The Terror That Conquered Britain

[BenDaCoolGuy]

The Terror that Conquered Britain
"And never before has such terror appeared in Britain as we have now suffered from a pagan race"

​

Point of Divergence - January 6th, 878

Outskirts of Chippenham, England

Guthrum overlooked the lit up town from a hill. The night had a silence to it, as the only noises heard were the laughing of his men and the screeching of the ravens. His silence was interrupted by the panting of his messenger though as he handed him a quickly written letter.

"Dear Guthrum,

Alfred and the ealdormen have decided to stay in Chippenham for a few more days as the food supply is grand and the morale of the guard is high. Tonight is perfect to strike. Our Christmas feast will start by the dawn of the sun and will not end till the rise. If you attack tonight Alfred will be caught off guard and the army disorganized. Tonight is the perfect chance. Meet me at Bedanheafeford soon Lord. I am expecting this land to be ours shortly.

From, Wulfhere, Ealdorman of Wiltshire"

Guthrum was uneasy of the loyalty and trustworthiness of Wulfhere, but if he was telling the truth, tonight Wessex could be his. Guthrum had made his decision. He ran down the hill as fast as his old legs could take him, and rallied his men. A prayer to the gods was the only thing needed and in an hour, the attack started. Guthrum led the main flank as some men would hack their way towards the hall while the rest would attack from the other entrances. The gates were unsurprisingly weak and in seconds Danes poured into the town, killing anyone they could find. Guthrum took his best man to the hall where he dramatically busted through the door. Though when opened, was only one man. Stout, balding, and shaky was he as he hurried to grab his joke of a sword. The man turned around in an instant and realizing it was Guthrum, fell to his knees in plea.

"Lo- Lord! It's me! Wulfhere!"

"Get up you kortr." Guthrum ordered, "Where is Alfred?"

"He told us he was running towards the left gate my Lord."

"Thank you. Now run."

Wulfhere ran through the hall and shut the door behind him, panting as he went. Guthrum brought his men to the left gate as he witnessed the barbarism on the streets. Men, women, children, all crying, bleeding, or even dead. He tried to ignore the horrific sights as the distance between him and the gate shrunk. His men were cheering as the Saxon soldiers were dead and the streets were silent once more. But the silence was interrupted.

Guthrum shouted with might, "Where is this beiskaldi of a king, Alfred?!"

The men searched the ground hurriedly looked for Alfred's corpse. And with avail, came success. The searching came to a close when a soldier signaled Guthrum. Guthrum responded with swiftness and ran to the corpse and to his surprise, was the King of Wessex, lifeless, and downtrodden. His shining golden crown was found falling off his bloody head. Guthrum had helped with that and picked the crown up for himself, proclaiming with the strength of a lion in his throat:

"WESSEX IS OURS!"

The Danes cheered with delight realizing that the Last Kingdom of England was in the grasps of their hands.

 

[altwere]

interesting start

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

January 8th -
Æthelhelm, nephew of Alfred is crowned next King of Wessex in Winchester while Guthrum's army rests in Chippenham, setting up major supply production.

January 20th -
Odda, ealdorman of Devon, makes a secret change of sides to Guthrum, as long as he is awarded land after the conquest.

January 31st -
A viking leader with a large army lands in Devon, marching towards Wiltshire as he leaves a path of destruction in his dust.

February 3rd -
Æthelhelm rallies multiple local militias in Wessex meeting up in Winchester to repel the growing Danish Army.

February 15th, 878

Ethandun, Wessex

The Dane's sleep was interrupted by the blowing of horns, the clanging of metal, and the thunderous footsteps of a thousand men. Servants had started clanging pots and pans waking every soldier up for what they thought was an approaching enemy army. They rang in the ears of each soldier, causing panic between the ranks. The soldiers clamored for their armor and weapons, preparing for the worst. Guthrum was absent from the camp and nowhere to be found. War horns repeated themselves over and over as every man begged for their leader to return. They cowered in fear of the thought of the supposed approaching army. But soon came their relief, revealing Guthrum from the forest. On a puny ass and humming a simple tune, the Dane was wearing a quite happy smile on his face.

