I said nothing. I wasn’t willing to agree on his assessment of Germanicus.
I wasn’t ready to take him seriously.
I simply wanted to kill him. But first, I wanted to learn the fate of Ulrich. I touched the arrow on my belt.
“Can you not tell Segestes to return?” Adalwulf asked. “To come to Rome?”
Tiberius shook his head. “I told you. He begs for help. He ignores such commands. His son tried to kill him, and his power is shattered. He was promised the kingdom of Germania, in the north, while Rome ruled in his name. He refuses to hear the words of recall. He thinks he can defeat Armin.” He shook his head. “He thinks he has a plan. He is no hero, is he? He has a plan, and he is waiting.”
“I wonder if Germanicus is working with him?” I asked.
He shook his shoulders. “Germanicus does not confide in me. He is actively planning. He is devious. Be careful. Oh, your father.” He eyed me. “Do we need your father for this?”
Maroboodus.
Did we?
“I know not,” I said. “He cannot be trusted as we just discussed.”
His face changed from benevolent into malevolent, and we looked at him with mild shock.
“Gods’ shit, if we have to ask him to fight for Armin,” Tiberius cursed. “He is very unhappy with us. That is your fault. You sent him Gervas, then betrayed him and, to a degree, me.” He looked furious, and I felt a stab of fear. “You took the woman who gave him legitimacy on Marcomanni throne. You took Cenric, a boy who might one day challenge him. You took his own boy. I cannot return them. I promise him, but I cannot.”
“How is his wife, and Gunhild?” I asked him. “And Cenric.”
He shrugged. “I know not. I don’t spend my days chatting to Suebi captives. Or guests. They say she is doing well in Ravenna, and so are her children.”
“Do we need him?” I asked and shrugged. “Not yet.”
“Not yet, then,” he agreed. “Find out what he is doing anyway. Get to it.”
I bowed, and Adalwulf did as well.
He turned his mount. “Next year, my nephew shall be here. You have this Yule, as you call it, to deal with Segestes and Armin’s weakness. What you need, you let me know.”
“Lord?” I called out, and he turned his horse in surprise. “I shall think about the solution,” I told him. “And I need men I can send messages through.”
He nodded. “Flavus shall be here, in Alisio and Xanten. You can send him your messages. Adalwulf has boys who obey him, I think.”
“I have few in the household who ask no questions,” he said.
He murmured and rode to his guards and they left.
Adalwulf and I mounted our horses and rode off. He was shaking his head. “So. He expects us to deal with Segestes and then prepare the nations for war, to make Armin a real king, and to keep an eye on Germanicus and Maroboodus at the same time?”
I nodded. “I shall need those men.”
CHAPTER 2
The camp of Varus, the former summer castra of Rome, had been taken over by Armin.
There were no agger, no fossa, no vallum. There were no more legionnaire tents or the grain houses. There was no sign of the shoddy villages that had nestled around it and no more Roman lawyers and taxes.
There was a pristine village, filled with new halls, all spacious and sprawling on the shores of the river Romans called Visurgis.
We called it the Flower Spring, and the name came from the flowers that had been tossed on it to celebrate the loss of so many men in the war against Varus. That day, week after the victory, the streams and the main waterway had filled with red, blue, and white, as the families of the fallen hurled flowers on it, and they sailed past many a grave mound, where the bones of the heroes lay moldering.
There, Armin had erected his great hall, the Black Lodge. It was the name of the entire village as well.
There, Thusnelda, held house for him.
It was located in the former lands of Segestes, and there stood the halls of his war-lords. There, roads met, as Varus had well known, from all the corners of the land. Semnones traveled there, Langobardi as well from the east. Inguiomerus’s men had reached it swiftly, and Armin’s men held sway across its borders. In the north, the Ampsivarii and the Chauci rode down the river’s banks to parlay and trade, and Marsi crossed hills and River Visurgis, along with the Bructeri, Tencteri, Usipetes, Tubantes, and others from the troubled west. There stood the might of Armin, and he glowered over the bridges and rivers at a craggy hill not far southwest from it, amid ancient woods where Segestes lurked with few thousands of his most loyal warriors.
We rode past the Armin’s lodge, and I knew I’d have to go there soon.
First, I had to visit mine. My yard was empty of life, and weeds grew. Beyond it, on the river’s edge, was Adalwulf’s fine hall, his hof, and there, his men were either lounging with horns of mead, playing dice, or practicing spear.
I hesitated and followed him. I saw Hild on the doorway and knew she was looking at me with hope. I didn’t look her way again. We rode to Adalwulf’s yard, and men got up and cheered him. All former Chatti, and now Cherusci, they hailed us both with raised horns or weapons.
Champions for Armin, dreadful slayers of his enemies, banes of Rome, they loved their generous master and his morose friend.
Birds were singing on the black timber’s cracks, and slaves and servants were mumbling softly, as they moved between the stable end and the yards beyond, dealing with the mundane.
Adalwulf whooped and wrapped his hands around a man who crashed for him—Wulf. The man was handsome, his hair golden as Sunna, and he looked as ferocious as his father.
“Still alive, Father,” he observed.
