Under the Raven Banner:A Norse Pagan AAR

Part 5:
The Heir​

Viborg, Nørrejylland, 1107
The messenger standing in the room had been riding for two weeks with the dispatch. The new king looked at the words carved into the runestaff. It was short and to the point: King Sven was dead, and a throne awaited him, Rörek, at Rekarne.

It was a strange feeling to realize that the terrifying old man was dead. To rebel with the other danish lords had seemed a good idea at the time, but now... his thoughts filled with memories of a different time: his father training him in the use of a sword on the campaign against the Knýtling brothers. His father telling a much younger Rörek how the greatest glory could be found in fighting for the gods. His father presenting him to Tigmi, the dark beauty who was to be his first wife.

The messenger cleared his throat, interrupting his memories and returning him to the present.
"Ah, well," he thought. "now to re-conquer a kingdom."


---
King Rörek quickly went to action. Several of the king Sven's vassals were sceptical towards his rule, but a few well-placed gifts silenced even the most hostile whispers. Then he turned his eyes tot the borders. The end of king Sven's rule had been a never-ending series of rebellions and probes from surrounding kingdoms. Now, though, the time had come to show who the true king of the North was. As soon as the vassals were quiet he started the first in a line of wars, starting with Satakunta and moving on with Nyland and the foolish Jarl of Dal.


The dark year
Dalaborg, Dal, summer of 1110
"Father?" The voice came from Egil, his eldest. He had the thin frame of most Skilfings and the sharp eyes of his mother. "We will storm the fort soon, right?"
"Yes, unless that fool Dalsman in there gives up before that."
"Well, in that case... what would happen if you should..." Egil fell silent, but the word "die" hung unspoken between them.
"What are you after, Egil? Spit it out."
"Who is to be your heir? I've heard that you favor Inge over me. I can't see why. He is a child tucked away at the court i Sjaeland - I've stood behind you this entire campaign - two years now! I deserve to be the heir!"
King Rörek stared at Egil in surprise of the outburst.
"The law taken by the Ting states that the most fit Skilfing shall rule. Who that will be remains to be seen. I have no intention of dying anytime soon."
The answer did not seem to please Egil, who gave his father a dark look.


The fort Dalaborg soon fell to the sieging troops of king Rörek. However, the joy was short-lived indeed. He was soon reached by news that his vassal the duke of Vestlandet had declared war on the king of Norway, clearly in the hope of wrestling the king-title from the Ynglings. Rörek saw no choice but to aid him in this war, since a loss for Vestlandet would be a loss of a Swedish vassal. Unfortunately, the Ynglings called for their allies in Holmgård: now the Skilfings had to fight on two fronts. Still only mildly worried, King Rörek called for a Grand Mobilization of all his vassals to counter tis threat - and even though most of his vassals answered the call...


Akershus, midwinter of 1110
"They aren't there, my king," the young mordvin rider said with his singing accent. "The other regiments in Oppland are in place, but Arnfinn's group marched off three days ago."
"Argh! Curses!" king Rörek roared. "Why is it that all the curses in this world shall befall the Skilfings?" He threw the cup he had been holding into the wall. "I swear, the Valravn are after us all! Not one of us can be free from the crow of Odin's ravens! If there ever was a way to tell a true Skilfing it was this, just look for the Mark of the Raven!"

---

And so it is said that the loud curse of king Rörek was re-told among the camp-fires in his army, a story that was told again when the men returned to their homes. This, they say, was the moment the Raven banner of the Skilfings was born.

Yep, rebellions galore and realm duress once again. My thanks to Lord of Pain for the raven flag.

No. On the bright side: I had to wage war against Novgorod eventually anyway, and they hold five precious ducal titles which I need if I'm ever going to get any sort of claim on Rus. Also, Novgorod only has a demesne of two provinces, so I think I have a good shot at winning.

Part 6:
The Marshal​

A field north of Lake Ilmen, Rus, summer of 1111
“Bows forward!” There was rustling in the ranks as those armed with bows took positions behind the spearmen. It was a little worrying though – the Danish infantry had light crossbows which could penetrate the heavy armor bound to be worn by the druzhina cavalry, but the Swedish levy which comprised most of the army had just the shortbows they used for hunting. Luckily, the scouts had reported that the Novgorodians were outnumbered this time and now that the Danish and Wend vassals were here, they finally were evenly matched in heavy cavalry.

