The Summer Sword

by Alaric Longward

  “So, here it is,” he said. “Armin shall go hunting, a week from now. He and I shall go together with Ernust, the Chauci Thiuda, and I shall agree to lead Armin into a trap. There will be men of Segestes, many of them waiting, and just a few of our men. We have to figure out a good place.”

  Thusnelda would deal with that, she and Donor.

  “And I shall have mercenaries surprising his men,” I said. “You will be humble and deceitful, and you shall lead him to Armin? You will cheat your father? Can you?”

  His face was white with fear. “I will do it for the Cherusci. None will know. My father,” he said. “I know him. He will want to see the killing. He will want to see Armin die slowly. He shall come down, and Armin shall be helpless, and things will go our way when he shows his face. He shall. He cannot resist. He hates Armin so much.”

  “I believe you,” I said. I knew he was right. It was my plan, after all.

  He shook his shoulders. “You know, I believe in his cause.”

  “You do?” I sneered. “I Armin’s? In the glory of the old ways? In Germani of old, living in free Germania, and her people so much purer of heart than the rest? You believe in our laws, freedoms, and ways? What if,” I asked, “Armin does what my father has done? What if he crushes your laws and freedoms, and becomes what the Greeks called a tyrant? What if he becomes paranoid? I have seen him. What if someone tells him you are plotting to kill him?”

  He twitched and stepped back.

  I went on. “What if he—”

  “I know what a tyrant is,” Segimundus said stiffly. “I was taught by Rome, and Romans, and my father loved them better than our people. I do not prefer the marble of Roman statues to the woods of our people. I do not prefer the cruelty of Roman laws to your wergild and feud settling. I do not love Juppiter over Woden, and indeed, I do not worship living men over the gods. I prefer the gods and goddesses of the earth to those soaring over the sky, and I love our people’s rude manners better than those lies Rome spreads. They have conquered much of everything, but not us. Not yet. And I shall do my best to help Armin.”

  We stared at him. He was shaking with fear and uncertainty.

  He smiled in apology, taking deep breaths. “And I do also think we would do best not to lie to each other. I will, of course, take my father’s place, and that is part of it. I will lie to get his power. It is for the greater good. I was a dutiful son, once, but I have seen too much to be that any longer. I shall deny him. I shall curse him. I have done this for Armin already. Many follow him because of Segimundus. But, of course, I shall rule the Cherusci, one day, while Armin shall rule the rest of the tribes. Tyrant or no tyrant, I care not. He can make me a man above others, if I stay brave. And I shall. I shall stay brave.” He was shaking for a moment and looked at us. “We are on a cusp of something great, Hraban. A change, a victory. We are able to be what so many other nations have been.”

  “And what is that?” I asked him.

  “Great,” he whispered, and stepped back. “We can be great. All it takes is a unified nation and nations of nations, and before that nation, there stands my father. And I am the key to being rid of him. I shall do this for Armin. You shall get men like you, Hraban, men and women, and you will lead them for Armin in a deed of darkness. Do not claim you are unsure of it. You know what you can and will do. Shall we go and meet them?”

  I stared at him.

  “Power. You will find power and a cause, and then, one day, you shall rule,” I asked, “Cherusci?”

  “Cherusci and, if luck gives me a kiss, more.”

  He planned on leading more than the Cherusci. He suddenly reminded me very much of Segestes.

  And still, he was uncertain, unable to do much more than talk.

  I was sure of it.

  It was perfect.

  I would have preferred to use men of my own choosing for my plans.

  Alas, that was not to be. It was in that hall I decided I would go ahead with my plan, and everyone be damned, Adalwulf and I included.

  I nodded, and we left to meet Gochan the Stallion, the horse king of Hermanduri, lately exiled.

  The man was also related to me.

  CHAPTER 4

  We left during the night and took some of Adalwulf’s men with us. We also took Gervas and Wulf.

  If anyone was following us, Armin covered our tracks with Donor’s men.

