The Eastern Roman Empire intended to cultivate a client kingdom north of the Danube with a population of 100,000 to 300,000, serving as a buffer against both the nomadic tribes of the eastern steppes and the Slavic peoples.
At this stage, supporting the Franks remained imperial policy.
The eunuch agreed to every request.
He promised that at least forty thousand additional settlers would arrive before the end of the year.
Should Wallachia continue expanding so rapidly, however, immigration would be reduced the following year.
The empire had no intention of allowing Charles the Bald to become powerful enough to threaten Constantinople itself.
By September, six months of tireless work had transformed Wallachia.
The kingdom now possessed:
Charlesburg
New Orleans
Buzău
along with seven smaller fortified settlements.
Every one of them had defensive walls.
Thanks to his extraordinary service, Alfred became Lord of Buzău, governing 5,000 Frankish settlers and 2,000 local Slavs.
The region supported vast sheep herds.
Its inhabitants gradually adopted a mixed farming-and-pastoral economy.
Some cultivated fields around towns and villages, using the three-field system and heavy plows to grow wheat, oats, and legumes.
Others drove their livestock farther onto the grasslands, following the seasonal pastures.
Before winter arrived, they harvested hay and stored it inside town warehouses to feed their animals through the cold months.
The only disappointment was that the Franks' brutal reputation had spread far and wide.
No sizeable nomadic tribes remained anywhere near Wallachia.
There probably wouldn't be much to loot this winter.
Alfred therefore sent scouts farther north into the steppe.
There they heard a disturbing rumor.
A massive nomadic confederation was preparing to migrate—
straight toward the Wallachian Plain.
"How many?"
Alfred demanded.
The young rider replied,
"According to both the Slavs and the nomads..."
"They're the Magyars."
"There are seven Magyar tribes."
"Their total population is somewhere between thirty thousand and sixty thousand."
Sixty thousand!
Every nomad was effectively a warrior.
That meant the enemy could field at least fifteen thousand light cavalry.
In an instant, Alfred went from hunter to prey.
His mood plummeted.
He immediately dispatched letters southward to Charlesburg and New Orleans.
Then Alfred summoned all of his knights to review their supplies.
"The rye and oats are almost ready for harvest."
"The warehouses still contain plenty of wheat."
"Food should last until next summer."
"But we're desperately short on hay."
"We need to cut and dry as much as possible."
A moment later another problem struck him.
There wasn't enough firewood inside the town.
If the enemy laid siege during winter, Buzău would freeze long before it starved.
He quickly assigned new tasks.
Some knights were ordered to recall every farmer and shepherd still outside the walls.
The rest organized logging parties and entered the western Carpathian Mountains to gather enough fuel for the coming winter.
By the middle of September, rumors of the Magyar migration had become impossible to ignore.
Charles the Bald urgently dispatched 500 crossbows and 100,000 bolts, ordering Alfred to hold Buzău at all costs.
"What kind of nonsense is this?"
"Basil orders Charles to stand firm north of the Danube."
"Charles throws me even farther north."
"Neither of them is worth a damn."
With nowhere left to retreat, Alfred had no choice but to strengthen the defenses.
He ordered additional ditches dug and torsion bolt-throwers constructed.
The long wait continued.
The green grasslands gradually faded into an endless sea of yellow.
The people of Buzău slowly became numb with anticipation.
Then, in late September—
two riders burst through the city gates screaming,
"The Magyars are here!"
The alarm bells rang wildly.
Farmers dropped their tools.
Shepherds drove their flocks into the city.
The heavy gates slowly swung shut.
At first, only a single black dot appeared on the eastern horizon.
Then two.
Then ten.
Then hundreds.
Finally, they merged into a vast black tide.
The thunder of countless hooves rolled across the plain, making the city walls tremble.
An uncountable host of nomad horsemen halted just beyond bowshot.
They wore fur coats, curved sabers at their waists, and composite bows hanging from their saddles.
Silently they waited beneath the cool autumn wind.
A lone rider then emerged from the ranks.
His horse was large and powerfully built.
Deep wrinkles lined his face, while a long scar crossed his left eye.
Stopping beneath the walls, he looked up at the yellow flying-dragon banner fluttering above the battlements and shouted in heavily accented but understandable Slavic,
"The children of the steppe need food for the winter."
"And warm homes."
"Open your gates."
"Give us half your grain."
"We swear no one will be harmed."
Alfred had the interpreter answer,
"We are willing to provide two thousand sacks of grain and five hundred sheep."
"Take them and leave."
"This is Eastern Roman territory."
"The emperor's army is already on its way."
The rider refused to negotiate.
He wheeled his horse and returned to the army.
Immediately thousands of nomad warriors began howling in unison.
The rolling chorus washed against the city walls.
The defenders instinctively tightened their grip on their spears.
Some of the militia were already trembling.
The following day, endless wagons and livestock appeared on the distant horizon.
The rumors had been true.
The tribe was conducting a full migration.
A river flowed down from the Carpathians, passing west to east along Buzău's northern wall before winding away downstream.
The Magyars established their camp on both banks, watering their horses in the river.
They made no attempt to attack immediately.
Instead, they entered the western forests of the Carpathians to cut timber.
Towering pines and oaks crashed to the ground.
Branches were quickly stripped away before steppe horses dragged the logs back to camp.
Outside the city, skilled craftsmen worked the timber with precious iron tools.
The younger craftsmen built scaling ladders.
The older, more experienced ones tackled the more difficult task—
constructing traction trebuchets.
Within only a few days, thirty simple traction trebuchets had taken shape.
Massive oak frames supported long throwing arms while craftsmen continually adjusted the ropes during testing.
Just as the machines neared completion, Alfred gave the order.
The defenders pulled the covers from their bolt-throwers and aimed at the trebuchets more than 200 meters away.
Clack!
The soldiers released the triggers.
One after another, the six giant bolt-throwers atop the walls fired.
In less than two hours, every enemy traction trebuchet had been destroyed.
Alfred then ordered the interpreters to shout toward the enemy camp in unison.
"Stop wasting your time!"
"Your trebuchets aren't powerful enough to break our walls!"
"You should just leave!"
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