At this point, Lamberto remained remarkably calm.
"You worry too much. His Majesty admires your twenty-year friendship with Ragnar and would never jeopardize this precious bond. He simply wants you to rule the northern coast and, along the way, suppress the rebellions in Aquitaine and Brittany."
Gunnar looked out the window to the east, at the rolling meadows and farmland, breathing deeply. In addition to the salty sea breeze, the air was infused with the unique aroma of fertile soil.
Throughout his life, in addition to the black soil of the middle and lower reaches of the Dnieper, the most fertile lands were those of Western Frankish lands, followed by Britain and Northern Europe.
What if?
No, no "what ifs"!
In the end, he refused.
"Alas, I am the Earl of Cambridge in Britain and am not worthy of ruling this country."
Lamberto laughed loudly, sensing the softening in his mood. "In the modern world, there are many nobles who hold two non-adjacent fiefs. For example, nobles like your Leonard and Ulf hold fiefs in Britain and in their hometown of Sweden.
It is quite natural that you take Normandy with your courage and reputation. The Earl of Cambridge in Britain and the Earl of Normandy in West Franconia are not contradictory. If you really do not want it, I will find someone else, like Nils and Ohm."
"Oh, just rely on them? To suppress these Nordic raiders, only Vig, Ivar and Ivar the Three can do it."
Gunnar subconsciously belittled his colleagues and sank into a long silence. Finally, he put forward a series of completely unreasonable conditions.
He could marry Viviana, the cousin of the King of France, and become a vassal of the West Frankish kingdom. However, he demanded more independence than an ordinary count and the hereditary title of Duke of Normandy, ruling his lands according to Viking tradition.
Moreover, he promised to observe strict neutrality in the event of a war between the Franks and Britain.
To his surprise, Lamberto agreed to all his demands, but on one condition: Gunnar, his knights and soldiers must convert to Catholicism.
"Give me a moment, and I will try to convince them," Lamberto nodded gently. "Yes, my lord. I hope you will take care of me in the future."
Upon learning of their lord's intention to convert to Catholicism, nearly half of the soldiers deserted Gunnar and returned to Britain the next day with the ransom. Only a quarter agreed to convert immediately, while the rest remained on the sidelines, awaiting further action.
Alarmed, Gunnar and four hundred Normans sailed to the Ile de la Cité.
They were met at the pier by the king, queen, and a group of ministers. Among the crowd stood a beautiful fair-skinned girl with black hair and red, swollen eyes.
This was undoubtedly Princess Vivian Lamberto, great-granddaughter of Charlemagne, whom Gunnar intended to marry.
After looking at Vivian for half a minute, Gunnar, unsurprisingly, scared her to tears. He shook his head and casually approached the king. "When will the investiture and wedding take place?"
Charlemagne smiled softly, and there was determination in his tone. "Baptism, then investiture."
"Very well, as you wish."
As the monks chanted, Gunnar and half his warriors entered the shallow water for baptism, announcing their conversion to Catholicism.
Returning to the shore, Gunnar threw back his wet hair, splashing the clothes of those around him, causing a storm of discontent.
Ignoring the scattered drops of water, Charlemagne drew his sword and, in the name of the king, granted him the title of Duke of Normandy.
After the ceremony, the crowd streamed into the palace in the center of the Ile de la Cité, where the wedding stage had already been set. The feast was sumptuous, the decorations extravagant, and the scale far exceeded any banquet Gunnar had attended in Britain.
At a long table, Gunnar grabbed a roast venison steak and ate it with relish, ignoring the skeptical looks. "The venison is delicious. What seasonings do you use?"
Lamberto replied. "Thyme, pepper, and truffles from Northern Italy." "
So much! Compared to you, pangaru cooking is a pitiful sight."
As time went on, the atmosphere at the banquet grew tense. Suddenly, Karl clapped his hands vigorously, and a guard appeared from the right corridor of the hall, sword in hand.
"My lord," Karl said, rising and raising his glass to Gunnar.
"I heard that six months ago, in battle, you broke two swords in a row. Now that you have been promoted to Duke, you deserve a fine sword to match your status."
He ordered the guard to hand the sword to Gunnar, who drew it with ease.
"What a fine weapon."
The sword with the guard had a thin, sharp blade, decorated with graceful, flowing Latin inscriptions. In the bright candlelight, the diamond set in the hilt shone brightly, blinding him.
Gunnar swung the sword a few times, finding that the center of gravity of the sword was perfectly balanced, allowing him to wield it with impeccable precision, without the slightest hesitation.
"What does this text mean?"
Lamberto leaned forward. "Peraspera adastra, 'This difficult path will lead to the stars.' What will you name it?"
Gunnar scratched his blond hair and placed the sword in front of Vivian, asking his wife to choose a suitable name.
Looking at the dazzling diamond in the hilt, Vivian forgot her sadness and fear for a moment. She reached out and touched him, murmuring softly, "Dawn."
After the wedding, Gunnar spent three days in Paris, then returned to his castle at Caen with his wife, soldiers, and servants.
Rebuilt from a Roman stone fortress, the castle stood nearly ten meters high and occupied a vast space, far larger than the cramped wooden fortress at Cambridge.
After stowing his luggage, Gunnar left his wife and servants and led his men aboard the longship. Guided by a local fisherman, they sailed along the coast for a day until a faint silhouette appeared out to sea.
"Is this Jersey, one of the Channel Islands?"
The fisherman's face twitched uncontrollably as he heard the interpreter's story. "Yes, sir. In July, a man named Eric the Younger led a fleet to plunder the coastal areas. Before returning to Norway, he left a small force on the Channel Islands, ordering them to build docks and barracks as a forward base for future raids into the West Frankish Sea. When Gunnar heard that these were
Eric the Younger's men, he snorted.
"What nonsense dares to disturb my territory?"
He ordered them to spend the night in a secluded bay. The next morning, taking advantage of a thick fog, the fleet quietly reached the southwest coast of Jersey, concealing its presence.
Since Jersey had only recently been occupied, the pirates had not had time to build a wall. This allowed Gunnar's four hundred soldiers to easily break into the settlement and capture the sleeping enemy without suffering any casualties.
"Those who surrender will be spared!"
Faced with cold, sharp weapons, more than 200 pirates left the house and sat in the open space with tears in their eyes, awaiting the winner's decision.
Half a minute later, one of the captives recognized Gunnar, which caused a roar from the crowd, perplexed as to why Gunnar attacked his own.