  Segimundus was guiding us, though in reality, the men we chose to go with us were men who knew the land to the southeast, and this Gochan had, apparently, met with some local leaders in his attempt to seek employment with Cherusci. After two days of riding, we found one such war-chief, and he sent a guide with us. He was ready for war, for the Sarmatians were not invited, and there had been plenty of trouble in the land.

  I looked around at the woods and the mountainous, hilly Chatti lands to our south and wondered at the height of the woods. Ancient woods, old tales, suspicious wood spirits lurked, and the party was silent.

  I saw Gervas and Wulf riding easily next to each other. Both wore chainmail, and being inexperienced and young, it was a sign of favor that should have upset men in Adalwulf’s band. There were men far worthier of carrying such. The Chatti followers of Adalwulf seemed not to mind, though, and considered them some kinds of good luck charms.

  Adalwulf’s men were spread round us, silent and ready. Some were riding behind us and stopped to look back, uncertainly.

  Armin had men after us. They were there to make sure none would follow us. Segestes had to be in the dark.

  Donor, no doubt.

  It was my enemy and his men.

  He had the best hunters of men and beasts, men of the best Cherusci blood and they knew how to stay out of sight, but not completely.

  The trails were rough going, the paths often barely ridable, and so, occasionally, you could glimpse men far behind us, on some higher part of the trail we had passed.

  The lands were those of the Cherusci, but in name only. Chatti lived there, Hermanduri had set up halls, and the hills and clear lake shores in hidden valleys were habituated by fiercely independent hunters who were viciously protective of their hunting grounds, and at the same time, they were generous to travelers. They watched you ride into a hall, and fed you and gave you water, and then watched you carefully as you left.

  Few days into our travels Segimundus was riding with me as we left one such hall, and our scouts and new guides found a trail up, and then down a hill, that led down to a valley.

  On top of that hill, a sight of plains opened up. They were not limitless, but seemed to stretch north and south, dotted by woods and hills.

  It was an intriguing sight and reminded me of Armenia.

  Segimundus, who had been agitated the entire time, was speaking nervously. “Hermanduri own that wide land, and they occasionally fight here with the Chatti and the Cherusci, but they say the wars in this land usually end up with exhaustion and men go home.”

  I nodded.

  He seemed determined to speak. “See, down there?”

  I saw the valley and noticed it was not abandoned.

  In there, were a herd of horses and a horde of warriors. They were riding across the valley, their horses fast and disciplined at a legionnaire, and every man and apparently woman in that group of two hundred were riding in perfect lines, holding their places doggedly, their long spears gleaming. They were tall spears, thin at the tip.

  The force stopped and wheeled around.

  Germani fight on horses. Batavi do, especially. Ubii, as well. Matticati and Tencteri take the battle to the enemy on horseback. Without Roman saddles, the result is often bloody, men unable to stay mounted. Most other nations dismount and fight on foot, and many Germani are expert in gutting horses from below or chopping off equine legs.

  “They are good, are they not?” Segimundus said, as the horde spread out again, ready to ride through the valley.

  “They are,” I said. “What were they exactly? I know they are of Sarmatian stock
, but why are they here?”

  “They are Roxolani,” he said. “They say they have been living with the Hermanduri for decades and rarely go home to the east. There are many Sarmatians in the land, seeking employment, opportunity.”

  “I have seen some,” I said, thinking of Sasas and how he had hurt us.

  How I had.

  “Why are you not married?” I asked Segimundus.

  He stammered. “Father…he tried to find me a good wife, but for some reason, they all seemed to die. I am rather terrified of marrying anyone.”

  I laughed softly as I eyed a group of men emerged from the woods and started riding on our sides. Some wore dark leather, boiled armor, hooded, and their cloaks brown. They had lances, also known as sarmaticus contus, and many had good-length swords on the sides of their saddles. They were hard, calm looking men, and all were tanned and many blond. One was a woman, scarred and lithe, muscular in a way only a warrior can be.

  Segimundus was staring at her.

  I laughed. “You should marry. You must, in fact.”

  “Must I?” he murmured.

  “If you are to be of use to Armin,” I said. “You must marry. Armin needs allies, and marriages are a way to make sure they stay allies. Children, even more so.” I winked, and he blushed.

