Being a Viking Isn’t Fun – Chapter 30

—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Shio
—————————————————————–

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

 
Aella and Osberht of Northumbria were dead.

“So it has come to this,” thought Ceolnoth, Archbishop of Canterbury, as he held a letter that seemed wet as if it had been caught in the rain. It was a missive sent by Wulfhere, the Bishop of Eoforwic.

It contained some rather unbelievable stories.

“The heavens shook, and a dragon (Ormr) appeared. His name is Helgi Ragnarsson.”

Helgi Ragnarsson—a name he remembered.

The memory of seeing those eyes beyond the walls was still vivid. Neither in Rome, nor in the land of the Franks, nor here in Britain, had he ever felt such an overwhelming presence.

Why had he thought of Charlemagne when he saw him?

He had expected Northumbria to be in great danger, but he hadn’t known it would fall so quickly. Now, in the mind of the aging Archbishop, along with numerous worries, it felt as if the thick scent of blood to come was brushing his nostrils.

“My Father Lord. Give me courage, grant me wisdom…”

Wessex and all servants of God had to prepare

“I must inform His Holiness the Pope of the situation here.”

Although he thought Rome itself must be complicated with problems all around, still, as Archbishop, he had to do his duty.

“May…”

Ceolnoth prayed that all this would pass well, that they could overcome it.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

At Sherborne Abbey, Dorset, in Wessex, Aethelred ran his hand over the stone coffin where his brother lay sleeping.

The two coffins where his two brothers, Aethelbald and Aethelberht, lay side by side.

“Now only you and I remain of our brothers, Alfred.”

Unlike his weak self, his youngest brother Alfred was the spitting image of their strong eldest brother.

“If brother Aethelstan had lived, he would have looked just like that.”

“Aethelred. You mustn’t go quickly to the Lord’s side like our other brothers.”

As befitting the child their father loved most, his intelligent eyes and handsome face were striking.

“Haha. Don’t worry. Where would I go? There’s so much to do…”

However, contrary to his words, his chest felt uncomfortable. Was it since brother Aethelberht passed away that he had felt this stabbing pain?

But he didn’t show it.

His brother was still young, and he had much to do.

The news coming from the north was incredibly ominous.

“If.”

Removing his hand from the cold stone coffin, Aethelred asked Alfred.

“If those Norsemen come down, if Mercia asks for help, what should we do?”

This was both an instruction for his intelligent brother and a request for advice. In fact, he had already discussed this issue with his most trusted lord, Odda, the Ealdorman of Devon, but he was also curious about his brother’s thoughts.

A king must always listen to the opinions of many people.

“Hmm…”

Aethelred waited patiently for Alfred, who was pondering deeply for a while. As the light coming through the abbey windows was obscured by clouds and then revealed again between the two brothers lost in their thoughts, Alfred finally spoke.

“We must wait until they split apart. If Mercia asks for help… thinking of our sister, we should help immediately, but thinking of the kingdom, we must wait.”

A firm resolve appeared on his beautiful face.

“Alfred. Blood doesn’t lie. I didn’t know you had such a cold side.”

He had always thought Alfred was just a kind and cheerful child, but when had he grown up like this?

“No, isn’t he the one who went all the way to Rome with Father? Perhaps he might be the most outstanding among our brothers.”

While pushing down the anxiety rising in a corner of his heart, Aethelred nodded. It aligned perfectly with what he had discussed with Odda.

“Yes, I suppose that’s right…”

As Aethelred trailed off bitterly, the image of the Queen of Mercia, his sister, came to his mind.

“Aethelswith, my sister…”

A king was someone who made decisions.

Aethelred closed his eyes, feeling a sharp pain in his chest.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

We recovered our father’s remains and gathered our emotions.

With tear-stained faces, the brothers who had personally gathered their father’s remains prepared a wooden coffin and laid him to rest there.

It took a full week just to clean up the battlefield and tend to the wounded.

During that time, we ordered Earl Uhtred, who had sworn loyalty, to gather the lords of the north, Bernicia, and likewise ordered Earl Egbert of Eoforwic, who had sworn eternal loyalty, to gather the lords of the south, Deira.

Why?

To firmly establish control over Northumbria.

We couldn’t just return as if nothing had happened after coming this far.

However, in truth, all these political issues were secondary for now.

We needed to quickly hold the funeral for our father, whose body had been lying in the damp ground for a long time and had started to decay. We gathered gold and silver from here and there, placing them around the funeral ship where our father’s coffin lay.

We also placed fragrant flowers, and filled it with alcohol.

The sword and shield he had favored in life. A helmet beautifully decorated with a dragon’s head. A ring taken from Aella’s fingers that had been thrown in the field. Two silver coins with the enemy’s face. And various other trinkets imbued with meaning…

After five straight days of rain, it finally stopped, and we gathered and buried those who had fallen on the battlefield together. We placed crosses on the graves of the Angles who believed in the cross, and for the Norsemen, we carved runes asking for Odin and Hel’s protection on large stones.

Now it was time for even the last pieces of the flesh to bid farewell to this world.

“Last night, Father appeared in my dream,” Sigurd said under the clear sky after the rain as we brothers gathered to watch over our father’s last journey.

“Oh?” Halfdan responded to Sigurd’s sudden words.

“He was riding a winged white horse. Just as gallant as we had seen him in life. Behind Father’s head, a bright white door was shining, and from there, the sound of drums kept beating. Along with faint singing.”

“Valhalla… He has finally entered the glorious hall,” Halfdan replied.

“In the end, he was smiling. As he flew away on the white horse, he smiled without any regrets.”

