Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 34 Manor
“They’ve built fortified villages, amassed private armies, and openly defied the lord. These are no ordinary troublemakers. Follow me and attack.”

Two hundred meters from the wall, Vig ordered the assembly of battering rams and long ladders, showing no intention of persuading them to surrender.

Meanwhile, fifty archers each took a large door-shaped shield from the carriage and advanced 150 meters. Once within range, the archers used a sturdy wooden stick to support their shields, using them as a barrier, and began exchanging fire with those above the wall.

Outnumbered, the twenty Anglo-Saxon archers on the wall were pinned down, unable to raise their heads despite the manor lord's shouts and curses. After all, they were just a group of farmers who made a living by farming, with almost no military training, and rarely even had the experience of killing, let alone risking their lives to exchange arrows with Vikings.

Once assembled, thirty Vikings slowly pushed the battering ram forward, resembling a sluggish giant tortoise.

Seeing this, the defenders disregarded the danger and fired again. Most of the arrows hit the top of the battering ram, with little effect, only wounding one Viking's arm.

Upon reaching the gate, the crowd below the canopy shouted in unison, "Pull, push, ram! Pull, push, ram!"

In just half a minute, with a loud bang, the not-so-sturdy oak door burst open, splinters flew everywhere, and twenty burly men in iron armor rushed inside, carrying round shields.

Seeing this, Vig drew his longsword and led the follow-up troops swiftly through the wooden door, their armor clanging and their boots crunching over the wood chips on the ground. Looking around, they saw that their side held an overwhelming advantage, with only a small group still putting up a stubborn resistance in a corner.

"The manor owner also wears chainmail?"

Vig spat, then strode forward. Before the middle-aged man in chainmail could cry out, the tip of his sword sliced ​​through his wrist. At that moment, a guard in an iron helmet swung his axe from the left. Vig raised his shield to deflect the axe, wedging it in the shield's edge. The sword thrust upwards from below, and the guard groaned as he fell to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, two men on the right pounced at the same time. One of them had his stomach ripped open by Vig's sword, his internal organs spilling out and splattering all over the ground. The other turned to run away but was kicked into the haystack in front of him. His front half of his body was buried in the haystack, leaving only his two legs outside, thrashing about, which looked particularly comical.

"Whoever surrenders will avoid death!"

The roar was like thunder that echoed all around, and the courtyard fell silent instantly. A young tenant farmer instinctively dropped his pitchfork, and under his lead, the others also put down their weapons.

"No, kill all these barbarians." The middle-aged man in chainmail clutched his right wrist, urging his tenant farmers to fight to the last man.

Annoyed by his nagging, Vig asked about the man's identity. Upon learning that he was the owner of the manor, he sighed and said, "In the name of King Ragnar, I sentence you to treason. Yoren, hang him."

Soon, under the watchful eyes of more than 150 local residents, Yoren and his men wove a noose with hemp rope and strangled the plantation owner to death by finding an oak tree not far away.

After the execution, Vig announced the confiscation of the estate owner's property, and his family would be taken to Tyneburg for imprisonment. Ordinary tenants and serfs remained to continue their lives, and if they followed the lord to participate in the next phase of the battle, they would receive an additional piece of land sufficient to support themselves.

"Who would like to participate?"

After a long silence, a young man hesitated before asking, "How much will I get?"

“Fifteen acres,” Vig stated, successfully acquiring ten militiamen with questionable loyalty.

Over the next half day, the group inventoried the estate's property; the raiders took their gold and silver, while the peasants received grain and some livestock. The Earl of Tyneburg himself amassed the following:
An old chainmail, two iron swords, two horses, four oxen, twenty-one sheep, and an Anglo who knew how to do accounting.

This man, named Micham, was tall and thin with thinning hair. He had once been a small landowner in the neighborhood, but due to a land dispute, the plantation owner had imprisoned him in the dungeon beneath the main house. After hearing about Micham's plight, Vig casually asked him two simple arithmetic problems and then appointed him as a tax collector.

In front of a group of gentry and village representatives, Vig solemnly introduced, "From now on, Mitcham will be in charge of collecting taxes. Please cooperate with him. If you suspect him of any underhanded dealings, you are welcome to report him to me in Tyneburg." "Sir, you are overthinking it. I swear I will do this job well." Mitcham picked up a dirty leather hat and covered his head, his eyes sinister, sending chills down everyone's spine.

Vig nodded to himself, thinking that he needed that kind of drive. But then again, he hoped this person didn't go too far, otherwise he'd have to be pushed out to quell public discontent.

After introducing the tax collector, he offered a tempting reward to appease the gentry: "Whoever is willing to buy this estate, the highest bidder wins."

These words were like a drop of cold water into boiling oil; the crowd erupted in a frenzy, and the local gentry eagerly raised their hands to bid.

"I'll offer two pounds of silver."

"Three pounds, plus two cows."

Soon, the price soared to fifteen pounds of silver. Not only that, the fat country gentleman named Harry offered an irresistible deal.

“Sir, there is a blacksmith on my estate. His two sons have come of age. One will inherit the family business, while the other will go out to make his way in the world. I would like to introduce this young man named Kader to you.”

blacksmith?

Vig's expression was solemn. As a highly skilled technical expert in the Middle Ages, the blacksmith's status far exceeded that of ordinary professions such as tailors, carpenters, farmers, and shepherds. At that time, there was a consensus in Viking society that "blacksmiths always have a place at the lord's table."

"as you wish."

He had Mitcham write a deed granting the manor to Harry in the name of the Lord of Tyneburg, on the condition that fifteen pounds of silver be paid. The price was reasonable, especially considering that the manor house was a rare four-story stone watchtower, far more defensive than ordinary wooden houses.

"Um, sir, could I pay half the bill with gold?"

“Okay.” Gold and silver are both hard currencies, so Vig readily accepted.

"That said, stone watchtowers are indeed a good thing, but the gentry in the south generally own wooden forts. Logically speaking, the economic conditions in the north are relatively poor. How did you manage to do that?"

To his question, Harry gave an unexpected answer:

“Long ago, the Romans left Hadrian’s Wall, which stretched between the east and west coasts. In the last twenty years, the Viking raids have become more and more frequent, so a country gentleman destroyed the wall and transported the stones back to his estate to build houses, with great success. The former lord wanted to follow suit and five years ago he specially commissioned a stonemason to draw up a design to build a tall and magnificent castle. Unfortunately, his family owed the Bishop of York a huge debt, which two generations of father and son had not been able to pay off in thirty years, so construction has been delayed.”

It turned out to be the case.

No wonder there are many moss-covered stones piled up on the riverbank near Tyneburg.

Since there was no shortage of stone, Vig decided to start construction after saving enough money, first repairing the main castle, and then the outer walls, and that it would be completed one day.

(End of this chapter)