Vikings: Nordic women

Chapter 71: Blitzkrieg on Poland
Margaret's thoughts were like a flying arrow, and the opponent's low threats shrouded her mind like fog.

She recalled how she had cleverly spun a lie that she had cattle plague, and how she was told to bring that fake and terrible plague to the town, targeting the local lord.

Margaret knew very well that the most effective strategy when facing an enemy was to make the other party unhappy in everything and make them feel the greatest malice.

However, Rosaline's life was like an invisible chain that bound her willfulness. In this double dilemma, Margaret felt unprecedentedly confused.

"Think quickly, think quickly!" She urged herself anxiously in her heart, but her thoughts seemed to be entangled in chains, and the more she struggled, the more confused she became.

At this moment, the leader of the roadblocks behind her stretched out his hand, stared at her with eyes as sharp as a hawk, and demanded impatiently: "Hand over the money!"

Margaret's fingers gently reached into her sleeves and touched the cold silver nuggets. She carefully took them out and placed them in the other's rough palm.

"Anything else?" There was a hint of threat in the voice of the leader of the highwaymen.

The sharp knife suddenly touched her waist again. Margaret felt a chill rising from her spine, and the hair on her body stood up, as if every hair was screaming silently.

"No more!" There was a hint of helplessness in Margaret's voice.

"Stand up and walk out of the tavern! And you! I will kill her if you don't obey!" The leader of the highwaymen threatened Rosalin viciously. They could only stand up slowly, with fear flashing in Rosalin's eyes.

"Go! Go quickly! I will kill you if you don't obey!" The leader's voice was like an icy blade, piercing into Margaret's heart.

Margaret rolled her eyes helplessly and walked stiffly towards the door of the tavern. Every step seemed heavy and difficult.

She looked down at the road and suddenly her eyes fell on a young warrior who was sitting on a stool with one foot casually stretched out, right in her path. A surge of hope suddenly surged in Margaret's heart, and she decided that this young man might be her savior.

Thinking of this, she stepped on it without hesitation. The warrior turned his head, looked at her, frowned, and then retracted his foot. Obviously, he didn't want to get involved in this dispute.

Margaret couldn't help but feel disappointed. She whispered in her mind, "Tsk, what a coward!"

"Help!"

Margaret sighed in her heart, and when she passed by the drunkard who was bragging about his bravery on the battlefield in front of his companions, she repeated her old trick and stepped lightly on the other's instep again.

"Stop!" The drunkard's voice rang out in the tavern. Margaret and the other two immediately stopped and turned to look at him. The drunkard stared at them and pointed at the clear footprints on his shoes. He was obviously irritated by the step.

He burped and staggered to his feet, while his companions looked at the scene suspiciously.

"Girl, you stepped on my foot!" said the drunk angrily.

Margaret responded quickly: "I'm sorry, but I don't have money to compensate you! But I have guards!" As she spoke, she took advantage of the moment when the leader of the highwaymen was stunned and hugged his arm, using him as a human wall to separate the drunkard.

The drunkard was stunned, and the leader of the highwaymen was unable to react for a moment. He lowered his head and looked at the sharp knife in his hand, then turned his head to look at the drunkard and Margaret, who was holding his hand in fear.

"Pay me your money. You can't leave without an ounce of silver!" The drunkard arrogantly raised his foot and stepped on the stool, pointing at the upper of his shoe. His companions stood up one after another, staring at the leader of the highway robbers with covetous eyes.

Margaret was not afraid and responded first: "I don't have money, but my guards have knives!"

Everyone's eyes fell on the hand of the highwayman leader. The drunkard and his companions looked disdainful, drew their daggers, and asked mockingly: "What now?"

"I..." The leader of the highwaymen swallowed nervously. Margaret noticed that the hair on his neck stood up, revealing his inner fear.

A sly smile appeared on her lips. "My guard said that you are all cowards. He can beat all of you, but he doesn't want to bother with you. As long as you kneel down and lick his shoes, he can forgive your rudeness!"

"Before you can beat me, you must defeat my guards!" As soon as she finished speaking, she let go of the hand of the bandit leader, who was almost looking at her with murderous eyes, and quickly moved aside with Rosaline. She neither fled nor approached, but just stood there, ready to watch a good show. The drunkard and his companions quickly surrounded the bandit leader. The atmosphere was tense, and it seemed that if he said something wrong, they would immediately take action.

The guests in the tavern stood up one after another and moved aside to make room for the two groups of people who they thought were causing trouble, with a bit of excitement in their eyes as if they were watching a good show.

The tavern owner picked up the account book, as if waiting for the two sides to fight so that he could calculate the losses.

"I don't know her!" Faced with the people surrounding him, the leader of the highwaymen finally gave in. He gave the drunkard a friendly smile, trying to defuse the crisis.

After saying this, he glared at Margaret in the crowd fiercely, his eyes full of hatred.

"Don't be afraid, beat them. You just said they were bragging. You can beat ten of them!" Margaret kept inciting and adding fuel to the fire.

The leader of the highwaymen's face turned extremely ugly, almost turning green.

"Teach him a lesson!" The drunkards finally couldn't bear it anymore, rushed forward, subdued the leader of the highwaymen, and beat him up.

A pair of interested eyes stared at Margaret, it was the warrior she met when she first stepped on the foot. There was a hint of curiosity and amusement in his eyes.

Margaret was about to take advantage of the chaos and drag Rosalin away, when suddenly, she bumped into a tall figure. The figure grabbed the top of her head and looked down at her with amusement: "Where do you want to go?"

"What are you going to do?" Margaret looked at the warrior with a high nose bridge, deep eye sockets, soft features, and obviously a mixed race of Western Slavs and Germans.

The other party said contemptuously: "It's shameful for you to just abandon your companion and watch him get beaten!"

"If you're not convinced, go help him!" Margaret slapped away the other person's hand that was pressing on her head, and pulled Rosaline away.

When she passed by the tavern owner's nephew, she deliberately pulled him. She really needed to hire a group of guards to protect herself. In this chaotic moment, she had already started thinking about how to ensure her own safety.

Margaret didn't know why, but she felt someone was following her. She turned her head and saw the young warrior following her curiously.

"Why are you following us?" she asked.

"I heard from the tavern owner that you are recruiting a group of warriors. What do you think of me?" asked the warrior.

"You?" Margaret looked him up and down like a customer picking pork in the market, then laughed, said nothing, and just shook her head.

The other party seemed a little unwilling and chased after him: "I don't want money, as long as you give me and my wife food every day!"

"What's your name?" Margaret asked curiously.

"Piast Kolodzier, the wheelwright!" answered the knight.

"Piast?" Margaret stared at him in confusion. "Isn't your wife's name Rizepa? Do you have a son named Shemovit?"

The young warrior looked at Margaret who was joking, with a puzzled look on his face, as if to say, how do you know?

"Your real name is Piast?" Margaret stopped and frowned at his shocked face.

She laughed, walked up to Piast, held his hand, and said, "Welcome to join us. Let's blitz Poland together. Oh, I said it wrong. It's blitz Western Slavia!"

(End of this chapter)