"Calm down all of you! On Odin's life, there's nothing to be worried about. Our ally has arrived, now act like good guests and ready to greet them."

The army's banter suddenly stopped and they proceeded to advance towards their announced "ally". The sight was jaw dropping as the allied army closed the distance on Guthrum's force. The grassy plain they walked on shook with the amount of manpower it withstood. Their armor glimmered like a blazing sun reflecting onto the field. The Norsemen were armed with fine spears and swords with their sheer amount of men casting a shadow upon the whole meadow. The army had to be at least twice the size of Guthrum's and could eat a whole farm worth of wheat in a day. The two armies stopped as they reached a decent distance of a few meters and the rulers respectively met in the middle. Guthrum wore a red robe decorated with golden ornaments and bear fur that day, as this impression would have a great effect on his image in Britain. His counterpart on the other hand was wearing muddy armor and a poorly made helmet and coif. The men stared at each other in silence, like two old friends meeting each other once more. And their unimpressed sneers soon transformed into cheerful grins as they jumped off their horses to hug.

"Ah, Guthrum. I am sure happy to help your cause." the general congratulated.

"Ubba! I thought you'd never arrived. I almost got to thinking that the best Lothbrok got into an accident!" Guthrum chuckled.

Ubba was one of the most famous men in England participating in some of the most well-known battles around the realm. Ventures in Ireland, Scotland, and Northumbria made him one of the most trusted and praised generals in the Isles. And when Guthrum extended his hand for help in his conquest of the last Saxon realm, Ubba was glad to accept this challenge. Ubba had landed on Combwich coast in which he went through Devon, plundering multiple forts. His raiding endeavors had ended once he had reached his main goal, Guthrum's army. From there, the two men would be able to cut the heart out from Wessex, creating a solely Danish England.

"Well I'm glad you were wrong, friend." Ubba responded, sounding a bit competitive.

After a short pause, Guthrum invited saying, "Otherwise, let us talk at the longhouse."

The two got on their horses and rode towards the camp, signaling their army with them. Their men easily numbered to two thousand as they lumbered to the camp. Guthrum and Ubba arrived at the longhouse quickly, unlike their forces who were marching their way back in an uniform manner. They walked into the dimly lit house finding themselves facing two large throne-like chairs. The house was mostly empty, not including the exception of a group of unfortunate slave women, and the long table covered in mead and bread stretching from one end of the room to another. The two sat in the thrones across from them and resumed their conversation.

Ubba started with "So, with Alfred dead and our armies united what is the next plan of action?"

"Glad you asked. Tomorrow after a great feast we will set foot to Winceaster where we will meet up with Wulfhere's and Odda's forces. From there, we siege the town, crowning myself King and my valuable allies respective Jarls."

"Odda is in on this? And do you not think that Æthelhelm will be able to mount an effective resistance?"

"Ubba, you must understand me here. Odda has agreed to switch to our side for a considerate amount of land. And Æthelhelm does not stand a chance without his vassals. He's a boy who does not understand the art of war. There's no chance that he could stand a chance. Besides, considering that I was the one who killed Alfred, it should be me giving out orders. Not you."

Ubba clenched his fists to that underhand insult, but steadied himself and responded, "I guess you are right. Remember though, just because Æthelhelm is a fresh king does not mean that he doesn't stand a chance. The Kings of Wessex are slimy, outrageous creatures who will commit to anything if it means that their feeble Kingdom stays standing."

"Know I will consider that Ubba. I will. But enough with battle planning, we will discuss that soon. Let's have a great night!" Guthrum exclaimed picking up his mug of ale and clashing it against Ubba's. The two would chug until they fell over full.

 

[Unknown]

Good start.

What's the PoD?

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

Good start.

What's the PoD?

