Sometimes it can come down to a throw of the dice, as it were. May they roll high.
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First Arc - Chapter 37 - June 873
Chapter XXXVII
June 873 – Akhershus, Norway
Along the coast, the norse longships had transported Sigurd’s warriors from all the provinces under his rule to Telemark, and the army had then assembled.
While calling for an extraordinary mobilization had put Sigurd’s prestige at stake and slightly delayed the march to Ostlandet, the chief didn’t regret in the least this trade-off. A counting of his men before the march to the enemy’s land had indicated they were around 3700.
Such a force will crush Fairhair, had then thought Sigurd.
It had not taken long to enter Vestfold’s territory, but there had been no sign yet of Fairhair’s troops.
He doesn’t engage me to get more time to gather his warriors, had deduced Sigurd.
Looting villages along to feed itself, the army had followed the coast for a few days. The Dramn, an important fjord, had been crossed at a straight around the small settlement of Svervik. Sigurd had feared an attack at this moment, but extensive scouting revealed nothing, and the crossing had been uneventful.
Aker, Fairhair’s capital, was only a day’s march from the strait.
This morning, finally, Sigurd was faced with the army of his young and ambitious rival barring the way. Not even trying to defend his capital would have scuttled Haraldr’s cause by sinking the morale of his supporters.
Sigurd closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh morning air, whose scent reminded of the closeness of the Oslofjord. This moment of calm helped him to prepare himself for what was to follow.
Alongside him were Thorolfr and Ofeig, a warrior promoted commandant for this campaign. He was not a great mind, and Sigurd would not have counted on him to take any kind of smart initiative, but he was a though warrior who could certainly obey.
Sigurd’s troops were positioned on a few hundred meters wide plateau, facing north. Towards west, there was a lake and then rugged hills. Towards east, a downslope led directly to the fjord. Ahead was Fairhair’s army. The terrain was rather flat ; with cultivated soil and some small patches of woods.
Finally a good battlefield.
Thorolfr and Ofeig were dispatched to lead the flanks, respectively the right and the left one. Each would have a few hundreds men under his command, while the bulk of the army was with Sigurd in the center. For this campaign, he had mustered more heavily equipped warriors and horsemen, who he hoped would give him a decisive advantage.
The first ranks of each army could see each other, and during an entire hour, the noise of the insults and taunts dominated.
How many are they ?
He did not see enough to be able to answer with any certainty. The enemy troops stretched along the plateau, and they were too far to accurately judge the depth of their loose formation.
A scout was introduced to the chief.
“My lord…”, he said.
“What new do you bring me ?”
“I had been in Aker yesterday, and managed to come back without being intercepted. The rumour was that Fairhair is worried.”
“He better be. Is that all ?”
“It is said that his wound has still not recovered. What’s sure is that he’s not leading his warriors himself. He’s staying in his capital. The main command is in the hands of a man from Oppland.”
“Thank you for your report.”
This is good…. Even if I’d have liked Fairhair to be there and to fight him directly.
Sigurd ordered his archers to began attacking the enemy army. He didn’t want to rush in melee yet against an army in full condition.
Messengers on horseback transmitted quickly this order to the flanks, and all along the plateau, bowmen rushed forward in a great roaring. Thus began the showdown.
After Ostlandet’s ranks received two volleys, the enemy’s archers reacted.
On both sides, the warriors who could used the patch of woods and the other available protections to avoid exposing themselves as easy targets.
The fire rate and accuracy of the bowmen from both side was poor, especially as they had not practiced near enough to master their technique, thus the duel lasted long while only wounding or killing a small fraction of the fighters.
This nonetheless helped Sigurd to better assess the disposition of Haraldr’s army. Its left flank was strong, but its centrer was suffering against his own, and its right flank was minimal.
He gave order for Ofeig’s left flank to move forward to exploit this weakness, with the intent of outflanking the enemy army. He also made the center's infantry advance, aiming to avoid having any isolated unit.
But as the left flank closed in on the enemy’s ranks, they revealed much more depth than expected at first.
What is…
“My lord.”
A messenger on horseback had something to say to the leader.
“Yes ?”
“Thorolfr sent me to say that the enemy troops are overwhelming his flank. He his forced to give ground.”
“Go tell him to do his best to keep an orderly battle line.”
By then, Ofeig’s flank had formed a shield wall, which was directly facing the enemy's own shield wall. Shoulder against shoulder, the densely packed warriors protected one another, and made their best effort to push against the enemy. This form of low-intensity melee required less fighting skill, and was ideally suited for warriors who had little experience.
