Chapter Twenty-Two: That stung!
Tamworth, February 872
No matter the “absolute trust” Ubbe guaranteed him, his right hand hadn't made any such kind of promise. And as soon as Steinn noticed what Anlaufr had done, the seer was immediately shackled, his vehement protests ignored. For a few days, the þegn only suffered from this treatment. Things were looking worse than before.
Then, one day Ubbe managed to get up and head to Anlaufr. The work of the bees was still visible on his entire body, but the pain had ebbed away. He rose his hand as if to strike... and punched his defenceless seer in the gut. “That was for the bees.”
That hurt. It really did. Which is why Anlaufr smiled as he recovered from the blow. “How do you feel?”, he asked.
“I've noticed. Now, could you order me untied? It's nice for a few minutes, but it's been days... by now I'm quite uncomfortable.”
His strength recovered, Tamworth would fall. The period of inaction had done nothing good to anyone. The men were growing restless, the Mercians had weakened. And his advisors surely had come up with a lot of ideas by now.
“Honestly, after that long siege it's only a matter of days before they surrender”, was Steinn's opinion. “Might as well continue what we've been doing.”
Härek was quick to agree, while Hæsteinn shook his head. “If they're so weak, then we might as well finish it now. I've noticed their guard's dropping – there are quite a few moments when parts of their walls are unguarded. We strike there and we'll be carrying their valuables out tomorrow.”
“How long?”
“Not much, at night. We can't just attack there with all the boys. I've got just the right man f-f-for”, the Tormentor silently raged at his stuttering, stopping his sentence. “T-t-tryggve!”, he called.
Another man joined them, his beard covering the part of his head that wasn't under his helmet. He had been for Hæsteinn what Steinn was for Ubbe – not only his right hand, but also a friend with somewhat similar views. His voracious appetite was surely needed to fuel his impressive strength. “I'd lead a few selected boys up. We'll deal with the Saxons and open the gate.”
Ubbe thirsted for action. “It's been months I was not in any state to act. I am not in the mood for more waiting. Then so be it. Tryggve, choose who you want. Open the gate, and I'll storm in. Inaction – I've had enough of that. This night, we shed blood!”
near St.Ethelberts, 29th May 872
Tryggve scaled the wall unnoticed and with ease, and then Tamworth fell quickly, the Mercians not able to muster much of a resistance. Soon, the entire county of Warwick was under Ubbe's control, and he moved west to Hereford.
And although Anlaufr was of the opinion that the disease wasn't vanquished yet, Ubbe stood there as if he was completely healthy, which is how he felt, too. The man facing him now was just as healthy, but in far worse mood and looked defiant. And angry. At his foe, the bishop, himself?
“Chester? I'd say take it, but you've already done that. Keep it and be gone”, Beornræd grunted, magnanimous as he is. The king of Mercia had other scores to settle now.
The previous battle was short and its conclusion never in doubt. Beornræd had taken it upon himself to drive out the invader this time, sending Eadwald to resist Halfdan's advance. With his presence, he sought to inspire the defenders of St.Ethelberts to join him in battle, which could have nearly evened up the numbers. But they remained behind their walls, leaving the king's 400 men to face Ubbe's 1.400.
“Do you have anything to add? I've got both your brother and my own incapable fools to deal with.”
The Norse smiled provocatively, and the king of Mercia stepped away angrily.
“He's clearly not desiring the fight to go on. Why don't you press on?”, Hæsteinn asked.
“One step at the time. We'll discuss the next part back in Burgh.”
Burgh, August 872
“Intriguing”, Ubbe answered, while Jorunn tried to imagine the consequences. She was obviously pleased with what she saw with her inner eye.
“It has been a long time coming”, Steinn agreed. “Surely nobody would oppose it.”
The others nodded, save for Hæsteinn and Tryggve, who merely listened stoically to Inwær's words.
The former monk had proposed a way to further legitimate Ubbe's reign. “Ivar has shown a good understanding of my people when he sealed the peace with Eadmund, being recognized as the new king of East Anglia. It made him more than just a foreign invader, but a conqueror here to stay. The East Anglians didn't band together against him like the Northumbrians partly did here.”
“His reputation might have something to do with it”, Örvar said. “Just as Ubbe's actions caused the Welsh and Cornishmen to keep calm.”
“Welsh and Normans, you mean to say”, Arnfast corrected him. The quizzical looks he earned invited the mayor of Lowther to elaborate further.
“See, after their king Dumnarth has been so utterly defeated and Cornwall passed into our þegn's hands, the people reacted. Not like the now deceased fools here. They've looked at what they might learn from us. It might be appropriate now for Örvar to sing the praises of cultural exchange.” He grinned. “Add to that the fact that Dumnarth's zeal hadn't saved them, they readily mixed with newcomers from Scandinavia, and I've sent people who came to Lúnborg south to continue the process. The result? Now we have Normans.”
That earned him more incredulous looks. “What has it been, two summers that we took Cornwall?”, Örvar asked, instead of singing praises.
Arnfast merely shrugged in response.
Inwær had then cleared his throat to return attention to what he was elaborating. “If they are turning 'Norman', then they may not care about what I am saying. But the Saxons here will surely do. This region was once the land of a kingdom based in Lunece-... Lúnborg. Having taken over most of that former kingdom's land, you may claim its succession.”
“Me, a king? Intriguing”, was Ubbe's answer.