“Well, at least we have a good defensive position”. Marshal Sörkver thought to himself. He could hear the thunder of hooves up ahead. “Here they come!” a yell rang out. It was all in the hands of the gods now.

----

The battle was a success and the Novgorodian host fled, harried by Swedish forces along the way. In the end, the walls of Novgorod fell and the Knyaz had to bow before king Rörek's armies.

The temptation to add the rich city of Holmgård to his personal demesne was great, but king Rörek knew he had to end the war quickly. Trouble was brewing everywhere, his troops were deserting and almost every month a vassal or other seemed to defect. He had withdraw his armies and try to ride out this storm domestically.

Even so, the eastern outpost of swedish realm was now the walls of Novgorod or as it would be known in the future: Holmgård.

Comments to part 6

A very short update - I only played two years due to lack of time.

Naaah, Holmgård was the traditional Norse name for that city in the Viking age, it seems reasonable that's what the Skilfings would call it. There are a few more variant names I will use later.

Part 7:
The Marriage Broker​

Skilfing House, Rekarne, Södermanland, 1116
"What, another one? You can't be serious!" The young woman looked at the king.
"Oh, don't be coy, Eldrid. Don't play the blushing maiden with me. You know what we need. Boru of Belgorod is, as his uncle Sokal was before him, the primary heir to Sharu-Khan. You should have heard your grandfather Sven speak of him - 'the most warlike chief alive', he would say. But glory aside - we need the Cumans as allies and Sharu-Khan was their greatest king. A marriage into his line will make it possible, perhaps, to claim the Cuman throne.

But for that, we need an heir of our line. And who better to birth such an heir than my beautiful, half-cuman daughter?" King Rörek gave his daughter his most flattering smile.

----
The marriage came to pass. King Rörek had married his daughter Eldrid to Sokal, the oldest son of Sharu-Khan King-of-Cumans in the hopes of eventually getting a claim on that fallen throne. Sokal had been a destitute courtier amongst the Wends and had accepted without hesitation... only to die in bed a year later, the victim of some poorly fried boar meat.

Eldrid returned home after a suitable period of mourning, only to discover that her father intended her to marry the next in the line of the Cumans - Boru. Boru was younger, however, and within a couple of years the gods had blessed the union with two children.

Yes, this truly is the most interesting thing to happen during the session. I'm still in Realm Duress and have rebellions everywhere. I keep it together, mostly, but I long for the day when my stablity wil rise above -3.

The Cumans don't exist anymore. They were crushed between the russian princes and the muslims about 15 years ago, but I figured the son of a deposed king was a suitable match for my second daughter. There aren't all that many pagan kingdoms around.

Enewald said:

So the tile King of Cumans be gone?

Click to expand...

Yes, I'm afraid so. I was hoping it would survive a little longer, but Sharu-Khan went berserk and spent almost all of Sven's reign declaring war on everything in sight. I have toyed with the idea of editing it back in for RP reasons - IF I manage to take over a lot of provinces with Cumans in them. We'll see, I guess.

EDIT: Hey, I was wrong! He tricked me, the bastard! Heh. What happened was that the Cuman king lost all his demesne and his vassals were all his own sons. When that happens, the AI never claims their land, so the king becomes landless until he dies or one of his sons die.

Part 8:
The Cursed King​

King Rörek's reign continued to be plagued by rebellions. It was as if he as cursed, but by what? For what? He never knew.


The campaign against the Knyaz of Galich was not a great undertaking. The Rurikovich princes had been dancing a slow dance of death with each other for as long as anyone could remember - and sure enough, when one of them rebelled another one (the Knyaz in Holmgård) was more than willing to mobilize his troops to crush his cousin.


Furhter north, the Samogitian tribesmen were rallied to plunder the northern holds of the Galich. As commander of these forces, King Rörek's fourth son Håkon was chosen. Rörek himself followed the army as overlord, without taking command of the troops.