  “Children,” he murmured. “But—”

  “You must bed your wife,” I said dully. “Bed her. Many times, Segimundus. Do not worry. It is fun.”

  He shook his head and didn’t get angry. He was smiling, and I kind of liked the fool. “But who would I marry? It is not—”

  “Tell Thusnelda,” I said. “Tell her that you would help Armin. Speak to Armin, if you dare. Ask them? Chatti, they have daughters. Oh, but Armin need the Chatti above all others. Arpus might have a sister. He is the Thiuda of the Chatti. Ask Aerumer, he has a sister. He is the third most powerful man in the tribe. Rhamis, the girl’s name is. Adgandestrius has a sister. Gunda. She is, they say, pleasant to look at.” I winked at him. “I bet you would like to bed her. She is Ebbe’s daughter.”

  Ebbe had been my friend. He had been the greatest Chatti of the age, save perhaps for his brother Oldaric. He was dead. He had died in Roman captivity. Oldaric had died in battle. Both died thanks to Drusus.

  He was nodding. “I will. In fact, as soon as I can, if we survive this place. You think Thusnelda…”

  “Indeed,” I said, and watched the riders around us. “Gunda is the best looking girl in the land.”

  I wasn’t sure of that. I had never seen her.

  He nodded. “I will try.”

  “And make sure,” I said, “that you tell Thusnelda how you could be the guardian of Armin’s lands when he is in war. You could guard them well, being the second highest Cherusci. Hold his hall, guard his land against your father, guard your wife and all the wives in the land who do not go to war from Rome. Be the guardian of Thusnelda. I think that is your fate.”

  He looked at me with wonder and then nodded. “It sounds fabulous.”

  “It is your fate,” I said. “If only you convince Thusnelda to tell Armin this.”

  “I shall.”

  Below, we saw Gochan’s camp now. Their tents, constructed in a round fashion were brown and blended in the wooden edge of the valley. They were spread on the eastern end of the woods. The Sarmatians were again riding through the valley, and they looked like a cloud of death as they crossed the land below, practicing for war.

  “The one on a white horse,” Segimundus said, as he led us forward. “That is Gochan, surely?”

  “Tell me more about him,” I said. “No, wait. You!”

  Our scout turned around. A local man, he flinched as he saw my scarred face, and eyed my rich, war-torn gear. He looked at the ominous bronze helmet on my lap. He turned and rode to me anyway.

  I nodded at him, and he bowed his head. “So,” I said. “They have been raiding?”

  “They are the best raiders,” he said with spite. “They are also excellent liars. They take cows and slaves and claim to be innocent. They have clever men—and women—and they have recruited a band of mercenaries to help them. All the filth from the village of the damned. Thirty or so. Bounty hunters and shit. Not sure what they see in each other, but I bet it is profit. We are grateful Armin is sending men here to deal with them.”

  I smiled. Such men I preferred. “Gochan, they say, rules them?”

  He snorted and proved to have many thoughts of Gochan. “King Gochan. Gochan the Stallion. Largest man you ever saw and looks like an animal. King of what, I wonder? Claims to have some ancient royal blood. Who doesn’t?” He snorted and saw my amused look and spoke on. “He is the eldest of the family, a tall man, his mother, Temura? Yes. She was a minor queen of a family of Roxolani, and she married a Hermanduri king. The man died on the wedding night, and she was pregnant, and things got complicated. They drifted from one Hermanduri tribe to another, ever north, and settled with Thiuda Vannius on the plains. Years ago. They came to this valley weeks past. Hermanduri are enraged at them, for some reason. They keep sending men to try to find them, and there are heads rolling. Seeking a way west, they are. No Chatti would hire them. They made contact with the scum I mentioned but none else care for them. Inguiomerus has no need for them. And now, after the Varian disaster, Gochan has sent men to the other Cherusci. This is what I hear.”

  Has sent men to Armin? Not Segestes, surely.

  The young man had heard a lot.

  “Who are their captains?”

  “His family,” he said. “There are sisters.” His eyes went to the female warrior, who was looking at us. “She is one. Alde.”

