Odric opened his eyes, his eyelids were a little swollen, he hadn't slept a day since he left Salerno. The dark green waves of the Adriatic Sea were not dangerous, and the sailors sometimes sang a variety of tunes, including some fantasies about the sirens, who had heard seafarers of all nationalities talk about these young blonde women in various seas, who were powerful warriors of great power, who roared in the sky, who sometimes swam in the depths of the sea, who were hidden in the schools of fish beneath the waves, as silent as dead bodies, or who walked on the shore and land like earthly creatures. When Odrik heard the fisherman's wife talk about how the banshees seduced the seafolk with their songs, he was a carefree teenager who longed for more stories than feared them, and now he only disdained these ignorant and obscene embryos, and made the same cynical mockery as any spy in the business.

He felt a little uncomfortable when he stepped out of the cabin, but he had to feed the damned horse for Drogo, or the crew would let the beast die sooner or later.

"How are you sleeping?" He greeted the horse like a madman, and the beast tried to run away when it was carried on board by a crane, destroying one of Odrik's robes, and seeing it slump, Oderick was still a little gloating.

As he added the oats and forage, Odrik poured a little ale from the leather bag into it, which would stop it from all agitation and even fall asleep under the bumpy boat.

Then he felt a strange vibration, as if the sea was boiling under his feet. Odrik immediately returned to the deck, his lord was shouting something, but he didn't hear anything, and the sight before him had already frightened him:

Numerous galleys approached from the west, and he could see the massive ramming angles of this huge fleet, the triangular Latin sails, the tower bridges with a large number of crossbowmen, and more slender clippers coming at high speed from the other direction—Aldrik opened his mouth in despair, but could not make a sound, his lord was beside him, wearing ornate armor, and the weapons hanging from his shoulder straps were unsheathed but useless, and the enemy's trebuchet was already projecting the ignited asphalt fire barrels, and hell was descending on the water in an instant.

The ship they were on was nothing more than a horse transport in the Venetian fleet, and most of the facilities on it were designed to be suspended rather than to defend against ramming, and Drogo cursed fiercely, as the oarsmen were trying to escape from the terrible enemy, and the Norman fleet had collapsed—and the proud Venetians, vassals of the Roman emperors, watched like the greatest conquerors as their enemies floated and sunk before their eyes, and that enemy ships were destroyed by their own ships with bows, fire, and ramming, War at sea is more brutal than siege warfare, there are no protracted confrontations, but the same projectile weapons, climbing ramparts are needed, and the losers have nowhere to escape, their ships are their graves.

Odric told himself that he should abandon Drogo and escape on his own, the son of a fisherman, and although he had become more familiar with the use of swords and pen and ink over the years, he had not lost his ability to fight the waves.

It's just that he has always lacked such a heart—even after years of experiencing the deceit of nobles on the land of the Southern Continent, a humble spy like him still maintains a conscience—which is very ridiculous, what loyalty and glory does a person like him deserve? How much more about an evil lord?

Drogo's white armor shimmered like a myriad of lenses in the firelight, and his kite-shaped shield seemed to break in the smoke, and Odrick finally unarmed the Flemish nobleman's weapon, and the lord was clearly confused, and he was at his mercy to remove the scales and sword and shield.

By this time, the entire Norman fleet had been destroyed, but Aldrick did not escape, and Drogo's beard was blackened, so that both strangers became prisoners of the Venetian fleet.

In the north, another fleet had gone on an expedition half a month earlier, and their commanders, Hereward and Rodrigo, headed for what the Romans called the Saxon Wall. The Lord of Lincolnshire, who knew almost nothing about the front, met King Edgar, who immediately ordered him to join his henchmen and go to a negotiation.

"Danish?" The lord was suspicious, and he had learned from Rodrigo about his current enemy, Kruno the Slavic King, whom the Teutonic people called him. This pagan monarch, who ruled several tribes on the western coast of the Baltic Sea, killed the old kings who had converted to Christianity, and banished the king's sons to the court of Saxony.

These Slavs were Charlemagne's allies, helped the Franks conquer Saxony, and in the time of Otto the Great they were included in the empire's rule, until a hundred years ago, when the tribes drove out the Germanic armies, restored the ancient oath, and entrenched themselves in the northeast of the empire in the name of the Old Gods.

Herriward learned that not long ago, these pagans were still threatened by the Danish king, who had always hoped to establish an empire on the Baltic coast, but now that the Danish king and the Yardes were losing their power in civil strife, Kruno began to lead a pagan army into the Elbe region, and even plundered the bishopric of Hamburg.

"They want to create an alliance with the infidels, so this time we need to go and see the Danish king in person." Edgar explained, and Count Rodrigo spoke.

"My Majesty, I insist that you should not attend in person, the land is too chaotic at the moment."

Hereward cautiously agreed, but Edgar was unmoved, and his voice became low: "The immediate goal is to seize the heretic stronghold, Lübeck, and for this we have even agreed to the Duke of Saxony's condition to help him recover the old frontier." This means that we can't waste any strength, the Danes may not send troops, but we need them not to be a threat. ”

Now that the king has put his heart into account, Hereward naturally cannot continue to openly oppose it, and he did not even refuse to escort the king to meet with the Danes, which surprised Rodrigo a little, when the earl was at sea, out of knightly skill, he had a fight with this old English Sein, only to find that the other party's strength was weak, although Herry Ward did not react, but he was a little sorry for his abruptness. Now that the other party is going to go to danger with the king, Rodrigo can't help but worry.

Edgar's retinues were all English warriors who drank and ate together, and swore by the fireplace that the king would be able to call each of them by name and know the affairs of each of them, and when Queen Emma complained about the lack of proper etiquette in the English court, Edgar replied: The king must eat with the guards, so that everyone knows what kind of man their lord is, and a warrior will never work for someone he does not know, and allow himself to alienate the warriors, and the monarch surrounded by minions will lose his sword and become weak. The same is true for Hereward, who had eaten at the king's table and slept in the hall with Edgar himself, and who had eaten and slept in the hall with Edgar himself.

When Otto von Nordheim arrived, the King of England set out in earnest, arranging two sentinels in the front team, alternating between the advances and reconnaissance, while he led hundreds of attendants to accompany the English clergy from the Danish court to the north—to this day, most of the Bishops and other clergy of Denmark are still Englandites who are ordained in Winchester, and the legacy of the Canute era is always inadvertently present in both kingdoms, reminding people of the chaos of the past.