“Block for a head, he has,” Adalwulf said. “Aye, obviously I live.” Gisil, the mother, was leaning on a doorway of a nearby hall and ruffled the hair of tall Gervas, my son, while holding a daughter of six months in her arms. Gervas was eighteen, muscular from work and practice, and his hair was dark and face brooding like mine. He was covered in bruises and sweat. He hesitated as he saw me, and I turned to look at him. Gisil was whispering to him, and he took resolute steps towards me.
I jumped down and tied my horse on a post. I kept my horse in Adalwulf’s hall. I had no time to hire people to care for beasts. My hall was empty and devoid of life. I slept there, and Gervas did as well, but his meals he took with Gisil, and his lessons with a warrior of Adalwulf’s, and what time I spent with him, I mainly listened.
He walked to me and looked at my war-gear. “No battles?”
I shook my head at him. “It was almost peaceful. Everyone ran away. None chased after.”
When he worried, he looked like Cassia. He worried often. He had her eyes, her nose, and his mother’s silent wisdom.
It burned my heart to see him and pushed me close to tears. I hesitated, grasped him, and gave him a strong hug.
It utterly surprised him. I felt it, him tensing.
“Father, I—” he began.
I shook my head. “No battles. I have to see Armin, son. I must see him now.”
Wulf came to us and pulled Gernot with him. “Come on. Heimric is waiting. Spear and more spear. You must know spear, since you are called ‘Spear,’ eh? He is waiting and won’t brook more delays.”
Gervas leaned close. “There is a guest in our hall. See her first.” He turned and walked off, taller than I was.
I watched Gervas go and wondered at his departing figure. He gave me a glance and disappeared behind the corner. Adalwulf watched me, and I pulled my helmet off. “Spear?”
Adalwulf nodded. “Now you ask. Finally. They learn like Romans. I hired a man who was a centurion once. Turned to Germani when he was captured. I gave him a new name.”
I blinked. “A Roman?”
He chuckled. “No. I am just trying to see if there is any sense in you, Hraban. Tiberius is right. You need to think and sharpen up. I have a good man teaching them. He is a Chatti, like I am.
He has been teaching them for two years, and he also knows the sword. He knows sword very well. Better than you or I. Spear as well. He is like Nihta was, but not a dark-hearted shit.”
Nihta.
I had not thought of Nihta in ages.
I turned to walk back to my hall.
“Make a home for him,” he said. “Go hunting with him. Hild will come and clean today.”
“I have no time,” I told him. “And I fear for him. And I fear your Hild. She is ferocious as a hungry legionnaire.
“Marry,” he told me. “Let someone heal—”
I walked away and hesitated before our hall. Then, I entered the house and saw Thusnelda.
She was beautiful and tall, her lithe figure hidden in the shadows, as she was lighting a fire. She had been successful in another firepit and the smoke made me cough.
She was surprised and stood up staring, dropping a burning shingle she had been using. She wore long linen tunic, her shoulders bared, one breast open to sight, as it often was with Germani dress. Her hair was combed and long, and she looked clean. I shook my head and watched my clothing and armor. “I am sorry. I—”
“Armin will want you soon,” she said. “He has decisions he must make.”
“You came to fetch me to him?” I asked. “Or did you come here to ask me to bathe.”
She shook her head and looked in fascinated disgust at the remains of a week-old meal on the table, the wooden bowl filled with ants. She sat far from it and looked at me hard. “I came to speak with you.”
“Oh?” I asked. “When we have spoken previously, they have often not been pleasant discussions.”
“No,” she agreed. “I fear you. Men fear you. They tell Armin to send you away.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. She pressed a hand on her belly and looked tired. “Do you?” I asked.
Her eyes went to my sword. “I cannot deny you have sacrificed much for us. And you have never denied your mistakes. You have made plenty of them, as have we. But I doubt you have told us all your mistakes.”
They. She and Armin.
“I deny nothing,” I said. “I have trusted the wrong people.”
“I fear,” she said. “I maybe fear for our success. We finally have some. And it is partly due to you. I know Woden favors you, and Lok loves you, and when the two love a mortal equally, success and disaster follow that man.”
I laughed softly and crashed to a seat and pulled my helmet off. “Lok has nothing to do with it. The adelings are squabbling shits, Segestes, your dear father, is holding Armin back, and the war will start at full swing very soon. Even Maroboodus is watching.”
And at that, she looked down. “Is he? What shall he do?”
I shook my shoulders and stared at her. “He could risk all? He could attack. He has Quadi, many Hermanduri, Boii, mercenaries, Sarmatians…” I said and hated the last word.
Sarmatians.
Sasas, who had guarded Cassia, and whom she had had to seduce to save us had made us all miserable.
I hated them.
“He could decide the war for us?” she said. “Or at least he might promise to stay out of it?”
I squinted at her. “Both ways. For us or against us. But he is a cautious one these days. It is hard to gamble with a kingdom. You might lose it. He is old. He has mountains to guard him against us, but Rome can kill him and his dreams. I suppose he is expected to go to war for Rome.”
I smiled. It was not likely, since Tiberius would stop him.
Thusnelda didn’t know it of course. She worried.
