Ragnar shook his head wearily, rejecting the queen's suggestion.
"I've lived for decades… and the number of brothers still alive grows fewer every year. Let him go. He's joined the Roman Church now—his soul will never enter Valhalla. Sigh… this may well be the last time we ever meet."
He waved away the attendants supporting him, braced a hand against the wall, and walked alone toward his chamber—back bent, steps slow and faltering—like any ordinary aging Viking.
The next morning, Vig went out for a stroll surrounded by his shieldguards.
Because nobles from every region had poured into Londinium with their retinues, the city had swollen past ten thousand people; it was crowded and noisy beyond measure.
The lazy autumn sun climbed upward as Vig stepped along the wet cobblestones toward the southern market. His dark red velvet cloak made him stand out sharply among the plainly dressed crowd—like a piece of brilliant crimson maple leaf in a field of weeds.
"Fine Yorkshire apples!"
"Mead! True northern mead!"
"Come see—honey-roasted chestnuts! Sweet and delicious!"
After wandering a while, Vig noticed an unusually large group of foreign merchants gathered in the southeast quarter of the marketplace. He beckoned the market overseer over and learned that this was Prime Minister Pascal's doing.
To increase tax revenue and boost Londinium's prosperity, Pascal had advised the king to allow foreign merchants into the city.
But different peoples had different rights:
Nordic (Viking) traders: may reside long-term; lowest tax bracket.
Rus merchants: allowed a three-month stay; second tax bracket.
Flemish merchants: allowed one month; same tax rate as Rus, but a month was enough given the short travel.
Berber merchants: newly arrived; highest taxes and the strictest oversight.
Two years earlier, when the royal shipyard built its first knarr, Ragnar rewarded the Berber shipwrights captured by Björn. Two of them declined the generous offer and returned to North Africa.
Through their word, Berber merchant ships began arriving this year—bringing spices, cane sugar, and silk from the East.
Walking down the street, Vig found the Berbers' spices to be of exceptional quality. He stopped instinctively before one of their shops.
Sensing a wealthy customer, the turbaned Berber owner ushered him inside and had an interpreter translate:
"My lord, these come from Alexandria in Egypt—finest quality, perfect for a man of your standing."
He lifted a thick cloth, revealing several rows of wooden boxes, displaying each sample in turn.
In the first were dark brown black peppercorns—called "black gold," the most coveted spice among nobles.
Next came cinnamon—rolled reddish-brown bark, sweet and aromatic, excellent for warming the body.
At last night's banquet, Ulf had enthusiastically recommended a new warming drink—mulled wine with cinnamon.
A simple yet extravagant recipe: simmer wine with cinnamon, cloves, rosemary, and one's choice of apple or lemon peel.
According to Ulf, it was the perfect winter night drink—heating the whole body from within.
The third box held cloves—dried flower buds shaped like tiny nails, rich in aroma, with a faintly bitter note.
After that came nutmeg, ginger, and finally the most precious—saffron.
Seeing the assortment was genuine top-grade stock, Vig instructed a shieldguard—carrying a bag of silver—to pay:
"These, these, and these—one pound each… and the saffron as well."
As Duke of Tyne Town, Vig Horstd banquets often; failing to present at least one or two spice-laden "signature dishes" would be considered poor hospitality.
Under a public notary's supervision, the large transaction was completed smoothly.
Vig then bought a great quantity of cane sugar—and a small pouch of black truffles from northern Italy.
After paying the Flemish merchant for the truffles, the silver he'd brought was entirely spent.
Such lavish purchases naturally attracted greedy eyes—but none dared strike with his shieldguards nearby.
Seeing the empty money pouch on his guard's shoulder, Vig yawned:
"Earning money is hard. Spending it… disappears in a blink. Life truly isn't easy."
Heading back, he passed the largest Berber spice shop—only to find the Berber owner and a Rus merchant rolling on the ground in a fistfight.
"Competing for customers?"
He summoned the market overseer and learned the cause of the conflict.
First, Nordic merchants sold furs, butter, and salted fish to Britain and took grain, liquor, and tools back north.
Flemish merchants sold textiles, plus glassware, books, truffles—purchasing furs, wool, and grain in return.
Since their goods differed, these two groups rarely quarreled.
The conflict centered on the Rus and the Berbers.
The Rus controlled the trade route to Constantinople; they brought Eastern luxuries and Eastern European furs, amber, and beeswax.
The Berbers—indeed, Arabs—traveled far longer routes: East Asia → Indian Ocean → Red Sea → Egypt → Mediterranean → Londinium, bringing similarly exotic luxuries.
Selling the same categories of goods meant direct competition—and inevitable hostility.
As both sides' countrymen rushed in to join the brawl, Vig sensed looming trouble and quietly withdrew toward his residence near the palace.
Over the next few days, the great lords drifted from banquet to banquet—building alliances, discussing cooperation, trading rumors. Minor knights roamed taverns in rowdy groups, driving Londinium's public order sharply downward.
To drain his vassals' excessive energy, Ragnar allocated funds for a grand tournament—to select skilled warriors and display royal authority.
The field was set outside the eastern gate. Exhausted Guardsmen cleared the ground, drove oak stakes into the wet soil, and strung ropes to form barriers.
On the north and south ends, carpenters erected wooden, horseshoe-shaped stands. The southern stand—reserved for the royal family—was draped in black banners embroidered with blue lightning.
By noon on the fifth day, the preparations were nearly complete. As the bells rang, a baker's daughter arrived with rye bread in a wicker basket—drawing a chorus of whistles from the soldiers.
After lunch, wagons brought bundles of crimson-dyed woolen felt. The soldiers spread the luxurious carpets across the stands. As planned, the entire arena had to be finished before sunset.
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