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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Simzy
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The distance between Beodericsworth and Grantebrycge was considerable.
A good quality land that stretched out coolly, with fields covered in green, and the hills and mounds that are inseparable from the Isle of Britain scattered here and there.
The fact that it was a distance that could be reached within half a day if one set their mind to it, meant, in other words, that both sides had to move cautiously.
According to Guthrum’s report, the main force of the cautiously retreating enemy was about 7,000. Considering that 2,000 of them were men Edmund had gathered from the northern marshlands of East Anglia, not all of Mercia’s strength had yet gathered here.
On the other hand, the forces of Beodericsworth were 5,000. Not a single one of the lords of the eastern coast who had sworn allegiance to me had defected.
‘A surprising thing.’
I had heard that out of sight, out of mind, but the oath of allegiance, which I hadn’t expected much from, had been a great help. Was it the effect of the activities of hunting and camping together? I must bestow a great reward on all of them.
Anyway, due to the nature of this era where siege tools were poor, just as siege defenses were, the siege battle, which was ultimately decided by numbers, ended with little gain for the Mercian side.
Originally, according to their plan, while the hastily moved Edmund and Mercia’s vanguard were blockading Beodericsworth’s movements, Burgred, who had gathered his forces in the rear, would have swept through the entire southeastern part of East Anglia, which was in a defenseless state.
Now that number had been suppressed by my vanguard, which had moved like lightning, all that was left for Burgred and me was an all-out battle.
If so, then in this situation, who was in a greater hurry?
Was it me, whose sea supply was running smoothly and whose military power was increasing as time passed? Or was it Burgred, who had gathered his forces from here and there in a hurry?
Right now, he might think he only needed to worry about the Northmen in the east. But I had a hidden card.
“Konungr Helgi. A message from Jarl Ivarr. He says he has arrived safely and will soon move.”
“Really? Good. Very good.”
Ivarr, who had crossed to the west, seemed to have arrived safely in Dublin, and would soon move with Jarl Olaf, who had come under my vassalage without my knowledge.
By now, Ubbs must have arrived in the north as well.
Hásteinn would take a little more time, but since I had promised to help him ascend to the throne after this war, Salomon, the ambitious man of Breizh, would also make a decision soon.
The longer I sat on time, the more advantageous it was for me.
‘There is not a single reason to attack recklessly. There is also no way to attack a castle with a river in front of it.’
The advantage of an attack is that you can seize the initiative, but in other words, in fact, that is the only advantage of an attack in war.
In similar conditions and with each side fully prepared, an out-fighter is naturally more advantageous than an in-fighter.
So, Edmund. Burgred. If you truly wish to fight…
This time, you come.
‘I will accept a battle on the plains anytime.’
A thoughtless siege is no longer welcome.
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“Jarl Oleg! Is this the right place?”
“Uh-”
Oleg and Djur, who had transformed from jarls of a remote region to key figures of the current strongest power in the northern hemisphere in just one year, were in a difficult situation.
The first military command given by the great Konungr whom they respected and admired.
The men from various regions who must still be shedding sweat and blood and tears in the wide space between Aros and Uppsala. The command was to lead the first-term recruits who had completed the ‘training camp’ that made them into soldiers, who had known nothing but charging in battle, and cross the sea…
If there was a problem, it was that this was the first time for both Oleg and Djur in the western sea.
They had arrived at a place where the ‘white cliffs’ were clearly visible along the coastline and had rested for a whole day, and had soon crossed the narrow strait and turned right, so the direction was not wrong…
‘Damn it, was it left…!?’
Oleg, in front of the expectant gazes of the warriors who were concentrating with wide eyes around him, could not bring himself to say, ‘I actually don’t know either!’
“Of course! Jarl Djur. Just a little further, and a tall flame will greet us!”
“Ooh! It must be that lighthouse!”
“New land, wait for me, I am coming!”
