Chapter Twenty-Seven: Exalted Ambition
Winchester, March 875
“Halfdan has engaged Ælfred. Let's join him, boys.”
Ubbe's host arrived almost just in time. Still, their arrival looked like it would definitely tip the scales into Halfdan's favour, giving him the clear advantage in men. The hopes of the army of Wessex lay in their long training for this day, their will to defend their homeland, and the skill of their king.
Ælfred's presence was clearly noticeable. Unlike in Lincoln, the Saxons looked like a unit, disciplined and tough. It wouldn't be easy to break through their well-organized ranks. While the Norse flanks employed a different strategy than Whiteshirt's centre, their opponent harassed the advance as one, seeking whatever opportunity arose to employ their cavalry. The king's men wreaked havoc amongst Halfdan's archers.
As the distance diminished, the Saxons pulled back, intent on holding their position. And holding it they did. Relentlessly, the viking shieldwall pushed against the Saxon one, but made little gains. It looked like there would be a bloody standstill, save for the right flank. Hæsteinn's banner had assumed command of this flank, and its presence was felt by the combatants. Ælfred suddenly seemed very far away, the Jew who led them very near. And the Tormentor approached. When he had managed to cut off the flank from the centre, the Saxons had enough.
The left flank and the centre held until Ælfred had to sound the retreat. A spirited charge by the Normans had torn a hole into his formation which had so formidably held off the vikings before, and he knew then that the battle was lost.
As the dust settled, it became apparent how well the Wessexians had held against a numerically far superior enemy.
“I don't even want to know how the battle would have turned out if they had the Swiss on their side today”, Tryggve mused.
“Of course you don't want to know. You would have retreated”, Steinn picked up Tryggve's thoughts, not bothering to hide the hostility in his voice. “While it is the charge of me and my men who decided the battle.”
“Oh, absolutely. For Hæsteinn totally wasn't just finishing off the flank and would have crushed the centre afterwards. Leaving less men to escape.”
“Go on, continue hiding behind your master's success!”
“Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't want do do the same as you.”
“Say that again.”
“
You hide behind your master.”
“Enough! Like squabbling children”, Halfdan asserted his authority, earning a thankful nod from Ubbe, but scorn from the Tormentor, who was clearly enjoying the fight and waiting for it to escalate. “Rivalry between commanders. Doesn't that wake good memories”, he glanced at Ubbe, who stayed silent, glaring back.
“Ælfred has just offered to surrender our target. And no matter how much you are thirsting for blood now, I have accepted it. There will be another conflict with the Saxon.”
“Still, no matter what came afterwards”, Ubbe sighed dramatically, “I think it is clear enough that without me, you would have had a hard time.”
“Ha. Nice one, brother.”
“Not recognizing my efforts? Then let me name the facts. It is the appearance of
my commander who broke through the left today. It is the charge of
my right hand who tore a hole into the enemy centre. And without
my previous battles against the Swiss, or
my assistance here, you – and Ivar's men – would have been outnumbered! Would they fight half as well as they did today, you would have been defeated!”
Halfdan smiled at Ubbe for a moment, outraging him even further. Then he briefly nodded. “No, I do. Neither of us has been feeding on each others' scraps in this war. Seems like my little brother can actually stand on his own now.”
“Just as I thought... you are overdoing things. As usual.”
“Come, stop being grumpy and enjoy our victory today. We've dealt a great blow to the Christians. Canterbury is mine. Let us feast!”
As the others were celebrating their victory with copious amounts of meat and drink, Ubbe kept to his right hand sitting beside him, choosing not to engage in Halfdan's boasting or Hæsteinn's gleefully gory tales from the battle.
“'Standing on my own.' Pah. He'll see soon enough. I am now as much among the greatest heroes of the sagas as he is.”
“I think Halfdan absolutely recognizes that. Next to his usual condescension, he showed you plenty of respect. At least in his way.”
Ubbe grunted. “Either way, I don't need his approval. People speak my name. The Flayer of the Saxons. If anyone can conquer them, it is him. More so than Whiteshirt or”, he paused a pensive moment. “A comatose Boneless. And that is what I will have to capitalize on.”
“I see. Hæsteinn was only the first step.”
“More like the intention to make the first step, but yes. I will be the first king of Englaland, and then... Halfdan will have to accept me as his superior, as his king!”
Now was not the time to discuss it in more detail, as the two had gathered the attention of Sigfrið, Halfdan's eldest son, who seemed to listen attentively. And if Jorvik's heir listened, Asa's ear was open as well. And Whiteshirt's lover was capable of anything. She certainly wouldn't want him to become Ubbe's subject.
So Steinn raised his horn. “To the king.” That wouldn't raise any suspicions. But it held true both for the king of Lúnborg – and that of Englaland.
Lúnborg, October 875
A few ships had been spotted. Hopefully the first of many. “Why do you think they are here? Örvar's honeyed words or Arnfast's envoys?”
Right after the return to his capital, Ubbe had sent his left hand back to Scandinavia. He was to travel the land and attract as many warriors as he could to his king's cause – the preparation of an invasion of Wessex.
The mayor of Lowther had stayed in Lúnborg, as usual frequenting all places which offered drink and women. In other words, also the places where adventurers and other travellers spent their time in town. These people would also serve as recruiters for Ubbe's cause if Arnfast managed to convince them. The treasurer had bet a sizeable sum against Steinn that he would be able to gather more warriors then Örvar without making as much as a step out of town.
“You will have to ask them. I doubt we'll be able to see it from here”, the king responded.
“True”, Steinn said, his thoughts elsewhere. “So have you decided?”
