"Then what can Rurik and his tribesmen do about it?"
"What the Romans did. Just a few years ago, somewhere south of here, on a Slav river bank, a Viking skjaldborg held fast against a full nomad charge. To the dismay of the nomads and the joy of the local Slavs, the Vikings stopped a seemingly irresistible mounted force cold.
The nomad riders, savage raiders from somewhere far to the south and east, attempted time and again to break the Varangian skjaldborg. When the raiders launched missile attacks, the Vikings flowed into a shieldburg, and as soon as the horsemen prepared to charge, the well-trained Varangians slid back into their skjaldborg formation.
The cavalry charges merely brought the riders close enough for the Vikings to tear down and chop to pieces. A simple chore; the destruction of a small body of traders and guards, caused the fierce nomads to leave the flower of their horde dead on the riverbank. Indeed, I am told that it was that battle that caused the people of the area to ask the Rus traders to bring their families and settle. Ceding sovereignty to the Vikings is less painful than being decimated by the fierce nomads."
Rurik has ordered, starting immediately, the training of all able-bodied men, Varangian and Slav both, in the techniques of the skjaldborg and such simple formations as the shieldburg. He intends that his scattered forces will be prepared when the savage riders come again.
As spring neared, Polonius was called to meet with Rurik and his council. He returned late at night, and Ambrose woke and started questioning the Byzantine scholar.
"Well, old friend, what did Rurik want from you?"
"Mostly to pick my brain, Master."
"Well?
"Word will go out within the week. The Rus and Slav allies have come up with a comprehensive plan for defence."
Ambrose was impatient. "And it is?"
"Nothing radically new, Master. According to the plan, any raiders will face a series of armed and protected villages that should be capable of providing a static defence for at least a few days. The foresters, and those of the farmers who had learned the ways of the forest, are to harry the enemy columns with archers and man-traps in the forest.
At express order of Rurik, many of the trails leading to the south and east are to be prepared with booby traps. Great wooden spikes, using the power of a bent tree and capable of sending a spike right through a horse, are to be constructed, along with covered traps, dug deep and lined with sharpened stakes.
Each village is assigned the task of guiding friendly travellers to the next village. Strangers who travel without a guide stand a very real chance of being maimed or killed.
Finally, Rurik plans that while the invaders halt to attack the individual fortified villages, warriors of Novgorod itself, travelling by boat or horse, would be moving in strength to attack the foe. Rurik boasted that the north, with its endless forests, defensible villages, connecting waterways, and a formidable fighting force, should be capable of stopping anything but a major invasion.
CHAPTER 21.
An Expedition to Kiev.
It was with some surprise that the three friends learned that a group of newly arrived Rus, led by the jarls Askold and Dir, was eager to head south with the spring breakup of the ice. Dir and Askold had called a meeting, and it seemed that most of the still-landless men still in Novgorod intended to show up.
Dir was an older man, big and burly. When he raised both hands above his head, the assembly quieted.
"Friends! My partner and I have recently received word of a great opportunity in the south for the bold and the strong amongst you. We are determined to take advantage of this wonderful opportunity, and we are recruiting brave men to join us!"
One warrior, almost as emaciated looking as Polonius, called out. "Speak, Dir. Tell us of the opportunity!"
"My friends, those of you who have dared the Seven Cataracts and travelled as far as the empire of Byzantium have sailed past the town of Kiev."
A warrior shaped like a tree trunk called out. "Aye, Dir, and it is high on a bluff and ably ruled. I have landed there. There is no opportunity there, old soldier!"
"But think of its location! It is much nearer the steppes. Caravan trails from the Far East end just across the river, and it is in a perfect position to control all trade south to Miklagard.
My friends. All three of the brothers who have ruled Kiev so ably have fallen victim to a plague. The town is now both vulnerable and leaderless!"
Another man called out from the crowd. "They have a formidable fortification and are still likely well organized, Dir. If they have not asked for our help, what is your point?"
Askold replied for his partner. "Think, man! Even more than the citizens of Novgorod, the people there fear the steppe nomads. They must. It is only a short ride from the open steppes to Kiev.
The citizens of Novgorod have accepted us because we offer them something that they could not obtain without us - security. Before their wives and children go south in chains, invaders will have to cut down several thousand of the bravest warriors the world has ever seen!'
A consummate speaker, Askold waited until the cheers died down. 'The Slavs of Novgorod know that with our families here we will not abandon them, and they have seen our fighting prowess. Dir and I propose that we make the same offer to the good citizens of Kiev!"
"And if they refuse us, Askold, what will we do?"
Both Askold and Dir grinned. "We will be sitting on their doorstep with anywhere up to a thousand fighting men! What do you think?"
Rurik, ruler of Novgorod, unexpectedly spoke. "I count perhaps four hundred warriors who are free to go with you. Our position here is still too fragile for me to send you my sworn men. That leaves you a long way from a thousand, cousin."
Dir turned to him. "I anticipate over eight hundred traders arriving on the river within the next month, Rurik."
"They are not going to Kiev to fight; they are going south to the Black Sea to trade."
