The soil of West Francia was rich, its climate gentle—its natural bounty far surpassed that of any other European land. So long as peace could be secured, Charles the Bald was not one to begrudge a handful of silver.
Standing nearby, Ælla's face betrayed no emotion. Though he loathed the Norsemen encamped beyond the walls, as a destitute exile living on his host's charity, he had no right to question the king's decision. He could only bide his time and wait for fortune to turn.
News soon spread that Lambert had been chosen to parley. Before long, a throng of noblewomen gathered at his door, their eyes red and desperate, begging him to inquire after their captive husbands and sons.
Perceiving that their grief was about to boil over, Lambert straightened his posture and assumed the expression of a righteous envoy.
"Ladies," he declared, "I shall make our intentions clear to Ragnar. He will treat your noble kin with the dignity they deserve."
