Rise of Rurik

The Polotsk people had to accept the reality of defeat. At least it seemed that the conquerors were reasonable.

They had to pay a higher price for their defeat, and a batch of grain was the price.

The cavalry was always stationed outside the city, and Fisk tried his best to restrain his men. At least the Russian army did a good job. At least Quetzal's Pechenegs did not rush into the village to rob, but these prairie people drove their horses directly to eat the wheat that was in urgent need of harvest. The farmers could only stare in grief and anger.

The war compensation Fiske demanded was half of Polotsk's harvest this year. The pressure was distributed to every village. After threshing and shelling, the army received food as tribute.

After that meeting, Proclaw, who had lost all face, could no longer be the leader. The new leader, Lambart, was only superficially supported by the tribe, but was secretly scolded.

After all, Lambart's inconsistent despicable people are surrenderers, and now they're taking away everyone's food.

Collecting tribute from the defeated was risky, and Fisk was worried that he would encounter strong resistance from the irrational.

It's time for Lambart to prove his loyalty!

For this man who finally got the position of leader, of course he had to do things for the Rus Conqueror for this power. At first, he thought simply, thinking that these people would not be careful when asking for food. Unexpectedly, the bald general did some calculations and gave a specific number.

"Assuming you have 10,000 people, there will be 2,000 small families. Each family has one Russian hectare of land, and the oat harvest will be calculated as one thousand pounds. In the end, you will have to attack Russia with one million pounds of oats."

Even Polotsk residents use units of measurement left over from Roman times, and for them the "Roman pound" is the only standardized unit of weight. I don’t know when this set of standards started. At least the Latvian merchants and Varyag merchants passing through Riga are using it. Several tribes in the distance are also using it. Polotsk must also use it if it wants to do business with people far away.

Lambart understood Fisk's request, at least the amount requested was too large, so he kept an eye on it and wanted to operate it carefully and give less.

Such a plan was discovered by Fisk, but when he thought about it, it was like shearing sheep. If you cut the sheep bare in one breath, it would freeze to death. If you plunder these defeated guys too hard, you might break the jar.

Others can be horse bandits. After all, he is a general under the king. He must consider the face of the Russians in everything he does.

He knew Lambart's inner appeal, so he made a compromise: "You can pay the tribute in batches. I will give you five years to transport 200,000 pounds per year. The oats will be sent to Vitebsk upstream of the river. Even if the mission is completed.”

After the war, the population of Polotsk still exceeded 10,000. However, many high-quality agricultural tools were lost, which caused a big blow to agricultural production. It is no longer possible to get back the iron farm tools, but the remaining farm tools can still be produced.

Fiske first estimated the farmland area and yield per mu of a local. Out of his own contempt, he did not think that the farmland of this group of people was likely to be highly productive, so he defaulted to "poor farmland" with a yield of only a thousand pounds per hectare. . Although the actual situation was not as bad as Fisk had predicted, the agricultural situation was also far inferior to the Russians' fertile farmland at Yin'ermen Lake.

Providing 200,000 pounds as tribute for five consecutive years. Handing over this batch of food will not starve the people, but the agricultural surplus will become better than nothing. In this way, there is no need to think about exchanging more materials to enrich yourself in five years.

At least the people will not suffer from famine.

Lambart was convinced that these conquerors would not slowly torture the Polotsk people to death, so he boldly asked: "Are we...sheep to you?"

"You are indeed sheep, you just have your wool cut off regularly by us. But that's not necessarily the case. Our king is a benevolent ruler. If you are obedient enough, King Rus may exempt you from all tributes."

Fisk cleverly described a bright future for them, and regarding the issue of tribute, he first handed over one million pounds this year, and then adjusted the mortgage payment and paid it off in five years. Fisk showed Rus' kindness, while for the Polotsk nobles, they felt that the conquerors were compromising.

Many old guys just suffered from Stockholm Syndrome and began to feel that it was too late to meet the Russians. If they had known this, it would be better to send envoys to the north to ask for surrender.

The autumn harvest in the T-junction area of ​​the Polota River and the West Dvina River where Polotsk is located is in full swing, and a group of cavalry are staying aside to rest lazily.

Normally, the dried straw of oats and rye is used as raw material for roof haystacks and as feed for livestock. Wheat straw is not very effective for feeding livestock, so it is perfect for roofing, especially when the autumn rain is coming soon.

