Having made this sharp remark, Aethelwulf gestured to the soldiers to execute the three Viking envoys.
Gunnar, faced with the cold and sharp blade, showed no fear. "Kill me, and none of the captured nobles and priests will survive. Three lives in exchange for more than a hundred lives - that's your gain!"
At this point, the governor approached and whispered:
"Your Majesty, you must save the lives of these prisoners. After defeating the Vikings, if you manage to win their loyalty, you can call an assembly of wise men and allow them to appoint you King of Mercia."
That's right! Aethelwulf slapped his thigh.
Following his genealogy, he discovered that one of his ancestors was a princess who had married in Mercia, and he did indeed have a claim to the Mercian throne.
He raised his right hand and ordered the guards to postpone the execution. His mind was working fast:
"By leading an army into battle against the heathens, I will greatly enhance my reputation. If this battle is victorious, I will be elected king of Mercia. At that time, the unification of the other five countries would not be an illusion..."
Aethelwulf finally changed his mind, ordered the Viking ambassadors to be driven out, and then personally wrote a long letter to the Pope.
At first, he focused on describing the dire situation in Britain. Northumbria and Mercia were occupied by the Vikings, and the other four countries were useless. If we consider the whole of Britain, only Wessex could cope with the situation.
Then Aethelwulf listed the names of his ancestors one by one, pointing out that one of them had been a princess of Mercia. Now that the Mercian royal line was broken, he was entitled to inherit the Mercian throne after the lands were reclaimed.
Finally, Aethelwulf begged the Pope to send an ambassador to attend his coronation ceremony. In return, he swore to strictly enforce the tithes in his territory and to deal harshly with stingy farmers who did not want to pay taxes...
Rubbing his sore wrist, he signaled to the county governors to check the text. After several grammatical errors were pointed out, the king had to rewrite it and seal it with wax.
"Remember to send this to the Roman Curia as soon as possible, without any delay!"
The messenger answered loudly, "As you command, Your Majesty."
...
More than a month passed, the ice and snow gradually melted, and Aethelwulf thought about it day and night, but still there was no answer from Rome. Instead, he welcomed unexpected reinforcements.
When a messenger from Wessex passed through Paris, King Charles "the Bald" of West Frankia was shocked to learn that the Vikings had captured Tamworth.
The Franks had also been tortured by pirates for decades. If the Vikings took Britain, the plundering would only increase.
For long-term reasons, Charles the Bald sent reinforcements of a thousand: 600 conscripted peasants, 60 knights, and more than 300 cavalry.
Aethelwulf, when he met the envoy sent by the King of France, was a little suspicious. "He has no territorial claims and does not ask for money?"
The envoy respectfully replied: "Yes, King Charles asks nothing in return. His only aim is to kill all the Viking barbarians so that they do not plunder our northern coast all day long."
"Thank you, King Charles, for your kindness." Aethelwulf's head began to ache a little because of this unexpected reinforcement.
Oats, peas, carrots and salt are needed to feed the warhorses. One warhorse can eat the rations of 6-8 infantry. Four hundred warhorses are equivalent to the food consumption of over 2,000 infantry.
"There are too many cavalry. It would be better to send more heavy infantry."
Hearing this, the ambassador was stunned. Compared to heavy infantry, light infantry, and archers, cavalry was the only creature that dominated the battlefield. Was the old king joking?
The ambassador raised his head in amazement and stared at Aethelwulf for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, he realized that it seemed that the Anglo-Saxons, as a rule, did not have stirrups!
"Your Majesty, a rider without stirrups is not worthy of being called a cavalryman. When reinforcements arrive in a few days, you can practice shock tactics with the knights. You will see that the role of cavalry far exceeds that of other types of troops!"
Unable to withstand the entreaties of the Frankish ambassadors, Aethelwulf had an open space fenced off with wooden fences as a temporary arena and selected ten noblemen with outstanding horsemanship to compete with the Franks.
...
The early morning air was filled with the smell of horse manure, rust, and beer. The servants of each family had dressed their warhorses in felt blankets embroidered with the family crest, and the metal bits jingled in the cold light.
The game had not yet begun, but the ten Frankish knights who had ridden out to battle had gathered together to chat. Most of them were young noblemen in their twenties, with blunt practice swords at their belts.
"I miss my wine cellar very much. Even the most mediocre food is better than the bad wine of the English."
"Not only the wine, but the food of the English is very bad. The roast venison at yesterday's banquet was quite tasteless. Only the eels were more to my taste."
"This place is simply too poor. The land is barren (compared to the Franks). The peasants generally use wooden tools and have no hydraulic workshops. The nobles have vulgar tastes, like the wool merchants of the countryside."
...
A crowd had gathered at the edge of the square, coming to join in the merriment. Monks held crosses and prayed quietly. A group of children climbed into the treetops to admire the view. Merchants offered salted beef and beer.
At eight o'clock in the morning, Aethelwulf and a group of nobles headed for the stands. As he sat down, he couldn't help but exclaim: "
My God, how can the Frankish horses be so strong, a whole lap bigger than the English horses?
" "The situation is bad. My horsemen could suffer a heavy defeat."
Hurray~
The first horn pierced the sky, and the two opponents who were preparing to enter the field jumped into the saddles and took the shields and blunt swords from the soldiers.
Both sides were ready. The judge in the stands waved the flag. At the same moment, the two horses rushed towards each other, obeying the insistence of their masters. The Englishman, as expected, fell from his horse, and his body rolled several times on the ground due to inertia.
Seeing this, the loser's servants ran out onto the field and carried him down on a wooden board to heal his wounds.
"Enough!" Aethelwulf raised his right hand and declared the game over. "Victory and defeat are not determined by martial arts, but by each other's warhorses. It all ends here."
Hearing this news, the crowd inside and outside the field burst into discontented shouts. A Frankish knight about to enter the field rushed to the front ranks, blushing and shouting that he could defeat his opponent on foot.
By unanimous demand of all present, the game was changed to combat on foot. Both sides entered the field with blunt swords and oaken shields in their hands. There were no rules, the only goal was to knock the enemy down.
After nine foot battles, the Franks won seven of them. In defiance of the dignity of their country's royal family, some of the English proposed to prolong the game.
As time went on, the game became more intense and bloody. By nightfall, a Frankish knight named Maurice had defeated ten opponents and was the deserved winner.
As night fell, the chaotic and bloody tournament came to an end. The people, including the old king, did not realize that this farce had far-reaching consequences, and later historians considered it the beginning of the knight's tournament.
In the following years, this bloody and passionate "war game" gradually gained popularity throughout Europe.