The Pillaging of Évreux
September - November 867
With the departing of Ivar the eldest and Sigurd the youngest, Halfdan did find himself sorely beset with misgivings and diminished ability to wage war against the large coalition arrayed against he and his remaining brothers. Such was his anger at this betrayal, he did forbade all men to mention Ivar and Sigurd's name in said presence.
Halfdan, though, was of a resourceful spirit, and understood the impact Ivar's defection had on the Treasury. And so it happened he did bid his second son Gudfrid, a lad most renowned for bravery, to undertake a raiding of the Frankish coast with intent to procure spoils and replenish the coffers. And in September Gudfrid did sail on nine ships from Jorvik along the River Ouse to the Humber Estuary and thenceforth to the North Sea. With him sallied four hundred men.
His passage proved aided by calming weathers, and Gudfrid sailed unopposed along the River Seine until he did beach his ships near Évreux. Exhorting his men to the Glory of Odin, Gudfrid marched into the County...
From 'Being the Secret History of Geoffrey Monmouth'
Like deadly serpents...
November, 867 - The Pillage of Évreux
Like deadly serpents, nine longships slipped along the staid waters of the meandering Seine, oars rising and falling in steady rhythm, the stout pine pulled by grim looking men clad in sweat stained tunics.
Standing at the prow, body shrouded in morning mist, Gudfrid scanned the vague images along the distant shoreline, one booted foot braced on the gunwale, a forearm resting against the dragon figurehead. At his feet knelt a scarred thrall, a Frank captured during some long forgotten raid. A metal collar encased the slave's neck, from which several feet of knotted rope was looped in Gudfrid's free hand.
The voyage had been unopposed. What fishing vessels they met hastily darted to shore, while the inhabitants of the few villages they passed fled into dark forests or atop nearby hills. The Vikings paid them no heed.
When the sun appeared over the far-off canopy of tree tops, burning away the remaining mist, Gudfrid tugged on the rope. "How much longer, dog?"
The thrall grunted and peered over the starboard side, toward land. He remained silent for long moments until Gudfrid tugged again. In broken Norse the man said, "Soon, Master. I need find a recognizable land mark."
Halfdan's son returned to studying the shore. Finally, he said, "What kind of leader is this Count Renaud?"
The thrall shrugged, then stumbled to reply when Gudfrid growled. "I cannot in truth answer, master. I know little of him." Rising suddenly, he pointed toward an abandoned stone structure seated on a finger of land. "There, Master. Beach just beyond yon building. Évreux is several rôsts south and west."
#
The woman screamed not a dozen feet from Gudfrid, her panicked cries steeped in despair. But Halfdan's son ignored her, and stood with hands on hips as several dozen men loaded spoils on a line of oxen drawn wagons.
The key settlements of the County had proven easy to plunder. Gudfrid had first marched on Évreux, cutting a deadly swath along the way, leaving in his path burnt hovels and bloody corpses. The stronghold itself proved no obstacle, its shallow earthen walls easily overcome. Once inside he discovered with disgust the small garrison was composed of old men and young boys.
After several days of brutal occupation, Gudfrid detailed a small detachment to cart spoils and captives to the waiting longships, while he marched some thirty rôsts east toward the old Roman town of Lexovii, now called Lisieux, a site of religious importance.
Again he met with little resistance, though the plunder was great.
Again he met with little resistance, though the plunder was great. Sparing but a short time to rest, he set off south to the burgeoning city of Alençon, finding its citizens hastily deserting on approach. The booty gathered was substantial, while those inhabitants who failed to flee were herded together, primarily old men, women and young children.
Gudfrid stroked one side of his long moustache and turned away from the wagons to the Frankish thrall standing a few paces behind. "Your Count Renaud is blessed by your God to be off somewhere fighting a war with his King Charles. If he was here, he and his men would be feeding the worms, though it saddens me he relied on the feeble to protect his lands." The woman's screams persisted, and Gudfrid snapped, "Silence her. That shrieking irritates me." The sound turned to a wet gurgle. Gudfrid continued, "I had planned to return home after this raid, but with resistance so light, I think I will stay. Tell me, what lies east of us?"
The Frank stared sullenly at the ground.
Gudfrid frowned. "Come now. I could beat it out of you. Or worse. I could give you to Uncle Ivar."
The thrall snapped his head up and dropped to his knees, his eyes moist and pleading. "Chartres, Master. To the east lies Chartres. And beyond, Paris."
Smiling, Gudfrid said, "There now. That wasn't so hard." Tugging on the rope, he led the Frank toward a wagon, avoiding the naked body of the dead woman. Idly he picked up a gold candlestick, turned it in his hand, then tossed it atop the growing mound of loot. "Once we return to our ships and deliver these presents, I'll let you take me to Chartres."
"There now. That wasn't so hard."