Viking Invasion-Chapter 96 – Return

On the banks of the Seine, Rurik discovered that the one leading the new force was young Erik — a fleet of fifty ships and two thousand infantry.

"The war is already over. What are they doing here?"

To the seven thousand Vikings already encamped, this late-arriving reinforcement meant little.

Ragnar could not go against the collective will of his men, and so he rejected young Erik’s request to share in the spoils — even though the boy was the nephew of Queen Sola.

On campaign, the division of loot was sacred. Any favoritism, even a little, could spark resentment at best or mutiny at worst.

"You came half a month late. There’s nothing left to divide."

"Uncle, you can’t be serious?" Erik tried to appeal to family ties. "We came all the way from Oslo after great hardship. If we return to Norway empty-handed, those bloodthirsty raiders will never let us live it down."

"Rules are rules. No one here wants to hand over their own silver."

Seeing Ragnar’s firm stance, young Erik fell silent, then asked if there were any nearby settlements worth raiding.

"There are," Rurik replied, "but I advise against it. Your men are mostly light infantry — too weak to stand against Frankish cavalry. You’d better look elsewhere."

At this, Erik gave a bitter, mocking smile.

"Elsewhere? Where do you expect us to go?"

For generations, the Anglo-Saxon Heptarchy had been the Vikings’ favorite hunting ground.

Now that Ragnar had conquered it, their choices were running out. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Rus, Livonia (the future Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania), East Francia...

A string of names flashed through young Erik’s mind before he finally decided to raid along the western Frankish coast instead.

The next day, he led his two thousand grumbling men downstream, planning to plunder whatever they could find along the shore.

Watching the sails vanish downriver, Ragnar’s face remained expressionless.

Not long after, Lambert came to him, probing whether the Norsemen had any further plans.

"That’s Prince Erik of Norway," Ragnar explained. "He’s not under my command."

"Ah, so it’s just a misunderstanding."

Lambert wiped the sweat from his forehead and hurried back to the Île de la Cité to report.

"Your Majesty, they’re Norwegian raiders, not part of Ragnar’s host. From what I observed, the Norsemen are busy repairing their ships and counting their loot. They seem eager to sail back to Britain."

"Good," said Charles the Bald, reclining against his throne. He decided to formalize a peace agreement with Ragnar two days later.

In recognition of Lambert’s service in the negotiations, Charles promoted him to Minister of Foreign Affairs.

"You’ve done well — reducing the indemnity from thirty thousand pounds of silver to twenty. And that sum includes the nobles’ ransoms and contributions from nearby abbeys and landowners. In the end, the royal treasury only pays five thousand. Excellent. I underestimated you before."

As the weather grew hotter, both sides lost the will to fight.

At last, outside the southern bridgehead, they signed a peace treaty: five years of mutual non-aggression.

Afterward, Ragnar handed over a list of captured persons and gestured for Charles to pay their ransom.

"I can’t wait too long. Why don’t you advance the payment yourself?"

"Very well."

Charles held the list in his left hand and a quill in his right, occasionally tapping beside a name.

There were more than five hundred in total — nobles, guards, and gentry.

"And the rest?" Ragnar asked.

Charles closed the list.

"The treasury is empty. We’ll have to find a way later. Don’t worry — they’re in your hands; I’ll see to it they’re ransomed eventually."

Having received nine hundred warhorses and goods worth twelve thousand pounds of silver, the Vikings boarded their ships and, on June 10, crossed the Channel back to Kent.

For convenience, the remaining five thousand prisoners were left there, under Gunnar’s supervision.

He would handle negotiations with the Franks and release captives once payment arrived.

Ragnar had chosen Gunnar for this role because his reputation in West Francia was unmatched.

As commander of the cavalry, Gunnar had invented the couched lance charge — using inferior numbers to rout Frankish horsemen, then disrupting their formations and slaying knights in the shallows.

He even rode alone to challenge the southern bridgehead.

The Franks called him The Savage Bear.

As for Rurik and Ivar — one had commanded from the high platform, the other led his heavy infantry slowly forward.

Neither had created the kind of legend Gunnar had.

The next day after landing, Ragnar distributed the spoils amid the crowd’s eager anticipation.

The division followed last year’s ratio:

The crown: 15%

The nobles: 40%

The rest to the common soldiers.

Thanks to his outstanding performance along the Seine, Rurik’s share was the largest — worth 1,400 pounds of silver.

After some thought, he requested 600 pounds of silver, 130 warhorses, and a chest of Latin manuscripts.

This campaign had been far more profitable than the last, and it even earned him a nominal ducal title — excellent value, though he doubted such opportunities would come again.

The following morning, Rurik went to Goodwin to collect his goods — only to receive 60%. His temper flared.

"What’s the meaning of this?"

"Simple," Goodwin said. "Charles the Bald only paid twelve thousand pounds and five hundred horses — that’s sixty percent of the total. Everyone’s getting sixty percent. The nobles too."

He showed the ledger and swore he hadn’t pocketed a thing.

"The foot soldiers get full payment because His Majesty covered their shortfall from his own treasury in Londinium. Yes, you heard right — he hasn’t taken a single coin himself; he’s actually losing money."

After that long explanation, Rurik grudgingly accepted it.

He returned to camp with his reduced share and was packing when a royal guard approached.

"His Majesty requests your presence."

"What for?"

Rurik braced himself and went to the central command tent — only to hear something entirely unexpected.

Originally, Ivar was to lead an expedition against Wales, but rebellion had broken out again in Ireland, keeping him occupied.

The mess left behind by Halfdan and Æthelwulf would now fall to Rurik.

"Your Majesty, I’m honored by your trust," said Rurik. "But Wales is mountainous, covered in forest. It would take enormous resources and time to subdue."

He then presented two strategic plans:

Strike and pacify — win a few decisive battles to force the tribes to submit. Fast and efficient.

Total occupation — to permanently control the region.

"In the days of King Offa," Rurik explained, "Mercia reached its peak, and the other six kingdoms bowed to him. Yet even he could not conquer Wales. To stop Welsh raiders, he built a massive earthwork — Offa’s Dyke — stretching one hundred and fifty miles. Therefore, I strongly recommend the first plan."

Politically, Ragnar had wanted to send a large army to annihilate the Welsh — lest the Anglo-Saxons think him weak.

But after Rurik’s repeated reasoning, he suppressed his anger and agreed to a policy of conciliation.

"Very well. If the tribal lords are willing to swear allegiance and not raid our borders, I’ll end this war.

Otherwise, I’ll keep fighting forever. Damn it — I’ve heard of Vikings raiding others, but never of others raiding us!"