  I watched Alde. She met my stare, her blonde hair long behind her back and the hard face twitching with a smile.

  “There is another, Burane? Borena. A strong woman,” he said. “I saw her when they visited my lord. Has a husband. They say she lost a son when they fled the Hermanduri. I’m terrified of her husband. Thick in thoughts, but powerful. One, the locust, is a curse on the land. Ourbazo. Young man. Fast as a snake,” he whispered. “He is the one who likely met with all the exiles and scum first. He is spending more time with local criminals than most. Likes killers and murderers and rides around with them. They love him. He knows most everything in the land, due to those connections. Keeps them safe, he does. They are a pack of wolves, my lord.”

  “Sounds like a smart one,” I murmured.

  The man looked sour. “I suppose.”

  I waved him off and saw Adalwulf and our boys approaching. The berserking warrior gave Segimundus a pat on the back. “What do we expect from them, when we negotiate? I assume you will do the negotiating?”

  “I?” Segimundus said. “I do not…yes, of course.” He shook his head. “I suppose we make him an offer. Then we haggle.”

  I watched Alde, who kept gazing at me. She smiled demurely.

  “I doubt it will be that simple,” I said, and turned to look at Gervas. “Don’t let them know who you are.”

  He opened his mouth in surprise and nodded.

  ***

  The exiled war-party sitting on their horses looked savage as wild wolfs. They were most all armored in black boiled leather armor, chest, shoulder, helmet, and their shields were round. The thicket of lances above their heads glittered in the light of Sunna. They wore ragged tunics under the armor. Most wore a sword, and even their horses had bits of armor and chain over their rumps. They had Roman style saddles, and there were nearly two hundred of them.

  Feeding such a party of warriors was impossible without raiding.

  They had fifty cows half-hidden in the woods, and I had no doubt most were Cherusci ones.

  Gochan was large, indeed.

  He was monstrous, as was his horse.

  It seemed one was looking at a statue in Forum Romanum, a carved likeness of Hercules, and he was sitting still enough to fit the description. He was taller than I was, and his hair was red, long, and braided. Silver hoops gleamed in his ears and his hair ha
d a golden wire around the braid.

  We sat before him, our few men surrounded by his men, who were riding around as if herding captives. Adalwulf’s men had spears, and those spears were swaying nervously as the men stared at the Roxolani.

  Finally, Alde, the tall blonde rode to him, and spoke softly.

  He was listening and nodding.

  He then pushed his lance to the ground and fished out a bit of dried meat from his bag. He pushed it past his incredibly white teeth and began chewing vigorously. Alde rode to sit next to a short redhead. She had very full lips and a scar across her cheek, a white line that ran from her nose to ear. She was looking at me raptly. She looked vaguely…familiar.

  Borena.

  I kicked Segimundus’s leg.

  He rode forward a bit. “Great King Gochan. We—”

  He laughed. “I am great no more. But I will be again.” His Germani was excellent, and he shook his head at Segimundus. He was not pleased. “So, few men. Two or three champions. Not enough to kill us off. Not enough to chase us away. Not enough to keep you alive. And still, the men look strong, many armored in a Roman way, and there are mighty war-lords amongst you indeed. Men who have fought for long years, eh?” He shook his head. “You are here to bargain.”

  The red-head, Borena, rode next to him.

  He resented it. You could see it in his face, though he didn’t look at her.

  Borena spoke. “You are not some local bastards of men of Cherusci lords whom we have been taxing.”

  She stated and didn’t ask.

  Segimundus shook his head. “We hear you are seeking employment. Aye, we are offering a bargain.”

  Borena chuckled. “We are seeking allies. We are seeking a cause we might follow. We must, since we have no more cause or home.”

  Gochan took a long breath. “What my dear sister is trying to say is that we seek a place where we might find a land of our own, and a lord who appreciates our skills. Me, my sister Borena here, and our half-sister Alde, and Ourbazo,” he nodded at a lean, small man who was riding around us, the only dark-haired Roxoloani in the party, a boy with a wolf’s face and infectious grin, “have recently left our tribe.”