It dawned on Sigurd.
They have received reinforcements !
Indeed, a few hundreds men coming from Hedmark had joined the battlefield. Their commander also assumed the main command of the enemy army. Sigurd’s strategy had taken advantage of the disposition of his territories : travel by sea was much faster. And it was a success in a certain measure, as the forces from Namdale had not been able to unite with Fairhair’s main army. But not an unmitigated success either…
The situation was evolving fast. The shield wall on the left didn’t break… yet. On the right, Sigurd could already see some men fleeing.
“My right is giving way. My left is giving ground. Excellent situation, I attack !”
Order was immediately given to all the men in the centre to push forward.
“Forward ! Victory or Valhalla !”
Following their chief, his entire group of more than two thousand men began advancing at a quick pace. Three minutes later, the roaring army smashed into the enemy’s centre. Around Sigurd, the bravest warriors outdid themselves to show their valour.
This sudden offensive entirely broke the morale of the enemy’s center, already shaken by three hours of arrow volleys ; and its men began fleeing in disorder.
Immediately, Sigurd ordered to turn towards the right. There was initially disorder, but the temptation to pursue the fleeing enemies was effectively curtailed by veterans assisting their chief in making his orders obeyed.
Fairhair’s left flank stopped pursuing Thorolfr and his men, and turned towards Sigurd’s force. They both advanced quickly towards each other, and their lines smashed.
Contrarily to the shield wall struggle on the left, the melee which began there was very bloody. Axes and swords whistled, assisted by kicks and blows, shields were smashed, and foes were ruthlessly killed.
Greatly outnumbered, the left flank of Ostlandet’s army suffered heavy losses and its morale broke. As many were killed trying to flee, dozens also surrendered.
Once again, Sigurd did not pursue. Instead, he turned his men to the left, with the goal of relieving Ofeig’s flank.
His warriors obeyed less swiftly than previously, but ten minutes later, they flanked the last fighting part of the enemy army, made mostly of men from Hedmark.
Facing overwhelming odds, and the other parts of the army they were part of having already fled, the enemy right flank disintegrated.
Sigurd’s light cavalry was sent to kill or capture as many as possible of the fugitives.
A sweeping victory.
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I smiled at the Foch quote adaptation.
A resounding victory - finally something goes right for him!
A resounding victory - finally something goes right for him!
I smiled at the Foch quote adaptation.
A resounding victory - finally something goes right for him!
I write my battle descriptions by trying to make them match what screenshots I have of what happened, and as I wrote, the opportunity to insert this reference became obvious. Glad you noticed (and liked it).
I wouldn't say that "finally" something goes right, however - having conquered four counties in mainland Norway, having a heir, the good moments exceed the bad at this point in the story. Sigurd can hardly complain.
This reminds me that I finally settled for a title for this first arc, which old readers won't be aware of : "Twinned ambitions". The meaning should be self-explanatory at this point in the story.
To better understand the manoeuvring, here is a small map with province names :
Side note : seems we have an idiot clicking the disagree button because he can. It's like youtube videos, it seems there is people who enjoy giving dislikes. Not that the agree button makes more sense for an AAR. Well, I won't stop writing to please you, mr. disagree !
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First Arc - Chapter 38 - August 873
Chapter XXXVIII
August 873 – Hedmark, Norway
After its defeat, Fairhair’s army had begun a northwards retreat. The chief of Akhershus and Vestfold had abandoned his capital in a hurry, despite his wound, to avoid being trapped.
“What shall we do, my lord ?”, had asked Thorolfr. “Loot the settlements along the fjord, or pursue their army ?”
“We will pursue them.”, had answered Sigurd.
Now, his whole army was deep inland, in the north of Hedmark, approaching the mountain passes leading to Namdale.
For over a month, they had been on the heels of Fairhair’s army, slowed down by the non-existent roads and rugged terrains which were typical of the sparsely populated interior areas of Norway.
Alas, desperation had made the fleeing army go faster, while the pursuing troops lost time to retrieve supplies from the local peasants, who proved to be very generous when a sword compelled them to.
Sigurd was thoughtful, sitting in his tent, while it rained outside.
Ofeig entered. He had summoned his main commandants. Thorolfr arrived a few minutes later.
“Sit down, Thorolfr”, he said with an inviting gesture pointing to a chair.
A thrall gave a cup of ale to the commandant.