Encouraged by the apparent agreement, Inwær went on. “Of course, merely calling yourself king from now on would not do. There has to be a crown, a coronation ceremony... Surely you do have something similar over the sea, witnessed your father's coronation perhaps? It would all prove to be fairly expensive.”
The Ragnarrsson passed a hand thorugh his beard, pensively.“In relation to the cost, what would I gain that couldn't be achieved cheaper – or in other words, instead of paying the men for the next attack.”
Örvar answered in the Saxon's stead. “There are two ways to impress people, show them your power. The first way, they have seen – might. The second way is what the coronation would achieve – wealth. For maximum effect, in a way they know.”
For once, Jorunn didn't disagree with the left hand. A crown, a display of wealth, that was something she could accept for herself. Not that she didn't have a complaint, which she presented with the usual coldness towards Örvar. “But then we would appear to Saxonize. To clearly not do that, we would need to move the centre of the reign to a Norse town. Even more if it was the centre of the old kingdom.”
That attracted Hæsteinn's attention. “An excellent choice, just as it emphasizes the 'permanent' part. I had settled in Nantes, but always remained some kind of foreign element. Lúnborg is not a foreign element, it can serve as a Norse anchor in Englaland, just like Jorvík.”
Arnfast was beaming at the idea of having to leave his favourite place even less. “It is a move we have anticipated for a while – the town's inhabitants would all be very grateful, unlike the Saxons here.”
“I chose Burgh as my seat for being the first place I reached as ruler of my own”, Ubbe explained. “But now that Lúnborg is rebuilt – with the many advantages it offers, be it its location, culture, symbolic value – it is a better seat, I concede that. Let us assume you have convinced me, Inwær – let us talk about exactly how expensive it would be.”
“Of course it would be easier if we still had the crown of the old kingdom”, the former monk began. “Or Ælla's.”
“You could ask your nephews for that one, but I doubt they will release it”, Hafrid interjected. “Word is that Ælfgar still wears it. Even as he is kept as some kind of pet.”
She had informed them before that their attempt to declare themselves free of Ivar had been short-lived. Barid had directed his father's troops against Olaf in Dyflinn, while Halfdan had sent a detachment under Ragnarr to deal with Ælla's son, who surrendered not much later. Now he was kept in chains and dragged around, Northumbria's crown a slave of the Boneless.
“It would thus have to be a new one. As Örvar said, the more invested here the more respect of your power the people will have.”
“The treasury can't cover anything too extravagant”, Arnfast was quick to say before he could be asked.
“Then we will not discuss it any further for now”, Ubbe started, before his seer interrupted him.
“There's a solution to this problem, as much as another one. Some Welsh have raided a village next to Bangor Fawr.”
“And while reminding them of the peace terms, the cost of the kingdom can be covered”, Steinn finished Anlaufr's thought.
“Two bees with one strike”, the þegn considered the thought shortly. “My terms are defied at the same cost as my brothers'. Time to teach Rhodri this lesson.”
“Absolute trust” had its advantages, Anlaufr thought as he happily strode away from the meeting. If Ubbe became king, that opened more options for him as well. He just hoped the bees would work again once he had to call upon their services.
Hafrid had followed him once Ubbe had dismissed his advisors. “So, these Welsh – did they shout 'for Rhodri and Gwynedd'?”, she asked him casually.
Anlaufr quickly glanced around to assure himself that they were alone. “Something like that.”
“And who told you?”
“I keep in touch with those that have been assigned to my temple.”
“What an admirable godi you are! Surely the ravens are whispering into your ears.”
“As much as it saddens me, these ravens are only figurative. They surely number less than yours, and whereas yours are small and easy to overlook, mine are big, heavy birds whose flapping can be heard from far away. It is simply not my task to tend to the birds, but some still find me.”
“Mine have heard no Welsh shouts.”
“Sometimes, size matters.”
“I am not Inwær”, she scolded him.
“People believe what they want”, the seer shrugged. “And then, doubts do not matter. In the end, it was the same for your sweetheart.
Last thing I heard, there was some trouble with the Welsh. From there to a raid, it's not far, is it? Besides, I never mentioned which Welsh. They would have asked more if it mattered. But that's not why you are here.”
“Sharp. I always thought you were no schemer.”
“You have seen the extent of my, how to call it, untruth-telling abilities. But that doesn't mean I don't notice or plan. Ask godi Einarr.”
“I can assure you that I'm not worshipping Hel, unlike some newcomers.”
“Believe me, if it wasn't precisely why he was invited to come I would have said something.”
“Anyway. A wanderer has been sighted around here. From what I gather, he resembles the man the four brothers met before, indicating them a path to take – if you believe Halfdan. Each time he was seen, he walked towards an old well, lifted up a bucket, and drank – but according to the observers, it was not water he drank, but a more... colourful fluid. You know what I mean.
The peasants seemed to think he was playing a prank on them as he really did seem drunk whenever they approached him. He mumbled something like 'Once the holes are filled, the rain stops, and the source is secure – one should drink deeply, and without regret. But still take care, for even the strongest man can only take so much.'”
“You think that it was that same wanderer.”
“People believe what they want”, Hafrid shrugged, earning a smile from Anlaufr.
“And why tell me before Ubbe?”
“You are his seer. If this wanderer is the same as the last time... he is going to advance the plans.”
She winked at him. “As for really why: although your birds are loud and heavy, they did lift up Inwær.”
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