Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 120: Bordeaux

Ch 120: Bordeaux

Two hours passed. Nightfall arrived. Gunnar ordered the fleet to leave the hidden inlet and row frantically upstream towards Bordeaux.

In Bjorn’s account, the town possessed a stone-built city wall dating back to the Roman Period, approximately six meters high, and home to five thousand residents. A direct attack had no chance of victory. Gunnar’s only hope was a night raid to capture the city.

The moonlight was dim. The Garonne River surface shimmered with a grayish-green light. Twenty-three narrow wooden boats sailed slowly along the west bank. The carved animal heads on the bows were submerged in shadow, with the twisted outlines of tusks vaguely visible.

Gunnar personally steered at the stern, his gaze sweeping across the pitch-black hazelnut forests on both banks. In the distance, the hills rose and fell, like an indescribable ferocious beast.

“Maintain speed!”

At his command, the sailors rowed hard, fifteen pairs of oars alternately cutting through the water, raising fine silver spray as they entered and forming broken pearl necklaces as they emerged.

After an unknown amount of time, the sailors’ breathing grew heavier. Gunnar understood that their stamina was running low. He ordered a half-hour rest, then continued their journey.

Time passed. A large shadow appeared in the southwest direction. Worried about being detected by the garrison, Gunnar blew out the dim oil lamp hanging at the stern, instructing the sailors to slow their rowing frequency and carefully approach the dock.

“Don your armor, organize your equipment, and be ready to depart at any moment.” Time ticked by. Gunnar’s gaze was fixed on the city wall, awaiting the prearranged lantern signal. The Viking soldiers ate rations to replenish their stamina until they were full. Still, the city walls remained inactive.

“Sir?”

“Keep waiting!”

Since joining West Francia, Gunnar had faced countless doubts. He had to wash it all away with an unquestionable victory. If the city walls remained inactive, he had even prepared to use rope hooks to seize the city.

After a short night of river wind, a brief clash of weapons came from the city walls. After a moment, two lanterns appeared from the battlements, swaying left and right at a fixed frequency.

“They succeeded. Charge with me.”

Gunnar rushed to the base of the city walls, climbed up the ropes hanging down, and saw only eight soldiers with blood-stained daggers.

“Where are the rest?” he asked a young man named Charle.

“Recently, Bordeaux has been holding a relic procession, and a large number of visitors have flooded into the town. There aren’t enough rooms left in every inn. In order to avoid suspicion, we had to stay in three different inns, and we got separated from the other two groups during the night operation.”

Damn it, did these fools get lost?

Gunnar waited for a moment until over one hundred soldiers gathered around him. He led the troops towards the East Gate, scattered the twenty guards on night duty, opened the city gate, and allowed the main force to flood into Bordeaux.

At this time, Charle waved his left arm towards the Duke.

“Sir, follow me, the Lord’s Manor is in this direction!”

Following the guidance, nine hundred soldiers in iron armor marched along the streets. The clash of scales merged together, causing the guard dogs in nearby houses to bark furiously.

After consecutively rushing through three intersections, Charle supported himself on his knees, gasping for breath. “The house with the brightest lanterns is the Lord’s Manor, Sir. Remember to divide the troops to encircle the rear, so as not to let them escape.”

“Understood, kid. You did a good job. I will promote you to Knight after the battle.”

The subsequent process was exceptionally smooth until Gunnar’s soldiers burst into the manor. A group of nobles were still drinking and reveling, drunkenly scolding this blond barbarian for not understanding the rules.

“Tie them all up and throw them into the cellar for strict supervision.”

Having lived in Francia for nearly a year, Gunnar gradually accepted local customs, such as not killing captured nobles but using them to exchange for ransom.

After confirming that the manor was under control, Gunnar dispatched one hundred soldiers to guard the place and led the remaining men to the barracks, capturing all the garrison while they were still asleep.

After seizing Bordeaux, Gunnar sent someone back to Caen to urge the reinforcements to arrive as soon as possible. At the same time, he also wrote a letter to Toulouse upstream on the Garonne River, claiming that the southern rebels were on the verge of defeat, and if the Earl of Toulouse was willing to surrender, the King would continue to recognize his status after the war.

Unexpectedly, facing Charle, who had come to deliver the letter, Toulouse surrendered without any hesitation.

To show his sincerity, Earl Friedlen arrested a large number of supporters of Pepin II and transported them by ship downstream to Bordeaux.

From this moment on, Pepin II’s power rapidly collapsed. It seemed that various places had long been dissatisfied with his rule and chose to submit their surrender to Charles the Bald.

With the situation hopeless, Pepin II, with a few retainers, fled to Gascony in the southwest. On the way, he was betrayed by his attendants and sent to Bordeaux in exchange for reward money. In just a few dozen days, the second war between the uncle and nephew came to an end.

After capturing Pepin II, Charles did not kill him. Although he wished in his heart that the other party would go to hell, he ultimately dared not bear the infamy of patricide, only confining him to a monastery.

“Your Majesty, this might not be safe.”

Gunnar worried that Pepin II would rebel again one day and suggested changing the place, imprisoning him on Île Saint-Louis in the center of the Seine River, building a tall tower, and letting him spend the rest of his life in the tower.

Charles: “He is a member of the Royal Family and should have the most basic decency. Confining him to a monastery is a tradition.”

Faced with his new boss’s hesitation, Gunnar lowered his voice, “Build a few small houses near the tower, build a wall around it, station two monks, and then name it Saint Louis Monastery. That should fool everyone.”

That sounds reasonable.

Charles accepted the proposal and led his troops back to Paris in a mighty procession. At the banquet, he showed his captive to the many nobles,

“Gentlemen, this is Pepin II. Like his father, they were both ambitious rebels. I never imagined that such a dirty sin could be inherited. Alas, I am still willing to give him another chance, hoping that he will repent in his remaining years.”

Charles raised his goblet, venting his malice towards his brother and nephew, even tracing back to events more than twenty years ago.

After speaking for a long time, he changed his tone and praised Gunnar’s surprise attack on Bordeaux, following the Roman tradition, rewarding him with a golden triumphal crown.

Noticing the jealousy of the other nobles, Charles was secretly delighted.

“These bastards only know how to be lazy. Now they regret it. Haha, it seems that these Normans are naturally suitable to be thugs. Now that Aquitaine is settled, we will rest for two years, then attack Brittany to the west, completely eliminate the scourge, and then there is my good brother Lothair. We must find a way to seize the title of ‘Emperor of the Romans’.”

Ignoring the nobles’ sarcastic remarks, Gunnar and a group of knights ate and drank heartily. By this day, they had subtly accepted the eating habits and religious customs of the Franks.

It must be said that Frankish wine tastes much better than Northern European honey wine. The flavors of various dishes surpass those of Britain and Northern Europe. Recalling the past, it seems to be only slightly inferior to the dishes of Constantinople, but only slightly.