Sigurd! You’ve hurried, my brother.”

“Helgi! You seem to have grown even bigger since last time. When I saw you from afar, I almost turned my horse around thinking you were a bear.”

‘Oh, come on.’

The snake coiled in Sigurd’s eyes seemed to gleam mischievously green. He had been struggling the most with Father’s death, but it was fortunate that he seemed to have overcome it to some extent. Both mothers must have taken good care of him.

“Sigurd. It seems you had no trouble on your way.”

“Ivarr.”

The meeting of an uncle-like older brother seeing his cute little brother, and a little brother who has now grown up and wants to appear as adult as possible.

This about sums up the relationship between Ivarr and Sigurd. Bjorn is even older than Ivarr, so it’s even more difficult, and Halfdan is in the middle, playing the role of mediator.

‘Bjorn, Ivarr, Halfdan, Sigurd, Ubba, me.’

How did these six come from one man?

Sons all overflowing with individuality, it made me vaguely understand why Father had always been out and about. It was hard enough to raise one child. Six? Good heavens…

I suddenly thought how truly amazing Aslaug was, being the birth mother of the five brothers excluding me.

“It couldn’t have been easy to persuade the old men of Roskilde, you must have had a hard time. Were there any problems in Dover? I left a token with the Earl there.”

“They were very cooperative. Eadbert, was it? They seemed to have no intention of fighting, so I left only a few men to guard the ships and joined right away. Guthrum was very curious about the situation here.”

“Ah—”

Ivarr, smiling and stretching his flexible body, grabbed Sigurd’s shoulder and guided him towards the village.

“For now, let the warriors rest on the outskirts of the village, and let’s go inside, Sigurd. Things are unfolding interestingly, and I have a lot to tell you.”

Somehow, that sight left me with the impression of a snake coiling around a plump prey.

‘Sigurd has a snake in his eye, but Ivarr himself is a big snake.’

I called together the warriors of Roskilde who were standing blankly waiting for orders beyond the (affectionate?) brothers to arrange places for them to stay and eat.

“Everyone come here, aren’t you hungry?”

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“…So now, you’ve defeated the Konungr here with just 800 men? I can’t believe it.”

“They don’t call him Konungr here, but Cyning. Honestly, I didn’t think we’d crush Edmund this badly. You know how it is, right? When two warrior groups meet, they usually clash once first.”

Thanks to the kindness of Sigebryht, the Earl of Rendlesham, we were using the hall of the old kings as if it were our own home, gathered around the long table to catch up. The night was growing deeper, and the flames burning in the hearth at the center of the hall illuminated six pairs of green eyes.

“I wanted to test how tough these Angles were, as a sort of greeting, but Helgi shook the enemy’s formation in an instant. You should have seen it! There was hardly any fight after that. Edmund, in the midst of it all, proved excellent at the art of escaping.”

I could only shrug at Sigurd, who was looking at my face with eyes that seemed to want some explanation.

“There’s a city called Beodericsworth to the west, and I heard he’s holed up there, surrounded entirely by stone walls. With 800 men, no, now reduced to about 700, we can’t attack a stone-walled city, so we were just twiddling our thumbs when you arrived, Sigurd.”

“Hmm… So in simple terms, Edmund came out with unprepared troops, got beaten badly by Helgi, then hid behind the city walls. I understand. What’s our next move?”

Ivarr, who chuckled at Sigurd, who kept changing his posture in his seat as if his body was itching, filled Sigurd’s cup with drink in a leisurely manner, as if calming an angry beast.

“According to our good friend, Earl Sigebryht, many of the Earls of East Anglia and those under them are doubting Edmund’s abilities. Deep within that lies a deep-seated grudge against the various atrocities committed by Wessex and Mercia in this land.”

“Wessex, Mercia?”

“They’re large kingdoms to the west of here. Mercia has weakened, and Wessex is in disarray as its king is on his deathbed.”

“Oho.”

The instinct of a hunter eyeing prey rose in Sigurd’s eyes, and Ivarr, smiling with a similar gaze, continued speaking.

“It means that if we strike and bring down Edmund, East Anglia might fall into our hands.”

Just then, a large flare of the fire twisted once more over the cunning faces of us three brothers sitting across the table.

[Flare]

“…Good, much better than I expected. So when do you plan to move?”

Sigurd asked, trying to suppress his excited face and feigning calmness, and Ivarr answered without hesitation.

“We should give the forces you brought some time to catch their breath, so let’s leave in two days. I’ll notify Guthrum as well. The wounded should be able to heal sufficiently here.”

“Two days from now.”

“Good.”

Sigurd and I nodded heavily.

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I had to give credit where it was due.

Although I only remembered seeing Edmund in battle, that king of the Angles had at least one thing that was genuine—his desire to fight.

