novelraw Chapter 333: Niels
Chapter 333: Niels
Two days later, Niels packed his personal belongings, preparing to take a ship to Crimea. He had amassed gold, silver, and jewelry worth a total of three thousand pounds, more than enough to support his expenses for the rest of his life.
"My lord, are you truly leaving?"
On the training grounds, the Varangian Guard had spontaneously assembled to bid farewell to this illustrious legend. Niels's gaze swept across the multitude of faces. There was much he wanted to say, but he forcefully suppressed his welling emotions, silently leading his heavily laden cart away.
Behind him followed two hundred retired veterans, each shouldering a massive bundle containing their personal equipment and the savings of their many years of campaigning. During the war in Bulgaria alone, every Varangian Guard had reaped at least twenty pounds worth of loot.
Along the way, the citizens cast curious glances at this group of barbarians, guessing that they were either former members of the Varangian Guard or temporarily hired Rus' mercenaries. Yet, from beginning to end, none of the populace recognized the identity of the man leading the cart.
Passing through the Perama Gate, the bustling and lively Golden Horn lay ahead. Niels and his group walked toward a naval warship docked at the pier. Upon revealing his identity, the captain bowed respectfully. "It is my honor to serve you, General."
Suddenly, a large crowd of Rus' mercenaries surged forward from a short distance away, clamoring to see Niels and begging to settle in Crimea with him.
Niels's face was full of confusion. "Why?"
A burly man with a thick beard squeezed to the front. "Thanks to your command, the brothers have struck it rich. However, we've earned so much money that if we return to our tribes, there is a high chance we'll be robbed by the chieftains or others. We gathered together to discuss it and agreed that you are the most trustworthy person we know."
'Even after hearing about my past, they are still willing to trust me?'Niels suddenly burst into laughter. For over a decade, he had never laughed so freely. After coughing for a moment, he accepted the more than six hundred mercenaries standing before him.
Niels turned to the captain. "How many ships can the navy provide?"
"Only six, capable of carrying three hundred men. Recently, pirates have been running rampant in the Aegean Sea, severely disrupting the Empire's trade. His Majesty dispatched the majority of the navy to wipe them out. I suggest letting these Rus' men hire civilian vessels."
Niels took out a key and unlocked a bronze chest, pulling out a large pouch of Nomisma gold coins—each weighing about 4.48 grams of ninety-five percent pure gold—and ordered his subordinates to hire ships as quickly as possible.
"Remember, money is not an issue."
He had no interest in haggling, nor did he wish to waste any time in Constantinople. The longer they delayed, the more likely the Emperor might develop second thoughts.
At nine in the morning, the harbormaster blew a brass horn, and the iron chain at the bay's entrance sank beneath the water amid the squeaking of the winch. The captain ordered them to weigh anchor and set sail. The oarsmen rowed their long oars, and the fleet slowly sailed out of the Golden Horn.
Niels stood at the stern, watching the golden dome of the Hagia Sophia grow distant, a complex expression on his face.
"After years of grueling toil, I've earned a three-thousand-pound retirement fund and a place to settle down. This journey wasn't entirely in vain."
He turned and walked to the bow, gazing out at the Bosporus Strait ahead. The cliffs on both sides were steep. On the West Bank, the country villas and vineyards of the wealthy occasionally came into view. The East Bank was lined with numerous monasteries, and in a daze, one could almost hear the collective chanting of the priests.
After a long while, they passed the final promontory, and the view ahead suddenly opened up. All that filled their eyes was a vast, boundless expanse of grayish-blue sea. The wind and waves abruptly strengthened, causing the hull to pitch and roll slightly.
The fleet advanced along the western coast of the Black Sea, occasionally encountering ships heavily laden with slaves, destined to be sold in Egypt, North Africa, and Iberia. The strongest among them would be gathered and trained to become the Sakaliba Guard—the barbarian guard most trusted by Arab rulers—while the rest would be reduced to lowly slave laborers, meeting the end of their destinies in day after day of endless toil. A week later, the fleet arrived at the Danube Estuary. The shores were covered in swamps and forests, with cooking smoke rising from the dense woods. Suspecting it to be a camp of a nomadic tribe, the crew grabbed their weapons, standing by in constant readiness.
"Word has it that long ago, the Empire built numerous fortresses along the southern banks of the Danube, which, together with the riverine fleet, formed the first line of defense for the Balkan Peninsula. How did it end up so desolate?"
Niels complained for quite some time before realizing that he was no longer an important minister of the Empire. He was just a Norse barbarian in his forties; there was no need to waste his mental energy on Basil's endeavors.
Five days later, the fleet arrived at the Crimean Peninsula. Numerous Greek villages dotted the coastline, vineyards were planted on the terraced hillsides, and monasteries sat perched upon the mountain peaks.
Sailing along the southwestern coast, they reached Chersonesus at the peninsula's southwestern tip. This was the Empire's vital trade node on the northern shores of the Black Sea. Slaves and goods from the Eastern European steppes gathered here—primarily beeswax, furs, grain, and wool—before being transported to Constantinople.
The outermost perimeter of the harbor was protected by stone breakwaters, with a towering lighthouse standing tall on the promontory. Inside, over a hundred ships of various sizes were moored.
Upon disembarking, Niels and the captain sought out the local military district general and presented the Emperor's royal edict of enfeoffment.
"Sudak? Half a century ago, the Khazar Khaganate plundered Crimea, leaving many settlements abandoned. Sudak was ruined as well, and only a dozen or so villages remain nearby. My lord, your military achievements are outstanding. You are fully entitled to pick a fiefdom in Bulgaria. Why choose this place?"
Niels replied, "I'm retired. I just want to find a quiet, secluded place to spend my twilight years in peace. I don't care whether the area is prosperous or not."
The fleet stayed in the area for three days, purchasing livestock and various daily supplies, before setting sail for Sudak.
It was an abandoned port town with crumbling stone walls, surrounded by dense, overgrown weeds. To the north lay rolling, undulating mountains, from which two small rivers flowed south, merging into a single stream that emptied into the sea.
"Backed by mountains to the north and facing the sea to the south. It's not a bad place to retire."
Niels directed his subordinates to clear the ruins within the walls and reclaim the wastelands outside the town. As time passed, the residents in the southern part of the peninsula grew accustomed to the presence of these outsiders. Many farmers married their daughters off to these wealthy retired veterans.
At one such wedding, Niels caught a glimpse of a Greek gentry's daughter in the crowd. In her, Niels vaguely discerned a resemblance to Princess Eve. He froze in place, unable to move for a long time, suspecting that this was merely a dream he had repeated countless times.
Not long after, the two were happily married.
From then on, the renowned general settled down completely. He frequently strolled through the vineyard gifted by his father-in-law. The lush green vines intertwined, stubbornly climbing up the trellises, much like the memories hidden deep within his mind.
Holding a small pair of copper-handled shears, Niels slowly and attentively pruned the excess branches. As he felt their brimming vitality, an irreplaceable sense of grounding traveled from his fingertips straight to the depths of his heart.
In the afternoons, Niels often went to the hillside southwest of the town, leaning against a large boulder to bask in the sun. The mountain breeze mingled with the scent of the sea, tirelessly sweeping across the cliffs. In the distance, sailing ships looked as tiny as floating duckweed, struggling to move amidst the wrinkles of the sea. Occasionally, a few small birds would land beside him, joining him in his daze. In this corner forgotten by the world, he finally found an indescribable peace.