Legends Never Die: Internal Strife (ch. 174) (Patreon)

My fishing lure bobbed in the steady river that passed by my family's old homestead while I took a moment to absorb the news I had just been delivered. “Harun al-Rashid has been restored to the throne, the rebellion quelled, and all before the Romans had a chance to act,” I summarized the troubles half a world away. Troubles which had concerned me greatly over the winter, but it would seem my fretting had been for nothing. “Hadi al-Gaib is not a man to be underestimated.” 

The servant bowed his head while Ragnar spared me a glance. “Does this mean we won't be going to the Mediterranean?” 

“It does,” I confirmed, leading the line while the messenger bowed his head and retreated so his horse could be watered and rested. There was a flicker of disappointment on Radahn and Bjorn's faces. “It is a good thing. Such an expedition would have been costly and left us exposed.” To say nothing of the risk that such action would provoke a strong reaction from Rome. 

Magnus, however, offered a severe frown. “We still don't know what gave Jafar the confidence to act.” 

“We can suspect,” Ragnar replied, earning an agreeing nod from me as I felt a sharp tug on the line. I began to pull it in, and as I did so, I continued the thought. 

“Support from the Romans is most likely, though I doubt we shall find much proof of it,” I ventured. The fish fought to escape the hook, and in doing so, sank it deeper. Grabbing hold of it, a quick smack crushed its skull to allow me to withdraw the hook and toss it into a basket. “The Emirs likely just saw it as an opportunity to reclaim their lost powers and influence.” 

Ragnar offered a thoughtful nod. “It's no secret that the Romans seek to retake the Levant.” 

“And the ‘holy land’,” Scáthach agreed with a snort, entirely dismissive of the very idea. Rightly so, though it was for the wrong reasons. She was correct in the assumption that the calls to liberate Jerusalem were fueled by the ambition to restore Rome's borders and to weaken the Abbasid Caliphate. However, she underestimated its effectiveness. 

“Hadi al-Gaib curtailed their opportunity before they had a chance to properly act,” I continued. “However, there is still chaos in the Caliphate and there will be for some years to come. Even if they do emerge from it stronger than before.” It was a substantial risk that Harun al-Rashid was taking in forcing through his reforms. A risk mitigated by Hadi al-Gaib's absolute loyalty, but once the shock of the failed rebellion wore off… Harun al-Rashid would meet resistance, and no small amount of it. Resistance that would be further supported by Roman gold and promises.

I could only guess what the Caliphate would look like a decade from now. I hoped for a stable ally, but Harun al-Rashid played a dangerous game. 

“Where does that leave us, father?” Ragnar questioned. It was a fine question. 

“Our plans adapt. Going to the Mediterranean is no longer necessary, however, there are many who missed out on the Great Raid. They shall be directed to Rome in reprisal raids.” I answered with a moment of thought. From the very beginning, I knew that Saxony was going to be the most problematic of my kingdoms. Unlike all the others, it shared a direct border with Rome whereas the others had a layer of protection in the form of supported petty kingdoms and tribes. 

Charlemagne was adopting a similar tactic, of course. The kingdoms of Bohemia and Moravia rose to prominence, consuming their weaker neighbors before the kingdoms of Lusatia, Polania, or Krakow could absorb them. The area was hotly contested with frequent seasonal raids into each other. Meanwhile, Charlemagne's vassals raided Saxony directly as he attempted to bring Holland into his sphere of influence with promises of protection, trade, and more. 

It was something I was countering, of course. 

The wall I promised Widukind was having the groundwork laid now that spring had arrived. It was already an ambitious project, but it was made all the more so as Saxony would have the first branches of the Kingsroad from the main artery that was completed a year before. A systematic and complete road network which would facilitate trade, bind Saxony to Denmark, and allow for a quick response when Rome mustered a more substantial force. 

To that end, it was almost a relief that Hoffer had stumbled in the Mediterranean. While the hemorrhaging of young blooded warriors to the Mediterranean hadn't stopped entirely, it had slowed substantially. Those idle hands found work in the sweeping construction efforts, fueled by the wealth we took from Britannia. But those who weren't content to build, could be directed to Rome, where they could raid freely along the coast and rivers. 

“It won't be another Great Raid?” Magnus questioned, his tone vaguely concerned. 

I shook my head. “No. We are not ready to strike such a blow to Charlemagne yet. The bands will be much smaller -- a dozen to perhaps a few hundred, depending on the captain. No different from what Charlemagne is doing now.” 

It wouldn’t stay that way, of course. I expected it to worsen the tension already within Rome. Winter would slow the news of what took place in Britannia, but I had little doubt that by the time the news became common knowledge, Charlemagne would have twisted it into something unrecognizable. And most wouldn’t care to learn the truth, readily accepting any foul thing they heard because it suited their bias. 

“We have a few more years of peace. But only a few,” I admitted, tossing my fishing line back into the river. I suspected the spark would be my conquest of Britannia. However, Charlemagne and Irene would have their own say in the matter. “But enough about that. We didn’t come out here to speak of politics. There's enough of that at home.” 

“Why did you bring us out here?” Ragnar asked, making Radahn snort. 

