For the strongest fortress in Francia, Vig had no choice but to rely on a siege.
He ordered his soldiers to construct large numbers of trebuchets outside the walls and continue digging tunnels beneath the defenses.
On September 15, Poival requested an audience in the royal command tent.
"Your Majesty, this fortress is too strong. Would it not be better to persuade them to surrender?"
Vig set down the book he had been reading and replied calmly:
"Certainly. If the commander opens the gates and surrenders, I will grant him the title of Count."
What?
I've done all this for you, and all I get is a countship?
Poival grumbled inwardly as he withdrew.
Half an hour later, commotion erupted outside the tent.
Moments afterward, Poival returned clutching his arm.
"Your Majesty, the defenders actually shot at me with bows and crossbows. Fortunately, I was wearing armor, or I might not have come back."
"Is that so?"
Vig sounded mildly disappointed.
It seemed this siege would last quite a while.
That evening, he held a council of war and assigned the Second Field Division and two garrison regiments to besiege Calais.
The remaining seventeen thousand men would continue the siege of Harfleur until the fortress fell.
At this point, the Viking army was divided into three separate forces, besieging:
ParisHarfleurCalais
The West Frankish field armies had already been shattered. Dividing forces now would actually increase siege efficiency.
The Siege of Harfleur
September 20.
A cool breeze swept across the open grasslands outside the fortress.
Dozens of towering trebuchets hurled stones at the walls, but the results were disappointing.
Whenever a section of wall suffered damage, the Franks worked through the night, hastily reinforcing breaches with wooden stakes and sandbags.
Meanwhile, Viking engineers dug more than ten tunnels toward the fortress.
The defenders responded by digging their own counter-tunnels from inside the walls.
When the opposing tunnels met, brutal fighting erupted in the cramped darkness underground.
At times, the Franks also resorted to smoke and flooding to kill Viking engineers.
The effectiveness of trebuchets and tunnel warfare was proving inadequate.
Vig decided to try something different.
Leaving the siege camp, he rode north to a nearby hill.
From there he observed a small river flowing southward toward Harfleur's northern gate.
Local residents informed him that the Lézarde River served as the primary source of fresh water for both the garrison and the civilian population.
Hearing this, Vig fell into thought.
Upon returning to camp, he summoned his commanders and ordered them to build a dam upstream, preventing water from reaching both the moat and the city's supply channels.
A week later, the temporary dam was completed.
The water level in the moat began to drop.
As the tides shifted, seawater flowed backward into the riverbed.
The defenders lost their supply of fresh water.
Once he saw the strategy working, Vig intensified the assault.
Ignoring the expense, he ordered the trebuchets to launch two thousand fire-oil jars in a single night.
The entire fortress became an inferno.
Even so, the defenders held out for another week before finally surrendering.
There was a huge difference between voluntary surrender and forced capitulation.
Vig showed no mercy.
With a grim expression, he announced the terms.
Ordinary soldiers would be shipped to Jersey Island as prisoners.
The officers and their closest associates would receive an even harsher punishment.
They were to be exiled to the Caribbean Islands as colonists.
Given the tropical climate, Vig estimated most of them would not survive five years.
The Fall of Calais
With Harfleur secured, Vig moved northeast toward Calais.
The local garrison had been crushed by the endless stream of bad news and had little desire to continue fighting.
They agreed to surrender the city.
At last, after a year and a half of war, Vig achieved one of his most important objectives:
Calais was his.
From this point onward, reinforcements and supplies could sail directly from Londinium, cross the Dover Strait, and reach Calais.
Transport times and logistical difficulties were dramatically reduced.
Standing on the shore and gazing across the vast northern sea, many soldiers found themselves longing for home.
Even Vig felt a moment of hesitation.
"No."
"I can't go back now. If I return, all this momentum will vanish."
He took several deep breaths, forcibly driving away the distracting thoughts before leading the army back toward Paris.
Paris Once More
By mid-October, the First Field Division had constructed sixty trebuchets on both banks of the Seine.
Day and night, they bombarded the defenses of Île de la Cité across the river.
The bombardment had continued for over a month.
Thinking back, this seemed to be his third campaign against Paris.
Riding his gray horse along the southern bank of the Seine, Vig moved slowly through the evening light.
The river was calm, reflecting the fiery glow of the setting sun.
As he watched the water flow silently past, memories carried him back twenty years.
At that time, he had been only twenty-three.
After annihilating the Frankish main army, he had ridden this same gray horse beside the river while planning siege works.
At his side had been:
Ivar
Bjorn
Nils
Gunnar
Their youthful reflections had danced upon the water.
The breeze had been warm.
Horse manes had fluttered in the wind.
Laughter and conversation had filled the air.
Back then, it had seemed as though the entire world stood open before them.
Time passed so quickly.
After a long silence, Vig looked up.
A cold moon had quietly risen in the eastern sky.
Moonlight spilled across the Seine.
His gaze crossed the river and settled upon Île de la Cité.
The silhouette of Paris appeared heavier than ever beneath the silver glow.
Several breaches in the walls were clearly visible.
Suddenly, trebuchets on both banks launched fire-oil jars.
Burning projectiles arced across the night sky.
The thunderous impacts shattered his thoughts.
The bombardment continued for more than ten minutes.
Then twenty-odd rowing longships silently approached the island.
After drawing fire from the defenders, the ships immediately scattered and retreated.
It was not an attack.
It was merely the nightly harassment operation.
The purpose was simple:
Never allow the defenders a moment of peace.
Over the next half month, additional trebuchets were completed.
The walls of Île de la Cité deteriorated further.
The defenders had originally planned to hold out until winter, hoping the cold would destroy the Viking army.
But the Vikings had not remained idle.
They felled timber from the Forest of Fontainebleau and built extensive permanent facilities along the riverbanks:
Barracks
Warehouses
Bathhouses
Drainage systems
From a distance, it appeared as though they were constructing entirely new towns on both sides of the Seine.
They were clearly preparing for a siege that could last six months—or even a year.
As time passed, the defenders finally broke.
They could endure endless bombardment.
What they could not endure was despair.
Francia had lost two decisive battles.
The lower nobility—barons, knights, and similar officers responsible for leading troops—had suffered catastrophic losses.
The combined toll of deaths, captivity, and disease exceeded three thousand men.
At this stage of the war, even if the king somehow raised more militias, there were not enough officers left to command them.
In early November, the Paris garrison announced its surrender.
This time, Vig treated them leniently.
He promised:
No executions of prisoners.
No transportation to the New World to cut sugarcane.
As the first snowflakes of 868 drifted from the sky, Britannia achieved its strategic objectives for the year:
The Frankish field armies had been destroyed.
Northern West Francia had been conquered.
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