A forest in Latgalia, late 1119
The tall young man barked orders to the gathered hövitsmen. “The Rurikovich have brought their northern army across the Daugava, with the intent of reaching our holds at the coast. This is a good thing. We don’t actually have to defeat them, as the Samogitians are on their way down to reach Jacwiecz. All we have to do is keep them occupied, and…” His voice trailed off. Something was wrong. The officers tried not too look at him.

“Ragana!” The latgalian word for witch came from behind him. He had been forced too learn at least some rudimentary skills in the Baltic dialects when his father had forced him to marry a Prussian tribesgirl. As he turned around, he saw one of the older women who had been traveling with the warriors since they left the lands of the Livs. The stench of the poorly-washed woman was eye-watering. “You, plague-bringer! You, spirit-walker! You, the demon! You will bring doom on us all with your wars and your heretic ways!”

Håkon stiffened. This was a serious problem. Most of the warriors were supersticious, and if this woman could make them believe he had offended their spirits…

In the end, king Rörek had to intervene. Kill off his own son on the whim of some unwashed tribeswoman? He ordered the woman executed, but the whispers among the tribesmen continued for some time. The following battle was a success, but in the days to come more and more of the tribesmen simpe vanished during patrols and weren't seen by the army again. The Valravn still hung over the Skilfings. Still, the Galich was vanquished and forced to accept Skilfing rule.


The following summer the whispers started anew. Some said the king had taken a young girl of his own blood as his frill-wife.


The summer of 1121 brought the same as the summers before. The chief of Hälsingland, previously a quiet ans unassuming man, was struck by madness and declared war on his rightful king.


King Rörek took no chances. He led his own hird in a campaign to the north and defeated the foolish Helsingian in the field.

And then...

---

Faxeholm, Hälsingland, 1121
The previous night had been long and wet one. The fort Faxeholm had fallen without much of a fight and king Rörek had installed himself and his closest men in the fort to rest - but not after a big celebration of the victory. The end of last night had been a blur. As Rörek opened his eyes and looked around him in the small chamber he had taken for himself, he noticed movement next to him. A dark-haired girl with high cheekbones was stirring in his bed. "Agh, I hope it's not..." His niece Tetyava opened her eyes and looked right at him. "I'm with child", she said.

---


There was nothing for it. The whole thing had to be hidden. Rumors were one thing, but an actual child and a claim he was the father? King Rörek paid the girl to leave the child with some bönder in a far-away province. At least that was what she said she'd done.


It seemed as if the misfortunes of the line of Skilfings would never end. Why the gods had cursed him so, Rörek could not understand. Then, in the summer of 1125, his wife and queen Cilen, whom he had hated and who had hated him in turn, died.


And with the arrival of the new moon, it was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.


The following years finally saw some quiet prosperity. King Rörek took new, and younger, wives, with whom he actually enjoyed himself. Years were spent on rebuilding what had been lost. The only thing to interrupt the peace was the occasional border skirmish or intervention in the never-ending norwegian civil war.

However a new threat was looming on the horizon. The polish king had been expanding steadily to the east, driving wends and balts before him. Now, his armies were beginning to near the vassals of the Skilfing.

And so it began, in the summer of 1133:

Judas Maccabeus said:

His niece? Wow, welcome to the Middle Ages, I suppose...

Click to expand...

Actually, niece times two, to be precise. I had so many mordvins in court so that when one of the love events fired I never even looked closer at who that was, exactly. The year after, her slightly older sister claimed Rörek to be the father of her child. The third (youngest) sister turned 16 the year after, promptly got stressed and fled the court. Can't imagine why.

Enewald said:

Ruling a nation is like having your own family firm?

Click to expand...

It's a bit like that, yes. There aren't that many pagan kingdoms around, and for RP reasons I try to marry kids and relatives as befits their station. I'm using the Family tree maker to keep track of it all, and the number of rulers who are descendants to my first king Sven is increasing rapidly. Dynastic Glory tells me he has about a hundred descendants with the Skilfing name alone.

It's not completely ahistorical. Most of the royal houses of Europe are descendants of queen Victoria, after all.

