Chapter 12: The difference between justice and cruelty
Do you know what the most terrifying sound in the universe is? It isn't a thousand roaring enemies. It isn't the sound of a sword, axe, or arrow biting into your flesh. It isn't the sound of your children screaming. It's the rusty creak of an old door. Especially when it's unexpected. As I pen this chronicle of the reign of Halfdan the Great (even if I alone term him such), my station in life is much improved. No dank cellars, no bad food and worse water, no wailing prisoners down the hall. Yet a single door's creak makes me dive for cover, makes me look over my shoulder to see who's coming. Here is what's truly strange: the last time I heard that creak, it was actually among the happiest days in my life. It was 21 October 991: my last day in the dungeon.
When I heard that door creak, I was sure it was time for a blot. The thought of being sacrificed to the gods pleased me, but also frankly caused even the rancid bread and stale water to return in a less-than-digested state. When Emperor Halfdan entered the cell, I was sure he had decided to end my life personally. He even carried his mighty axe, Hausakljúfr. [1] I thought he would indeed split my skull in half, and I was not at all certain I did not deserve it. I still searched for a way around that massive frame, but without an easy escape, I sat back on my stone bed, resigned to me fate.
"Frodi, I have come for you," said Halfdan. Gods, I began to pray (and if truth be told, soil myself) at the sound of that tone.
"If it is my head you wish, Your Imperial Majesty, it is yours."
After a moment of visible confusion, Halfdan began to laugh uproariously. "Oh, I will have your head, but only if it is firmly attached to your shoulders, my old friend. I have need of you. You are released."
"I do not understand, Exalted Emperor."
Halfdan's laugh finally stopped. "You thought I was here to kill you, yes?" I nodded, still trembling. "No, if I decide to kill you, your only warning will be this blade buried in your skull. I am here because you have unique talents that are useful to me. I mean to tear our holiest of temples from the grip of the followers of the White Christ."
"I am at your disposal, Emperor Halfdan, but what is it you think --"
"Are you a brave man, Frodi, Jarl of Mercia?"
I thought for a moment about lying. Then I looked at the axe one more time and shivered involuntarily. "I am not, my liege."
"Indeed. Is it fair to say you are a coward?"
For the tiniest fraction of a second, I thought about leaping from my bed and strangling Halfdan. No true Norseman would ever openly accept such a title. I could not, however, say I did not deserve it. If my personal safety was threatened, I would fight, but only to buy a chance of escape. If it was not, I could comfortably remain in my tent, poring over maps. "Yes, my liege."
"Cowards are exactly what I need, Frodi. Too many warriors charge into battle, axes held high, screaming at the top of their lungs. They are quickly cut down. If we are to win across the North Sea, we must be careful with our resources. I need somebody whose loyalty I can trust, who will attack only the moment I tell him to and not a moment before. I need a general who will not risk his own life foolishly to no cause."
"I can be that general, Emperor Halfdan. Yet why would you call me loyal? I rebelled against you."
Halfdan stared into my eyes for a few moments, then with the slightest of grins, nodded. "Yes. You did. You are an ambitious coward, a most interesting combination. You also know of my holy quest. You might betray me, but would you ever betray the gods and the True Norse Faith."
"Never."
"Then you are the man for the job. Return to Mercia and marshal your men. You sail in a few days. Here is some gold to speed you on your way."
The first step in the Emperor's campaign was the conquest of Sjaelland. Not only did Sjaelland hold one of our holy sites, but controlling that island would give us complete domination over the entrance and exit to the Baltic Sea. Dyre of Dunholm, the Imperial Marshal, was already there with 5000 warriors. The Emperor himself would join him shortly, commanding that army's left flank.
I remained in England, mustering as many troops as we could. Chancellor Egill was in Braunschweig, trying to provoke a revolt there (and deliver another holy site into our hands). That left me to rule until my own departure, and when I heard the Jarl of Wessex planned to seize the throne of England in the Emperor's absence, I acted. I ordered Öysteinn's immediate arrest. When he rose up in rebellion instead, I knew I had to crush him without mercy or risk my own execution for failure.
I took command of the army that marched south to destroy the rebellious armies. On my right was an elderly warrior named Eskild, but on my left was a project of the Emperor's: a lowborn soldier named Gnupa. Gnupa was nearly ancient: he had seen sixty summers. Yet Gnupa's tenacity and skill in combat won him a place in the Emperor's court. We marched south, confident of success.
