Ch 69: Rest
Learning of the Crown Prince’s death and the crown’s loss, the Old King, holding fast in the Tamworth fortress, fell into despair.
He ordered his n to douse the castle with oil, then dismissed all servants and soldiers. Under countless watchful eyes, he silently walked to the top of the fortress and set fire to the building that represented the rcian kingship.
After more than two months, the Viking army captured Tamworth, killing royal family mbers and successfully completing the first phase of their objective.
Subsequently, Ragnar announced a rest period. The troops, weary from months of campaigning in the harsh cold, were growing increasingly discontent. If forced to continue fighting, there was a high probability of mutiny.
The fortress was burned, and a large amount of precious records turned to ash. Most critically, the ledgers detailing the royal family’s inco were lost. With no other option, Ragnar tasked Pascal with the count, and Vig, whose Latin was passable, was assigned to assist Pascal.
“This is a complete ss; we’ll have our work cut out for us.”
Sighing, Vig suggested searching for clerks and servants who had worked for the royal family and questioning them individually, recording each person’s information.
“Correct,” Pascal agreed with his suggestion, beginning this long and tedious statistical work.
The most important inco of the rcian Royal Family ca from the land. Peasants attached to the royal manors had to pay taxes in kind（ such as grain and honey） and provide two weeks of unpaid forced labor annually.
In addition, the royal family owned vast forests, strictly prohibiting poaching. Every hunter had to register their information truthfully and pay taxes on the fur of their ga regularly. Even for everyday woodcutting, villagers had to pay the corresponding tax.
Besides agricultural tax, the other two sources of inco were trade and coinage:
The royal family had the right to set up tax stations within the territory to collect tolls and market taxes. Two small silver mines produced silver ingots annually, which were slted into silver coins bearing the king’s likeness by the Royal Mint.
Finally, the Old King had issued five trade charters, allowing Flemish rchants to monopolize the export of wool and honey, bringing him a considerable inco.
After ten days of hard work, the two unfortunate n still hadn’t tallied a specific number. Fortunately, Goodwin and a group of officials arrived from York as reinforcents. Vig happily passed this ss off to them, finding a quiet place to laze about and read.
In February, Ivar arrived late with four hundred troops. Ragnar did not rebuke his eldest son nor show excessive enthusiasm, rely hosting a simple welcoming banquet.
“There are too many nobles in Ireland. We overthrow one family, and another pops up to cause trouble. It’s an endless cycle of rebellion, and it’s kept from resting all year.”
Ivar raised his goblet, his eyes showing a lingering weariness. To pacify the local people, even with his violent and fierce nature, he had to compromise. He married the daughter of a minor noble, reduced taxes, and governed the Dyfflin region using local customs.
Very drunk, he uttered a rare discouraging remark,
“I’m afraid that for the next few years, or even a decade, I’m destined to waste my energy in that bottomless quagmire. So have suggested I recruit more Viking immigrants. Ah, we’ll just have to play it by ear.”
While listening to Ivar’s complaints, Vig remained mostly silent, silently considering the situation of his own territory. Suddenly, a rider in a thick wool cloak burst into the hall, saying that the garrison at Nottingham was willing to surrender.
“Nottingham?”
Ragnar shook his head, trying to regain so composure. Indeed, this town near the border had yet to surrender, holding out for three months. To prevent them from attacking the supply lines, a thousand Viking warriors were stationed outside the town, occupying a fifth of the mobile troops.
“What are the conditions?”
The rider handed over a roll of parchnt. Ragnar broke the wax seal and had Pascal translate it.
To show their status, the letter contained a long section of pleasantries. Ragnar patiently listened until the end, learning that Theodulf was unwilling to swear allegiance to him. He was willing to hand over Nottingham, on condition that he could lead his family, soldiers, and property to the Southern Region without being attacked by the Vikings en route.
“rcians are nothing but trouble.”
Overco by alcohol, Ragnar’s reason blurred, and unwilling to think further, he casually pointed to a noble and instructed him to settle the matter.
The next mont, Ragnar, unconscious, slumped onto the table, emitting a rhythmic, muffled snore.
On the right side of the long table, a bewildered Vig looked at Ivar, “Your Majesty, did you an or him?”
Ivar shook his head, “I don’t know.”
“Oh well, I’m a natural workhorse.” Vig went over to pick up the parchnt, glanced at it briefly, returned to his room to pack his things, and set off north the next day.
In early February, Vig arrived at Nottingham with his troops.
Compared to last year, Nottingham hadn’t changed much. A thousand Vikings were insufficient to completely surround the town. Every night, the garrison secretly dispatched small squads to gather firewood and search for supplies in the surrounding countryside, thus holding out for three full months.
Reaching a distance of two hundred ters from the fortifications, Vig dismissed his shield-bearers and stood alone in the snow, waiting.
Soon, a crevice opened in the East Gate of Nottingham, and a richly dressed rider ca forward to negotiate, “Who are you?”
“Lord Vig of Tyne.”
The rider dismounted, offering a weary smile, “I am Theodulf, Lord of Nottingham.”
After a brief assessnt of this thin young man in his twenties, Vig took out the parchnt from his bosom, “His Majesty agrees to your terms. Tell , when will you formally surrender?”
“Please give us a week to pack our belongings.”
“Three days at most. I don’t want to waste ti in the wilderness. Surrender at dawn three days from now, or I will bring in the army to besiege you.”
After the negotiations, Vig led his n to an abandoned village. En route, Joren couldn’t help but ask, “Sir, why don’t we rest in the siege camp?”
“Do you want to live in that garbage heap?” Vig replied impatiently. He had just ridden through the camp, and the scene was shocking.
There were supposed to be a thousand Viking warriors, but hundreds of unrelated people had joined them. rchants and prostitutes were moving freely through the barracks, making it look like a bustling, dirty open-air market. If Theodulf were to launch a surprise attack, his odds of victory would be at least 70%.
Fortunately, thanks to the effects of capturing Repton and Tamworth, the garrison at Nottingham dared not act up, hastily packing their belongings and handing over the town before the deadline.
“Sir, I hope you keep your promise.”
Theodulf led his soldiers, family, and willing commoners out of Nottingham, totaling seventeen hundred people. Vig and his n followed behind, taking five days to escort these slow-moving commoners to the South.
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