Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 48: Crop Rotation

The cleanup of the attempted coup was lucrative. Ragnar sat in the Great Hall, staring at a ledger that Gyda had placed in front of him. The "Liquidation" of Jern Einar and his conspirators had yielded unexpected dividends.

"Forty thousand silver pennies," Gyda recited, tapping the page with her quill. "Ten tons of raw iron stockpiled in Einar’s secret barn. And, interestingly, a hidden cache of Mercian gold that Father Wilfrid had been using to pay the mercenaries."

Ragnar whistled. "That covers the cost of the siege. And the wedding."

"It covers the fiscal year," Gyda corrected. "If we don’t spend it on something stupid."

Ragnar looked at the pile of wealth. In his previous life, he knew that the Soviet Union and other regimes had consolidated power by seizing the assets of the old nobility. He was doing the same, but with less ideology and more accounting.

He looked around the room. The leaders of his "Industrial Corps" were gathered. They looked tired, smelling of soot and victory.

Bjorn (Security).

Leif (Foundry).

Erik the Lame (Broken Men). 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Brother Osric (Education).

Aethelwulf "The Weasel" (Trade).

They were a motley crew. A giant, a smith, a cripple, a monk, and a con artist. But they were loyal.

"Gentlemen," Ragnar began, standing up. "We have conquered a city. We have crushed a rebellion. But now we have a bigger problem."

"Saxons?" Bjorn asked, reaching for his axe.

"No," Ragnar sighed.

He pointed to the stack of unread reports on the table.

"I cannot run a blast furnace and a city at the same time," Ragnar explained. "I need to delegate. The ’Industrial Corps’ was a good start, but we are a government now. We need... Ministries."

The men looked confused. "Ministry" sounded like something a priest did.

"A Government," Ragnar clarified, "is a machine. And like any machine, it needs specialized parts. You are the gears."

He picked up a piece of charcoal and walked to a large slate board he had set up.

"Gyda," Ragnar said first. "You are already doing the job, but let’s make it official. You are the Prime Minister."

Gyda raised an eyebrow. "I prefer ’Mistress of the Ledger’."

"Prime Minister sounds more terrifying to the Saxons," Ragnar argued. "You manage the other ministers. You audit them. If they steal, you liquidate them."

Gyda nodded slowly. "Acceptable."

Ragnar turned to Bjorn. "You are the Minister of Defense. You control the Huscarls, the Torsion Spikes, and the Walls. Your job is to make sure no one interrupts my work."

Bjorn grinned. "I like the title."

Ragnar moved down the line.

"Leif," he pointed to the soot-stained smith. "You are the Minister of Industry. You manage the Foundry, the Mines, and the production of standard bolts. If a bolt doesn’t fit the ’Hole of Truth’, it’s your fault."

Leif saluted with a hammer. "I will keep the iron flowing, Director."

"Erik the Lame," Ragnar continued. "You represent the Broken Men. You are now the Minister of Labor and Welfare. Your job is to ensure the workforce is fed, paid, and housing is... adequate. You also manage the Pension Fund."

Erik straightened his crutch. He looked proud.

"Brother Osric," Ragnar said to the monk. "You are the Minister of Education and Propaganda. Keep the school running. And print more pamphlets about how great we are. I want every Saxon peasant to know that life is better under the Industrial Act."

Osric bowed nervously. "I shall spread the... good news, my Lord."

Finally, Ragnar turned to Aethelwulf the Weasel.

"And you," Ragnar sighed. "You are the Minister of Trade. You sell the skillets. You sell the bad swords to Mercia. You buy the saltpeter from Dublin. Just... try not to steal too much from us."

Aethelwulf winked.

Ragnar stepped back.

"This is the Cabinet," he announced. "We are not just a raiding party anymore. We are a State. You answer to me, and I answer to the Ledger."

...

With the government formed, Ragnar moved to the next item on the agenda.

"Now," Ragnar said, rolling out a map of the farmlands around York. "We have gold. We have iron. But we have a winter coming. And the Saxon farming methods are... primitive."

He pointed to the fields. They were using the "Two-Field System"—planting half the land and leaving half fallow to recover. It wasted 50% of the land every year.

"If we starve, the factory stops," Ragnar said. "So, we are going to industrialize the food."

"How do you industrialize a turnip?" Bjorn asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Chemistry," Ragnar smiled. "And geometry."

He drew a square divided into four parts.

"We are going to implement the Four-Field System," Ragnar explained.

"Field One: Wheat (for bread)."

"Field Two: Turnips (for cattle feed)."

"Field Three: Barley (for ale)."

"Field Four: Clover."

"Clover?" Erik asked. "We can’t eat clover."

"The sheep eat it," Ragnar said. "But more importantly, clover puts nitrogen back into the soil. It recharges the land. No more fallow fields. We use 100% of the land, every year."

He looked at Aethelwulf.

"Weasel, I need you to import clover seeds. Tons of them. And turnips."

"Turnips are boring," Aethelwulf complained.

"Turnips keep the cows alive in winter," Ragnar countered. "If the cows live, we have fresh meat in January. If we have meat, the men are happy. If the men are happy, they don’t revolt."

"And the plows," Ragnar added, turning to Leif. "The Saxons use wooden plows. They scratch the dirt. I want you to cast Iron Moldboard Plows."

"An iron plow digs deep," Ragnar explained, miming the motion. "It turns the soil over. It kills the weeds. It brings up the nutrients."

Leif nodded, his eyes lighting up. "I can cast those.."

"Do it," Ragnar ordered. "We are going to turn York into the breadbasket of the North."

***

The next morning, the Ministry of Agriculture issued the decree.

The town criers (part of the Ministry of Propaganda) stood on the street corners.

"Hear ye! Hear ye!"

"By order of the Director!"

"1. All farmers must plant Clover in the fourth field!"

"2. Wooden plows are banned! Exchange them for Iron Plows at the Foundry!"

"3. Manure is state property! Do not waste it! It goes on the fields!"

The Saxon peasants were confused. They had expected the Vikings to steal their food. Instead, the Vikings were yelling at them about soil pH and nitrogen cycles.

"Why do they care about my turnips?" a peasant asked his neighbor.

"I don’t know," the neighbor replied, holding a shiny new iron plow. "But this thing cuts through clay like butter."

********

It took months, but the results were undeniable..

While the rest of England struggled with a poor harvest, the fields around York were lush. The clover fed the sheep, which produced more wool for the textile mill (Ragnar’s next project). The turnips kept the cattle fat. The wheat grew tall and thick.

Ragnar stood on the walls of York, looking out at the green grid of the Four-Field System.

"It works," he whispered.

"Of course it works," Gyda said, appearing beside him. "You engineered it."

She handed him a report. "The surplus is huge," she noted. "We have enough grain to feed the army for two years. And the Weasel is selling the extra turnips to the Scots for a profit."

"Good," Ragnar said. "Because we are going to need that food."

He pointed South. "King Burgred knows we are here. He knows we are rich. And soon, he will come for us with an army."

"Let him come," Gyda said, touching the Valkyrie’s Sting. "We have iron. We have bread. And we have a government."

Ragnar laughed.