“It is a difficult decision. Right, Tryggve had the least success on his flank, but then again, your Norman cavalry would be missed in the centre.”
“The Tormentor's dog belongs to his side.”
“He is capable enough. He faced strong opposition.”
“Not as strong as Ælfred himself, who we faced. The men are losing trust in him.”
“Is that what you want to hear or what you have truly heard? Either way, if everything works out, we'll have more men joining us from Scandinavia than we have now, so that isn't a problem.”
“I...”
“Rest easy, my friend”, Ubbe cut him off. “I have decided. When the time comes, you will lead the flank, and Tryggve stay with Hæsteinn. Though I will miss your presence at my side, I have the utmost trust in you. And now, let us hear what they have to say.”
The newcomers had been greeted friendly and with much optimism. The disembarking men seemed to be mostly young men, drawn from their homes with the dream of a great success in this fertile land. A grizzled veteran had led them here, and the king welcomed him personally.
“Ubbe the Flayer, son of Ragnarr Loðbrok. It will be an honour to fight at your side.”
“And I am glad to count you at mine. The first of many.”
“I am certain we are. Although the choice was a difficult one.”
“There was a choice?”
“As it happens, you are not the only Ragnarrsson preparing to strike against the dead crucified god. Sigurdr, Snake-out-of-the-Eye, has designated Lotharingia as his target, striking at the heart of the Frankish kingdoms after uniting the Danes.”
“May we both have success. But wait... 'Snake-out-of-the-Eye'?”
“Yes. In the struggles for Danmark, in battle against Bagsecg Jute's forces, he took an axe to his face. The snake may have protected him, as he may have lost his eye, but nothing more.”
Ubbe nodded silently. Steinn seized the opportunity and asked the man why he had come here.
“A well-fed man appeared in our village together with Rognvald, an old friend of mine who had sought his luck in Englaland. After hearing their words, we decided to join the Flayer instead of the Snaked.”
The right hand grumbled. A draw for the first ships.
Lúnborg, 3rd December 875
Preparations for the invasion continued. Steinn had headed back to Cornwall to train his cavalry. Härek greeted the newcomers and, together with the Tormentor and the king, began to form an army out of them. The Christians kept quiet – there was hardly a worse time to act against their pagan overlord than now as he kept growing stronger.
The latest arrival was a familiar face. But one nobody expected. He entered the great hall, devoid of advisors, only occupied by Ubbe and a few huscarls at the time. All of them turned their heads towards him without a word as he made his way towards the king, until he broke the silence with one word. “Uncle.”
“Sigfrið. What are you doing here?”
“I bear news from my father..”
“And that's why you came?”, Ubbe mustered his nephew closely. “Why not send a messenger?”
“Father didn't want to send any. Yet.”
“Still, you are here now?...”
“For I want to join you, uncle.”
Now he had Ubbe's full attention. But not his trust. Sigfrið could be up to something which would make the glory of his invasion pale in comparison, however he could do it. “Let us hear that message first.”
“As I said, it is not an actual message from my father. Rather a sharing of information. I expect you to be aware of the Scottish troubles in the last years? Father intends to seize Fife, launching his attack before the month's end. He naturally expects your assistance.”
“Naturally. For he definitely hasn't heard of my invasion plans by now”, Ubbe grumbled.
“There's a chance he hasn't. Ever since his return from Kent, the gates of Jorvik have been closed and we've lived in seclusion – a nasty disease spread amongst the Saxons.”
“Believe me, he knows. If not by himself, then Asa has whispered it into his ear. Is that another 'test', I wonder? To see if I simply cast him aside to focus on my goal?”
“Concerning Asa, she has been troublesome for me.”
“She has? Well, then tell me.” If his nephew had clashed with his brother's lover, it might help to explain his sudden appearance – and build up some trust.
“You remember the feast at the last war's end, when you spoke to Eyjing. About the kingdom of Englaland.”
So he had listened to them in more than a drunken fit. “Of course.”
“Which is why you are preparing to march against Wessex.”
Ubbe waved him onwards. Clearly, there was no need to discuss something that obvious.
“Back then, I already made up my mind. I played no role in the 'Great Heathen Army'. Father rather entrusts his flank to Ragnarr than to me, his eldest! I want to lead men into battle! Kill the Saxons myself instead of cowering inside Jorvik waiting for them all to croak from the pox or whatever! That is why I am here. You must know that feeling, uncle! This is why I will join your invasion.”
The king of Lúnborg nodded. “It seems that Halfdan overshadows us both. Believe me, I understand. What about Asa now?”
“The Shieldmaiden knew my idea from the start. Perhaps it was her idea to close off Jorvik so that I couldn't leave. Jorvik's heir fighting for the weaker brother – now that is something my father surely wants to avoid. Too late now – I will be forging my path here.”
At least Sigfrið's determination was admirable, Ubbe thought. Although it was exactly that which would make Halfdan more willing to look the other way and welcome his son's actions – after all, he was showing the strength and conviction he would need as a ruler.
“She kept an eye on me all the time. I wasn't able to leave, growing increasingly frustrated until I had enough. With some friends, I brawled with Asa's goons and then we dragged them and their mistress into a food storage. In times of rationing, a reason to be put into shackles. And even if it was Asa, father's usual distrust paired with her reputation gave him no choice but to dismiss their story. I enjoyed seeing her imprisoned, then used my freedom from the shadows to leave, consequences be damned.”
Blunt, but effective. “He must have released her by now, ended that dreadful seclusion. But I am here now. To stay.”
Well, what's the worst Sigfrið could do? He could only be an asset, in the end. Ubbe smiled. “I'll be glad to know you with me, nephew.”