Thank you. All criticism is appreciated. But instead of Alfred escaping Chippenham and resting at Athelney where he was able muster enough troops to beat Guthrum at Edington, and kill Ubba at Devon (which happened in OTL), Alfred was killed in Chippenham. Causing other ealdormen to switch sides and create a larger Danish army to subjugate Wessex.

 

[Historyman 14]

Oh dang.

This serious messes up the future of England as we know it. So much for 'the Great', as well as the rest of Europe if there is successful moves against Christianity. (And it is Norse. Danish in fact.)

Oh, and welcome to the site.

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

February 16th -
Guthrum and Ubba's army set foot from Edington to Bedanheafeford(Bedwyn), expecting to meet up with Wulfhere.

February 20th -
Wulfhere's forces meet up with the Danes in Bedanheafeford where they feast for a night and set foot once more.

February 28th -
The Norse army camps outside of Winchester, awaiting for Odda to arrive.

March 2nd, 878

Outskirts of Winceaster, England

Guthrum woke up to the yelling of Ubba that morning. It was quite the alarm as the words echoed in his mind.

"Guthrum, you skreyja idiot! Wake up!"

"Ubba! What's the problem?"

"Æthelhelm. Your scouts have reported a massive Saxon army advancing towards us. And yes our men are awake."

"That - AH! We get in formation now."

Guthrum rubbed his eyes, clearing his blurry perspective of the tent he was just laying in seconds ago. He stomped out with feet heavy as a boulder, sinking into the muddy terrain, announcing,

"Men! Today was uncalled for, but today we will prevail against this filth we call Saxons! We will crush them with the might of our swords and shields! We will annihilate the boy they call King! We will become the rightful heirs to England! Odin is with us, as today is ours!" The men cheered along with him, "Now into shield wall!"

The soldiers formed in seconds as the shields became a fortress and the spears became spikes. Guthrum grinned with confidence watching his army discipline in a matter of minutes. He ordered his best men to join him on the right flank, planning to encircle the Saxons once the center was engaged. The bitter cold prickled Guthrum's stern face but had no effect while he continued to give orders. And though Ubba was jealous of the influence Guthrum had over his men, he obeyed orders and joined the shield wall in the center of the forces. The sun was saturated as the men waited for the echoing footsteps of men to transform into the sounds of thunder. They watched the Saxon army approach, shivering on the damp grassy hill they situated on. The Danes had been outnumbered by their counterparts but only by few. The enemy got closer and closer, and soon they saw the stouthearted and boastful boy-king, riding his precious steed. Guthrum smiled at the sight, his wrinkles forming around his face as he watched his enemy advance. He could hear Ubba and Wulfhere readying their men, shouting inspirational spurts here and there. And in just seconds, the lone and random shouts, turned into an ear blasting yell as the Saxons ran up the hill, forming a shield wall themselves seconds before the impact between the two armies had begun.

"Men, stay still!" Guthrum ordered, squinting his eyes for an unit of approaching swordsmen.

The swordsmen clashed into Guthrum's formation shield first, disrupting the once orderly unit. Their weapons stung against each other like hornets, and the shields bashed like clutter on a desk. Guthrum ordered an aggressive approach on his right flank, pushing hard against the Saxon's weak force. Guthrum cut through men like butter slashing through multiple soldiers. He went on rampage, not even being able to control himself. He screamed and swung his sword left and right before finding himself behind enemy lines. His vision was blurred by the blood now dripping down his face. All he could hear was the brittle snow softly landing on the snow beneath his light feet. Everything had gone slow for Guthrum and a need for violence and bloodshed was needed. He now remembered how it felt to be in battle, he readied his sword once more, now aiming at the distracted men at the back of the unit. But this moment was short lived as in an instant all he could feel was the ramming of what felt like bricks to his back and the face-first fall into the mud. His breathing almost stopped and a ringing played over and over in his ears. He was flipped over suddenly and though dizzy and stirred, he could make out what seemed to be Æthelhelm standing over him. Proud and snotty, he grinned at Guthrum before aiming what seemed to be a shimmering steel sword to his face. The boy chuckled at the weaponless Dane, but too early as it seemed as a horn played from behind the Saxon lines.

