The Normans decide to try widening their foothold in the North and return to the siege of Denmark. But clearly the Danes have laid in more beer and neeps, as they see off their invading cousins for a season (Normans, please designate an element to be lost).
The English watch events with interest but choose not to venture beyond their dooryards. So cautious are they that when a contingent of Welsh shepherds turn up calling "Gŵyl San Steffan!", the English give them a huge chest full of hacksilver. The shepherds, marvelling, go on their way.
That closes out the summer of 1004. Leaves begin to turn, there's a chill in the air, and
the wind whips up the waves so loud,
the ghost moon sails among the clouds,
turns the spear blades into silver,
on the border.
Autumn, 1004 arrives.