“Let’s drink after this long day”, added the chief, before showing the example. “We will have some moose meat this evening.”
Food preparation in a temporary army camp was summary, but roasted meat was nothing to scoff at. A thrall brought large pieces of meat to the three men, in wooden dishes. It tasted similarly to beef roasts, but was easier to chew.
Finally, after some inconsequential discussions, the chief brought up the topic which concerned him.
“Our scouts report that Fairhair’s army will be able to cross the mountain pass to Namdale tomorrow, in the morning. What do you think of this ?”
Ofeig remained silent.
“Maybe we could catch them by marching by night ? We’re closer than ever from them”, suggested Thorolfr.
The chief considered this option a moment.
“I like the idea… It could draw this whole pursuit to an end… But the night is already quite short in this season… Marching on these muddy hills is slow. They’re said to be a day away. If they break camp at dawn, they will be far by the time we reach their encampment.”
“We should still march to the pass, at least, we need to attack them before they reach Nidaros”, said Thorolfr.
“The issue is, they will be able to join up forces with Hakon, who by now has probably launched raids in our countryside. With these reinforcements, they will have enough men to match us again. And Hakon knows well the terrain.”
“I didn’t know you to be that… careful, my lord. Didn’t we expect this when declaring this war ?”
“I expected Fairhair to have more men, but I aimed to take them on separately as much as possible. We may very well win such battle in Namdale, but if it is bloody, we will have a harder time recovering. It is too risky.”
“Then, what will we do ?”, asked Ofeig.
“There are not many possibilities. Thorolfr ?”
“Threatening and looting their own territories to force them to come back defend them ?”
“I can’t think of a better plan, alas.”
Sigurd threw the leftovers of his meal to his dog, who ate them with delight.
“I see he’s growing well”, said Thorolfr.
“He is”, answered the chief. “He shall make a good hunting dog, he has a great smell and is eager running after animals. Maybe a little too eager, though, he doesn’t seem to get well who is friendly and shall not be touched.”
The following day, Sigurd’s army was marching once again. But it was not to the north anymore. The warrior columns headed south to wreak havoc in the enemy’s homeland.
A messenger on horseback reached it. Escorted by cavaliers, he was led to the chief, who while fighting on foot as was so common across Scandinavia, had taken the habit of riding a horse for travel. He wasn’t very comfortable doing so, but it gave a stronger and more prestigious appearance and spared his energy.
“Who sends you ?”, asked Sigurd.
“I’m sent by your wife Ingibjörg, my lord. I’ve travelled for weeks, from Nidaros to Telemark and after your army, to deliver you her message. Here is a proof she sent me.”
He gave a small item to one of the cavalier who in turn gave it to Sigurd.
It was a small wood carving representing Freyja, a major norse goddess. Half of men slain in battles were said to be taken by her to the Folkvangr, but she was also sought after for fertility matters. Sigurd had often seen this carving carried by Ingibjörg. He gestured for the messenger to speak further.
“Rejoice, my lord, for she is pregnant !”
The son Alfrid had given him had alleviated Sigurd’s concerns, but not having a child with Ingibjörg nonetheless weighed heavy.
This weigh disappeared in a blink, and a delicious feeling of satisfaction filled his mind.
It must have been when we made love just before my departure for war…, he thought, as the memories of these delightful moments came back to consciousness.
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First Arc - Chapter 39 - November 873
Chapter XXXIX
November 873 – Nidaros, Norway
Covered under blankets in the bed, she shivered.
It was not because of the coming winter.
Sigurd… Where are you ?, thought Alfrid, in a moment of lucidity.
She had an awful headache, and felt pain in the muscles across her body. From time to time, she coughed. She had never felt that weak before.
A particularly harsh flu was battling against her body.
“I know your hear me. You must drink this”, said a familiar voice.
In her state, even opening her eyes felt like a huge task. She kept them closed and answered by an unintelligible sound, a kind of soft grunting expressing her pain and her feeling that trying to drink whatever was proposed was too great of an effort.
The voice insisted.
“Your body needs help to overcome the illness.”
With great effort, she opened her eyes and turned them in the direction of the voice. She saw Ingibjörg. Her belly was round from the child she awaited, and she had a cup in hand.
“What… What is it ?”, asked Alfrid with a weak voice.
“This will help you, drink”, said Ingibjörg, while bringing the cup to Alfrid’s lips.
“No, no…”
Ingibjörg smirked.
“As suspicious as ever, I see. This is mead with some medicinal herbs. I know this from my mother, it helps. Look.”
