Ch 15: The Target
The settlement of accounts ended, and the news quickly spread throughout Gothenburg. Almost everyone knew that Ivar and his men had made a fortune, inevitably arousing envy, and many called for pillaging Britain next spring.
Facing the eager subjects who signed up, Ragnar promised he would contact King Eric to launch a larger-scale pillage.
After sending everyone away, he called Vig aside, “Each pound of silver can be exchanged for eight oxen; you have the equivalent of a huge fortune of one hundred and sixty oxen. How do you plan to spend it later?”
“I want to buy a suit of chainmail from you.” After the battle with the Pechenegs, Vig deeply realized the importance of good armor. If he hadn’t worn iron armor that day, he could have only cut down three nomads at most.
“Last year we successfully pillaged Londinium, and I got three sets of chainmail. I will give you one later as a reward for you personally killing Lord Borg.”
So generous?
Vig followed Ragnar to the lord’s bedroom, took out a large chainmail and put it on, inexplicably feeling a sense of security.
Looking down, this armor, weighing about twenty-four jin, was woven from countless iron rings one centimeter in diameter. Each ring connects to four rings above, below, left, and right, forming a dense network structure.
“Thank you for your generosity; I have no other requests.”
Vig was satisfied. He suddenly recalled the historical descriptions of Crusader knights, claiming that this group’s combat power far exceeded that of peasant soldiers. Now it seems that chainmail played an important role.
After the reward, Ragnar asked Vig for suggestions on the next pillage. The latter replied:
“The more people the better. If we muster three thousand people this time, we can try to attack Northumbria, Mercia, and Wessex, these three ‘big countries.’ The yield will be far higher than pillaging those small fry forces.”
“Well said,” Ragnar nodded in agreement. “In recent years, Viking raids have become increasingly frequent. Those small countries can’t squeeze out much oil and water. It’s time to launch another large-scale raid.”
Five days later, Ragnar summoned the shield-bearers, asking them to invite nobles from various places to Gothenburg for a banquet. Vig was assigned to Örebro in the northeast. Because the journey was long, he was allowed to go by horse.
During his six-month stay with the Rus’ Tribe, he took the opportunity to master the most basic horsemanship.
As for the more difficult mounted slashing, lance charging, and mounted archery, Vig had no intention of learning them yet, because the horses in Northern Europe were of poor quality and were not suitable as warhorses. For a long time, Vikings generally fought on foot, and there were almost no cavalry. Looking at Ragnar’s shield-bearers, only Gunnar’s horsemanship was excellent, but unfortunately, there was no room to play.
Huff, huff. The cold wind was fierce, and the white breath from the horse condensed into tiny ice crystals on his eyelashes. His breathing became more and more rapid.
When he left Gothenburg five days ago, this mount looked sleek and glossy. After this journey, Vig clearly felt its body gradually weakening. He could only slightly slow down and arrived at a fork in the road on the morning of the sixth day.
Looking up, he saw many cooking smokes rising in the northeast, and concluded that the destination—Örebro—was ahead. So he said goodbye to Niels, who was traveling with him. The latter was sent to Norrköping to deliver a message and still needed to ride for two days towards the southeast.
“Take care, brother.”
“You too.”
After parting ways, Vig arrived at the lord’s longhouse before nightfall.
Pushing open the door, a hot air mixed with the aroma of wine and roast meat rushed toward him. Long tables on both sides were crowded with people. Judging from the various meats and dishes on the tables, a banquet was underway.
“I am a shield-bearer of Ragnar Lothbrok, and I am here to invite Lord Leonard to Gothenburg for a banquet to discuss pillaging Britain next spring.”
After he explained his intentions, nearly two-thirds of the people readily responded. The remaining people looked strange, turning to look at Lord Leonard on the main seat.
“Ragnar invited me to pillage?”
Leonard invited the envoy to sit down, showing a very embarrassed expression. “Unfortunately, last month, the neighboring territory robbed my subjects of their game. I’m preparing to gather troops to attack them. If this battle results in too much population loss, I won’t be able to go out pillaging for the next few years.”
Learning that the stolen game was only a reindeer, Vig was surprised at this man’s overreaction. “Your Excellency, my lord plans to launch an unprecedented pillage. If the operation is successful, you will gain unimaginable wealth and glory. Why don’t you temporarily put aside the conflict?”
“No, I did divination to Odin three days ago. Lightning struck the sky; it must be Him ordering me to attack Konsel.”
As soon as Leonard finished speaking, a dull rumble of thunder came from outside, instantly giving him enough confidence. “Look, Odin is urging me to act quickly. I can’t delay any longer.”
The banquet ended, and Vig was arranged to stay in a guest room. He tossed and turned, thinking of a brilliant idea.
Since Leonard regarded the thunderstorm as a divine command, he could emulate Franklin’s kite experiment and let these Northern European barbarians see what science is.
The next day, under the puzzled gaze of the locals, he gathered materials and used silk thread, rags, and wooden sticks to weave a kite, and then used earthenware pots and metal foil to make a Leyden jar—an 18th-century invention, a capacitor that can store static electricity.
After lunch, noticing the dark clouds gathering in the sky, Vig found a wooden stick, stuck it into the ground, tied the silk thread at the end of the kite, and then watched as his homemade simple kite soared into the sky.
“What are you doing?”
Seeing consecutive azure lightning bolts across the cloud layer, Leonard was terrified. The cold wind carried sand and gravel, stinging his face, so he turned and ran back under the eaves.
After a few minutes, sensing that the atmosphere was brewing, Vig took out his homemade Leyden jar, letting the iron rod at the top of the jar touch the iron plate tied to the kite string. Instantly, a subtle blue electric arc flashed between the two, causing the people present to exclaim in surprise.
Waiting for a moment, Vig retrieved the Leyden jar, touched the iron rod at the mouth of the jar with his finger, felt a tingling sensation, and then laughed loudly, “The thunder from the heavens is in my hands. Who dares to try?”
Vig walked around with the earthenware pot, but the crowd avoided him as if avoiding a plague, until a fearless youth mustered the courage to try, then excitedly shouted, “I touched the lightning!”
Led by this man, some of the bolder ones began to emulate him. When Leonard reached out to touch it, the charge stored in the Leyden jar was almost gone, and he only felt a slight tingling sensation.
His eyes fixed on Vig, unintentionally revealing a strong fear. “Chosen One, you are the warrior chosen by Odin.”