By June 992, we had routed the fools and imprisoned the Jarl of Wessex. His title was delivered to Kubrat of Kent, a loyal courtier who promised to keep a very watchful eye on Öysteinn's land. The ex-Jarl of Wessex died in the dungeons a few weeks later. A message from the Emperor arrived the day before I was to leave for Sjaelland; he ordered me to remain in England until it was time for "the next opponent," whomever that was. I decided to further ingratiate myself by taking my battle hardened warriors and seizing the province of Moray from Skotland.
The Sjaelland campaign was a complete success, of course. Gnupa's heroism in our battles with the rebels of Wessex had earned him a seat at the table, and he was proclaimed Thane of Sjaelland.
A few days later, Eskild sailed for Sjaelland, to take his place at the right flank of the Emperor's army. I was pleased and disappointed; I had hoped I would be called upon. That was when another message arrived: Halfdan's conquest was not yet complete. He had other aims.
I immediately rode to Jorvik and took out this map of the lands of Svithjod. The portions colored in red were those he hoped to add to the Empire of Britannia.
If I may be honest (and where else might I be honest, except in these pages?), I thought his plan overly ambitious. Taking such a huge swath of territory was bound to be difficult, and too many followed the words of the White Christ. How could they be trusted? Then, I began thinking. He would need a loyal ruler to manage those lands. Why not Frodi? Could Frodi finally gain the King's throne he hungered for? I saw no reason I could not. I was further encouraged when he directed me to sail east with 15,000 soldiers: I would be given the honor of leading the first attack! Gnupa took my right wing; on my left was Jedvard. I did not know him well, but he was skilled in combat by all accounts.
My task was to drive to the Bight of Hanö, driving off any enemy armies I could, and sieging castles as I moved closer to Stockholm. The Emperor's army was to secure the holy site in Uppsala, then move north to take castles along the North Sea. Of course, while all of this was happening, some disloyal bastards back in England tried to rise up. The Castle Steward wasted money on mercenaries, and those mercenaries simply could not fend off the rebellious warriors.
The followers of the White Christ had learned of our plans to purge them from our holy sites. I wished the Steward luck trying to stop them with mercenaries, but my job was to follow orders. I left about half my men behind to siege castles and secure our supplies while I pressed on. I also heard from the Emperor, who had captured Uppsala and was moving north.
While I moved steadily, driving all opposition before me, I began to hear tales, from fleeing soldiers and deserters, of the Emperor's prowess in battle. At first I laughed -- he was doing the exact same things that he had warned me about. Then I read the reports more closely: he wasn't taking anybody with him. He was riding out in front of the army, cleaving enemies in twain with his axe. When he heard of the rebels, he immediately left his army in the command of a junior and returned home. I actually pitied the rebels. I later heard from the Emperor that the leader of the movement was killed with his own weapon. Hausakljúfr indeed.
Word reached us, in the summer of 995, that Halfdan's first child was born, a daughter named Malmfrid.
It was around this time that a title began to be given to Halfdan: Halfdan the Cruel. Cruelty is killing or torturing for the fun of it; while Halfdan did enjoy killing, he did not kill for the sheer joy. He killed to expand his Empire, to prove his loyalty to the gods, and because nobody else had the will to do what needed to be done. A cruel Halfdan would have forced me to fight in the front lines to prove my loyalty or simply left me in the dungeon. What others call cruelty, I call justice. As a case in point, once Halfdan seized Svithjod, he did not put towns to the torch or behead the old rulers. He simply created a new title -- King of Svithjod -- and held the title personally, leaving the old rulers in place. They might have feared him -- they should have feared him -- but they were his vassals. They made a fine addition to the Empire of Britannia, don't you think?
Before the conquest
After the conquest
A map of the Empire
It was around this time that the heir to the throne was born, Ofeig.
Halfdan had hoped to return home victoriously, laden with loot. Instead, he immediately had to fight another war. It would seem the Emperor of the Followers of the White Christ had designs on our soil.
That, however, is a tale for another time.
[1] I tried to find "Skull Cleaver," but "Skull Splitter" is even better. Plus, it's the name of
this guy.
I hope you enjoyed the update!
