Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 208 Dover
Having ascertained Princess Enya's condition, Gunnar looked up at the gloomy sky, took several deep breaths, and murmured to himself:
"It's decided, it's her."

Gunnar's eldest son, Robert, is six years old, about the same age as Princess Enya. He decides to send troops to conquer Landineum and then arrange for his eldest son to marry Enya, thereby enhancing the legitimacy of his rule over the Kingdom of Britain.

"It just so happens that 'Bald' Charles is on a pilgrimage to Rome and cannot stop me from assembling my army. This is an opportunity that could not be better than ever."

Having made up his mind, Gunnar began to organize his troops and prepare for war.

With the terrifying wealth he had amassed through the warhorse trade, he recruited a total of eight thousand men, including two thousand cavalry. Five hundred cavalrymen belonged to his direct domain, while the remaining fifteen hundred came from various parts of the Frankish kingdom. These men were drawn by Gunnar's high rewards and came specifically to earn some extra money.

Each mercenary cavalryman receives a base salary of three pounds and a five-fold share of spoils. In the event of a lost warhorse, Gunnar is responsible for compensating for a new mount.

Of the six thousand infantrymen, nearly half came from the territories of surrounding nobles and were hired by Gunnar. The combined cost of hiring infantry and cavalry was as high as six thousand five hundred pounds, and when the costs of provisions, weapons, and hired ships were included, the total expenditure soared to nine thousand pounds.

In March 858, Gunnar's army arrived in Calais. Upon learning the news, the local lord readily surrendered the port, allowing these madmen to cross the sea to Britain.

At dawn, two hundred ships of all sizes filled the sea, sailing one after another toward Dover on the other side of the strait. As far as the eye could see, masts stood like a forest, and billowing sails blotted out the sky.

Gunnar stood at the bow of the flagship, about to deliver his speech, when a wave suddenly crashed against the gunwale, spraying salty mist over their faces. The soldiers scrambled to the side, muttering curses under their breath. Gunnar wiped his face, tasting the salty seawater on his lips.

"The familiar feeling is back."

He grew increasingly excited, his blood surging, and his eyes fixed on the sea ahead.

A strong, steady wind blew steadily from the southwest, billowing the massive, square sails. The sails, taut as drumheads, pulled the heavy Coq, slicing a wide white trail across the sea. Sailors nimbly climbed and shouted, sometimes hurling curses, between the masts and ropes.

In the afternoon, the clouds dispersed, and the sunlight became even more intense, bathing the entire fleet in an almost sacred golden glow. At this moment, the thin mist that had shrouded the sea completely dissipated, as if a giant curtain had been drawn back by an invisible hand.

As the sun set, the White Cliffs of Dover shimmered with a pale yellow glow, and at the top of the cliffs stretched rolling green fields, with tiny figures faintly visible, presumably scout riders.

"The enemy has spotted us!"

A commotion arose in the fleet. Soldiers gripped their weapons tightly, some unconsciously licking their chapped lips, while others vigorously rubbed the crosses on their chests, praying for divine protection.

At 3 p.m., Gunnar's 6,000 infantrymen landed on the beach and, following the directions of the local fishermen, marched westward along the coast to the outskirts of Dover.

Under the cover of the shield-bearing guards, Gunnar approached the Dover wall and called out Wolf's name. Soon, a response came from behind the battlements:
"Gunnar, what do you want?"

"I heard that Asura is looking for a marriage alliance, and coincidentally, my eldest son Robert and Enya are about the same age, they are a match made in heaven. Old friend, please open the port so that my follow-up troops can land, and I will reward you handsomely afterwards."

Listening to Gunnar's words, Ulf gazed at the six thousand soldiers outside the city. Two thousand were heavy infantry, their armor gleaming in the sunlight, a sight to behold.

"Two thousand heavy infantrymen, that's more than the Imperial Guard's numbers. Are they going to risk their lives?" He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, his courage waning. Weighing the pros and cons, Ulf decided to accept the terms. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly remembered something.

“A few days ago, a businessman told me that thousands of French troops were gathering in Calais, and some of them claimed to be purifying Britain from evil and called themselves the Holy Crusaders. What do you think?”

Gunnar remained unfazed and vowed to treat all Vikings kindly, whether nobles or freemen.

After waiting a few minutes, Ulf had a group of sailors shout in Frankish, "You must swear in the name of the gods that you will never harm Vikings in the name of your faith."

Upon hearing this, the army outside the city erupted in uproar, with the accompanying chaplains reacting particularly fiercely, inciting the soldiers' emotions. Gunnar dared not disobey these fanatical Franks and could only respond to the guards' questions with silence.

Ulf's spirits plummeted. "What does this mean? You can't control these Frankish soldiers?"

As he grew older, Ulf's ambitions had long since faded; as long as he could enjoy his wealth and status, he didn't care who became king. However, observing the mood of the soldiers outside the city, they clearly harbored deep hatred for the devoutly pagan Vikings. If Gunnar became King of Britain, would he go against the soldiers' sentiments and protect his own kind of polytheistic Viking nobles?
Clearly, the answer is no. Gunnar only had power in his eyes and could not possibly shake the foundations of his rule.

Ulf steadied himself against the wall to avoid falling, his tone slightly altered, "In that case, I cannot accept you becoming the King of Britain."

During the peaceful years of the past few years, three nobles have amassed great wealth through trade.

Vig reinvested the profits into the production of cloth armor, storing it in a secret warehouse.

Gunnar deposited the silver into the castle cellar, accumulating a huge sum of money for the war.

Ulf used part of the profits for luxurious living, another part was stored in the cellar, and the remainder was used to build the family castle.

Negotiations broke down, and Gunnar looked around the port town, unable to help but sigh.

Candle Fortress stands on a small hill about 100 meters west of the port. Its outer wall is about ten meters high, with towering arrow towers at intervals. Behind the outer wall is an inner wall, and at the very back is the towering main building. Judging from its size, it could easily accommodate five hundred soldiers.

"This is going to be difficult."

Considering the strength of both sides, Gunnar could breach the wooden fortress walls of Dover, but Ulf could retreat into Candlekeep and hold out for a year or two with the stored food supplies. Moreover, the castle was equipped with several catapults that could launch oil canisters to bombard ships in the harbor, effectively creating a blockade.

"Damn it, was it really necessary to build such a tortoise shell?"

Gunnar was on the verge of tears and could only lead his army around Dover, heading southwest. He needed to find a suitable harbor for the heavy cokes to dock and receive the following two thousand cavalry and a large amount of supplies, otherwise the battle would be impossible to win.

(End of this chapter)