She drank a small part of the beverage.
“Would I drink this with my baby growing in me if this was dangerous ? Now, drink.”
This time, Alfrid drank, slowly, but without complaining.
“Where is… my son, my baby ?”
“A thrall woman is taking care of him, don’t worry.”
“Do… Do you know why I’m ill ?”
“I don’t know. I’m gydja, but fate is nonetheless a mystery. You should ask for help from Gods.”
“Can… you sacrifice something to Odin and Freyja for me ?”
Alfrid coughed.
“I will. Then, I’ll leave”, answered Ingibjörg.
“Wh… What ?”
She coughed again.
“Haraldr Yngling’s army has been roaming in our tribe’s territory in recent weeks, as you know. And now, he’s coming for us, if Hrolfr is to be believed. I don’t expect the wooden fences he has erected nor the small garrison of middle-aged men he has assembled to be able to resist long. And there is still no new of Sigurd coming to our rescue.”
“He… he must be…”
“He must be. But I won’t stand still. I don’t want to fall in the enemy’s hands. Especially not as my child is growing in me. Land travel is too risky, and there are Namdale ships around the fjord’s entry, but I have arranged an escape plan. A ship will await near the coast of the open sea, and I’ll go to it through a mix of short fjord and land travel. Then, hopefully, we will sail south.”
“My…”
“You’re too weak to come. You can’t even get out of this bed, you’d assuredly die in the journey. You must rest here.”
“My children… Take Hysing and Ingfrid with you.”
Alfrid coughed once again. Ingibjörg smirked.
“You want me to take your children with me ?”
“Yes… They are also Sigurd’s. Don’t forget this.”
“I will take them.”
“Swear me you will.”
“I… swear.”
Alfrid closed her eyes. This conversation had been exhausting, and it took only a few moments for her to fall asleep, haunted by feverish nightmares. In some, she saw Death coming to take her.
This night, three hours before dawn, Ingibjörg’s preparations for departure drew to an end. While the family’s estate couldn’t be moved, she took any kind of precious object which may be looted, including gold and silver. Trusted men from her temple’s demesne transported them aboard the first ship.
In the house, she spoke to the small Ingfrid.
“Go say goodbye to your mother, we will have to go.”
“I don’t want to go ! I want to stay with mom.”
Ingibjörg sighed.
“She herself asked for you to come with me. Go ask her.”
Alfrid’s situation hadn’t improved, the illness still incapacitating her almost entirely.
Next to the bed, her daughter looked at her with worry. The child shook her mother’s arm to awaken her.
“Wh… What… ?”
“Mom ! Ingi wants me to go with her in travel.”
“It’s you, Ingfrid”, said Alfrid with a weak voice. “Come here, hug me.”
The girl happily obeyed.
“I want you to go with Ingibjörg”, added the mother. “This is for your own good.”
“But… I don’t want !”
Alfrid coughed.
“Sweetheart… Do as I ask you.”
The girl frowned.
Ingibjörg came to say goodbye to Alfrid and to take Ingfrid. Hysing, the boy, was too young yet to understand what happened, and couldn’t protest when Grima took him to the ship.
Soon after, the crew of the ship used for the first part of Ingibjörg’s escape journey began rowing in the fjord’s water, as she pronounced a prayer to Meili, under the full moon’s light.
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A tough choice for any mother ... but the only one she could realistically make, even if it proves ill.
Oof. The situation turns for poor Alfrid - ascendant having given Sigurd a son and now gravely ill, left behind, with his wife expectant. I fear she may end up captured as well, if she survives.
On the earlier bit, on thinking Sigurd was 40, I just didn't read the name right. I blame the pain meds.
On the earlier bit, on thinking Sigurd was 40, I just didn't read the name right. I blame the pain meds.
Oh dear oh dear. Very touching. I hope the children grow up to be fine, er, barbarians !
Yes.
A huge and sudden shift, no doubt. For long, Alfrid had overworried, but for once, it proved justified. As for your fear, the coming chapters should tell if it is - or not - premonitory.
Both the previous steward and the new steward had the same name ! But only one, the 31yo, was dead.On the earlier bit, on thinking Sigurd was 40, I just didn't read the name right. I blame the pain meds.
We'll still blame the pain meds for the confusion.
If you asked Sigurd and his ilk, they'd say they are the civilized ones. They bath themselves weekly, after all, not like those filthy savages across the seas.Oh dear oh dear. Very touching. I hope the children grow up to be fine, er, barbarians !