“That’s truly fortunate. Fortunate indeed,” Halfdan said.

Having already grieved sufficiently for a week, no more tears flowed from the brothers’ eyes. However, there was no way to hide the undeniable silence.

Bjorn looked like he had aged ten more years in that time, and even Ivarr, who was always full of mischief, had lost his smile, his eyes hollow. Those two must have had many more memories with Father than us, so it couldn’t be helped.

But someone had to do what needed to be done.

“Bjorn. It’s time to send him off now,” I said.

The sun was already falling beyond the horizon. We couldn’t just stand there forever. At my words, Bjorn finally moved his heavy body and grasped a torch.

“Odin—Here goes my father, Ragnar Sigurdsson. Please receive this warrior heading to your hall well. Please tell him. Until we meet again someday, please take good care of yourself. Please be well.”

Finally, Bjorn’s arm slowly descended, lighting the prepared wood, and the rest of the brothers pulled the ship together, advancing toward the sea.

The ship, enveloped in gentle flames along its short path, touched the water guided by human hands and slowly moved forward. At some point, it sank beneath the water forever and finally disappeared from our sight.

“It’s just like our lives, engulfed in flames as we move forward, only to fall in the end. Odin, please take good care of my father. Until we meet again…” Ivarr said, standing beside me with a sigh. The other brothers followed, standing in a line on either side of me.

“Helgi, I will soon go to Olaf. That white friend in Dublin. That old man, he wants to set foot on his homeland before he dies, but it seems the situation there is not easy,” Ivarr said as we watched the sunset that had taken over the place where our father’s flames had risen. His words seemed incomprehensible, flowing from his reddened lips.

Then, Halfdan took up the conversation. “Helgi, I have agreed to marry the daughter of Bagsecg, the Konungr of Jutes. I might even inherit that land. Bagsecg has no heir.”

‘What does that have to do with me…?’ I thought, furrowing my brow. Regardless, the brothers seemed determined, and next, Sigurd stepped forward.

“I will turn our journey into a song and carve it on a huge stone. Then Father’s legend, then Grandfather’s legend. Roskilde is enough land for me.”

“I will settle in Aros,” Ubba quickly added his words as soon as Sigurd finished speaking. As I began to feel that something was off about the atmosphere, finally Bjorn stepped in front of me and spoke.

“I am old, Helgi. I have lived my whole life yearning for Odin and Valhalla, but seeing you… my thoughts have gradually changed.”

Bjorn slightly showed the silver ornament around his neck. Surprisingly, on that ornament, the symbol of Hel with two faces, one of the living and one of the dead, was shining.

“Father and Mother, the Thing of Uppsala and all other cities, and even all our brothers except you. Everyone already knew. That the only one who could become a true Konungr was Helgi of Aros.”

Bjorn then drew the sword he had been holding to his chest, and holding it out to me with both hands, he knelt on one knee.

“Think about it, Helgi. What man would dare to place beneath him and command a warrior who, with the strength of a single person, could shatter the enemy’s charging lines?

If we do not make a Konungr of one whose mere rule prevents people from starving to death or dying of terrible diseases, then who on earth could rule this land, these rough people?”

As Bjorn’s words continued, the knees of the many warriors surrounding and watching everything touched the ground, and they maintained a deathly silence.

“If you don’t step forward, who on earth could there be to place Ragnar’s sons beneath them? So, I beg you. Helgi Ragnarsson of Aros. Please, become our Konungr.”

On Bjorn’s bowed face, no more worry was visible. Only intense conviction remained there.

Seeing the many warriors who had all bowed their heads without a single exception, beyond the faces of the brothers who had all lowered their heads following Bjorn, an emotion I had not known before welled up.

‘Can I do it?’ I wondered.

And then I saw the people of Northumbria and Eoforwic.

I could see people who, despite bowing their heads, couldn’t hide their anxious glances as they peeked this way.

‘The question was wrong.’

If I didn’t do it, nothing would change.

If nothing changed, these people would continue to live killing each other for countless years to come, as in the original history.

Simply because of the desires of kings and lords, because they were born that way, because the name of God comes before the name of man. Because of many other things.

A terrible era where even the lives of newborns could not be guaranteed.

Even if it’s just clumsy heroism, the shoddy daydream of an amateur futurist, and at the core, I’m still just a pitiful orphan boy from 21st-century South Korea sitting in front of a computer in a small room.

If only I could.

‘I will do it.’

I would definitely change history.

I grasped the sword Bjorn had offered me.

A one-handed sword unique to the Norse, without a guard to protect the hand. On one side of that sword was engraved the word [Courage].

“Until you need me. I will fulfill my duty as Konungr.”

At my words, those who had been holding their breath for a while began to rise from their places one by one. A thousand people with a thousand emotions, ten thousand people with ten thousand emotions.

In this place where various emotions swirled, Bjorn shouted loudly first, and then the people’s cheers followed.

“Long live Helgi Konungr, ruler of all Norsemen!”

“Hail! Long live Helgi!”

“Long live the most noble goddess of death! Long live her warrior, Helgi!”

“Long live Cyning Helgi!”

On a summer day when cries of “Hail Helgi! Hail Helgi Ragnarsson!” echoed everywhere.

In the place where we had sent off our father, I became Konungr by the will of my people and myself.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

With this, we’ve hit all 30 chapters! I remember a few chaps back I said I’d mass release 20 and then 10 the next day. Guess what? I decided to just not sleep! Does wonders, right?

Hope you enjoyed the read! Ping Oihs in the Arcane Translations discord for any errors!