Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 247 Spears and Lances

The next morning, accompanied by the urgent and piercing sound of bells, four hundred hired laborers left the barracks. Some were responsible for digging ditches, some were assigned to logging camps, and others were responsible for tending to wheat and sugarcane fields.

In fact, the sugar company also acquired grapevines and citrus seedlings, but did not cultivate them on a large scale.

Medieval grapevine transplantation used the "cutting method," which took at least four years from transplanting to stable yield; the maturation period for citrus seedlings is similarly long. Due to limited resources, the company can only prioritize sugarcane planting, and will consider other areas when funds become more abundant.

Under the scorching sun, the laborers, dressed in coarse linen shirts, worked diligently, occasionally taking a break when the foreman wasn't looking, and chatting among themselves about how they had ended up in this situation.

The laborers were roughly divided into two categories: poor people who came voluntarily and exiled prisoners.

Poor people usually sign a three-year labor contract. After the contract expires, they can either return to their home country or stay on Sunshine Island and receive a 20-acre plot of farmland for free.

The exile periods varied; some returned to Britain after two years, while others had to endure ten. The newest group, suspected of rebellion, were sentenced to life imprisonment, destined to spend the rest of their lives in the Canary Islands.

"Hey, why did your idiot count rebel? Was he tricked by Gunnar?"

The new exiles reacted in various ways to the old hired hands’ teasing. Just as they were making a ruckus, a large group of natives wielding short spears suddenly rushed out of the jungle in the distance.

"Damn it, why are they here again?"

The experienced laborers dropped their shovels and pickaxes and fled to the camp as fast as they could. Some of the slower-reacting new laborers lagged behind and were impaled by short spears thrown by the natives, lying on the ground, their fate unknown.

Five minutes later, most of the workers fled over the wall, and after catching their breath, they were urged by their supervisor to go to the warehouse to collect their weapons.

Seeing the bewildered crowd, the supervisor reminded them to collect their crossbows and spears, "Hurry up, if the enemy breaks through the walls, none of us will survive."

The laborers who received light crossbows went to the back of the wall, with one crossbowman assigned to each firing port. The laborers who received spears were divided into two groups: one hundred men guarded the back of the gate, while the remaining one hundred men served as a reserve force to prevent any sporadic attacks by natives scaling the wall.

Soon, hundreds of natives swarmed in. Those at the edge of the crowd used wooden shields to defend against crossbow bolts, while those at the front brandished shovels and pickaxes they had found and frantically smashed the wooden door.

The foreman peered out from the firing port and was horrified when he saw the natives' iron tools. He shouted curses at the workers for their stupidity, "Who told you to leave your tools outside?"

The island's indigenous tribes do not smelt metals; their weapons are mainly wooden spears, stone axes, and slings. Through exchanges over the past year, they have realized the outsiders' superior equipment and have begun to deliberately collect various iron tools.

In less than ten minutes, a large hole was chiseled in the reinforced wooden door. The supervisor picked up a short crossbow and fired it outwards, hitting someone in the throat. This only fueled the ferocity of the nearby natives, who continued their attack despite the casualties and finally broke into the walled area.

"Spearmen, hold your ground! Crossbowmen, fire from behind! No one is to retreat!"

The supervisor casually beheaded two deserters and ordered his troops to block the gate. After holding out for a short while, the crossbowman in the watchtower suddenly screamed, "Cavalry! The Earl's cavalry has arrived!" On the east side, twenty cavalrymen crossed the hillside, one of them carrying the Earl's newly designed flag—a blue flag with three robust sugarcane stalks depicted in the center.

They rode tall, strong Andalusian warhorses, wore chainmail and iron helmets, held a three-meter-long lance in their right hand, and wore leather boots with stirrups on their feet.

Before the enemy could react, the count launched the first charge. His warhorses neighed and galloped, their hooves pounding the ground like muffled thunder. The cavalry formed a loose horizontal line and charged straight at the enemy, which numbered more than four hundred.

Along the way, some natives used slings to throw stones, most of which missed their target, and a few stones hit the cavalrymen's chainmail armor without causing any damage.

With only thirty paces left to the enemy, Helgi gripped his horse's flanks tightly, maximizing his speed. He then leveled his lance and charged straight into the loose formation of the natives.

“Vahalla!”

Under his command, the cavalry swept through the enemy ranks as if they were nothing. Spears easily pierced the flesh of their enemies, warhorses knocked away natives who blocked their path, and iron hooves trampled the fallen bodies. Some tried to grab onto their horses' legs, only to have their skulls cleaved open by swords; others turned to retreat, only to be stabbed in the back by charging cavalry. Panic spread like a plague, and the formation collapsed in an instant.

In moments, dozens of corpses lay scattered across the clearing, and the surviving natives fled into the jungle. Hergil stood amidst the blood, his expression relaxed, as if it were merely a hunt. Turning back, he saw that only two of his cavalrymen were lightly wounded.

Leading the troops into the camp, Helgi took the sweet bread and a bowl of sugar water from the officer's hands. "What happened with this attack? Who provoked them?"

"No, we were working as usual when suddenly a large group of natives rushed out of the jungle. The fifteen slowest workers were killed, and while we were holding the camp, twenty more were wounded by spears and stones. The wheat and sugarcane in the fields were destroyed, and the waterwheel on the riverbank was smashed. Boss, we can't tolerate this any longer."

With manpower scarce on the island, Helgi was unwilling to go to war with the natives and repeatedly instructed his subordinates to be tolerant, even gifting them wine and linen to build rapport. However, after repeated attacks, he could no longer afford to hesitate.

“Organize all the hired laborers for training, and pass down the order that once this tribe is conquered, the women and food will all belong to them.”

Upon hearing the count's order, the supervisor was elated. He had long been fed up with these petty thieves and natives, and this was the perfect opportunity to deal with them once and for all, so they wouldn't interfere with the plantation's order again.

Suddenly, Helgi casually mentioned Hosa's name, "Where is he? Send him back to Britain as soon as possible, don't let him cause trouble here."

The supervisor ordered several of his men to search everywhere, but they couldn't find any trace of Hosa. One of the hired workers reminded him that Hosa had gone fishing upstream that morning and was probably killed.

"Shut up and go find it!" The supervisor's mood plummeted. Hosa was cowardly and greedy, and had never gained the approval of Helgi and the knights. However, he had a unique advantage—he had a queen sister. If anything went wrong, he could not bear the queen's wrath.

"Waaah~ Let me go, I'll give you any amount of money."

Meanwhile, Hosa had already been taken prisoner, and a native was carrying him on a brisk walk through the jungle. Unbeknownst to them, the surrounding vegetation gradually thinned out. Hosa knew he was in trouble, but dared not resist. The man, wielding a wooden spear, had easily killed two sword-wielding guards and could easily deal with him.

(End of this chapter)