The gray and white walls under the stars are far more beautiful than pen and ink can describe, but the Danes sigh not for this - their bloody battle has been reduced to smoke, and this pearl of northern England still does not belong to the wolf warriors of the sea. In York, the Earl of Northumbria returned to the stone wall as soon as his injuries had recovered, and the Danish attack destroyed part of the wooden suspension structure, so the Earl's bodyguards followed their lord to the city along the other side of the square outer fort, guarding the battlements. The Danish camp in the starlit darkness had fallen silent, and the Count paced slowly in the direction of the main fort after a moment's look, his feet still aching as he walked on the steel-hard road.

"Lord Hughed." Walcioff, Earl of Northumbria, took the initiative to greet the Lord Mayor of Yorkshire.

"Haven't you rested yet?" Governor Hughard was slightly surprised, "What's the urgency at such a late hour?" ”

"I've just checked it, and now there are still two hundred horses in the castle, and the Northumbria Guards have recovered their strength, so I'm wondering if I can go out of the city and attack." The Earl's tone was not very sure, after all, he could not lead the army himself, and it was equally impossible for the body of the magistrate of Hughold to allow him to go into battle.

"It is enough for us to hold York for now, and so are His Majesty's orders." The Yorkshire Lord replied without thinking.

"But I always felt that something was wrong, the Danes are too quiet these days."

"My spies have recently reported that several detachments of the enemy have entered Mercia in the direction of the Uss, and I think they must be preparing to besiege us while dividing up and plundering." The magistrate of Hughard was quick to answer the earl's questions.

"Mercia? The Earl of Moka is still in Chester, in case the Danes approach London in the direction of Nottingham......"

"It's nothing more than some plundering detachment, which will not threaten London." Comforted by the magistrate, Count Volsiov finally gave up the idea of going to war.

The next day, when gusts of wind murmured among the branches and leaves, and the sun shone like a crown on the treetops, drying the golden dew from the branches, there was finally a new movement outside the walls of York.

"What's going on?" The magistrate of Heyard was questioning the sentinel, but saw that the Count of Northumbria had already arrived in this direction.

The Danes seemed to be massing in a big way, and the momentum was as high as before the previous siege, which made the English vigilant, but when the armies were preparing for battle, the Danish army had already come out of the camp, and the spears and axes were sharp, like a hundred flowers, but the morale of these northern wolf warriors was not high, and there seemed to be a faint mournful voice.

Soon, a group of royal guards in iron armor appeared, carrying a body in armor with shields, dazzling in the sun, and in the right front of the procession was a noble Danish prince, which stunned the English people in the city for a while.

"The King of Denmark is dead." Sheyard County Chief whispered.

The Count of Northumbria's expression was a little strange, as if he was hesitating, and he kept observing the Danish army outside the city, thinking whether he could take the opportunity to surprise the other party.

Before the Count could make up his mind, the loud trumpet sound in the distance suddenly came, and gradually, a stream of iron appeared from the south, and the fluttering dragon flag was no longer wrong, at this moment, the Count almost thought that he was dreaming, but the cheers around him were like thunder and lightning piercing the clouds, and he immediately reacted, and the king arrived.

The royal army was like a red sun bursting out, covering the southern part of the plain in the blink of an eye, and the Danish camp was like red-hot steel, wrapped right between the anvils. If the English attacked at this moment, this army would probably not be spared, and at this moment, even the Yorkshire Lord began to get excited.

There is no better chance, and the English people of York City have all given birth to the idea of extinguishing this eclipse, so end this war like this, no matter how much blood is shed, it will be worth it!

However, the Wyvern stopped in the south, like a long night and a bright moon, and the Danes began to order a retreat to the east. The plane was fleeting, and the heart of the Count of Northumbria was about to jump out, but the army on the opposite side had no intention of attacking, so it watched the Danes' retreat in the direction of East York, and did not fire a single attack from beginning to end.

"What the hell is going on?" The Count of Northumbria couldn't believe his eyes, the king had just gone back like this! Is this still the Wessex royal family that fought a bloody battle against the enemy?

On this day, the English did not see bloodshed after all, for their great enemies abandoned their camp and fled to the coast, and King Edgar entered the fortress of York with the lord of Northumbria.

"My lord, it's been a great job." The king first greeted the young Count of Northumbria.

This kind tone did not solve the knot in the earl's heart, and Walsiov soon couldn't help but ask, "Why did we let those Danish mongrels go?" ”

The king's expression remained calm, and his tone remained as calm as usual: "Ladies and gentlemen, the war is over. ”

"But what did we win?" The Count of Northumbria's voice revealed an air of injustice, which made the nobles present a little uneasy.

"Peace." The king answered this question briefly.

"Why not victory and glory?"

"Because peace is enough, my lord!" This time, the king's tone finally changed, and this majesty made the hearts of all present suddenly sink, and everyone realized that standing before them was still the leader of the Anglo-Saxons, the scourge of the Normans, and the conqueror of the Welsh.

King Edgar's emerald shawl was untied by one of his attendants, revealing a red robe woven with a golden beast pattern, and he issued a series of orders to deal with some of the affairs of the Northern War, and sent troops to East Redding to relieve the siege. It was not until before sunset, when most of the Northumbrian lords had departed, that the king reverted to the Earl of Walcioff and the Governor of Hueyade: "We do not need a victory, for even a victory like Stamford Bridge would drain our strength, so I agreed to Osbjörn's offer to let him and the Danes return." ”

"On what terms?" The Count finally regained his composure.

"Support him to become King of Denmark!" The king replied casually, but to the surprise of the two powerful lords.

"Osbjorn returned to York yesterday, and King Sven died that night, how do you think the Danes would have reacted if it weren't for our help?" Edgar recounted lightly, as if to say something even ordinary and trivial, "He will be the king of the Danes, but his kingdom will be in turmoil, and in the future if the sons of King Sven go into exile, we can also provide refuge to remind the Danish king never to make a wrong choice." Osbjorn is right, the time of the Vikings is gone. ”

End of the first volume