Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 259 The White Raven of Gnutz
Following the commander's banner, the French cavalry surged forward, their heavy hooves striking the ground with a muffled thunderous roar, as if the entire earth were trembling slightly.

During the charge, the commander saw the enemy throw down many leather bags filled with fuel, which were burning on the snow, and a moment of surprise flashed through his mind.

"What does this mean? It would be more effective to sprinkle some barbed wire."

The cavalry continued their pursuit, rushing across the open space where many oil bags had been abandoned, when suddenly they heard a teeth-grinding "crunch" sound coming from the ground.

Oh no, this is an ice lake.

"Stop!" Before the commander could finish his terrified shout, the world before him suddenly collapsed!
The ground seemed to have been cleaved open by an invisible giant axe, with cracks spreading in all directions like a wildly growing black spider web. The deafening roar of the collapsing ice drowned out all other sounds.

The next moment, the French commander fell into the lake, the icy water swallowing his body, leaving only the biting cold and endless darkness.

At this moment, the lake had become a living hell. Horses neighed mournfully on the swaying ice, broken ice chunks rolled and crashed, and the knights who had fallen into the water waved their arms in vain, begging for help from their companions.

"Go back and fight them! Don't let them get away!"

On the opposite shore of the frozen lake, Nils ordered his men to encircle the area along the lakeshore. He then stood silently in place, coldly observing the Franks' desperate situation. There was no ecstasy in his eyes, only an almost icy indifference.

Upon receiving the order, the archers lying in ambush in the pine forests on both sides of the lake drew their bows and unleashed arrows like deadly hailstones, furiously striking the survivors struggling on the edge of the ice and crushing the last glimmer of hope for the French army.

After an unknown amount of time, the frozen lake returned to silence. Broken ice shards floated and collided on the pale red surface of the water, and several warhorses, now without their masters, lingered at the edge of the ice, their manes covered in icy beads that fell in a soft rustling sound.

Nils walked over, took a leather pouch from the saddle of one of the warhorses, and unsurprisingly, it contained beer. He tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

The drink was cold and bitter, with a slight sourness, but it was the best beverage he had ever tasted in his life. It surpassed the mead of Northern Europe, the lagoon of Constantinople (a white wine with added pine resin, a traditional drink from Greece), the ale of Britain, and the red wine of the Franks.

Clutching the shriveled wine flask, Nils looked down at his reflection in the lake, then slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the broken armor and spears floating on the lake, finally settling on the leaden sky in the distance.

"I finally understand how Vig felt on the banks of the Seine back then."

After the battle, the Vikings collected the enemy's armor and warhorses, and gathered their scattered comrades, restoring their strength to three thousand men.

Meanwhile, Louis's troops were stationed in a village ten miles to the north.

The French army had only about 5,000 men left, but their most prized cavalry had suffered heavy losses, and the morale of the entire army had plummeted. According to the accounts of the routed soldiers, the Viking force had swelled from 4,000 to 8,000, and even exceeded 10,000!
"Impossible, where did these barbarians get so many soldiers?"

From a rational standpoint, Louis was more inclined to believe the initial version provided by the fleeing soldiers—four thousand—but he could not dispel the fear spreading through the army, causing thousands to camp around a narrow, cramped Danish village, wasting precious time in the retreat.

For the next three days, Louis divided his remaining cavalry into mounted scouts to expand the search area as much as possible. This conservative strategy reduced the risk of an ambush but also slowed his march.

With ten miles to go before Hamburg, Louis was overtaken by Hafdan's lightly armed troops.

Faced with the siege of Hafdan and Nils, the French army suffered a crushing defeat, and Louis's fate remained unknown. The Vikings captured the East Frankish royal standard and then, following the routed Frankish troops, swiftly captured Hamburg. Nils's reputation soared in this battle, and at the victory banquet held in Hamburg, a bard bestowed upon him a new nickname—"The White Raven of Gnuz," after the frozen lake of Gnuz, and the white raven a name derived from the white robes worn by his personal guard.

"Gnutz's White Raven".

You extinguished the enemy's hopes with a rain of arrows.
Let their souls fall into the dark and cold Jotunheim.

The gods praise your deeds.

This is a very rare scene. Nils, as the lord, sits in the main seat, enjoying the flattery of nobles and bards, with King Uber of Denmark and King Hafdan of Sweden on his left and right sides, respectively.

In the midst of the revelry, some people openly leaped onto the long table and danced joyfully amidst the laughter of the crowd. Others drew short axes from their waists and took turns throwing them at a certain wooden stake. The sharp blades grazed the ears of the captured maids, causing them to scream loudly.

Thump, thump!
Niels stood up and tapped his wine glass repeatedly on the table until he drew everyone's attention.

"Warriors, I have captured countless suits of armor and weapons in this war. My troops don't need too many, so the remaining weapons will be distributed among you on the condition that you continue to fight alongside me. East Frankish territory is now undefended; let's raid their southern territories along the Elbe River and make a fortune!"

The war severely damaged the order in central and southern Denmark. Niels abandoned the idea of ​​collecting taxes from Schleswig and planned to earn enough to cover the expenses for the next few years in one go.

Riding the wave of his great victory, he gained the support of two-thirds of the nobles, while the rest, unwilling to be tainted by a reputation for cowardice, tacitly approved of the attack.

In late February, Danish nobles flocked south to join the Viking army in Hamburg. Their reasons for joining the war were similar to those of Niels—their territories were so badly damaged that raiding was the only option left.

In early March, more than two hundred longboats were moored on the Elbe River west of Hamburg, with the number of people expanding to eight thousand. At this time, Nils was elected as the commander-in-chief and officially issued the order to attack.

The trusted aide suddenly reminded him, "My lord, have you forgotten a certain step?"

Whenever faced with a major decision, Nils would always bring out that gilded chair and have the shamans perform a ritual to boost the morale of the ordinary soldiers. He paused for a few seconds, gazing at the sails dotting the river, his tone indifferent.

No, it's not necessary.

In early spring, the Elbe River is turbulent and muddy, its banks slippery with lingering snow, and a few scattered Saxon villages dot its banks. Local farmhouses have thatched roofs and are surrounded by wooden fences. Spring planting has begun in some fields, with farmers using wooden plows to turn the soil and sow oats or rye.

Upon sensing the arrival of the Viking fleet, the villagers fled into the woods at top speed. Niels, not wanting to bother with such minor figures, directed the fleet to turn into a tributary and capture Badovic, a major trading town in the Saxon region.

The market was surrounded by only a simple wooden fence, and it fell in less than half an hour. The Vikings harvested large quantities of salt and furs there.

Afterwards, the fleet returned to the Elbe River and continued its journey upstream towards Magdeburg.

(End of this chapter)