Everything was possible. Germanicus might make Maroboodus gamble for him, or Maroboodus might even try to make a great kingdom of all of the Germani and fight Rome.
He was held very loosely in check by his son’s life. He needed Gunhild to rule the Marcomanni, who would not accept a ruler without the blood of Aristovistus. They would make trouble. Maroboodus had choices to make.
He had sons here and there, and all had at one time either fought him or been held from him.
He was old. He might want to be Maroboodus, for once, and not some sycophant of Rome.
She sighed. “Is he coming after you? You, your Gervas? Is this Germanicus coming?”
I watched her for a moment and then nodded. “I am watchful.”
She was trembling. “I would fear so much if there were people out to kill my son. Out to torture them.”
“I am terrified,” I said. “How are you and Armin?”
She sighed and held her head. “He is so busy. He is dealing with so many matters. He has…”
“Changed,” I said. “Power. It does that to a man. Hero may feast and get drunk when not in battle, but a Thiuda?” I shook my head. “You are not happy?”
She smiled. “I am lonely.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” I said. “Do not give up on him. And do not fear my father.”
She held her face and wept. I watched her and wondered how much Armin had changed. He had loved her like life itself, and now he was fighting for the Germani, for the Cherusci. Likely, he was doing it all for her. And while doing it, he was losing her.
I walked to her and sat next to her and put a hand around her shoulders.
She calmed down a bit and spoke. “I do not know how things shall end,” she said. “I do fear so many things these days. Your father, I fear him too. I also pity him. Poor man,” she said. “He too must be lonely. His queen and child prisoners. A terrible thing to endure.”
I nodded and though of her words.
“What do you want of me, lady?” I said. “I am doing my best.”
She looked at me for a while and then spoke. “You are not. I have a need for the Hraban. The old Hraban. Help him. You have to gather a band of men.”
“I know this,” I snarled. “Adalwulf has been telling me—”
“You need men like you,” she said. “Armin needs bastards who don’t exactly obey our old ways. You see, we must act.”
“So, tell me how, Thusnelda.”
“Can we kill Segestes?” she asked harshly, talking about her father.
“Your brother Segimundus already tried,” I said sourly.
“Can we kill him?” she asked again. “He has three thousand men.”
“We can kill them,” I said. “It will be costly. In more ways than one.”
She looked at her hands. “Some people believe him. Most of those look at Alfin, Baggi, and Chlodulf who follow him. His oldest and best war-lords. He lies. He cheats. He is likely going to approach Tiberius.”
I shrugged. “If we attack him, it will wipe away all of Armin’s heroic golden shine.”
She looked sour. “You make it sound like filth, his shine. Men love him.”
“I am just tired, Thusnelda,” I said. “No child yet?”
She put a hand on her belly. “Not yet. We had…nearly. We are trying again.”
I nodded and looked away from her sorrow. “It will come. Then you will have real things to fear.”
She held her face and shook her head. I waited, and when she was done weeping, she wiped her eyes. “How do we kill Segestes?” she asked.
I thought of it. I knew the answer. I had known it for a while.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
I smiled. “It is easy, actually. Either him, or his men must die, and we must make it look like he himself is to be blamed for it.” I frowned. “We need Segimundus.”
“My brother?” she asked. “Why?”
“Yes. How is he? What kind of a man?” I asked. I barely knew him.
“He is a…follower,” she said sadly. “He found pride and honor to fight his father…our father. But he also has not been able to properly challenge Segestes or to support my Armin.”
I smiled, and a thought began to form. “He shall have to step up.”
“How?” she demanded.
“You must lure Segestes out to do battle,” I said. “He must be given an opportunity to kill Armin. Segimundus, sorry for his
failures and inability, will approach your father. He shall tell him Armin will go on a hunting trip. There shall not be many men, and Armin shall be there. There must be noble adelings with Armin, to be witness to your father’s deceit. You shall be there as well. Segestes cannot resist. And if he tries to kill Armin, he will be seen as what he is. Even if he survives, Armin is free to make war on him. He might die in the attempt. He might lose all his great men. You have to have a force of men to ambush his ambushers, and the bait. Armin and you. Armin will need more to be powerful, but it is a start.”
I stared at her and thought about my filthy plan. It felt less filthy right then.
She looked at me with rapt attention.
She shook her head. “But Segestes has spies. They will tell him of such preparations.”
I shook my shoulders. “You have to use people who are not from here. Mercenaries?”
She was thinking hard and smiling with relief. “Yes. All you need are men who can stay silent, and hidden, and whom he, Segestes, cannot spy on,” she said. “New men. Skillful men. Also, since Segimundus will take our father’s place, he must be the right hand of Armin. It is best if this idea…no. It must come from Segimundus. Not from me.”
Especially not from me, she meant.
“That is exactly so,” I said and clapped her hand. “Well done.”
She was shaking her head. “That is…fascinating. Your mind works in most evil ways.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She turned to me and squeezed my hand. “Armin has heard of men like this. He told me of a Sarmatian king, a king of the riders. Says the man hates Maroboodus and hopes to find a master in the Cherusci lands. I can…your new men?”
The Summer Sword Page 5
