After the peace treaty was concluded, Ulf did not immediately return to Londinium to report. Instead, he hurried back to Kongser, the ancestral home of his ancestors.
Astride a packhorse, Ulf led ten shield-bearers east. The landscape along the way was bleak. The oat fields on either side were sparsely covered with ears of wheat, crushed and bent by weeds. The wall of a nearby farmhouse had half collapsed, and thistles half the height of a man had grown through the cracks, revealing the bones buried within.
"This is only two days' ride from Oslo, and yet it is so empty?"
At midday, the party stopped to rest at a nearby farmhouse and asked for a bowl of water. A dried wolfskin hung under the eaves of the farmhouse. According to the owner, three months ago there were still isolated attacks on people and livestock, but with the exodus of people even the wolves were starving and had left.
Ulf scratched his head and said nothing more. He had been walking along the country road for five days, returning to his home town after seven years.
Kongser's landscape was just as depressing, the crooked boundary posts on the side of the road were overgrown with moss. In the distance a shepherd was driving a small flock of sheep and was riding past. When he saw that the rider was followed by ten armored warriors, he was so frightened that he abandoned the flock and ran away.
Ulf was embarrassed to find that his subjects had forgotten his appearance. He rode his packhorse over two low hills and into the settlement.
"My lord?"
The old butler ran out to meet him barefoot. The rest of the villagers also ran to Ulf. There were only a hundred and fifty people left, and almost no young faces.
"My lord, ever since Ragnar conquered Britain, the young people have been inspired by him and eager for new things. The population of the land is dwindling, and we do not have enough workers even to repair the wall."
Despite the complaints, Ulf remained calm and announced a five-year tax reduction. He was now reaping the benefits of trade, and considering that Kongser's annual tax was only a few hundred silver pennies, a complete tax reduction would not make much difference.
Entering his lord's house, Ulf went to the high bearskin chair.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the skin had been eaten away by insects and ants, leaving many holes. It was no longer as soft and comfortable to sit on as before, and the seat creaked under the weight.
"Luckily, I am thin. If it had been King Eric or the increasingly corpulent Leonard, this chair would have long since fallen apart."
To entertain the long-absent master, the steward slaughtered a skinny sheep, caught some river fish from a nearby stream, and prepared a feast.
This time, Ulf's appetite was much better. He drank ale greedily and nibbled on a lean rib of mutton, occasionally mentioning to the steward the few names he remembered, until the steward gradually lost consciousness...:::
After a week's rest, Ulf left Kongser to bid him farewell, accompanied by fifteen young men and women, planning to start a new life in Britain. Among them was the steward's second son.
After a short journey southwest, Ulf reached Örebro, the land of his old neighbor Leonard, also in ruins and deserted.
"At that time, the two families often quarreled over small plots of arable land on the border. Now even the farmland near the settlement has been abandoned for pasture, and these conflicts have naturally died down."
Four days later, Ulf and his retinue arrived in Gothenburg, planning to take ship back to Britain, where Halfdan ruled.
Ulf remembered Halfdan as a dissolute prince who spent his days doing nothing at court, uneducated and considerably inferior to his two brothers. Suddenly, when he met him again, he was completely transformed - a stocky man with a beard and luxuriant hair.
"Long time no see, Your Highness." "Long
no see, Earl."
Halfdan greeted Ulf with the usual politeness, tugging at his hand as he entered the lord's house. The room was thick with the stench of sweat, and dozens of warriors, clad in bearskins and wolfskins, were drinking and bragging.
Berserk?
A word came to Ulf's mind, meaning "one in bear skins," or perhaps a berserker.
In the fog, his vigilance was at its peak. "Where the hell did Halfdan get all these madmen from? What was he planning?"
In previous battles, Ulf had seen berserkers. These warriors, having taken hallucinogenic mushrooms before the battle,
fell into an indescribable frenzy, ignoring pain and fatigue, and crushed the enemy ranks with their axes, wielding them.
In addition to causing damage, they could even raise the morale of allies and weaken the will of the enemy.
Unfortunately, berserkers were unpredictable and difficult to control. In all of Britain, only Ragnar and Ivar had small bands of berserkers.
Soon the feast began. The berserkers munched on pork and mutton chops, juices dripping from their tangled beards. They
looked like a bunch of beggars who had never eaten a full meal, which made Ulf feel slightly queasy.
After a few drinks, the berserkers chatted casually, often making disparaging remarks about nobles like Vig and Gunnar, considering them traitors to Viking tradition.
"Vigur's name is famous throughout northern Europe, but he abandoned this strong and warlike warrior and married the daughter of an Anglo-Saxon squire. I have heard that this woman's ancestors had murky connections with the royal family of Northumbria."
In fact, Zenar went even further. For the sake of the title of Duke, he converted to Catholicism, married a Frankish princess, and killed Vikings without caring about friendship with his own race. This traitor is the most hated of all."
And then there are Leonard, Nils, Orm, and others::::
After listening for a while, Ulf realized the seriousness of the situation.
In all the wars, Ragnar, Ivar, Vigur, and Gunnar have benefited the most: one High King and three Dukes.
Among them, Ragnar is Halfdan's father, and Ivar is Halfdan's older brother. Halfdan cannot afford to insult the first two yet,
so he can only use Vigur and Gunnar as targets for insults.
"This is a serious problem. These people pretend to criticize Vig and Gunnar, but in reality they are venting their inner discontent by arguing that Ragnar should not abandon tradition and adopt Frankish feudalism.
Ulf sipped his ale, listening attentively to the berserkers' speeches, pondering Halfdan's motives and plans.
Throughout the feast, Ulf did not refute this nonsense. Even when his name was mentioned, he simply pretended not to hear, so that drunken madmen would not cause trouble.
The next day, Ulf and his retinue boarded a ship to escape, but were suddenly stopped at the dock by Halfdan. "Jar, are you a Viking warrior or a weakling corrupted by paganism?"
Looking at the glittering swords and axes of the berserkers, he quickly replied, "I am a Viking, my wife is a Viking, and my children are Vikings too." "Okay," Halfdan said, putting his arm around their shoulders. Ulf's shoulders. "As Vikings, we must follow the Viking traditions. It just so happens that we lack men for our raids. Are you interested?"