Æthelhelm confused, asked and then ordered, "Is that Odda?" he looked at what could be only described as a miracle for Guthrum, hundreds of Odda's men charging behind the Saxon army. "Why is he here? He was not called, that damned traitor! For Christ's sake fall back! Fall back!"

But it was too late. Odda's men had quickly closed in on Æthelhelm's army and the fighting Saxons had found themselves enveloped. Guthrum was able to crawl back into friendly lines as he watched the inexperienced Wessex men get mowed down by his forces.

Guthrum laughed in excitement, "Come on men we can do it faster then that! And fetch that little boy while you're at it!"

The massacre ended soon as the Saxons were mostly killed, excluding Æthelhelm who was able to be spared and captured. The Danes feasted inside the safe walls of Winceaster that night. Ale, wine, pig, and beef all prepared for the tired yet victorious Danish men. But Guthrum was not yet victorious. The wind was still quite cold and bitter, and the night dark and ominous as Guthrum walked through the city to the church. The chatter of his men could be heard from a mile away, like music to his ears. But that was contrary for Æthelhelm, soaking in the regret of defeat, the boy was chained to the altar in the church. But to his surprise, Guthrum had decided to meet with him. The church was empty of all its belongings. The cross taken for gold and the bibles burned to fuel the fire that night. Yet the church was not empty. Regret, sorrow, and guilt filled that church. Æthelhelm sobbed on the floor, hand attached to an unbreakable chain. Guthrum had walked up to teen, placed his hands on his shoulders and said,

"All I want is that crown and your hand."

"What?" said Æthelhelm, stopping his sobbing.

"The crown and your hand. Then you can have your life."

"Why?"

"Give it to me now."

Æthelhelm pondered for a long time, seeming as if he had gone mute. But with enough time he had responded, "Okay, okay sir. Just let me go. That is all I wish."

"Good."

The church was not empty that night.

 

[DanMcCollum]

Ooh, an Anglo-Saxon timeline! I'm always intrigued by those!

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

Guthrum's coronation with Odda and Wulfhere behind him, and his women besides him.​

March 3rd, 878

Winceaster Palace, England

The next day followed with the full-bellied Danes waking up to peace. The war was over and the last kingdom had fallen. Æthelhelm had been bandaged up, now with only a single hand, being brought to West Francia on a small longship. And Guthrum had finally assumed the throne of Wessex, his crowning being today. He was woken up by one his slaves early in the morning. The sun was glaring once again as the shining light was beaming through his humble room. The world revolved around him today. The morning was silent and the air calm. The river sung a rhythmic tune as the wind hummed. The Gods have blessed Guthrum today, ruler of both Saxon and Danes, and soon to be ruler of all Wessex. He sighed as he put on his royal garments, smiling as he picked up his crown. The gold glimmered and the sunlight reflected off of it, as if it was made by Odin's hand. Unfortunately, the crown had to wait as Guthrum strolled out his abode, down the city and into the hall, watching the coronation being set up. Wulfhere, short and miserable as he was, was standing quite proudly today, directing the men as they finished decorating the hall. He was posed like a chipmunk before spotting Guthrum, where he started waddling towards him.

"Good morning my Lord. How does it look? It's almost done." He asked while pointing at the magnificent sight. The room beamed with ruby red cloth and shiny spruce planks, Roman marble pillars lining up on each side of the room. Sprawling and rickety dining tables spread from each end of the hall and harpist played a soothing melody as Guthrum marveled at the sight.

"Quite good Wulfhere, quite good. I'm proud of you. I will be happy to gift you the land we have conquered, you have done me well."

Wulfhere's eye widened to that statement, a smirk appearing on his face as he said "Well, thank you my Lord. Of course you don't have to - I mean - I mean thank you. It has been a pleasure to help you through your endeavors."

Guthrum chuckled, "Thank you Wulfhere." Guthrum moved his face closer, turning his grin into a sneer. "Now I have a question. Do you promise to work with me until you die?"

