At noon the following day the crew left the plains. On the east side of the road was a large bog with rich peat reserves, and on the west, an equally large hill.
According to Pascal, this road was a relic of the Roman period, connecting the northern border of Northumbria with the central and southern regions. Pedestrians were often robbed on weekdays, and kings of all dynasties sent guards to search the mountains and clear them, but unfortunately the effect was not good.
"Be vigilant, on the next stretch of road we may encounter thieves."
Vig, riding a light gray mare, signaled the crew to take the round shields from the cart and be ready for battle at any time.
Looking around, there was no one in front of the road. On the left side were dense forests that undulated into the mountains. On the right side, a layer of light fog covered the nearby swamp. Every now and then, there were some meaningless sounds, which was eerie.
That night, the team set up camp in an open area with a wide view. Vig arranged for three shifts of night guards for everyone to ensure that if the bandits launched a night attack, they would be blocked by 100 awake soldiers.
...
After the night, Vig, who was fast asleep with the Dragon Breath Sword in his hands, was awakened by the morning sun. After breakfast, he continued on his way until he got out of this dangerous area. He was not attacked at all.
"Strange, is Pascal bluffing?"
Hearing her master's confusion, Yolen thought, 'My lord, even if there are Anglo bandits there, they wouldn't dare attack a convoy of 300 people, especially since the flag in front of the team has the emblem of nobility on it.' "
That's right.'" A sudden realization dawned on Viga as he looked at the golden dragon flag fluttering in front of him on a black background.
The dragon flag rises and the bell rings. A seagull and a furious light.
With the land divided and the title, he is no longer the small Karami he used to be, and he can show some tough attitude accordingly.
On the evening of the third day, the team stopped at a village. The place belongs to Pascal. A small river called the Tisz meanders to the east. A wooden fort, passed down from generation to generation by Pascal, is located near the mouth.
Another day later, Vig found a road sign at a fork in the road ahead - Durham. From here to the northern border of Northumbria, all the way to the land of Lord Tyneburg.
Vig dismounted, picked up a handful of earth and examined it carefully. The soil was much better than the farmland in the Gothenburg countryside.
"Is this the land you promised us?" The group of Viking farmers smiled with satisfaction. For once, they were with the right man.
"Almost. Go a little further and I will settle you near Tyneburg."
...
On the morning of the fifth day, Vig arrived at the southern bank of the River Tyne and was lucky enough to meet two local fishermen. Under their guidance, the party walked around the old wooden bridge upstream. Having reached the northern shore and walked some distance, they finally saw the goal of this journey - Tynburg.
"This is my new home? What a wretched place."
The wooden castle sits on a low hill on the north bank of the River Tyne. It has four-metre-thick oak walls and is roughly 200 metres square. At present, the gates are open, the stench lingers, and a few skinny wild dogs run through the filthy streets like an abandoned slum.
From the fisherman's halting confession, Wig learned the reason for the abandonment of the place.
The former lord and heir had led an army south to protect the king the previous year and had never returned. Upon learning that the kingdom of Northumbria had fallen, the lord's wife had fled to Pictish territory with all her possessions and the remainder of her guard.
The lord's family had either perished or fled, and the villagers from the surrounding countryside had quickly emptied Tyneburg of food, bedding, and livestock, then pots and pans, and finally even tables, chairs, and brooms.
"Well, that's good, at least we've avoided a siege."
Surrounded by shield-bearers, Wig was the first to visit the most important oak wall. The packed earth road between the double-layered wooden walls was large enough for two men to walk side by side. There was a large pit on top of the watchtower in the southeast corner, and the accumulated filth gave off a foul odor.
He looked around and saw that a large number of stones had been piled up in the area of the river bank south of a low hill. He did not know for what purpose. Most of the farmland on the east, north and west sides was abandoned, with only a few people working. This year's harvest was completely hopeless.
"Raise the flag and remember to find a thick flagpole." "
Yes, sir."
Wig walked into the lord's hall on the southwest side of the wooden castle, pushed open the door, and dust mixed with musty smells hit him in the face. Two black ravens screamed in the rafters, then flapped their wings and flew away.
"Cook, find a room to put your luggage in and call the villagers. I have something to tell them. Be careful how you act, don't frighten the people." ...
In fact
, Vig had no intention of exploiting these farmers, but wanted to ask them to help deliver the letters: "Inform all the settlements in Tyneburg that the new lord will hold a banquet for all the nobles and village chieftains on April 15th, and be sure to come."
Hearing this prim English language, more than 60 male villagers hastily nodded, gathered together and whispered a little, and each chose the task of delivering the letter.
After they dispersed, Shieldbearer Yolen was puzzled: "Master, we need a lot of wine and meat to prepare for the banquet. Are you planning to slaughter the bulls? Or forcibly requisition the sheep raised by the villagers?"
"No need, just catch some trout and carp in the river to replenish the numbers."
"Use fish to entertain guests?" Yolen's doubts grew more and more serious: "A good banquet must have some decent meat dishes, otherwise others will tarnish your reputation."
"Reputation? How good a reputation do you think I have in their hearts as a Viking?" Vig was very disappointed with his subordinates' slowness: "There is no need to discuss this matter any further, I have my own plan."
After dinner, he came to a wasteland more than 500 meters to the east under the expectant eyes of many people and announced the allocation of farmland to Viking farmers.
According to the previous promise, each household was given 30 acres of farmland, a total of 63 households.
"According to local regulations, 15% of the produce of the farmland belongs to me, and there will be no tax for two years. In addition, you must serve two weeks of unpaid corvee labor each year. Is there any other problem?"
"No."
The crowd responded weakly, simply wanting to get the seeds planted quickly so as not to delay the growing season.
Britain is suited to growing winter wheat, sowing in the fall and harvesting in early summer next year. It is now April, and everyone should hurry to sow some barley, just in case.
Looking at their distracted appearance, Wig fell into a trance, as if he were a teacher in the 21st century, with a group of students below him, eager to get out of school.
Seeing this, he forewent further speech and asked the farmers to go to their territories to work. Later, the marauders came and asked when to leave.
"Don't worry, there is a banquet on April 15th, and there must be someone who deliberately does not come. Then I will have an excuse to attack."
The following week, Vig asked the marauders to go to the northwest forest to cut wood, build battering rams and long ladders, and fifty giant square shields in the shape of door panels. Only on the day of the banquet did he send men to cast nets and catch some river fish as a formality.