Ch 107: The Embassy
After handling school affairs, Vig inspected the workshops in the city. The brewery was the most surprising.
To this day, a large area of hop fields has been opened up on the west side of Tyne Town. As the plants mature, workers are experimenting with large-scale beer brewing.
According to techniques from Germany, workers first dry and chop the malt, pour in clean water, and simmer over a low heat, maintaining a warm water state for a period of time. Then, they separate the wort from the grains using coarse linen, obtaining a cloudy sweet wort.
Next, boil the wort over a high heat, add hops and continue boiling for an hour, then naturally cool, add yeast and ferment for two weeks.
Thanks to a certain substance contained in hops, the beer has a shelf life of up to six months, making it ideal for sale to Northern Europe for profit—Vikings love to drink, but local grain production is low, unsuitable for large-scale brewing, therefore, the demand for foreign drinks is extremely high.
“Is this the brewed beer?”
After tasting a cup, Vig felt the beer’s taste was acceptable, although it was not as good as honey wine and wine, the price of beer was relatively low, no need to compete with the former two products, suitable for sale to the broad lower and middle classes.
Currently, a whole barrel of beer weighs about fifty kilograms, requiring ten kilograms of barley, and a certain amount of hops and herbs. Considering labor expenditure, the cost per barrel is about two pence, the selling price is eight pence, which is absolutely profitable.
“Finally opened up a new source of wealth. Making money is really not easy.”
After a moment of reflection, he planned to expand the planting area of hops and develop the winemaking industry, making it the second pillar industry after the textile industry.
In the following time, Vig successively visited four taverns in Tyne Town and unexpectedly met the Welsh chieftain, Shrike, who was purchasing drinks in bulk.
“Are you satisfied with your new territory?”
For the three Welsh tribes who actively sought refuge, Vig settled them in the west, northwest, and north respectively, in the border region between the plains and the hills.
According to his plan, the farmland owned by the Welsh immigrants is sufficient for subsistence. If they want to further improve their lives, they must go into the mountains to hunt, hone their tracking and archery skills through hunting animals, and become qualified mountain infantry.
“Sir, we are very satisfied. We are currently building our houses and expect to finish before the heavy snow arrives.”
Vig didn’t say much more, took the initiative to pay for Shrike, and watched these Welshmen drive their wagons away.
A week later, ten ships of iron ingots urgently purchased from the North arrived at Tyne’s dock. With enough iron ore stored, Vig no longer concealed his ambition. After the passing ships returned to Northern Europe, he asked them to help spread the word. In the name of the Serpent of the North, he called on all ambitious raiders to gather in Tyne next year for a grand event.
“Remember, it’s best to arrive before next May. Don’t be too late.”
In addition to Northern Europe, Vig also dispatched envoys to the South, visiting various knightly manors in turn, employing them to fight at a high price of three pounds of silver, and they could also share a large amount of spoils of war afterward.
As the news gradually spread, the Pictish nobles in the North reacted. With the help of Lords Arkansas in Edinburgh and Hugh in Glasgow, the Northern Alliance was officially established in late November, with the primary goal of resisting the threat of the Vikings.
In order to weaken the enemy’s strength, the alliance cut off the export of iron to Tyne, and incidentally dispatched envoys to the south to scout for information.
Five days later, a ship from Edinburgh arrived at Tyne Town Dock.
The cold wind whistled, the sky was covered with heavy snow, the dock was moored with many ships, and there were few figures near the dock. Only five listless militiamen were warming themselves by the fire inside.
“Finally made it to the last day. This life is really hard.”
“Indeed, during the shift, we’re not even allowed to drink. I’ve never heard of such rules in my life.”
Currently, Tyne Town’s garrison and police force have a total of one hundred people, forty of whom are long-term employees. The remaining sixty positions are rotated by lottery among the townspeople for a period of half a month. The five people inside are the unlucky ones who drew the short straw.
After complaining for a while, noticing the arrival of an outsider, the five militiamen rushed out of the house with round shields and iron axes, asking the identity of the newcomer.
The envoy proudly lifted his chin, “I represent the Northern Alliance. I have something to discuss with your lord.”
“The Northern Alliance?”
Although they didn’t know what it was, considering the man’s fine clothes, a militiaman led him through the South Gate and then straight to Tyne Castle in the Southwest Low Hills.
“Such a grand building.”
Compared to the wooden fortresses in Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Stirling, the stone castle before him was tall and grand, arguably the tallest building the envoy had ever seen in his life.
How much money did this cost?
Passing through the drawbridge and East Gate, the envoy entered the castle. In front of him was a wide open space where dozens of soldiers were training. On the right was a long row of low barracks, and on the left were warehouses, stables, and kitchens.
Crossing the open space, the envoy unconsciously put away his arrogant attitude and waited for news outside the main building’s gate. Five minutes later, at the servant’s call, he stepped onto the steps and entered the ground floor hall.
Passing through the thick curtains, the envoy immediately felt the air warm up. Looking around, there was a stone fireplace on each side wall of the hall, with firewood burning fiercely, serving both lighting and cooking functions.
Tugging at his collar, the envoy slowly walked towards the high platform at the end of the hall. Unsurprisingly, the man sitting on it was the person he had come to see—the Serpent of the North.
“My name is Vig. Do you speak Latin?”
Hearing Vig’s question, the envoy nodded and then stated his identity in Latin, calling himself Morgan, a noble from some unknown small place.
After a lot of useless nonsense, he got to the point, “I hear you are gathering troops and planning to attack the North?”
Time passed, Vig’s attack on the North spread throughout Britain. Lying was pointless, he responded calmly, “Yes, next year.”
The envoy was momentarily at a loss for words at the Serpent of the North’s composure. He took the goblet handed to him by the servant girl, took a sip of warm beer, and squeezed out a sentence, “You have no reason to attack us. It’s against the rules.”
“Rules?”
Vig put forward a seemingly reasonable excuse for war, “In recent years, Pictish bandits have frequently crossed the border and attacked my territory. It is said that someone is behind it. Given the repeated appeals of the people, I have decided to gather troops to eliminate this hidden danger.”
To enhance his persuasiveness, he had a shield-bearer hand over a list densely filled with reports of bandit attacks, totaling thirty-two times, more than half of which occurred in 847.
“Besides these attacks that caused casualties, there were countless cases of livestock theft and crop theft.”
With the promotion of the three-field system and the heavy iron plow, the crops harvested by local farmers, converted into silver coins, were equivalent to 1.4 times the previous amount, resulting in a sharp improvement in living standards, thus attracting more and more bandits. In a few years, I am afraid that raiding parties of thousands will appear.