Otherwise, I hope that the high rate of publishing these last days is enjoyable. I may not sustain it for very long, but I wanted to make up for the idle period this spring.
First Arc - Chapter 40 - December 873
Chapter XL
December 873 – Oppland, Norway
In the war for Norway, the two belligerents were locked in a destructive conflict. It was about who would yield the first in the face of the devastation in his homeland.
Sigurd and Thorolfr had refined their strategies in the previous conflicts, and had gotten very effective at moving across the lands and submitting the settlements, small or big.
The previous month, they had thus pacified Hedmark, and were now in the process of doing so in Oppland.
The only remaining resistance of note was from the garrison guarding the capital of Olafr, the chief of the tribe. Their fortifications were extremely limited, and outnumbering them fifteen to one, Sigurd could have at any moment decided to launch an assault and storm the village.
However, Fairhair had more warriors than him despite his severe defeat a few months earlier, and Torrblom was mindful to spare the lives of his own men when he could.
Earlier that day, he had sent an envoy to discuss surrender conditions.
He waited inside the main camp established by his forces, looking directly towards the wooden fence the defenders had hastily erected, listening to the wind whistling, impassive as a light snow fell on him, in the dim light of a short day.
For a moment, the chief felt weak, but he managed to hide it. For around two months, he often felt dizzy, and he didn’t understand why. He hadn’t been wounded, ate well, and had no visible illness. Despite his worries, he hid it from everybody, as to not sow doubt.
Slowly, after a long wait, the gates opened. The envoy was coming back.
A few minutes later, in the chief’s tent, the envoy was exposing the situation. If the negotiated conditions satisfied the chief, he would confirm them. Otherwise, he would send back the envoy. Having a negotiator lacking power of decision was often harmful, but as he was himself so close, it didn’t matter much.
“I made it clear that if they refused a negotiated surrender and forced us to assault, we’d be unforgiving, massacring the warriors and enthralling the others.”
Such a threat was not the kind of thing Sigurd wished to carry out in a norse land he aimed to rule, but being mild and indecisive was the surest way to display weakness and embolden the enemy. Instead, calculated harshness could end up less costly for both sides.
“They agree to surrender”, added the envoy. “But they ask for some guarantees.”
“What are they ?”
“The main one is for them to not be killed, enthralled or raped.”
“That’s implicitly the promise I made by threatening this if they dared forced us to storm them. Did you make it clear ?”
“I told them so, my lord.”
“What are their other demands ?”
“They want to avoid looting. From what I felt during the negotiation, they could be made to bend on this by reminding them what awaits them if they resist. I made it very clear that we want some of their food stocks and that we’ll take wealth, so that the only way for them to avoid indiscriminate looting would be to give both to us.”
“Good. And what about our conditions ?”
“They accept to surrender their weapons. I told them right at the beginning that this is a necessary precondition, and they didn’t try to discuss it.”
“And regarding Olafr’s sons ?”
“The two younger ones are very small child, but the eldest, Rögnvaldr, was leading the negotiation on their side.”
“How do you judge him, from what you saw ?”
“Dull. He’d make a good peasant. A chief ? Not so much.”
Sigur and his commanders laughed.
“He had difficulty expressing complex thoughts, and alternated between a temptation to fight and a passive acceptation of defeat.”
“I got him to accept he and his brothers being made prisoners, my lord”, added the envoy.
“Excellent.”
“He may have changed of opinion by the time I return to their town… But I don’t think it will be an issue.”
“Now, we still need to evaluate how much food and goods we will ask from them. It would be easier if we could directly check how much they have.”
“Why not half of their food stockpile, and any reserve someone will try to hide will be confiscated in entirety ?”, suggested Thorofolr.
“It seems fair enough.”, said Sigurd.
“They may see the inspections required to check for hidden reserves as bordering on looting”, reacted the envoy. “And it may be hard to restrain warriors from it once searching in the houses and around.”
“You’ll have to remind the besieged of what awaits them if they refuse to surrender. As for restraining unruly warriors from disobeying, that’s my issue. Don’t worry about it.”
The following day, Rögnvaldr agreed reluctantly to the surrender terms.
The Oppland’s warriors came out of the village in a column. In front of Sigurd and his men, they threw their weapons on the ground one after another.
Then, while the food and wealth tribute was assembled, Olafr’s sons were all three made prisoners. While treated with some consideration, they were kept under guard at all time.
