After spending the night resting in the tavern, Salomon headed to the marketplace the next day to gather information. Along the way, he caught sight of a familiar face—someone he felt certain he had seen before.
No.
This place isn't safe anymore.
Salomon immediately changed his plans and left Brest under cover of night, retracing his route back to the landing point.
Five days later, in the darkness of night, a faint glimmer of light flickered across the sea. The two men rowed their small boat toward it.
"Password?"
A voice called from the ship's rail. Salomon looked up and saw more than a dozen figures holding cocked light crossbows, the tips of their bolts glinting in the moonlight.
He answered:
"The raven circles the oak tree five times."
The password was correct.
They were allowed aboard the two-masted sailing ship and went straight to the cabin to rest. The gentle rocking of the vessel soon lulled them into deep sleep—so deep that they missed breakfast the next morning.
Late that morning, Salomon stepped onto the deck.
Sunlight poured generously across the sea. The planks beneath his feet were warm from the sun, almost hot to the touch. The ship rose and fell steadily with the waves, and to port stretched the lush, winding coastline of Francia.
The vessel did not sail directly back to Jersey.
Instead, it cruised along the western coast of Francia on patrol duty.
A relaxed atmosphere hung over the deck.
Five sailors huddled in the shade near the sterncastle, patiently repairing a spare triangular sail. Thick linen thread passed skillfully through heavy canvas beneath the careful movements of their needles.
Two cadet officers—barely fourteen years old—leaned over the port side, scanning the slowly receding coastline. From time to time, they took out paper and ink to record landmarks that could serve as navigational references:
a church perched atop a cliff
a burned fishing village
a vast vineyard
Using such markers, the ship could determine its position precisely and adjust course and speed accordingly.
After some time, the lookout called out:
"Two single-masted fishing boats to the southwest!"
The first mate immediately took control of the helm and ordered the crew to adjust the rigging. The ship quickly closed in on the two Frankish fishing vessels.
Realizing escape was impossible, the fishermen stopped their boats.
One man climbed the mast and hoisted a black triangular flag marked with two Norse letters and four numbers.
The patrol ship drew alongside.
Viking sailors stood above them with loaded crossbows aimed downward. Soon, a boarding party rowed over in a small boat.
The fishing vessel carried six fishermen. The hold was filled with barrels of herring—no contraband.
The officer pulled out a ledger.
"You haven't paid taxes this quarter. Will you settle now?"
"This is our tax," the Frankish captain replied, producing two denier silver coins—newly minted by Charles the Bald, containing about forty percent less silver than coins from the time of Charlemagne.
"Not enough."
Hearing this, the captain grimaced and reluctantly produced another coin.
The officer used a cutting tool to snip off one-third of the coin and returned the remainder.
Then he wrote out a tax receipt, listing the date, location, his own name, and the name of his warship.
"Keep this safe."
The Frankish captain forced a smile.
"I understand. I know the rules."
The Vikings then rowed to the second fishing boat.
This vessel had no black flag.
After questioning the crew, the officer learned the boat had been built in May and had not yet been registered with the British Navy.
"Registration fee—and this quarter's tax," the officer said, holding out his hand.
After collecting the payment, he handed them a black triangular flag stamped with an identification number.
Opening his ledger, he recorded:
the vessel's dimensions
ship type
owner's name
He then recited a long list of regulations, as required by procedure.
When everything was finished, the boarding party returned to their ship.
Leaning over the rail, Salomon watched calmly.
Francia had completely lost control of the seas.
As a result, their fishing vessels now had to register with the British Navy and pay quarterly taxes just to sail. Occasionally, fishermen would even sell the Vikings bits of intelligence—some reliable, some questionable.
The patrol continued south along the coast until reaching northern Iberia.
On the return journey, they passed the mouth of the Garonne River and encountered a cog flying the Frankish military flag.
The ship immediately turned and fled into the river channel in panic.
The patrol vessel did not pursue.
Instead, it continued along the coastline and returned to Jersey.
After disembarking, Salomon reported to Inspector Blackfish, head of the Brittany division, and submitted his reconnaissance report. It recorded everything he had observed—without exaggeration and without omission.
Salomon suspected there were at least twenty agents operating in Brittany. If his information were inaccurate, the truth would quickly come to light.
Once the report was finished, Inspector Blackfish delivered good news.
Last year, Salomon had submitted his method for using seaweed fertilizer. After limited trials along coastal regions, the results had been excellent.
The Minister of Agriculture and Education, Kemi Wildfire, was highly satisfied and had invited Salomon to take a post at the central administration in Londinium.
"Of course I'm willing," Salomon replied immediately.
"These days Brittany is crawling with Frankish knights. I can hardly stand being there another day."
He accepted the transfer order.
Two days later, he boarded a ship bound for the city he had longed to return to:
Londinium
"Haha… finally back."
Feeling the city's bustle and vitality, Salomon stepped briskly off the dock.
Not far away, a treadwheel crane was lifting bundled beaver pelts, along with more valuable fox and bear skins.
"My old hat was eaten through by moths," he thought.
"Time to buy a new beaver-fur cap."
As Bjorn expanded trade in the New World, increasing quantities of furs and animal oils flowed into Britain. Supply now exceeded demand, causing fur prices to fall—making them affordable even to common people.
Salomon had also heard that some furs were resold to the Moors, who then traded them onward to the Eastern Roman Empire and Italy.
Despite hostile political relations, trade between rivals continued uninterrupted.
The same was true between Britain and Francia.
Smuggling flourished, especially in goods desperately needed by Frankish nobles:
whale-oil candles
furs
paper
For example, when Charles the Bald's young prince was baptized at Saint-Denis Abbey, the hundreds of whale-oil candles used in the ceremony had originated in Greenland.
Indigenous hunters harvested whale oil and sold it to Bjorn. It was shipped to Britain, refined into candles, and then transported through complex trade networks until it reached Paris.
Meanwhile, British nobles enjoyed luxuries from abroad as well:
white truffles from northern Italy
premium wines from Francia
Although the Canary Islands produced stable supplies of wine, aristocrats considered the flavor inferior to authentic vintages from Bordeaux and Burgundy.
Leaving the dock district, Salomon followed the main road toward the western side of the city.
Because his reassignment involved multiple departments, he needed to report to the Department of Administrative Affairs to complete formal procedures.
Near the royal palace lay Codfish Street, where many government headquarters were located.
After wandering briefly, Salomon found No. 2 Codfish Street.
In front of him stood a three-story stone building—gray in color, matching the uniform architectural style of the street.
—------------------------------
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