That evening, Aethelwulf held a sumptuous feast for the knights.
Seeing the fearsome fighting power of the Frankish knights, the old king decided to improve his tactics and offered to buy warhorses from an envoy named "Lamberto."
"Well, let me think." Lamberto's eyes wandered, and he cautiously offered a price:
"According to the English pound used in your country, a good warhorse sells for three pounds of silver, and a good stallion for five pounds of silver."
"No problem," Aethelwulf rapped his glass hard on the table. "I am prepared to pay 1,300 pounds of silver and woollen cloth worth 1,000 pounds of silver. When will the goods be delivered?"
The man did not haggle? Well, the rumors were true. With its wool exports and silver mines, Wessex is indeed rich.
Lamberto suppressed his inner ecstasy and said with difficulty: "It is indeed difficult to raise so many warhorses in such a short time. I will write a letter to the country at once. If King Charles's stables do not have enough warhorses, I will ask the people to buy them from the earls in various places to ensure that your needs are met."
…
Tamworth.
Based on Gunnar's experience in Oxfordshire, it was initially decided that Wessex would muster 3,000 warriors, including over 600 men in armour. In response, Ragnar decided to bring in reinforcements from within to allow the army to gradually recuperate.
By mid-March the ice and snow had melted and the Vikings, having rested for many days, moved south, concentrating on defeating Wessex, the main threat, and then the remaining four small fishing countries.
"Five thousand six hundred Vikings against three thousand Wessex people should not be much of a problem."
As he sat on his bumpy horse, Ragnar assessed the strength of the two armies again and again. Even with the reinforcements of four small fish-like troops, he still had the advantage.
On the morning of the third day a small fortress appeared before them. The main building was a stone watchtower, a remnant of the Roman period, surrounded by a stone wall about five meters high.
"Are there Mercian troops inside?"
Ragnar walked over to observe. There were at least a hundred soldiers outside the ramparts, so he sent a Mercian prisoner to persuade them to surrender.
A few minutes later, the beaten prisoner returned and said that Lord Lutterworth had firmly decided not to surrender.
"After taking Tamworth, there are still Mercians who dare fight to the death? What a rare warrior." Ragnar sighed and ordered the ranks to prepare for a powerful attack.
Half an hour later, the siege hammer was assembled, and Pascal suddenly said: "Your Majesty, after taking Tamworth, we captured a group of young servants. They are the sons of various nobles. I remember one young man who claimed to be Lord Lutterworth's second son."
He proposed to postpone the attack, rode up to the baggage train and made a list of prisoners. As expected, his squad captured Lord Lutterworth's son.
"Excellent!"
At the same time, on the left flank.
Seeing that the central army had not yet attacked, Vig simply found a shade to sleep. "Yolan, the troops are in a state of combat readiness, organize reconnaissance of the surrounding area and call me if anything happens."
Sitting by the rough trunk of an oak tree, his consciousness gradually clouded...
After an unknown time, Yolan shook Vig: "My lord, the enemy has surrendered, and we are taking over the fortress."
"Understood, help me up."
Vig stood up with the help of his shield bearer, fighting the pain in his hip. From afar, the Mercian flag on top of the watchtower could be seen to have been replaced by Ragnar's thunder flag, and Viking warriors had taken up defensive positions everywhere.
"They did it all so quickly?"
Entering the fortress, Vig and a group of nobles dined together. When they had finished eating, a soldier ran in and warned, "The troops on the left flank of our army are moving southeast. I do not understand what has happened."
Looking at Vig and Ulf, Ragnar noticed that they were confused, and quickly asked, "Have some of the soldiers deserted the company, or is the entire left flank in chaos?"
"About five or six hundred, holding Lord Ulf's flag with the river fish."
At this point, the senior officials had no more strength to eat. Vig and Ulf ran to the stables, trying to gather their troops as quickly as possible. The others followed Ragnar to the top of the watchtower, not taking their eyes off the hills to the southeast.
…
Two horses rushed out of the gate one after the other, and the strong wind blew them away with such force that they could not open their eyes. Halfway there, Ulf shouted at the top of his voice: "I will go after these idiots first, and you gather the rest."
"Very well."
When they parted, Vig rode his horse back to his own. Confronted with these annoying fellows, his patience was at its limit. "What happened?"
Sensing his superior's bloodthirsty intent, the shield-bearer shied away responsibility: "It is not our fault. Cavalry reconnaissance has sent word that a small group of Mercian soldiers has been spotted over the southeastern hills. A small band of bored marauders went out without permission, led by Ulf's soldiers. We tried to talk them out of it, but unfortunately it did not work."
"Odin, why did you send these men to torture me?"
Vig felt a sharp pain in his chest, blood rushing to his throat. The landscape before him was both bright and dark, and he almost fell to the ground.
"My lord!"
"Do not worry about me, gather your troops. If we delay any longer, I fear hundreds of Ulf's men will perish!"
Five minutes after the formation, Vig led the troops in pursuit of his own. At that moment, their silhouettes disappeared behind a hill. Looking into the distance, they saw flocks of birds flying into the endless blue sky.
Soon, a scout rider returned with the message that they had defeated as many Angles and were organizing a pursuit.
"Still pursuing?"
Vig's spirit was numb. He was not angry, but asked the rider to report to Ragnar. To pursue or to rally the troops - it all depended on the latter.
The horse's hooves crushed high, knee-high weeds, and the breeze ruffled a few dandelions in the mane. Vig took the reins and stopped at the top of the hill.
The terrain in front of him was undulating, like a green carpet rolled up by a giant, stretching up to the sky. At this point, Ulf's men were completely confused and were chasing the fleeing Anglo-Saxons everywhere. Some had rushed into the forest, while others were pursuing and fighting on the slope.
Seeing this scene, Vig closed his eyes. With his battle experience, gathering troops before the Vikings ran out of strength was just an illusion.
Suddenly, the shield-bearer reminded: "My lord, His Majesty is also chasing."
Turning his head, Vig saw that the entire Viking army was moving towards this place. Nils, Ivar, Leonard... Led by the commanders of each squad, thousands of men rolled in like a black cloud with bloodthirsty intent.
"A small band of marauders acted on their own initiative, and as a result thousands of men were destroyed at once. This battle was too hasty."
At this point, Whig could only lead his troops forward, aiming at the hillside two miles away, where the terrain was highest and most convenient for observing the surroundings.