Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 100 Disposal
After the envoy stammered out his conditions, Vig accepted them all and ordered his soldiers to light a bonfire near the dock.

“Go back and tell Sivir that if they haven’t surrendered by the time the campfire goes out, the name Gwyneth will never be known again.”

More than ten minutes later, King Sivir walked alone to the dock. When he saw Rodri beside Vig, he was shocked. "You shameless scoundrel, you actually betrayed us and joined the Vikings?"

Rhodesi rolled his eyes at the insults from his old acquaintance, turned around to face the sea, and didn't want to say a word to him.

Having settled things with these two families, Vig felt he had created the right atmosphere, so he returned to Maratfar with the two kings and sent messengers to invite nobles from all over the country to gather.

During his stay, Wigg had nothing to do, so he observed the production conditions of the local residents. Welsh agricultural technology was backward, and the "equal inheritance system" was practiced. The further back in time, the less land the farmers owned on average. No wonder they often raided Mercia to the east.

"The root of plundering lies in poverty. Hmm, this problem should be alleviated. Otherwise, they will surrender and rebel again in a few years, and then I will be held responsible."

Vig wanted to find a way to divert the Welsh people's attention and prevent war from breaking out for at least five years. After much thought, he decided to teach the group how to clear swamps and develop wasteland.

Amid the puzzled looks of the local farmers, thousands of Vikings headed to the southwest swamp, where they dug a network of ditches with hoes to divert the accumulated water to the Severn River to the east.

In addition, some areas are low-lying and cannot drain naturally. Referring to ancient texts and combining the Persian vertical-axis windmill with Archimedes' screw pump and waterwheel technology from the Roman era, Vig built a drainage windmill about ten meters high.

"Everyone, please leave. Don't delay me from doing my business."

He ordered his men to disperse the bored farmers in the surrounding area and Vig tried turning the windmill. Around noon, a mountain wind howled by, and the four large sails creaked and groaned.

At the foot of the windmill, murky water surged from a network of man-made ditches. The crisscrossing ditches divided the swamp into damp squares. Many Viking warriors, barefoot, used shovels to shovel the silt from the bottom of the ditches to the sides. The mud splattered on their legs and formed a dark brown crust. Occasionally, a frog would leap out of the grass and plunge into the yellowish-brown water with a splash.

Inside the windmill, huge wooden gears mesh with the shaft, transmitting the power of the wind to the spiral pump at the bottom. The iron pump is inserted diagonally into the water, and as the spiral pump rotates, the water in the channel is pushed up the iron pipe section by section, gushing out from the wooden trough above.

Through practice, it was found that the power of a single drainage windmill was limited, only able to raise the water level by one meter. Therefore, Vig adopted a multi-stage drainage system, building three windmills to gradually lift the water to higher channels, eventually allowing it to flow into the Severn River along the natural drop.

As time passed, the water level of the swamp gradually dropped, and the surface that was once covered with reeds slowly revealed cracked black mud. Wild ducks flapped their wings and flew away.

Subsequently, the Viking warriors dumped clay on the exposed land and planted willows along the edge of the swamp to stabilize the soil and prevent it from becoming swampy again.

At this point, the task of clearing the swamp was largely complete. Vig suggested that Rodri sow pasture seeds on it, use wood ash and livestock manure to improve the soil during grazing, and then cultivate it into farmland after a few years.

Faced with this vast expanse of newly reclaimed land, Rodri was pleased but also somewhat puzzled. "Why?"

Vig yawned. "The master is kind-hearted and can't bear to see the poor suffer."

So far, only 500 acres have been cleared, equivalent to a medium-sized estate. Across Povis, countless silted-up swamps await clearing; Rodri will have a busy future ahead.

The cleanup took more than a month. During this time, Welsh nobles arrived in Maratfar one after another, witnessed the windmill drainage technology, and spontaneously developed the idea of ​​imitating it.

Judging from their expressions, Vig breathed a sigh of relief. At least for a long time to come, the Welsh would be focused on improving the land and would have no time to go out and plunder.

Later, even if Wales cleared the swamps and its strength increased significantly, and some nobles decided to wage war abroad, only Mercia in the east and Wessex in the southeast would suffer; they certainly wouldn't go to the north to cause trouble for Tyneburg. "In the early sixth century, the Britons were defeated by invading Anglo-Saxon tribes, and some Britons fled into the western mountains, calling themselves Welsh. Wales and the Anglo-Saxons are old enemies, so let them continue their squabbles; it has nothing to do with me anyway."

On September 20, Ragnar appointed Oleg the White as an envoy to Maratfar to receive the allegiance of the Welsh nobles.

On the gentle slope outside the wooden castle, Rhodes hastily arranged the venue, which incorporated elements of nature worship and druidism. Under the witness of the envoy, the nobles swore never to rebel again.

After the ceremony, the scribes spent two hours registering the information of thirty-five nobles, both high and low. Since "White Hair" Oleg couldn't read Latin, he could only pretend to flip through it, completely unaware that he had the book upside down.

"let me see."

Vig took the roster and turned to the last page. This group paid a total of three hundred furs and three hundred barrels of salted fish each year, which, when converted into silver coins, was less than one percent of the cost of this war!

From an economic perspective, Ragnar undoubtedly suffered a huge loss. From a political perspective, he barely managed to mitigate the impact of Hafdan's defeat and nominally gained a group of vassals, so he broke even.

After Oleg finished relaying the pardon, a young nobleman wearing a green cloak raised a question:

Is it true that Ragnar is about to bestow the title of Duke of Wales upon his son?

Oleg: "I don't know. I'm only responsible for conveying the decree to pardon all Welshmen who are willing to submit. I'm not responsible for anything after that."

The man in the green cloak turned his gaze to Vig. "My lord, did you acquire this title?"

Today, the nobles have witnessed the abilities of the Serpent of the North, who is not only skilled in warfare but also adept at managing his territory. If they had to choose a leader, he would be the most suitable candidate.

"Don't make wild guesses, this has nothing to do with me."

Vigé flatly denied the rumor. The lands of Wales had already been divided among the nobles, and even if he became a duke, he wouldn't have a proper direct domain; he would be a figurehead, like the Zhou emperor or Emperor Xian of Han, completely at the mercy of Rhodes and others.

In his view, Ragnar would never tolerate a vassal having both Wales and the North (Scotland) at the same time, leaving him with only one option.

In comparison, the North has abundant coal and iron reserves and is more convenient for absorbing immigrants from Northern Europe, making it far better than Wales, which has rugged terrain and a remote location.

Upon hearing his answer, the man in the green cloak grew increasingly flustered. In his desperation, he even approached Theowuff and offered him a silver armlet as a bribe.
"My lord, I've been gathering information from merchants lately, and they say that Ragnar has five sons. The eldest and second sons already have fiefs, and it's quite possible that Wales will be granted to one of the remaining three sons. Do you think there's any possibility that Hafdan could become the Duke of Wales?"

Declining the gift, Theowough sighed, "I am merely a nobleman who surrendered less than two years ago. Do you think I am qualified to participate in the decision-making process on such a crucial issue?"

Noticing the other person's unusual reaction, he pressed on, "Is there a particular reason why you've been so concerned about whether Hafdan should become the Duke of Wales?"

　Thank you to reader Tadadeyaoyao for the donation.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)