“You filthy, stinking barbarians! You evil spawn of the devil! Do you not fear the power of the Lord! Infidels! Heathens!”

Who was calling who filthy and stinking? You were the ones who didn’t even wash.

“You will all fall into Hell! There you will burn in eternal, unending flames! The great and holy Lord says in the Bible—!”

“How does he know about Hel’s realm?”

The wound from my throwing spear must not have been too severe, as Edmund’s voice, clutching his wound with a deeply furrowed face, was filled with a kind of madness as he climbed the wall and shouted desperately.

Ivarr, who had been listening to Edmund’s angry disrespect while checking the enemy’s morale and the sturdiness of the walls, suddenly tilted his head at a familiar word.

Then, Sigurd, with his excellent storyteller and bard qualities, immediately took the bait.

“Well, they seem to share a similar worldview. Maybe they’re relatives of the Asgard gods.”

“I suppose even gods must have neighbors. The world of the immortals is beyond the knowledge of us mortals…”

“Oh, speaking of which, the son of Hel’s most favored priest is right here! What do you think, Helgi?”

After spewing out a thoroughly blasphemous conversation, my two brothers turned their arrows towards me. Their grinning faces looked so alike that anyone would say they were brothers, both equally hateful.

“What would I know? But I’m sure the hell Edmund speaks of and the realm of the goddess Hel are completely different spaces. As far as I know, the goddess Hel embraces those who died ordinary deaths like her own children, and her watchdog Garm judges the dead souls by their scent. Those who broke their honor and committed ugly sins in life are destined to suffer eternally in a frozen land.”

“Oh.”

Ivarr and Sigurd showed great interest in my words, which I had embellished with a bit of fiction. Of course, the image of Hel differs in each region, but how could I, as the son of a priest favored by the goddess Hel, speak ill of her?

So I added a little flesh to what my mother had told me, and it seemed as if my brothers and the surrounding guards all pricked up their ears at once.

“Well, we should thank Edmund for this. Come to think of it, isn’t this the first time our brother, favored by the gods, has spoken about the gods?”

“Wait, I need to remember this to make a song out of it.”

Sigurd suddenly became busy, badgering the surrounding guards to find stones or parchment suitable for engraving characters, saying he wanted to record my story.

‘Where would you find paper in this field? And when are you planning to engrave on rocks?’

Fortunately, it seemed to be a joke, as Sigurd smiled at my restraining gesture and made me promise that I must tell him stories of the gods someday.

Of course, even amidst this small commotion, Edmund, engrossed in his own voice, continued to squawk incessantly.

“-! Do you understand! You excrement of Satan! With one blast of His trumpet, the walls crumbled, and all the wicked within fell! Repent your sins now and come into His embrace! Then you shall be forgiven!”

“…Setting aside the affairs of the gods, we need to deal with human matters right now. What do you all think? About those walls.”

“They’re quite high and sturdy. But not impossible to overcome.”

Ivarr asked, roughly shaking his head as if disgusted by Edmund’s continued curse, and Sigurd answered.

Then, following my two brothers who were staring at the walls as if to dismantle them, I too took another careful look at the walls surrounding Beodericsworth.

Not incredibly high, but a rather tricky height. There was a well-maintained waterway in front of it, which we would have to fill in first to cross.

Then, centered on the gate made of solid wood, there were wooden towers at the corners of the walls extending to the left and right, which looked much higher and sturdier, and the archers positioned inside them were well-protected, which was quite troublesome from an attacker’s perspective.

“Alright. It doesn’t seem like something we can do in a day or two, so we should set up a camp first. Let’s build a palisade at some distance from the walls and start our assault. As it happens, many of my warriors used to work as carpenters, so we should make use of that.”

Although Ivarr and my vanguard, and Sigurd’s second expedition force had left in a hurry and brought only the veterans they could immediately mobilize, due to the social characteristics of the Norse people, even warriors had second jobs. There weren’t many professional warriors (Huskarlar).

Or more accurately, farmers, miners, fishermen, carpenters, merchants, and craftsmen all received warrior training. It was an era where you had to protect your own village. Among them, those who excelled made being a warrior their full-time job.

Therefore, this Norse warrior group was overflowing with people who could do all sorts of work.

Afterwards, we spent the entire day creating a decent campsite, leaving Edmund standing on the wall all day long, expounding about his god and how fearsome and powerful it was. And then, we began to make ‘toys’ that couldn’t be expected from ordinary barbarians.

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I seriously wonder what ‘toys’ the Norsemen are making. Battering rams? No clue. Y’all have any speculations?

Anyways, thank you for reading! Hit up Oihs in the Arcane Translation discord for any grammar errors.