Even after many years, Zaragoza still retained its ancient Roman walls.
The Ebro River flowed through the city, forming a natural defensive barrier.
Yet no fortress is stronger than the will of its people.
On the very night Gunnar and Alfonso arrived, a large-scale uprising erupted inside the city.
Gunnar cautiously sent a small assault team to scale the walls using grappling hooks.
The operation went astonishingly smoothly. The team quickly overwhelmed the disorganized defenders and opened the gates, allowing eight thousand soldiers to pour into the city.
With Zaragoza's fall, the Moors lost control of all northern Iberia.
The Frankish forces reaped enormous rewards. In addition to gold and silver vessels, they seized many exotic goods from the East:
silk
porcelain
spices
and a new kind of fabric
"Cotton?"
Gunnar heard the unfamiliar word from prisoners and frowned in confusion.
He examined the cloth and garments repeatedly. Compared to wool and linen, cotton felt softer and far more breathable. Draped over the body, it did not trap heat.
"A fine material. Where does this cloth come from?"
"India," the prisoner replied.
India.
Long ago, Vig had mentioned that place—a vast, hot land somewhere east of Persia.
Gunnar stood in thought for a long moment, then dismissed the distraction and ordered his guards to record the types and quantities of captured goods.
After months of campaigning along the Duero River, he had looted countless Moorish estates and noble houses. The spoils filled over a thousand wagons. It was time to conduct a full inventory.
By the following evening, the preliminary tally was complete.
Gunnar's personal share alone was worth the equivalent of six thousand pounds of silver.
Since the disastrous defeat in the British civil war, he had never seen such wealth.
"We're rich. This journey was worth it."
Satisfied, he closed the ledger and headed to the governor's palace in the city center to attend a banquet.
The celebration was lively.
Alfonso had already drunk five cups of wine, his face flushed red. Even now, he struggled to believe what had happened.
For more than a century, the Visigoths had endured hardship in the mountains. Yet in just three months, they had reclaimed half of northern Iberia.
With that achievement, no one could challenge his right to the throne.
Victory and alcohol blurred his thoughts.
At that moment, one noble proposed continuing the campaign south to Merit (modern Madrid).
Gunnar refused immediately.
"The newly expanded army lacks training and discipline. It is not fit for further offensives.
Besides, my men have been campaigning for half a year. It is time to return home and rest. My own lands demand attention. I do not intend to continue this war."
Other Frankish nobles, including Charles, quickly agreed.
They had earned enough wealth. Now they wanted to enjoy it.
No one saw a reason to keep fighting.
Hearing that the Frankish forces intended to withdraw, Alfonso splashed water on his face and looked around the hall.
They were not bluffing.
He felt a sudden surge of urgency.
He could not let them leave.
Without Frankish knights, he doubted he could hold the newly reconquered territories.
His mind raced, searching for leverage.
Then he made his move.
"My lord," Alfonso declared, "you are the bravest commander I have ever seen—equal to the great Roman generals recorded in history. To reward your achievements, worthy of legend, I grant you Zaragoza and its surrounding lands, and name you Duke."
Gunnar responded instinctively:
"I am already Duke of Normandy. That may be… inconvenient."
Alfonso cut him off.
"This reward is yours by right. Not only you—other nobles here may also receive lands. Our kingdom has reclaimed enough territory to reward you all."
The Visigoth nobles joined in, urging him to stay.
Listening to their praise, Gunnar felt a strange haze settle over his thoughts.
Zaragoza basked in warm sunshine. The land produced:
olives
grapes
citrus
pomegranates
Compared to this fertile, sunlit region, the damp and rainy British Isles seemed bleak—fit only for grazing sheep.
And for that miserable island, he had sacrificed years of peace:
the British civil war had drained his wealth
the standoff with Vig had consumed his energy
Charles the Bald still viewed him with suspicion
What had all that struggle truly been for?
Then he remembered his eldest son—still effectively a hostage at Charles's court.
It might be wise to keep another path open.
Gunnar stepped forward and knelt before the fifteen-year-old Alfonso as a vassal.
The other Frankish nobles showed no such hesitation. They drew their swords and dropped to their knees in unison.
News spread quickly through the camp.
Even mounted retainers without titles chose to remain in Iberia, hoping to earn knighthood. The entire camp buzzed with excitement and optimism.
The next day, Gunnar toured his newly acquired lands.
Zaragoza lay in a dry valley along the middle Ebro River, with mountain ranges to the north and south. Summers were hot and arid, with less rainfall than in Frankish territory.
Fortunately, three rivers met here:
the Ebro
the Gállego
the Jalón
Roman engineers had built extensive canals, later improved by Moorish irrigation systems. With abundant water, agriculture flourished.
Near the river valleys stretched vast fields of:
wheat
olive groves
vineyards
The land teemed with life.
Farther into the mountains, the terrain turned semi-desert, where pale yellow dust sometimes rose in drifting clouds.
"Separated by only the Pyrenees," Gunnar murmured,
"yet the landscape here is entirely different from Francia."
That afternoon, he appointed Charles de Potigny as Count of Jalón, ordering him to build a castle in the southern valley to block Moorish advances.
Then Gunnar followed the Ebro River eastward.
At intervals along the riverbanks stood Moorish waterwheels, lifting water into branching irrigation canals that nourished surrounding farmland.
Based on their achievements in the campaign, Gunnar granted many of his loyal followers new titles:
barons
knights
local lords
Each was tasked with building fortifications to protect Zaragoza.
Four days later, Gunnar reached the mouth of the Ebro River.
Historically, this river had once marked the boundary between Rome and Carthage in Iberia.
The river carried sediment downstream, forming a broad delta plain where river and sea met. Under the setting sun, the clouds glowed gold and crimson. In the distance, several triangular-sailed ships drifted across the water.
"At last," Gunnar said quietly.
He dismounted and scooped up a handful of wet sand.
This was the edge of his domain.
Just over ten miles to the south lay Moorish territory.
To the north along the coast stretched Catalonia, ruled by the Count of Barcelona.
Decades earlier, Charlemagne had crossed the Pyrenees and established frontier lords in northern Iberia to resist Moorish expansion. The Count of Barcelona had been one of them.
Over time, however, that bond of loyalty had weakened—
and eventually dissolved into independence.
—------------------------------
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