Frisia
Winter, 865 AD

Duke Ubbe watched as the thin procession of men reamed the ships in. Next to him was his main general Folkhard, the head of his band of gesithas and a distant cousin.
"How strong is our fleet?" he asked.
"Thirty-two ships, Ubbe, and a thousand men."
"So we'll have four thousand men combined with the Danes. How many men does the Saxon king Aelfraed have?"
"I'm not sure. The high thousands, probably."
Ubbe scratched his head.
"I cannot speak of the terrain of Engelond, but we have a clear disadvantage in numbers alone."
"I have heard it's hilly, not much more."
Ubbe observed as the ships were loaded up with provisions. He had had most of the livestock slaughtered and cured, plenty of wine imported from the Franks, and generous amounts of furs and metals collected. These could provide for useful bribes and payment for his retinue. Ideally they wouldn't spend a hacksilver piece, if they could extort tribute from the Saxons.
"Do you truly trust Ívarr?"
"No," he said. "He's a troublesome Dane. But he has the manpower and willpower to take the bitch."
As he spat the last word out, he saw some children playing on the beach, their trousers pulled up to their knees, playfighting in the water. He was reminded of his own youth, before his brother Popetet had died of cancer. They'd used to play in that very same lake, perhaps even that very same spot, he reckoned.
Frisia had been inundated some centuries ago - folklore disagreed on when, but a huge lake occupied most of their territory. Ubbe had always been taught this is where they had learned to be good seafarers, though he didn't know if that was true or not.
What he did know is that it was cold as fuck. The sheepskin cape his daughter had made for him was comfy, the fur brushing inwards, but she still had a way to go in tanning the hide, which exposed to the elements had deteriorated a bit. Still, as her father, he had to wear her creations.
He fingered the scar next to his mouth, and moved to the one on his left hand lengthways. Both earned in raids against the Franks. He harboured an intense dislike against them. He'd always been amused by how the women dressed - they wore their dresses up to the calves and hosen underneath, looking like men.
But enough idle thinking, he thought.
"I will say my farewells. Try to be ready before nightfall. We must join Ivarr as soon as humanly possible."
"Very well. I will make sure the preparations hasten."