Olafr had apparently moved his gold away with himself, and Sigurd intended to ransom his sons. The war was costly, and supplementing loot helped to keep his warriors motivated and well-equipped.
Fairhair would be against this, but Olafr won’t care about the opinion of the man who tried to kill his son when it comes to saving his family, reasoned Sigurd.
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An important milestone, or so it feels, that this place has fallen.
Sigurd's approach to the surrender sounds pretty lenient.
Sigurd's approach to the surrender sounds pretty lenient.
A good victory. But still, yet another potential storm cloud with that malaise symptom. It feels unlikely all of these clouds will pass without something happening, but we shall see who is fortunate and who is not.
Well, he's not a butcher who kill just for the pleasure of it ; and enthralling brings its own issues (an army with a lot of loot is slow to manoeuvre).
Forecasting some rain, I see.
First Arc - Chapter 41 - December 873
Chapter XLI
December 873 – Akhershus, Norway
After its victory in Oppland, Sigurd’s army had marched south, towards Fairhair’s own lands. They had mostly escaped the hardship of war until now ; as despite the major battle which had happened so close to Aker, the invading army had not stayed long here.
Occupying the territories of Fairhair’s vassals was useful to weaken their support to him, but a more decisive blow was needed.
As his men were busy foraging the settlements in the east of the Oslofjord, Sigurd prepared his future movements.
We’ll keep going south until we reach the Glomma’s mouth… Then… We will follow the river upstream. A lot of settlements there to submit… And once we reach the northern part of the Oyeren… We can go west to Aker and Vestfold, reasoned the chief.
The Glomma was Norway’s biggest river.
A cavalier came trotting to Sigurd’s position. It was one of his scouts. They were extremely useful to quickly transmit orders and news when his troops were scattered. He dismounted.
“My lord !”, said the man. “A longship has landed in one of the foraged settlements, and it transported your wife along with…”
“My wife ? You’re sure ?”
“Yes, your lordship. She has been recognized, and she was guarded by men from Nidaros some foragers knew. She also held a baby in her arms.”
"She was alone ?"
"Of course not, my lord. Aside from the guards who also are the ship's crew, she had some thrall servant with her."
"I meant, it was only one of my wives ?"
"I… think so, yes."
In a hurry, Sigurd got on a horse and rode westwards, guided by the scout.
The chief’s mind was racing.
Has Ingibjörg already birthed ?… Is it Alfrid with Hysing ?…. Why is one here but not the other ?… Why take the risk of coming here ?
Soon, he knew, he would have an answer to his questions.
While a part of him was happy at the idea of seeing one of his wives, worry dominated as to the causes of that unexpected arrival.
After a dozen of minutes, he could see the tiny strip of land on which the settlement was built. Its inhabitants lived of fishing. Hurtling downhill towards, he soon reached it.
There, he saw Ingibjörg, waiting near the ship.
Alerted by the sound of the trotting horse, she turned her head and saw Sigurd.
Under the curious look of his foraging warriors and of the inhabitants they had extorted alike, he jumped off his horse and went to her.
Something is wrong, very wrong, he thought immediately, without at first grasping what wrong.
Ingibjörg’s face by itself showed anxiety. And then, it caught Sigurd’s eyes.
She holds a baby in her arms but she is still pregnant ! And that baby is too big for a newborn.
“Dear wife, I didn’t expect you”, he said.
“Good morning, husband. It was a long journey.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, drew her closer, and held her in his arms a second, before turning around and ordering warriors around him to requisition a house. Thankfully, the settlement had not been burned down.
“Come”, he said to her.
The owners were promptly evacuated, and the chief and his wife could discuss in a more private setting. By then, he had understood that she held in her arms his son, Hysing.
“Wife, can you explain me what this means ?”, said Sigurd, trying to keep his calm.
“I will, Sigurd, I will. Listen until the end, please.”
“What has happened to Alfrid ?”
“Let me speak and you will know.”
He grumphed, but remained silent.
“As you must know, Fairhair’s army has been pillaging Nidaros through the fall. We hoped you would arrive soon to drive them out, but…”
Sigurd felt guilt across his body, with his respiration accelerating and his muscles tensing, most noticeably in the belly up to the diaphragm. He knew of the risk of letting Fairhair roam in his homeland, but the threat he posed to his had not driven him back as hoped. And he had not prepared serious measures to keep his family safe.
“When it became clear they would soon try to attack, I devised an escape plan”, continued Ingibjörg, before describing the details of this plan.