Part 9:
The Hammer of Poland​

Poland attacked the Samogitians in Zhmud in the summer of 1133 and it was clear that a stand had to be made. Christian Poland had expanded on the expense of the pagan Balts for decades, and were getting ever stronger. Even though the Poles were evenly matched with the Skilfing realm the fight had to be now. King Rörek sent out a budkavle to order the local leidang to be mobilized, but the realm was weary. For years, lords had marched across the realm in rebellion or counter-insurgency and so many had died. The forces mobilized, for so said the law of the ting in Uppsala:

Nu biuþer kunungar liþ och leþung utt, biuþær utt roþ ok reþ, þa skal næmpnæ hampn ok stampn ok styriman ok hasætæ allæ.
("Now the king requests limb and ledung, and rowing and tools, then you shall name harbour and stem and captain and all rowmen")

Click to expand...

but the groups were small, and especially the finnish tribes sent only a few men as answer to the call.

Eidsivating, fall of 1133
The gathered norwegian farmers looked uneasy. Nobody had threatened them, to be sure, but a large number of armed men - "guards" - were about, some norwegian, some swedish, some danish. Everybody carried the hunted look fifteen years of marching armies, burned homesteads, destroyed crops and raped daughters gave a populace. Rumours were flying. The last years had seen three shifts of king, and the Skilfing armies were always just beyond the next wood. Now, they said, a smalltime Jarl from the borderlands had a claim to the throne.

The new lawman, Odd son of Eirik, stood up and ushered the gathering to silence.

"For many a year we have seen unrest and plague across these lands," he began. He stopped and looked uncertainly at a few well-dressed men standing near him. A tall, gaunt man carrying the mark of the Skilfings looked impatiently at him and made a gesture with his hand.

"...but now we are to have peace. No more will we have the never-ending wars betwixt Ynglings and Telemarkers. Now we will see a return to the tried ways of old." Lawman Odd swallowed. "We shall have as king Olaf of Dal!"

A short, stocky man with an enormous nose stepped forward in front of the crowd so that all could see. He smiled happily to the assembled Ting and seemed to beam with joy.


The peace in Norway freed up several regiments worth of troops which were highly needed in Poland. King Domawuj of the Piasts was evenly matched with the Swedish realm i troops, but the Poles were well centered near the border while the Skilfing levies had to march for hundreds of landmil before even reaching the battlefield. King Rörek opted for a strategy where his forces avoided the main Polish armies and instead focused on subjugating the countryside and the local lords.


For the first time, the Russian vassals were mobilized in force, and for much of the war they carried the brunt of the fighting. During 1134, Rörek's forces slowly crept across Poland, defeating small detachments of pospolite ruszenie along the way. Still, the resistance from the Piasts was hard and it was not until the forced recruitment of local Poles into the army the war finally turned in favor of king Rörek.

Palanga in the lands of the Latgalians, spring of 1135
The old man stood up and groaned. "I am getting to old for this," he thought. For precisely that reason, he had left active leadership of the main armies to Håkon. "The boy is doing well," king Rörek thought to himself. "He will make a fine king once I'm gone." Rörek knew that day could not be far off now. He wasn't sick and hadn't gone into childhood as some did... but it couldn't be long before Odin decided to bring him to his hall now. All his friends were gone and several of his younger siblings. "Even some of my children," he thought, but quickly pushed that thought away. Dwelling on sorrow wouldn't do for a king fighting a war, even if he'd been sitting most of it out.

Rörek had been careful. He had taken command of his own troops from Uppland and kept the Polish forces from slipping past the main Skilfing armies. An invasion of the northern provinces wouldn't help against keeping the clan chiefs from rebelling. Most of the war had been an uneventful wait, interspersed with a few skrimishes and mopping up local polish garrisons in small forts in the countryside. Still, there had been certain perks...

"I wonder if I can get a hold of that blonde Latgalian girl I saw serving last night." Rörek's age hadn't lessened his appetite for women. Then he heard the horns blow outside his house and men shouting. He grabbed his broadsword and quickly exited throught the door.

Nobody had a good explaination to how the Poles had gotten this far into the camp. Probably a combination of local traitors, lax routines after so long and just luck. When Rörek stepped out, two of the Szlachta knights raiding the camp saw the well-dressed older man coming out of a house and immediately charged for him.

As they neared, years of battle experience allowed Rörek to duck the swing of the first rider and then bury his sword in the gut of the Pole.

The swing of the second rider he did not duck.