Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 64 City Gate
After resting overnight in this unnamed village, the army continued its journey and arrived at the northern outskirts of Repton at noon the next day.

On the bumpy horseback, Ragnar listened to Pascal recount the deeds of King Aufa, occasionally offering a few comments:

"According to you, King Aufreya reigned for nearly forty years (757-796 AD), during which Mercia reached its zenith, forcing the other six kingdoms to submit, and even treating Charlemagne as an equal. Hmm, indeed a great king."

A strange glint flashed in his eyes as he posed a question that Pascal found difficult to answer: "But why did Mercia decline so drastically after the death of Orpha? His successors were defeated by Wessex and instead began to pay tribute to Wessex."

"Your Majesty, this is a serious and difficult question, and I am afraid I cannot answer it in a short time."

As the two were talking, a rider wearing a thick wool cloak rushed over and said, "Your Majesty, seven hundred Anglo soldiers are approaching from the southeast, their target being the east gate of Repton."

Almost instantly, Ragnar instinctively shouted, "Stop them!"

He led a group of nobles and guards on horseback to a hillside a few hundred meters away. Gazing intently, he saw a long procession winding its way through the distance, poorly equipped and demoralized, looking utterly vulnerable.

"Vigg blocks the front, Gunnar flanks the rear, the rest of you follow me."

Suddenly, Vig interrupted Ragnar, "Your Majesty, I have thought of a better way."

When the Vikings spotted the Mercian army, the Mercian army also became aware of their presence. Seeing the large group of mounted figures appearing on the distant hillside, the hastily assembled conscripts were thrown into chaos, with dozens immediately deserting and running away.

"Stop them!"

The commander, having dispatched his guards to maintain order, straightened his back on horseback, staring intently into the distance, eager to ascertain the exact number of enemies as soon as possible.

The next moment, a huge, dark mass of figures swept over the mountain ridge, like a raging tide, numbering at least three thousand!
not good!

Outnumbered, the commander instantly abandoned any thought of fighting and ordered his troops to rush towards Repton. "Don't run around! Maintain formation! Take the supply wagons!"

He cried out helplessly on horseback, but unfortunately few people were willing to obey his orders; they were all thinking about escaping into the city gates to escape these ferocious Viking barbarians.

"Sir, you should leave now."

Five guards went against the flow of people to get closer, and desperately tried to escape by pulling on the reins. Along the way, the commander kept looking back, heartbroken as he looked at the more than twenty abandoned carriages.

When marching, troops typically piled armor, bows, and arrows on wagons, donning them only upon encountering the enemy to conserve their energy. This defeat before even engaging the enemy meant that forty sets of armor and a large quantity of rations had been handed over to the Vikings for nothing.

"Damn it, this is all the wealth I painstakingly accumulated, you cowards!"

Ignoring the commander's insults, the guards silently followed the flow of people. When they were still more than a thousand paces from the city gate, a volley of arrows suddenly flew out from the woods on their right. The sharp, cold iron arrowheads pierced the crowd, easily felling a large number of figures.

"The Vikings are coming! Run for your lives!"

The entire force completely collapsed, breaking into countless loose groups. Most rushed towards the west gate, while a few clever ones broke away from the crowd and fled for their lives towards the southern wilderness. At this point, the commander was so frightened that he could no longer speak. His face turned deathly pale, and his cold right hand reached into his collar, clutching the silver cross pendant blessed by the church, and silently prayed.

"God above, may you protect me from evil and help me get through this war safely."

East gate of Repton.

Once the watchtower spotted a large Viking force approaching, the defending soldiers reacted quickly. After all the villagers from the outskirts had fled into the city, they closed the gates and waited behind the battlements, bows and arrows in hand. As time passed, more and more fleeing soldiers crowded outside the walls, shouting and cursing at the defenders to open the gates.

Although they looked down on this group of useless cowards who had collapsed before the battle even began, they were still over four hundred able-bodied men, and using them to defend the city would surely be of some use. Under the officer's orders, six soldiers, cursing and swearing, came to the back of the city gate and together lifted the heavy gateposts.

"Keep in formation, don't push!"

As soon as the city gate opened a crack, a chaotic crowd poured into the city like a river bursting its banks. Six unfortunate soldiers were knocked down by the crowd before they could maintain order, and countless feet trampled over their bodies, leaving abandoned shoes and weapons scattered everywhere.

"Quickly, close the city gates! The Viking barbarians are almost here!"

As the last figure rushed into the city, the defending officer ordered his soldiers to close the city gates again. He then led a few trusted men down the city wall and asked the fleeing soldiers, "Who is your commander?"

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his lower abdomen. Looking down, he saw a blood-stained blade swiftly pulled out and then plunged back in.
"Do it!"

The next moment, more than fifty Vikings who had infiltrated the city drew their blades and slaughtered the nearest soldiers. Despite the fierce counterattack from the defending soldiers, they still gained three precious minutes. The moment the main force rushed through the gate, the outcome of the siege was no longer in doubt.

Having received the promise of being spared death, the vast majority of Mercians dropped their weapons and silently gathered in the open ground to await their fate.

Soon after, Ragnar arrived on horseback with a group of nobles, strode up the city wall, and surveyed this historically significant city.

In the early days of the Kingdom of Mercia, Repton served as the capital for a long period of time. The city had a towering stone building, the Church of St. Wiestans, whose needle-like spire could be seen from miles away. It was said that the crypt contained the stone coffins of the previous kings.

With his right hand stroking the rough, cold battlements, Ragnar exclaimed to the crowd, "Thanks to Vig's impromptu plan, we captured this former capital with only twenty casualties. Well done, it seems your legendary story has gained another chapter."

He patted his trusted aide on the shoulder, offering words of encouragement, and then ordered his guards to restrain the soldiers and prevent them from disturbing the church and the people in the city.

“Your Majesty,” Captain Gunnar of the Guard looked up, “you don’t intend to let the brothers loot the spoils of war? That’s against the rules.”

“Rules? Only what I say counts as rules!” Ragnar’s eyes suddenly sharpened, and Gunnar quickly took his orders to personally maintain order in the city.

On the city wall, facing many questioning eyes, Ragnar explained, "Times have changed. As kings and nobles, we should act with dignity and try to be as gentle as possible after the battle to reduce the locals' resistance to us."

For some reason, from the moment he first saw the city, Ragnar was determined to make it a direct royal domain; he was not foolish enough to allow soldiers to plunder his territory.

(End of this chapter)