Wulfhere backed up, now intimidated, "Well yes, of course my Lord. Not a question."

"I hope that to be true Wulfhere. There are many people in this world who do not deserve my trust."

"Well indeed King, but I'll prove it to you!"

"Prove it to me? Huh. Well you can prove it to me tonight. After bestowing your forever loyalty to me at the coronation, I'd like for you do some work for me. All I would need is for you get rid of Ubba. That pesky rat can no longer stay. He is a danger to this realm. A danger to us. Then, you will get my trust, and forever my trust."

Wulfhere cowered but calmed himself, "You can count me in Lord, he will no longer be a problem to you by tonight."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now continue. The coronation's happening starting very soon Wulfhere, it better be done!" Guthrum exclaimed, now running into the streets searching for something that looked rather important. He continued to stroll down the streets of the city until he had reached the inn where was able to enjoy a quick drink before setting off through the city once again. He stopped at the intimidating doors of the church, glaring at it for a short time before reaching his hand out for the iron handles.

He opened the doors again, greeting a puddle of dried up blood and a rotting hand of an unfortunate seventeen year-old. A price was paid for this crown, a bloody one indeed, but Guthrum had convinced himself what he was doing was noble. Bringing his fellow Danes and Swedes from snowy and barren land, to a ripe and colorful land where they were free to harvest and fornicate all they want. This was the life his men deserved. This was the life the Gods made for them. But this was not the reason Guthrum had entered the church. A statue of Thor was planted on the altar last night, probably after a bunch of drunkards thought it'd be ironic. But it fit for Guthrum. He knelt down on the stone floor, legs lying in the blood, eyeing down the statue of Thor. He dragged his hands through the blood, smothering them in gore. He then continued to wipe the blood onto his face as if it was war paint and proceeded to say,

"Oh Thor and our almighty father Odin, God of Gods, I wish for the blessing of luck and safety today. I wish for the future of this realm and the future of my life to be blessed with good luck and good care. I promise to the Gods that I will serve all that I can in this life to reach Valhalla, and that no matter what, England will stay in Danish hands."

He stayed silent before walking up to the bells on the top of the church. And with a pull of some rope, the bells swung at each other, smashing and then chiming. The bells rung throughout Winceaster, waking up every hungover Dane, every working women, and every sorrowful Saxon. Men in the city started yelling:

"The coronation is now! The coronation is now! The great leader Guthrum is being crowned!"

Guthrum hurried to the hall and into his throne, immediately sitting down and sinking considerably into the fancy cushioning. He sat underneath a thin tapestry, his slave women sitting by side, and his allies behind him. Guthrum watched Danes pour the hall. The chatter erupted as more men and women plopped into the room, one by one. He smiled at the sight, even grinning while Ubba walked in.

"Silence!" yelled Odda, quite loudly considering how old the Breton was.

"Thank you Odda." said Guthrum as he stood up from his throne. "We have all worked hard for this. Men, women, Saxon, or Dane, we fought for our homeland, our faith, and our homes. Some lost, some won. But at the end of the day, we have triumphed over our enemies. From Chippenham, to Edington, and now here, we have created a new future. A better future. And we will make progress with this better future, and one day, hopefully soon, you and your children can live in an united England without any worry of war. We will cultivate this land, we will harvest, and we will thank every grain of wheat that we can reap. This land has been won with the blood of many good men. And that loss of blood will no longer happen under our rule, our victory. With the victory of the Danes, this land is ours! Vestdanir is ours! Now let us feast like Gods!"

