Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 137 Rye Bread
Since Harriet gave birth to her second son, Vig's worries dissipated, and he went out to inspect the four counties in the North.

While order was still relatively stable in Edinburgh and Stirling, when he arrived in Glasgow, he found local residents gathering in front of the Temple of North. Hundreds of Gaels, armed with sticks and pitchforks, looked ready to rebel at the slightest provocation.

The shrike, who was serving as the Sheriff of Glasgow, felt he had lost face by causing such trouble during his inspection and requested that troops be sent to quell the rebellion.

“My lord, there is no need to worry. Glasgow has two hundred garrison troops and a mountain infantry company. There are also twenty-eight knight manors nearby. If necessary, each manor can provide at least eight militiamen.”

After hearing the report, Vig realized that his side had the upper hand and felt a little more at ease. "No rush, let's talk first. If we can't reach an agreement, then we'll go to war."

After sending the shrike to assemble the troops, Vig entered the temple hall and had the shield guards summon five elderly Gaels, asking a translator to relay their message:
"I am the Duke of Tyneburg. What has happened?"

In the old man Gale's illogical narrative, a dozen townspeople suffer from a strange illness, experiencing constant pain all over their bodies, accompanied by bizarre hallucinations and uttering blasphemous words about demons and forest spirits.

Given the townspeople's hostility toward the Vikings, they instinctively suspected that a Viking shaman was using black magic to try to murder them.

magic?

Vig ignored this unrealistic idea and inquired about the victims' details, discovering that all fifteen were from the poorest of the poor.

"Are there no victims with substantial wealth?"

The elderly man at the head of the group nodded. "No."

Therefore, this is not an infectious disease, but rather a case of food poisoning caused by consuming some kind of moldy food.

Vig summoned the family members and had the clerk record the food they had eaten during this period, including bread, fish, and some miscellaneous vegetables.

"Is that all?" Vig instructed his men to pay some silver pennies to buy all the food from the victim's home and transport it to the temple for inspection.

He looked slightly puzzled as he rummaged through the ingredients in the wooden basket.

"The only staple food available is rye bread, and the breads are all similar in size and shape. Hmm, are they from the same bakery?"

The elderly man in the lead explained, "Rye bread is the cheapest, and we usually dip it in fish or vegetable soup for dinner."

Amidst the old man's endless ramblings, Vig found the bakery's information and ordered the guards to bring the owner and the shop's raw materials.

The bread is made from a large basket of rye mixed with some strange croissants, cylindrical in shape, 1-2 cm long, with angular ends.

According to the portly shop owner, these ergots were already mixed in when he bought the rye from the farmers.

"Really?" Vig was unsure of the specific effects of this stuff. After a moment's thought, he ordered the shopkeeper to walk out of the temple gate and eat the black bread he was selling in public.

"Just a little bit, it's on me."

Looking around at the many fierce-looking armored soldiers, the shopkeeper, with a mournful face, tore off a small piece of bread and swallowed it with water. About ten minutes later, he suddenly started gesticulating wildly, falling into a bizarre and frenzied state.

Upon seeing this, the onlookers in Gael were in an uproar, thinking that the shopkeeper had been possessed by a demon. Two shield guards pinned the shopkeeper to the ground and used a wooden ladle to pour in large amounts of water to induce vomiting until the shopkeeper regained consciousness.

"No, it's not my fault. It's those damned farmers who are behind this. It has nothing to do with me."

At this point, the Gaelic hostility gradually subsided. Fearing punishment from their lord, the most cunning members on the periphery began to flee, and under their leadership, the group rapidly shrank, eventually leaving only a few dozen relatives of the victims and five elderly people. "Well, the matter has been investigated. It was this strange ergot that caused the deaths; there was no magic involved."

(Note: This substance is ergot, which typically parasitizes rye and is toxic.)
Vig had no interest in making things difficult for the residents. Instead, he turned to the shopkeeper and said, "Lead the way and find the farmers who sell poisonous rye. You might get a pardon."

By this time, the shrike had already assembled its troops. Vig left the garrison behind and led his guards, mountain infantry company, and knights out of Glasgow, following the shopkeeper to a village ten miles away.

Riding his grey horse, Vig gazed at the increasingly rugged terrain to the north. "Why not buy rye in the suburbs?"

The portly shop owner looked dejected. "Local villagers came to us, saying they had a bumper rye harvest and the price was low."

Will they come to your door on their own initiative?

Vig's eyes sharpened, and he instinctively jumped off his saddle, his gaze sweeping over the farmland on both sides of the road and the woodland behind it, trying to find the hidden ambush.

"The situation has changed. Deploy into battle formation!"

Upon receiving the order, the four hundred men changed from a marching column to a line. Vig issued instructions: "Knights and mounted mercenaries go first to block the perimeter of the target village. Do not charge in; wait for reinforcements!"

Forty warhorses galloped away, and Vig ordered the fast-moving mountain infantry company to begin a forced march to catch up with the cavalry as quickly as possible.

The first two groups of troops set off, and he led the remaining two hundred men behind them, including fifty guards and one hundred and fifty militiamen from the knight's manor.

After walking along the road for nearly three hours, Vig arrived at the target village, where fifty corpses were scattered in the nearby fields, including a small number of Indigo Raiders.

"Have the two rebel groups joined forces?"

He turned his attention to the village, where mountain infantry blocked two small roads leading out of the village, while the main road at the village entrance was open and guarded by cavalry.

Listening to the soldiers' heavy breathing, Vig looked up at the sky. The autumn sun was setting, and there were less than three hours until dark.

Time was of the essence, and he was unwilling to wait until nightfall. After a hasty half-hour rest, he ordered the cavalry and militia to guard the crossroads, while the guards and mountain infantry launched a strong attack.

Under the cover of archers, the guards, armed with round shields, approached the village entrance, successfully breached the enemy's shield wall, and began to clear out the scattered rebels house by house.

For some reason, the enemy's fighting spirit was extremely tenacious. After a few minutes, the mountain infantry, their eyes bloodshot with rage, chose to set fire to the compound, using the flames to force the enemy to flee, and then using javelins and arrows to kill them one by one.

Nearly 90% of their comrades were killed in battle, and the remaining twenty Gaelic rebels surrendered. Their commander, Lord Hughie of Glasgow, was killed by cavalry before the siege began.

"Huey is dead?"

Vig was overjoyed. He had the prisoners identify the body to confirm the death of this thorn in his side. He then looked at the cavalrymen and asked, "Who did it?"

A young mounted servant stepped forward, introduced himself as Utgard, and publicly claimed the credit.

"very good."

Glasgow has experienced its most unstable situation in the past year, with frequent disturbances, primarily due to the survival of Lord Hughie. With his death, the remaining rebels have been forced to retreat to the northern mountains, ushering in a period of peace and stability for Glasgow.

(End of this chapter)