“Mum found a gray hair in his beard so he feels old.” That caught the attention of my children, who abruptly lost all interest in fishing and began to inspect my beard with the intensity of a miner searching for a vein of gold. 

A sigh escaped me. “I don't feel old. I am old,” I corrected, resting a hand on Radahn's head. It lasted until he remembered the hand had touched a fish. With the arrival of spring came a reminder that time was moving and waited for no man. I was in bed with Jasmine when she found a lone gray hair near my chin, plucking it to hold up as proof. 

I was turning thirty-six. Maybe I wasn't an old man, but I wasn't a young one either. 

“That, and I don't know how many of these little trips together we have left,” I continued, my tone wistful even if the day I dreaded hadn't yet come. “Ragnar will be in Alba. Scáthach and Aífe will get married. Radahn and Bjorn are going to sail around the world- who knows how long that'll take?” It was the fate of all parents, I knew -- the day the children grew up and carved lives for themselves. 

Ragnar was preparing to become King of Alba. My daughters were of an age when their hands were sought by those who wanted to cement their positions within the Empire and bind their dynasty more closely to mine. Radahn and Bjorn, thankfully, had many years before they would be ready for such a voyage, but they were unwavering in their dedication to that goal, so it was only a matter of time. 

And I could tell none of my children had realized that, as all of them seemed to be struck with the realization. They glanced at Ragnar, realizing that in but a few years, there would be an ocean between the siblings. The air shifted ever so slightly. As the first to leave, Ragnar was the one who assured his siblings. 

“It won't be like we'll never see each other again,” he pointed out. “You can come visit me. And I can come visit you. It's only a few days' journey,” he pointed out. It wasn't that he was ignorant of the logistics that would make such visits far more difficult than he made them sound. He was simply ignoring that reality for the sake of his siblings. 

I patted him on the head, showing that I understood. He offered a wane smile until he caught his own fish to add to the pile. 

I made sure to savor the moment as we decided the pile of fish was large enough for our supper. Together, we gutted and cleaned the fish, roasting them over an open fire and eating them right off the stick with some salt and basic herbs foraged from the woods. The moment of melancholy was swiftly forgotten by them as they returned to their traditional teasing and bickering. 

It ended too soon. But, as it did every day, the sun descended towards the horizon, and while my old home had once housed more than our number, my children simply weren’t accustomed to such… cramped quarters. To say nothing of the risk. So, as dusk came, we once more boarded a longship and sailed back to Miklagard.

The city hadn't  changed much since our return from Britannia, but with spring, it had awoken once more from its hibernation. The harbor was bustling with activity, with trade ships coming and going, people walking the streets, and more. People hawked their wares created over the winter, be it wood carvings, baskets, or clothes. 

We were greeted warmly as we made our way back to the palace, and my children returned that warmth. They waved, smiled, and greeted some familiar faces. It helped them form a connection to our citizens, and more importantly, it helped the citizens form a connection to them. Yet, for some, it was for naught. 

True Sight revealed a number of spies on the streets, scattered about amongst my citizens. Most of them were familiar to me. Morrigan kept very close tabs on the state of Miklagard. Some were spies of Charlemagne. More were spies from my various vassals. Miklagard was the beating heart of the Empire, after all. 

It was almost enough to elicit a sigh from me, but I instead looked away, pretending I was ignorant of their allegiance.

The excitement had worn off by the time we reached the palace gate, leaving Radahn and Bjorn utterly spent and napping in my arms. Instead of handing them off to one of the servants, I brought them to their beds and dumped them in them. The pair slept like a pair of logs, and nothing short of Ragnarök would be able to wake them until morning tomorrow. 

It was tempting to join them, but our excursion had come at the cost of delaying my own duties. So, I made my way through the halls to settle in my study. With the arrival of spring, there wasn’t just the usual flare up of disputes and trade. It was the aftermath of the Great Raid settling. 

The population had jumped sharply once more. The men had taken thousands of thralls from Britannia, primarily women, but there were a number of skilled laborers as well. They were scattered across my kingdoms, so the effect of their arrival was initially minimal. In the coming years, however, that would change. Children would be born, families would grow, which meant more food would be needed. Industries would need to account for the steady increase in population. 

As things were, due to Horrik spreading my farming techniques, we were well situated to provide food for the growing population. What's more, I had gone to extreme lengths to maximize food production -- villages were resettled, entire kingdoms shaped around effectively exploiting the land, while there were fishing fleets across the Baltic. However, it was a bitter truth that there simply wasn’t enough farmland to sustain the growth forever. 

On my desk were population graphs showing the estimated annual increase in population for the next ten years. The math behind the estimate was solid, though Alexios admitted it was more of a best guess than an absolute. With our current census, Scandinavia boasted a population of just over four million.

Denmark contained roughly eight hundred thousand. Norway two hundred thousand. Sweden four hundred thousand. Sami had just over a hundred thousand. Finland had just under two hundred thousand. As expected, the northern half of the empire was the less populated parts. 

The southern part of the Baltic was far more populated. 