The crowded room exploded with ovation and clapping. Guthrum proudly congratulated himself as the food was soon introduced to the the hungry crowd. Beef and bread was slid onto the table, the scents so strong that they were almost visible. The attendees continued to cheer and applaud while the mead and ale proceeded to be passed around. The feast was grand, conversations of Gods, politics, and normal everyday life took place. There was no conflict, Dane and Saxon, and Christian and Pagan got along just great while they were drunk and full. The feast would last for hours until the last tender flesh was stripped upon its bone and the last bottle of ale was nothing but a bottle of air. And surprisingly enough, Guthrum had enjoyed the time. A few beautiful women here, and some very interesting men there, the afternoon was dealt with great interest as he got to know his subjects a lot better. Not only that, but he had been crowned King during the feast which only increased the praise of the riled up men. The night had gone just as planned. Crown on his head, alcohol in his belly, and kisses on his lips. But after time though, the party had seriously diminished. Now with the majority of attendees being nobility or skilled soldiers, Guthrum was more free to leave the hall. And after one drink too many, Guthrum had done that exactly. But the instant had he walked out was he greeted by two shadows that were supposedly having a conversation. Thankfully they were oblivious to the fact that Guthrum was there and quite clearly eavesdropping. One shadow was short and rotund, almost hunched as he talked to the taller and much stronger built counterpart. Guthrum had easily realized that these shadows belonged to Wulfhere and Ubba, and quickly remembered the task he gave to Wulfhere hours ago. Instant regret set in but unfortunately too late. The next sound Guthrum heard was the revealing of a dagger as Wulfhere suddenly stabbed Ubba in the shoulder, causing only a mere grunt from the man. Ubba knocked down Wulfhere with a smack, dislodging the dagger from his shoulder. He stood over Wulfhere now taunting him before gradually dragging the dagger to his throat. Wulfhere whimpered in fear, the dagger almost cutting into his skin. But to his rescue came Guthrum, though half drunk, had jumped out from the darkness to stop Ubba.

"Ubba, calm down. Wulfhere messed up but we can talk this out."

"Yes Ubba! Listen to him! I was drunk!" Wulfhere pleaded.

"Talk this out? This bastard tried to kill me! I will not talk this out with a coward like himself!" Ubba howled, pointing at a crying Wulfhere. "This is why we invaded the Saxons in the first place. They are weak. They are children. They are nothing but useless sacks of meat to practice fighting with. You are pathetic Guthrum, if you wish to defend this poor excuse of a leader."

"Enough Ubba! You are either to withdrawal and talk, or I am left with no choice but to banish you." Guthrum responded, now with his hand positioned on his sword.

"I should've expected this from you Guthrum. Ever since day one have you been acting as if I'm inferior to you. I was the one who helped invaded Northumbria. I was the one who subjugated the Frisians. I did that. Not you. I do not need your land and I never shall!"

The men fell silent. Guthrum glared in humiliation as Wulfhere retreated back to his Lord. Guthrum replied, "Do as you shall Ubba. I wish you luck for whatever you choose."

"Guthrum of Vestdanir. You will regret the day you challenged the son of Ragnarr Lothbrok! You will regret every single insult you've hurled at me! You'll see soon, the wrath of the Gods will greet you soon."

 

[Historyman 14]

So dies the dreams of England, and the Christianity.

I pity the Anglo-Saxons right about now.

 

[Frrf]

Small nitpick, but you mention the Danes feasting on turkey after the battle with Æthelhelm. Turkeys are native to the Americas, and so there'd be none in 9th Century England. Otherwise, I am interested.

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

Small nitpick, but you mention the Danes feasting on turkey after the battle with Æthelhelm. Turkeys are native to the Americas, and so there'd be none in 9th Century England. Otherwise, I am interested.

Thank you. I will be fixing it soon and thank you for the input.

 

[FillyofDelphi]

So dies the dreams of England, and the Christianity.

I pity the Anglo-Saxons right about now.

They will survive. There are only so many Danes mucking about and many likely prefer adventures in forgien lands. Their new overlords are going to need to work with and live alongside the locals, and while the Aesir are likely to come out far better and Jvork's Archbishiporate collapse, a syncretic upper class culture and merchantile/coastal population is the likely result. Vikings aren't just bloodthirsty savages... especially when you're dealing with "livestock" rather than "wild game"

 

[English Nationalist]

It would be nice to see a de-Christianisation, Saxnot should really once again come to the forefront!