The Polotsk people did not raise many cattle and sheep. Each of the ten villages handed over five cattle, making a total of fifty cattle for the conquerors to enjoy. They took out a group of old cows in a very stupid way. This was clearly seen by the prairie people, as well as by the Ross-Ostara coalition. Fisk didn't have much to say. It was only his fault that he didn't explain clearly when he asked for this special tribute. It’s not that the old beef is inedible because it’s of poor quality, it’s good to eat it with barbecued meat, not to mention that the army really has to prepare for the next phase of operations.

In the riverside area, the open-air camp of the Ross army was always lively, even at night.

The wheat harvest is in full swing, and no one from the army has set foot in the settlements of local villagers in the past few days. At first, the villagers still called the people by the river "terrible horse bandits." Later, they continued to observe these guys without disturbing them, and became less and less wary of them. Even those who were slaughtering cows by the river looked terrible. What was even more terrifying was that these guys didn't even spare the blood of the cows.

At least the Polotsk people are no longer a nation that eats cow blood. Essentially, they feel that cow blood is too smelly. Secondly, it is a thing for priests and gods. Various explanations are combined to say that the nation does not eat cow blood unless it is absolutely necessary.

Ross also had a similar explanation, but the real Ostara people are obsessed with animal husbandry and cooking cattle blood. Unfortunately, the current Ostara and the old one are two different concepts.

This is not the case with the Pechenegs. They are the "blood eaters" who were hit and saw. After all, living in the vast grassland, any food is precious. They will drink cow blood, eat all the marrow in cow bones, and eat the smelly cow intestines just as well as they wash them and roast them.

The entire army is roasting beef on a large scale, and each soldier intends to roast the allocated piece of meat until it is completely dehydrated.

They will also receive a brand new supply, the newly harvested oats provided by the Polotsk people.

Each cavalryman will have a large bag hung on his saddle, which must be filled with new wheat.

Old Harold, who led the way, still kept his pseudonym Olaf. He had learned about the Russians' next plan, and was inevitably a little worried about it.

The campfire crackled, and the aroma of wheat and barbecue filled the camp.

Old Harold had a full meal, and he knew that the bald general of Ross must have something important to say when he asked him to sit at this campfire.

"Soon we will continue our journey downstream. You came from the Gulf of Riga and you have to be the guide. How about that? I think you have thought about it."

Although he had already made some assumptions, Old Harold was still very worried when he was asked directly. He looked into Fisk's eyes: "You...don't want to loot Riga, right?"

"Lossing? No. It's not part of my plan. But... it's not completely impossible."

Old Harold was startled, with obvious fear on his face.

"You are scared. Olaf, remember your current identity. You are a servant of the Principality of Ostara, that is, a servant of Rus. You should make a cut with the Gulf of Riga."

"Cut? How is it possible to cut?" He lowered his head and said with a helpless smile.

"That's right." Fisk looked up at the bright starry sky, then turned to look into his eyes: "That's why I need your guidance. I don't want any misunderstandings to arise."

"So you want me to mediate and ask the locals to surrender to Ross?"

"If this is the best." Fisk slapped his thigh happily, not hiding his desire for honor: "The king gave me the power to act independently, and I want to open up territory for Russia. In fact, even if the locals in Riga show There is strong resistance. When the Ross army gathers, it is not a problem to wipe out the local area. If friendly relations can be established from the beginning through negotiation, this is the best. I want to talk to the local leaders in Riga before winter. , I am also very interested in your Danish settler community and I hope we can chat."

Old Harold's mind was spinning wildly after hearing these heartfelt words. He is a Danish immigrant and has only ordinary trade relations with the local Latvians and several surrounding tribes. This is the main reason why as the leader of the team, more than ten fledgling Latvian boys who followed him to the world were hacked to death by the Russians.

It seems that this group of Russians and guys from the steppe do not understand the language of the Latvians at all, and the only ones who can communicate perfectly with them are the Danish descendants living in Riga.

Old Harold thought for a while and said deliberately and meaningfully: "Actually, it's not just Latvia, there are other tribes there. They speak similar languages, and sometimes they get along with each other and sometimes they fight."

Fisk had a clever idea: "Oh? Aren't they the same kind of people?"

"They can tell the difference very clearly."

"Now that I have nothing to do, you... might as well talk about those guys."

Fisk asked, and Harold somewhat realized that this was not a simple and boring question. The bald Ross general wanted to know the names of the tribes that might be conquered so that he could actually launch a war of conquest and choose the right target.