“A sound plan, and a great initiative in those circumstances”, said the chief, “but…”
“Let me finish”, she said. “Alfrid became extremely ill. Some kind of very harsh flu, forcing her to stay in bed extremely weak, only conscious at some moments. She said she had a strong headache and pain everywhere.”
The chief bit the right of his bottom lip.
“It was impossible for her to come. But she asked me to take your children with me, so that they didn’t risk falling in Haraldr Fairhair’s hands. And I took them with me… Here is your son”, she said, while giving him the boy to hold.
“Where is Ingfrid ?”, he asked.
“That’s… complicated.”
“Speak, woman !”
Sigurd didn’t suspect anything nefarious. He trusted her by default, and her bringing him his son extinguished any beginning of doubt. But he dreaded to hear what may follow.
“I… We were walking towards the second ship. Ingfrid had not wanted to come with me, she wanted to stay with her mother, but we took her anyway to the ship. But then, she escaped…”
“Escaped ? Nobody was holding her hand ?”
“No…”
Sigurd’s fury began to build up.
“How can that be ? You didn’t catch her again soon ?”
“We didn’t notice immediately, and she was gone in the forest shadows. We tried calling her and searching for her at first, but we found nothing and had to resume our march.”
“You lost my daughter ?”, he asked. “To wild animals, in a cold night, in a forest ?”
The chief was still holding his son in his arms at this moment, and it was the only thing preventing his anger from exploding.
“She… I think she’s still alive.”
“How would you know this ?”
“Our second ship took us to Berghenhus first, then to Telemark. We stayed there at first, but a few days ago, we got news. We learned that your army was marching south. We didn’t try to join you while we would have to travel on land in hostile territories, but it became to go through the fjord. And we also heard news from Nidaros. They were… not good. The territory of our tribe has been captured by Fairhair, including our village, which have been looted. Including our home. The rumour was that Fairhair boasted to his troops having captured your wife – which must have meant Alfrid – and your daughter. I assume this means that Ingfrid survived long enough to be caught by a band of Fairhair.”
“Hearsay ! How would these brutes have even known it was my daughter ?”
“I don’t know, Sigurd. I don’t know… Maybe she said something about you coming to punish them if they dared to touch her…”
“That would fit her character… I hope, I really hope, wife, that she’s still alive.”
Afterwards, he gave her his son back, and asked her to go outside. Without witnesses, he punched the floor of clay, to evacuate his anger, mortified of having allowed this disaster to happen.
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First Arc - Chapter 42 - January 874
Chapter XLII
January 874 – Akhershus, Norway
After having received the terrible news of the capture of Alfrid, and of the capture or death of his daughter Ingfrid, Sigurd had not let his sorrow take over.
I have been held as a prisoner myself in a war. I have been in the midst of deadly fights. I managed to keep thinking straight then, I can now too, he had thought.
Instead of giving up, he had channelled his anger and frustration as an energy to fight his foes with even more determination.
If I want to see them again, I must win this war.
He had intensified the pillaging operations in Akhershus, progressing more methodically and faster, to the Glomma and following the river as he had planned.
More news came of the devastation caused in Nidaros by Haraldr Fairhair’s troops, and he intended to respond in kind. He also hoped that if Fairhair ran out of gold, he wouldn’t be able to keep sustaining his army, as the pillaged territories would be unable to provide for their chief.
Olafr of Oppland wasn’t with his liege. As Fairhair’s steward, he was in Akhershus. This made easy for Sigurd to contact him to negotiate the payment of his sons ransoms. Sigurd asked to be paid, in gold or silver, more than his own release had costed himself.
Olafr didn’t try to stall discussions or to wait for the war’s end. It was his entire legacy which was at stake. In less than a month, he had sent over 400 marks of gold and 2000 marks of silver, and his two younger sons were liberated. The chief claimed to not have enough for the ransom asked for his eldest son.
Sigurd wondered if, as Fairhair’s steward, Olafr had stolen some of his rival’s gold to pay the ransoms.
He had not asked. It was not his concern.
Meanwhile, Ingibjörg had stayed with him, moving with his army camp. Not without help : her pregnancy was now in its final stage, and birth was expected in a week or two. It was comforting for Sigurd to have her close, though it was hard to get over what happened to his daughter.
Then, something entirely unexpected happened.
In the morning, soon before dawn, his commander Thorolfr rushed in his chief’s tent.
“My lord ! An enemy force will soon be upon us !”
Sigurd was already awoken, but it took him some time to process this information. Already clothed, he stood up and went towards his commander.