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

March 4th - December 31st 878 -

Ubba retreats to the realm of Jórvik with a fraction of the men he met Guthrum with. And with Jórvik in chaos and an interregnum, Ubba assumes control of the throne after winning a brief battle in Skarðaborg. As Ubba stabilizes his rule over the realm he builds notoriety by minting coins of himself. In Vestdanir, Guthrum also replaces Wessex's upper class of Christians and Saxons with a Pagan and Danish nobility, changing the demographics of the English hierarchy. Along with this the foundation of Saxon government had been swapped with a militaristic aristocracy which Guthrum led at the top.

879-

Persecution of the Saxons in Vestdanir began with the stripping of rights such as marriage or landowning if the monthly tribute of coin or grain was failed. This tribute was called the Kristinngjalda (Christian tribute) and followed much off their Muslim counterpart, the Jizya. The Kristinngjalda required all non-Pagans to pay a monthly tribute to their landlords. This money, being gathered by local militias, would soon mostly reach it's destination in Vintaborg (Winchester) where it'd be distributed throughout the government. The only way to avoid the tribute was either to convert to Paganism (which rarely happened) or marry a Pagan man. Also around this time Guthrum had married one of his thralls, Gwyndaf, who he had captured in a raid in Wales.

880-

Ubba gathers alliances from his brother Sigurdr Snake-In-The-Eye of Sjælland and his neighboring realm, the vikings of Myrrcia. Likewise Guthrum had rewarded his Þegns Odda and Wulfhere more land in the realm, as long as they practiced their Christian faith in privacy. Guthrum also had starting minting coins of himself and his son, Erikr, who had came from Sweden after his father's victory in Wessex, after hearing of the mint in Jórvik. As he begins to see a threat north of him (Ubba's alliance), Guthrum expands the navy and military to contain such a coalition.

881-

After going through an interregnum like in Jórvik, a slave Guthred is made leader of Myrrcia after being prophesied by St Cuthbert to lead the Danes of the region. He becomes close allies with Ubba to legitimize his rule, creating an even larger threat to Guthrum.

882-

After an incident with Wulfhere, the archbishop of York (not to be confused with the Wulfhere associated with Guthrum), Ubba burns down not only the York Minster but the title of the Archbishopric of York too. This marks a new age in Christianity in Northern England, striking strong reactions from Catholics around Europe.

January 1st - July 10th 883-

The Second Great Heathen Army had been organized by Ubba to unify England under the Lothbrok's banner. This army numbered up to around 5,000 to 6,000 men compared to Guthrum's numbers of around 3,000. Guthred had started raids into Vestdanir with the advice of Ubba by his side. Somewhere around Summer, Guthred had plunged deep into Vestdanir, somewhere around the outskirts of Wulfhere's territory. Wulfhere had raised his fyrd in response where he met Guthred's force outside Bluntesdone (Blundson). Though Wulfhere won a strategic victory he was wounded and brought back to Chippenham to be treated. This marked the hostilities between Guthrum's kingdom and the opposing Danish factions in England.

England in 883 A.D., before the hostilities between the Vestdanes and the other Danish realms in England started.​

 

[Marc Anthony]

Let me guess... you read bernard cornwell?

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

Let me guess... you read bernard cornwell?

Mhm!

 

[Marc Anthony]

!

I love his books

 

[Avrorrange]

I love his books

I gave up on his stuff.His stuff(at least the ones I’ve read) always seem to be a repeat of: protagonist finds new woman,gets beaten up by a new villain or sometimes an old one,protagonist has sexual intercouse with the woman,the woman dies or leave protagonist and the protagonist beats up the villain,the repeat all of this in the next novel.

 

[BenDaCoolGuy]

After losing much inspiration in the next part of this TL and a seeming lack of enthusiasm of the narrative sections from viewers, I have considered to add a poll to see what everyone thinks I should do for the rest of this TL. If you want to see this TL continue, a vote on the poll would be appreciated. Thank you for reading and consider leaving a vote!