Even he himself could not be sure of his own words, but the warriors who were diligently rowing seemed to be full of anticipation before the adventure and battle. Though they seemed most happy to have escaped from the training camp where they were fed and rolled all day.
“…”
Of course, in the midst of that, there were also sharp-eared warriors who had detected the faint tremor in Oleg’s voice. Especially Djur, as if a feeling of anxiety was slowly creeping in, subtly stood up from his seat and stared intently at the completely unfamiliar land and the horizon beyond it.
‘Insolent bastard…’
Wasn’t there still an unresolved grudge between Djur and his own brother, Rurik? If Konungr Helgi hadn’t happened to pass through the eastern land, one of the two leaders of Novgorod and Kyiv would surely have had to die.
But in that sense, Oleg did not hate Djur.
Even if he didn’t like him, that was the way we lived.
If you are weak, you die, don’t you? The leader of a pack must always be strong.
Rather, what he didn’t like was a different point about his comrade, with whom he had eaten, slept, and rolled in the training camp, and had suffered together under the intense mark of the vicious Jarl Hrolfr. And that was the fact that the man named Jarl Djur was very cunning.
In other words, a very detestable personality. To Oleg, the model of a hearty warrior, Djur, who always considered the situation and made various calculations, was far from the image of a desirable warrior.
“Jarl Djur, your neck will fall off at this rate. Do you see anything?”
[Slosh- slosh- whoosh- shhh- whoosh- shhh-]
Kind words are unlikely to come out for a detestable person.
The sound of the oars cutting smoothly through the waves scattered Oleg’s blunt voice. The sight of so many ships that could not be taken in at a glance, following behind the ships of Oleg and Djur in the lead, cutting through the sea all at once, had a magnificent majesty in itself.
“Just in case, for now… hmm?”
It was at that moment that Djur, who was staring at the horizon without an answer, discovered a red dot in the gray space far away.
“Jarl Oleg, do you see that flame over there?”
“Of course I do. I can’t think of any place where a flame is floating in the sky other than the place the Konungr mentioned.”
“It must be.”
Since the opinion of the slick but clever Djur was the same as his own, Oleg thought that he would not have to suspect an enemy attack or a disguise.
‘Good, if so.’
“Now-! Brothers of Garm! Let us all pick up the pace! The Konungr awaits us!”
“Let’s go-! To the Konungr!”
“Row harder! Push the waves!”
[Bwoooooo-! Bwoooooo-!]
{Bwoooooo! Bwoooooo!}
At the sound of the horn that Oleg had blown with all his might, the sound of a response soon came from various places in the rear of the column.
The group of dragonships, which had been moving as if gliding slowly over the sea, all picked up their pace, and the coast of East Anglia was once again silenced by the scale that could not be compared to the fleet of 50 ships that had passed the same way just a few days ago.
While the Mercian army, which had made Grantebrycge their base, and the Northmen army, which had made Beodericsworth their base, were facing each other, glaring at the plain between them, the second expeditionary force of the Northmen had finally arrived.
Their number was about 100 dragonships. 4,000 troops.
In addition, various supplies and 100 warhorses were loaded on about 100 merchant ships.
All sorts of miscellaneous things were mixed in, but Konungr Helgi would probably be most pleased with the appearance of the warhorses.
Looking at the bustling village around the lighthouse, Oleg thought to himself.
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[Nicker-]
“A horse is truly a mysterious animal, Ealdorman Aelfred.”
A pure white horse, like a picture. The famous horse, a personal gift from the Kuning of West Francia across the sea, was quietly enjoying its master’s touch.
“It is truly so, Cyning Burgred.”
“Again with that stiff posture? I have long since known that you are a fine royal, so stop it. Am I not, after all, your sister’s husband? We are one family.”
“Haha. I will do so, Cyning.”
“Yes, isn’t that much better to hear? This one likes it too.”