Askold grinned again. "The good citizens of Kiev won't know that, my friends! Most of Kiev's young men will have sailed south on their own trading expeditions long before we arrive, and the remaining ones will count over a thousand warriors when we arrive.
For any man who sails with me I promise land. For any traders who are willing to tarry at Kiev for no more than a week, I promise both gratitude and free supplies whenever they sail by the Varangian town of Kiev."
Rurik smiled. "Aye, it just might work, at that."
Even during the winter a trickle of Rus and other Viking tribesmen arrived from the north. Many were adventurers, eager to carve out territory for families that would follow on the spring flood. Others were the traders who had long made annual trips south. They, plus many of the warriors who had not been assigned land in the Novgorod region, eventually signed their mark for the expedition to Kiev.
Rurik was losing some of the warriors he had been counting on in case of trouble, but he knew that the spring thaw would bring a new flood of Rus from their homeland. His success in Novgorod was enticing thousands more to flock to his banner. He knew that he would be able to easily replace those who sailed with Dir and Askold. Further, a major Viking town to the south would both be a magnet to the steppe invaders, and, between the two cities, they would firmly control the river trade south.
On the way back to their home, Ambrose walked silently as he mulled over what Dir and Askold had said. He realized that proximity to the golden domes of Constantinople was a tremendous attraction to the Viking trader warriors. He had already learned that much of the wealth and trade of the world passed through, or were controlled by, the wily Greeks of New Rome.
In the fabled land of Polonius' birth was concentrated vast quantities of precious stones and metals, silk and luxuries. Also to the south, however, were the fertile grasslands, and no impediments to the fierce nomad nations such as the Bulgars, Magyars, Pechenegs, and the Khazars. Polonius had explained to him that these nomad hordes had little liking for farmers who attempted to sow crops on
their ancestral pasture lands. In their arrogance they destroyed any agricultural communities they came across.
The Byzantine scholar did say that occasional riverside trading posts were allowed to survive on sufferance, as even the nomads realized they needed some place to sell loot and captives, and obtain goods in return. But even if the trading settlements managed to live in a precarious peace with one nomad tribe, the settlements were still subject to raids by other, more hostile tribes.
All told, it appeared far safer to settle in the north, and Ambrose was surprised that so many Varangians were willing to risk their lives and that of their families by agreeing to sail south. For the three of them, however, it was a different matter. Gunnar the trader, of the Rus, had said he wanted to have agents and posts stretching all the way from the frozen northern seas to golden Constantinople itself. Kiev, long known as the southern spring staging centre for the trading run south to the Byzantine Empire, would be an ideal location for a trading post.
After they returned to their snug cabin, Ambrose turned to his companions. "Well, old friends, what say you? Do we dare the journey south?"
Polonius looked serious. "As you two know, I do not love hardship and danger. For colonists it appears to be a foolhardy move, but for traders, as long as we can keep our heads attached to our shoulders, it seems to be a unique opportunity. With Dir and Askold as rulers there, we have the chance to make the House of Gunnar one of the premier trading houses on the entire river system. I guess I would vote that we go."
Ambrose looked at Phillip. The giant thane thought for a few moments, and then replied. "It seems a risk worth taking. If we take men under contract to Gunnar, and our own boats, we can always leave if Dir and Askold's plan fails. As Polonius says, if they succeed, then we have a foothold. And at the least, we will have travelled the southern rivers."
Ambrose turned to Kuralla, who was sitting by the door and listening attentively.
"Kuralla, how do you feel about leaving Novgorod?"
"I go where my lord wills it."
"Kuralla, I told you that you are a free woman. You may do as you please."
"My lord will allow me to stay in Novgorod?"
"I just told you that you may do as you please."
"Then it pleases me to go with you three."
Ambrose smiled. "Then it's settled! I will tell Dir and Askold in the morning."
So it was that as water began to flow over the ice on mild days, and the sun hung in the sky for a longer time each day, Ambrose, Phillip, and Polonius began to prepare for another journey. Askold and Dir drew up meticulous plans, and Rurik willingly gave up several smaller ships to provide transportation for any who wanted to join the brave band of adventurers, on the condition that they carried at least some of his cargo.
It was agreed that the followers of Dir and Askold would sail south when the river became completely ice-free and the river had crested. They promised to send back most of the vessels in the autumn. If all went well, many of the ships would be able to actually make the journey all the way to the Byzantine Empire. These would return loaded with the precious goods coveted in the north.
The friends made their personal preparations as well. Ambrose set Polonius to writing letters of explanation to Gunnar, and between them they made the final arrangements for the trading factory that they had set up on the island. A competent merchant was already in charge of the daily routines, and Ambrose felt that he would not try to cheat Gunnar of more than a small percentage of the profits.
On the third day of the new moon; in the Rus month of Harpa and after the ice had left the river, the Rus adventurers launched their fleet. Although the ships had been floating for over a week, the oak boards leaked abominably. In the larger boats the floor boards were lifted out, and a steady procession of buckets had to be maintained in order to keep the hulls from filling with water and ruining the foodstuffs and cargo of the colonists.