“How large of a force ?”, asked the chief. “With the bulk of his forces around Nidaros, Fairhair can’t have many men here.”
“I don’t know. The scouts reported a large force, but with the obscurity, they can’t tell more precisely.”
“Understandable”, said Sigurd. “Immediately mobilize our warriors for battle. There may not be time for them to have a breakfast, but we need to react.”
They probably try to defend Aker once again, thought the chief.
Half-an-hour later, his army was in position for battle, ready to defend itself and its camp. Its defence was especially important, as it contained the army’s supplies. Losing them in the middle of winter could lead to the direst consequences.
The battlefield is good enough. At least, it is flat.
Other army commanders may not have called it flat, but compared to the rest of Norway, the land of the large valley joining the northern tip of the Oyren lake and the northern tip of the Oslofjord was.
Sigurd’s troops were concentrated in the middle of the valley. The surrounding hills were not very high, and far enough that taking advantage of them with archers was entirely impossible. Behind them was the camp, and then the Nitja river and its rich and fertile surrounding lands which they had foraged.
The chief was confident.
They probably have a few hundred men and tried to take us by surprise… which may have worked had I not increased my scouting efforts.
When the enemy army passed the valley curve and became visible from his position, he soon had to revise this opinion.
They are more than a thousand… No, more, maybe two thousands…
Their numbers gave Fairhair’s men confidence, and despite having lost the advantage of surprise, they pushed forward to the battle they had chosen.
Sigurd summoned his commandants, Thorolfr and Ofeig, as the enemy approached.
“Ofeig, you will command the centre”, said the chief.
“Me ? Why ?”
“You will have one task, and one task only. Hold the centre. Do not retreat, do not yield.”
This apparent honour was in fact a mark of the lower opinion he had of his new commandant abilities for manoeuvre.
“I will take a few hundreds men with me as a left flank”, added the chief. “And you will do the same, with the right, Thorolfr. We will wait. Once the enemy’s men are engaged with our centre, and only then, we will push forward, flank them, and kill as many as possible.”
There was no discussion, only orders to obey. It took him a few minutes to take position, walking. There was no point rushing. It took time for his own warriors to organize – strong discipline was not the hallmark of tribal warriors ; and it was better to take his time to not exhaust himself.
Advancing rapidly, the light troops of Fairhair were already at bow range, and kept advancing.
Organized in shield walls, the two armies entered in contact. Warriors in the first line protected each other the best they could, while those behind them pushed forwards.
The light snow cover on the soil soon let place to a slippery mud-and-ice compound, but neither force was able to break its foe’s line.
This was the moment Sigurd had waited for, and he began advancing forward with his men. Thorolfr did the same soon after on the right flank, launching a double-envelopment.
Sensing that they had the advantage in battle, the warriors of Nidaros began disorderly attacks on the enemy’s flanks.
The morale of the enemy troops began to drop as a rock, as they became aware that defeat awaited them. But they were able to curve their line to face the flanking attacks, offering more resistance than expected. The envelopment attempt had not succeeded in reaching the rear of Fairhair’s troops.
Not having the time to eat has made my warriors fight worse, speculated Sigurd, in the middle of his men. This thought led him to another. But I feel well… No headache or weakness. The mysterious sickness seems gone.
The warriors in the centre of the army of Nidaros were less enthusiastic than at the beginning. The cries of pain of wounded comrades and foes in the mud-and-ice, slowly evacuated to the behind if at all, were as tiring for the mind than the fighting itself was for the body.
It wasn’t easier for their opponents. Around one hour after the battle had begun, the enemy finally began retreating. Its shield wall then broke under the pressure, and many men of its first line were cut into pieces as they turned their back in a desperate attempt to flee.
Pursuit began, with Sigurd’s small force of horsemen joining in, but the bulk of the enemy’s army was able to escape, running faster with their weapons abandoned than their armed and tired pursuers.
In the afternoon, the pursuing troops had pulled back, and the chief and his commandants were again together to discuss its outcome.
“A great victory, my lord”, said Ofeig. “This will certainly push Fairhair to surrender.”
“Today is a great day. We’ve won a clear victory”, said Sigurd. “But let’s not fool ourselves. That this very battle even happened is proof that Haraldr Fairhair is not done yet, not as long as he can recruit and field new troops. But whatever he may do, I will not yield. We will not yield.”
I will get you back, he thought, as if his mind could speak to Alfrid and Ingfrid.
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