After all, old Harold lacks empathy with the various Latvians who don't believe in Odin. It is said that a new king has emerged in Denmark, a noble from the Stonewall tribe, and Denmark is in an alliance with Rus. Now the Danish community living in Riga As long as the group has a relationship with Ross, will he not gain huge power overnight?

"There are Latvia (), Selonia (selon), Livonia (liv), Semigalia (), Courland (kuron), Samogitia (), Okshtet (aukshtait), zhemait (zhemait), Prussia (pruss), Utvin ()." Old Harold raised his finger and counted out ten tribal names. In fact, there are some smaller tribes, but unfortunately their strength Extremely weak and not even worthy of a name.

Fisk knew almost nothing about these names, he had only heard about them. After all, it was the Latvian tribe that now controlled the city of Riga, or the name of Riga was a variant of the tribe's name.

"Are there actually ten tribes?"

"This is something I have learned all my life. I have done business with many tribes and know something about them." Old Harold continued.

"So, which tribe do you think is the most powerful?"

"It's Prussia and Juventus." Old Harold asked cautiously: "Do you want to attack them? Do you want to defeat the strongest?"

"The battle is no longer in my plan!" Fisk repeated: "However, if a conflict does break out in the future, we must know the potential enemies in advance."

Old Harold had always spoken very matter-of-factly. The Prussian savages often fought with the Slavic-speaking guys in Poland, as did the Utvins (the direct ancestors of the Lithuanians). The reason for their strength is that they occupy a good land suitable for growing food. The tribesmen have become more effective in fighting many times. It was also true that the nearby Slavs wanted to occupy the local area, and the conflict broke out.

This old guy said a lot, but unfortunately Fisk was also very vague about the concept of "Poland". Hearing that those people also spoke Slavic, he had a little more favorable impression, maybe he could be conquered by Russia in the future. .

A large number of names hit his head. Fisk at least understood that his understanding of the Gulf of Riga was too one-sided. It was a brand new world, and it was also a world that the Russians had not set foot in in the past era.

There are ten local forces that speak the same language. They are actually the ten largest tribes of the Baltic people.

Now, the gate to the Gulf of Riga is open, and the Ross cavalry only need to continue down the river to eventually reach the Danish settlement in Riga. The various tribes cannot be contacted in a short period of time. For the next action, Fisk only plans to have a good chat with the Latvians and the local Danes.

He explained this idea to old Harold without reservation, and soon got a new explanation from the old guy.

"If the cavalry continues, you will not encounter a Latvian village immediately."

"Who will we encounter?"

"The Serlonians. According to their language, they are the people who live in the hills."

"Will those guys block the river?" Fisk couldn't help but ask.

"That's not true, they don't have the ability."

"I think so. If they dare to set up obstacles, my cavalry will attack them. By the way. Are they strong?"

"Not strong. The population is not large, but they all live on the mounds and even built fortresses. As you said, you have to fight unless you have to. Those guys are not rich, and they only built fortresses to protect themselves. Attacking them is troublesome. You won't get much benefit from all the effort, so there's no need to waste your time here."

"Okay." Fisk shrugged and looked sideways at the old guy: "Are you speaking for the Seron tribe? Are there any friends of yours there?"

"Neither friends nor enemies. If you're in a hurry, there's no need to waste time with the Throns. At least this year."

"That's fine. Then advance quickly along the river!"

As a result, the cavalry quickly completed the supply. The prairie cavalry did not realize their dream of getting rich, but the intellectual curiosity to explore the new world dominated their bodies, and this regret was quickly eliminated. After all, as long as you continue walking along the river, you will eventually reach the sea in the north. The Pecheneg soldiers have seen the sea in the south (referring to the Caspian Sea), but they still don't know what the sea in the north looks like.

Each trooper carried a sack of freshly shelled oats and roasted beef jerky. The cavalry rushed to the settlement of Polotsk like a storm, and now they left quickly.

For the people of Polotsk, they spent the autumn with mixed emotions and realized that times have completely changed. A group of plague gods headed towards the mouth of the river. People let out a sigh of relief, and everything seemed to be back to normal again.

But how can the large number of horseshoe prints left on the riverside disappear so easily?

They will be back soon...

(I found an anthropology paper, a linguistics paper, and an ancient map of Northeast Europe drawn in the 16th century for reference)

Please remember the first domain name of this book: . :