Pomerania boasted a population of seven hundred thousand. Lithuania had six hundred and fifty thousand. Estonia had four hundred thousand, while Novgorod possessed a population of three hundred thousand. Saxony, despite the frequent raids and the years of warfare, had a population of six hundred thousand. 

It was a very stark reminder that we had no hope of ever winning the numbers game. There were Themes in Rome that boasted a larger population than my entire empire. Under the most ideal circumstances, where food was in abundance and men bred like rabbits -- the Baltic Sea could only sustain a population of fifteen to twenty million. Or, that was our best guess. Not a small number by any means, but even in the decades it would take for us to reach such a population, it still wouldn’t be anything compared to the Roman or Abbasid populations. 

The now-restored Roman Empire, at a best guess, possessed at least twenty million. Likely twice that. The Abbasids would be smaller, as much of their territory was arid desert, but they would still have a population of at least fifteen million. Though, like with Rome, I expected the real population to be around twice that. 

It was part of the reason why it was necessary to take Britannia. All the problems aside, the conquest would double our population, even with the most conservative estimate. And when I shuffled the papers aside to pull out a map… there was another key territory to factor in. 

“Holland,” I muttered. It remained an independent entity, though one nominally under my influence. Part of the reason why Charlemagne focused his efforts there was to deny me the important staging ground, as it was much safer to sail from Holland to Britannia than from Denmark to Britannia. The North Sea was a temperamental one, with waves taller than the palace. 

It was a pivotal region. And it could very well be the spark that set off the war with Rome. 

But there were other possibilities. Charlemagne was cultivating agents within my empire, just as I was starting fires inside his. Both of us were having greater success than I suspect either of us was comfortable with. 

The disgraced King Godfrey, former king of Denmark before Horrik had him ousted, was slower to act than I’d expected. More cautious. For good reason, as he was watched most closely. He was cultivating a support base in Novgorod under the wing of King Rurik. His support came from my detractors. 

I was immensely popular. Some days, it felt as if everyone in the Empire thought me a god, to the point some were confused why I wasn’t able to hear their prayers. But there was no leader who was beloved by all. I did have detractors within Scandinavia, though they never made themselves known. They couldn’t, but they were ready to pounce at the slightest misstep. 

Among them were those who lost people they loved during my conquest. Then there were those who preferred life as it was prior to my dominion. They were few, but they did exist. Most of my detractors came from those who chafed under my restrictions. Nobles who didn’t have the broad powers they once had as Jarls or Thegns, or who wanted to benefit from all I built in their fiefdoms but didn’t want the debts that came with it. 

Lastly, there were the few who saw the world I was building, how they benefited from it, and were convinced they could rise higher still. 

Charlemagne’s prodding found purchase. His quiet support and bribes found fertile ground where he could. More than I wished there to be, but with anything short of relinquishing my control over the fledgling Scandinavian Empire, bringing back the dead, and unmaking all the progress we had made… I couldn’t bring them to my side. 

And like Charlemagne, I was putting out the fires that were started.

There was a sharp knock at my door before Jill let herself in, carrying Ranni on her hip. My youngest daughter, born to me by Jasmine, sniffled dramatically. She was a few years old now, turning four this spring. “The fever broke this evening, but she did everything in her power to convince us she was still sick.” 

“I suppose fishing isn't everyone's idea of a good time,” I agreed, accepting my daughter and resting her on my knee. She cuddled into my side, sniffing dramatically again and I stroked her red locks. 

“That, and she enjoyed the attention,” Jill added in Greek, taking a seat across from me as she looked upon Ranni with eyes full of love and exasperation. But then the smile eased off of her face. “Have you given the matter any more thought?” 

There was no question in my mind what she meant. “I have,” I admitted, pulling forth a letter. My daughters weren't the only ones who were receiving offers of marriage. Ragnar had a few, with nobles putting forth their daughters to be second or third wives behind Maeve, if not concubines. Radahn and Bjorn had fewer on account of their age. Even Hakon had a few, though those were desperate and ill suited. 

Magnus had a match I was strongly considering. Thusnelda of Pomerania, granddaughter of King Bretislav. A young woman of fourteen years, reportedly clever with a tongue as sharp as a whip, and a warrior in training by inspiration of Astrid and Lagaetha Hare-Foot. 

“The factions are forming,” Jill reminded. “Your brother crawls in bed with Finnland. Sami is becoming a lesser partner to them both. Norway could fall under sway within a few generations.” Novgorod was finding common cause with Estonia. My brother, Halfdan, King of Lithuania, was similarly forging a pact with Pomerania and the Magyars outside of the Empire. Meanwhile, Saxony, under the leadership of King Alfric, was arranging a marriage with Thorkell's son. 

“You're right,” I acknowledged. While I had secured the loyalty of this generation, I needed to look to the generations to follow. “How does Magnus feel about the idea?” 

“He feels some trepidation, but he is hopeful,” Jill admitted. Magnus would do his duty regardless, and I knew if the question came from me, that would be the exact answer I received. “Harald will be marrying Aurora come this summer. Perhaps that will be an opportunity to introduce them in a more neutral setting.” 

I offered a thin smile, “A fine idea. Let's hope they can get along.”