As winter gave way to spring and the seas gradually calmed, the anxious Edmund finally received news: Flemish reinforcements had arrived.
He rushed to the stables, mounted his horse, and galloped more than ten miles to the coast. There, in a small fishing harbor, over a dozen cog ships were crowded together. Poorly equipped militiamen filed out of the holds, their eyes filled with confusion and a hint of excitement.
After surveying the scene, Edmund counted only five hundred disorderly infantrymen, with less than one-tenth of them wearing armor.
Upon closer questioning, he learned they were not even Flemish locals, but impoverished peasants from inland East Francia, lured to Britannia by textile merchants at extremely low wages—useful only for padding numbers.
He found the commander and demanded angrily,
"You promised over four thousand men! Why are there only this many? Where are the rest? Where is the cavalry?"
The commander replied in a dispirited tone,
"My lord, some do not trust you. They fear this is a trap deliberately set by Vig. Once you openly break with Vig, they will immediately send a second wave."
At this point, regret was meaningless. Edmund led the reinforcements back to Norwich and summoned the barons and knights of his territory.
Two days later, more than forty minor nobles entered the castle. They found the hall lined with armored guards. The elderly Edmund sat solemnly on his seat, wearing chainmail for the first time in many years.
"Gentlemen," he declared, "Vig is greedy and harsh. He allows his subordinates to extort the common people and has sent large numbers of agents into East Anglia, attempting to seize my lands."
Edmund loudly denounced Vig's so-called "tyranny," his tone growing increasingly impassioned, leaving his audience perplexed.
During the civil war, Edmund had refused Gunnar's and Æthelbert's invitations, hiding in his lands to protect himself. Later, when the tide turned, he submitted to Vig purely for profit—hardly a man of principle. Now that Vig stood at the height of his power, rebelling at such a time seemed suicidal.
Sensing the lukewarm reaction, Edmund produced letters from Gunnar and the cities of Flanders, claiming they had promised military support to rescue the suffering people of Britannia. He also announced alliances with Buden of Scunthorpe and Imon of Ireland, all united in a campaign against the tyrant.
Only then did the vassals understand why so many guards stood in the hall. Whispered discussions spread through the crowd, but in the end, no one dared oppose Edmund.
They had always belonged to a different culture and faith than the Viking kings. Out of necessity, they had submitted to Ragnar, Sigurd, and Vig. Since Edmund had resolved to fight, they, as his vassals, could only obey.
"Thank you for choosing the correct side," Edmund said.
He ordered his vassals to levy militias and assemble at Norwich. He did not dare confront Vig head-on, instead planning to hold the castle. If he could delay long enough for Flanders' second wave, and for Gunnar and Imon to enter the war, the enemy's main forces would surely be drawn away.
Three days later, news of Edmund's rebellion reached Lundenwic, and the chancellor and cabinet hurried to Vig.
Godwin said, "Your Majesty, Edmund has rebelled and must have Frankish backing. We should immediately order the fleet to blockade the Channel."
Baforth added, "Your Majesty, how many troops will you mobilize? A full levy, or only selected regions?"
After hearing their advice, Vig's expression remained indifferent. He ordered the mobilization of troops from central and southern Britannia—but did not deploy the royal fleet, seemingly allowing enemy forces to land at will.
In truth, he had already received a report from Duke Imon the previous year, accusing Edmund and Buden of rebellion.
It had been the correct decision. Imon was not yet fourteen and lacked the ability to control Ireland's chaotic situation. If he had convened his vassals to conspire openly, someone eager for advancement might well have betrayed him.
By comparison, Earl Buden—three years older—proved even more immature, a textbook example of what not to do.
Dragged into the plot by Edmund's lies and coercion, Buden hesitated for a long time before sending word to Imon. Before Imon could even reply, Buden's uncle Rickard and four barons had already dispatched envoys to the royal court.
After careful consideration, Vig chose not to act rashly. Instead, he ordered Imon to keep silent and pretend nothing had happened.
At the same time, he instructed Rickard and the four barons to take over Scunthorpe, continue placating Edmund, and draw out more traitors in one sweep.
Even without these informants, Vig could have learned of Edmund's actions through the intelligence service. Raising troops required stockpiling grain and forging weapons, causing abnormal price fluctuations in East Anglia—something even merchants had noticed.
After dismissing the cabinet, Vig walked to the window overlooking the rear garden, a bottle of whisky in his right hand, feeling unusually relaxed.
"No rush. Let's toy with this monkey for a while and see who dares support him."
Half an hour later, the royal fleet received a baffling order: they were to sail, but avoid the Strait of Calais, deliberately allowing Flemish reinforcements to land.
As time passed, units gathered in Lundenwic. Vig still did not attack, merely stationing two thousand men in Cambridge, as though waiting for something.
One day passed.
Two days passed.
After an entire week with no movement from Flanders, Vig summoned the admiral, suspecting the navy had acted on its own and scared off the Flemish.
The admiral hurriedly denied it.
"Your Majesty, these days the men have been fishing offshore. We seized five merchant ships, but we absolutely did not reveal the fleet's position."
"Is that so?" Vig said. His hopes dashed, he felt deeply disappointed.
The weather in the Strait of Calais had recently cleared, and sea conditions were ideal for a large-scale landing. The continued delay proved that Flanders had never intended to fight.
"What a pity."
With labor in short supply at home, Vig had planned to capture several thousand prisoners and put them to work on major construction projects. Now that hope was gone.
After waiting another three days—with no action from Flanders or Normandy, and no second great noble responding to the rebellion—Vig's "fishing" strategy completely failed.
"So the so-called five-party alliance… and only Edmund actually acted?"
As time dragged on, officers' calls for battle grew louder. Left with no choice, Vig personally led eight thousand troops into East Anglia. Along the way, they met no resistance at all—it felt more like an armed parade than a campaign.
On March 5, Edmund secretly fled aboard a rowing longship. The 1,400 soldiers stationed in Norwich promptly surrendered.
Afterward, prisoners revealed the burial site of Paphis. Learning of the former Lord Steward's death felt strangely unreal—such an absurd end hardly matched the ruthless schemer who had once placed Sigurd on the throne.
At the same time, Rickard and four barons escorted Buden south. Thus ended a rebellion that had lasted half a year—without a single battle ever being fought.
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