Mid-June
Britain and West Francia both continued sending reinforcements to the front.
Vig received four newly trained provisional infantry regiments. Gunnar received additional cavalry and conscripted militia. As both sides calculated the growing strength of their opponent, the brief surge of battle enthusiasm quickly faded.
Vig now commanded seven infantry regiments plus supporting units—about ten thousand troops, all equipped with heavy armor. Unfortunately, limited transport capacity meant he could not bring over the cavalry stationed at home.
If he waited another month, he might manage to deploy nearly a thousand cavalry. But by then, Charles the Bald would likely send even more. West Francia possessed vast, fertile plains and a mild climate—ideal for both agriculture and horse breeding. It was arguably the best territory in Europe for sustaining a long war of attrition.
"Saxony is not the right place for a decisive battle. This war can't be finished here."
On the other side, Gunnar commanded more than 15,000 horses—including warhorses, pack animals, and draft animals. Their daily grain consumption was staggering. Both Paris and Saxony were pressing him to bring the conflict to a swift conclusion.
Yet his thinking closely mirrored Vig's. Given his opponent's cavalry disadvantage, he doubted Vig would voluntarily leave the safety of fortified positions to fight on the open plains.
June 15
Count William of Orléans arrived at the front, delivering the emperor's wishes directly from Charles the Bald:
Find a way to end this war.
Gunnar's expression tightened. He struggled to suppress the curse rising to his lips.
"You're certain this is what he wants?"
William replied without emotion.
"Duke, this is the Emperor's will."
With little choice, Gunnar led his army forward and deployed on open ground outside Hamburg, adopting the posture of an impending siege.
1:00 p.m.
The sky was crystal clear. Sunlight poured down without mercy, and the air carried the heavy scent of damp earth.
Gunnar, Count William, and other Frankish commanders rode to a hilltop to observe the enemy.
Black.
Black everywhere.
Nearly ten thousand infantry marched out of the city gates, clad in identical black armor. From a distance, they resembled a massive sheet of dark tar spilling slowly across the land—heavy, relentless, and suffocating.
Under Gunnar's watchful gaze, the enemy formed seven pike formations, arranged in a pattern of five in front, two behind. Light infantry units were distributed across the front and flanks, organized into small squads of a dozen men each. They carried longbows, shield-and-axe sets, spears, and spiked anti-cavalry weapons resembling heavy pitchforks.
At the center of the formation rose a black dragon banner. Beneath it stood a simple raised platform, surrounded by a thousand infantry and eight hundred cavalry.
The figure atop the platform could only be one man:
Vig.
The formation completed, the army stood motionless. Spears bristled like a forest, their tips flashing cold light in the sun. The pressure radiating from the formation was palpable—even at a distance.
"Count," Gunnar asked, turning to William,
"how would you attack this?"
William was deeply shaken. Nearly ten thousand soldiers equipped with standardized armor formed a force far more disciplined and cohesive than the Frankish army, whose equipment varied widely in quality and design.
He answered with difficulty:
"You are the commander. The decision is yours."
At this point, battle seemed unavoidable. Gunnar ordered four thousand infantry forward for a probing attack.
As soon as they entered range, the Frankish troops came under relentless suppressive fire.
The Vikings spared no arrows. Most struck shields or buried themselves harmlessly in the grass, yet the archers maintained a steady, disciplined rate of fire.
Watching the barrage, Gunnar muttered to himself:
"One arrow costs a penny. They have more than two thousand archers shooting. Each volley equals ten pounds of silver. Before the fighting even begins, Vig has already thrown away over a hundred pounds."
He gave a faint, incredulous smile.
"Still as rich as ever."
Eventually, the Frankish infantry reached melee range.
After only a short engagement, Gunnar realized victory was impossible. Even if he attempted a cavalry maneuver around the flank, the fortress artillery on the walls would bombard them. Breaking the enemy formation was unrealistic.
Continuing the fight would achieve nothing.
He dispatched messengers ordering the infantry to withdraw. During the retreat, the Frankish troops were again subjected to heavy arrow fire. The Viking arrows seemed endless, pouring down like a storm—utterly indifferent to the cost of hundreds of pounds of silver.
"Full retreat," Gunnar ordered.
"Return to camp along the original route."
William said nothing. He glanced at the knights resting quietly on the grass, awaiting orders. Unusually, they remained calm—no shouting, no reckless charges.
The Frankish army withdrew in good order.
Vig made no attempt to pursue. He simply watched Gunnar's white banner bearing the black bear fade into the distance.
In that moment, a realization struck him.
He faced the same strategic dilemma once suffered by the Song dynasty:
His army possessed powerful heavy infantry and excellent archers capable of inflicting heavy casualties before contact—but lacked sufficient cavalry. Even after repelling the enemy, he could not pursue to expand the victory.
"Next time," he muttered,
"I must find a way to bring all the cavalry from home. Otherwise this war can't be fought properly."
Two days later, news arrived:
Carloman had successfully reached Aalborg and evacuated Louis the Younger, who had been trapped there for weeks. Because the Nordic coalition had suffered heavy losses, Halfdan made no attempt to block the Frankish withdrawal. His only move was to occupy Schleswig and observe the enemy's next steps.
After six exhausting months of campaigning, Louis's army was nearing collapse. Complaints spread through the ranks. Knights and militia alike longed for home and demanded an end to the war.
At the same time, Vig had no interest in wasting more time in Hamburg.
He estimated that the Frankish forces now approached twenty thousand men, with numbers still rising. If they launched a full siege—constructing heavy trebuchets outside the city—he doubted he could defeat them in open battle. The conflict would devolve into a long, tedious siege.
Early July
Vig withdrew back into Denmark to assist the Nordic coalition in repairing the Danevirke defenses.
Soon afterward, an envoy from Louis arrived to negotiate a prisoner exchange.
Throughout the war, Vig had captured roughly two thousand prisoners, while only sixty-five of his own men had been taken—most of them marines.
He proposed terms:
The Franks would ransom their prisoners with warhorses.
The response was immediate and firm.
"We are willing to provide silver or grain," the envoy said,
"but we will not surrender a single horse."
By now, the Franks fully understood the threat posed by Britain. The smuggling of warhorses had been completely halted to prevent the Vikings from building a large cavalry force.
Negotiations dragged on for more than a week without progress.
Eventually, Vig set the matter aside and turned his attention to more pressing concerns.
July 15
He convened a council of coalition leaders to discuss the future of the war.
Overall, everyone had contributed. The field defeat suffered by Halfdan and Little Erik was not primarily due to poor command. The coalition's cavalry and heavy infantry had simply been inferior to the Frankish forces.
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