The signal was given and the oars dipped into the cold water. Made up mainly of small Karves and large dugouts, the Varangian river fleet was on its way south.
Ambrose, Phillip, Polonius and Kuralla stood at the rail with a feeling of exhilaration and excitement as they watched the land slip past. Already, much of the snow had melted under the strong sun. Soon the land would be again a verdant green. All about them could be heard the yells and screams of excited children; those of the convoy who would settle with their parents in yet another new land.
Ironically, the first breaking up of the ice on the rivers had ended communications with the south, and neither Ambrose nor, indeed, Dir and Askold, the expedition leaders, knew what events were transpiring further south. Ambrose knew only that they were headed for a town on another, even greater river; the Dnieper.
As the fleet made its way upriver, Ambrose found out that on of Dir's cousins had a small trading factory in Kiev. It had been this man who had sent word north in early winter, brought by a messenger who had been able to walk or ski right over the swamps, shallows and rivers.
To help their case even further, wily Askold had sent, during the winter, a Jew with a paper south to the nearest garrison town of the Khazars, ostensible overlords of the Dnieper river-valley and thus, Kiev. He had sent a promissory note for some immediate gold, to be drawn from any large-city Jewish Khazar banker upon demand. Further, Askold and Dir promised quick yearly payment of tribute, and a percent of the profits from the river trade. After all, they had explained in an accompanying letter, it was now plain that the Rus and their Viking cousins controlled the northern rivers. Their agents in the south would ensure a steady flow of trade, and of course a fair portion of these profits would find its way into the hands of the Khazars.
With characteristic Viking swiftness, Dir and Askold did not wait to see if their offer had been accepted. Askold had argued that if they did not move quickly, another strong faction might rise to dominate the excellent trading site, and so the Varangians moved south, hoping to perhaps meet the messenger returning northward along the river highway.
Dir laughed as he strode the decks of the lead vessel. "If the Khazars do not agree to accept Rus gold, then we can always offer tribute in the form of cold steel."
Brave men, and sons of brave men for untold generations, the trader-warriors sailed south, daring the Norns to challenge their raw courage.
In truth, Ambrose thought, as his eyes roamed over the flotilla that stretched both before and astern of his own vessel, such a people, shrewd in trade, and fanatical in battle, made a terrible foe. With some foreboding, he wondered again what was transpiring in the very distant west, where he had left his own beleaguered countrymen facing ever more and larger bands of Viking marauders.
Polonius stood beside Ambrose. "Master, you look very serious for such a fine day. Surely you are not trying to do my job of worrying?"
Ambrose smiled. Polonius was a man of many surprising talents, but he sometimes made himself sick with worry.
"I suppose I am worrying, old friend. In the time of my father's youth, I am told, Viking attacks on my homeland was made only by a single, or just a few, skulking long-ships. The raids were isolated, and the pirates seldom dared to venture far inland.
In the very summer I was kidnapped, the Danes mustered dozens of ships, and my brother was hard pressed to drive them from our shores with the full strength of his army. Even then, they burned his favourite royal burh of Winchester.
It seems to me that in the last few years the isolated raiding parties of the Vikings have started to evolve into ravaging armies. The pirates take longer and longer to retreat to their ships. In my own lifetime, the Danes have seized, and settled, the Celtic islands north of Britain.
Aye, I am worried. I wonder what has become of my family and my homeland. How many more Viking armies have landed on the island, and who are they fighting? Every day I ask myself these questions, yet every day we sail further from Angleland."
Polonius put his arm across Ambrose's shoulders in silent support. At
last he spoke.
"Prince, I will not pretend that you have no cause to worry. The Vikings are a worthy opponent for anyone. Yet may I remind you that I once made the journey from Byzantium to Frankland? With luck, it can actually be a quick way home for you."
"I guess that you are right, my Greek scholar. I just feel a little guilty that my homeland may be in danger while I travel the length and breadth of far-away lands; helping the cousins of my country's foe.
I keep wondering if we had made the right decision when we obeyed Canute's injunction to sail north and not west. Still, we are here, and, for the time being, I will just tell myself that I am Canuteson, trader for the Rus, and a man on an adventure that does promise much excitement."
The fleet had several days of hard rowing, as the winds were often contrary, and, in any case, the rapidly narrowing river left little scope for even such limited tacking as the square-rigged ships were capable of. Hammar, the captain of Gunnar's largest karve, called out to the crew that they approached the headwaters of the river. Ambrose had wondered himself how much farther they would be able to move the ship upriver.
Already the crew were starting to use poles rather than the oars, and many times a day Ambrose could hear the sound of a sandbar scrapping the bottom of the vessel. Fortunately, the thin overlapping planks simply flexed, and little damage was done.
By day the expedition passed through wild forest, interspersed only by occasional settlements and cultivated fields. At some villages Dir and Askold signalled the fleet to land. In these villages they were received cordially, generally by a Rus or Slav who was a trader.
Ambrose, Prince of Wessex; Trader of Kiev. Page 17