[Nicker- nicker-]
As he personally combed the mane with a specially made comb for this expensive animal, a horse that neighed softly as if in a good mood.
Despite the impending great battle, at that overly relaxed appearance, the nineteen-year-old prince of Wessex, Aelfred, slowly felt a sense of anxiety but had to suppress it.
‘Caution is a virtue, but a coward is not forgiven. The troops that have responded to the Cyning’s summons in Tamworth alone are 10,000. If we add the 7,000 that have gone ahead and the troops that our Wessex will send, it’s a battle we can’t possibly lose… so there’s no need to be afraid in advance.’
Aelfred, who had completely shed his boyishness, was a royal that anyone would be bound to fall for. A sturdy build, neatly arranged blonde hair, and even a beard.
Some groups had even emerged that compared him to the sickly Aethelred. Perhaps because of that, Aelfred, who was not unaware of the anguish that had recently appeared in his brother’s eyes when he looked at him, had volunteered for this expedition.
Because he could not trouble the brother who had raised and cared for him in place of his father. Anyway, as long as he was a royal of Wessex, he would not be fighting on the front lines. At this opportunity, if he could see the famous Cyning of the Northmen, Helgi, it would be more than he could wish for.
“Cœnred has sent a messenger, and he says the leader of the enemies has shown himself. You must have heard his name, the Dragon of the North, Helgi Ragnarsson.”
“…Helgi Ragnarsson.”
The man who had appeared out of nowhere two years ago and had pacified the mighty Northumbria in just one year.
Northumbria under Helgi Ragnarsson did not capture the fleeing clergy, peasants, or warriors, and the stories told by the refugees who had fled in panic to Mercia and Wessex were all difficult to believe.
The betrayal of Eoforwic and the one and only decisive battle.
According to what he had heard, of the two Cynnigs of Northumbria, Osberht had died in a single slash, and Aella, the culprit who had brought Helgi Ragnarsson to this land, had died in a way so cruel that it could not even be told.
‘His corpse was said to have been abandoned in the fields…’
That place was said to have been stained by Aella’s vengeful spirit, so that even the beasts no longer sought it out. The problem was not that it ended there, but that the many people who had fled from Northumbria had seen a great dragon hovering in the sky that day.
A cloud in the shape of a long snake.
As a result, many brothers in faith were said to have turned their backs on the true God and began to believe in the false gods of those Northmen, and this was something that could by no means be overlooked.
It was not simply a matter of faith, but a matter where the master of this land could be changed if things went wrong.
Because the rulers of this land did not welcome new prophecies, gods, or powerful competitors at all.
“Judging by that expression, you seem to know him well.”
[Nicker- squeeze- pop!]
Burgred, who had removed a bug that was sucking blood from the horse’s mane, laughed as he crushed the bug with his finger.
“I have heard that he is a great warrior. He is said to have broken through the warriors of Northumbria with his own strength alone.”
“It is a difficult thing to believe. Is it not?“
Heave-ho-
At the sight of Burgred putting away his comb and mounting his saddle, the surrounding guards and Aelfred also hurriedly mounted their saddles.
The rough breathing of the horses flowed out from everywhere, and as the riders adjusted their ranks, the king of Mercia and the prince of Wessex slowly rode out at the head.
A confident smile was on Burgred’s lips, and although Aelfred’s eyes were not yet fully mature, a firm will was contained within them.
“The mouths of peasants turn a flying bird into a dragon, and a flowing stream into a great flood. Still, it is right to be wary of that one called Helgi… shall we hurry a little more?”
“Yes, Cyning Burgred.”
“My my… I told you not to be so stiff. That stubbornness resembles your father. Riders of Mercia! We’re leaving-!”
“We’re leaving!”
“Hya!”
[Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Thump- thump- thump thump-]
With a cool laugh, Burgred and his riders vigorously left the camp and got on the road to Grantebrycge.
Next to them, about 10,000 Mercian warriors let out a powerful roar. For their Cyning.
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