I stood still.
I nodded at Adalwulf and gave Gervas a quick glance and a reassuring smile. Gochan walked back and leaned on his horse, arms crossed over his massive chest. His eyes were on Borena, and then on me, and I saw from the frown on his face he wasn’t sure I could survive.
Ax and spear against a black, ill-omened spatha, a Roman cavalry sword. It would be a hard fight. Impossibly so.
Segimundus was sitting on his horse, apparently unhappy with the proceedings, and Adalwulf was holding his hand on his sword’s hilt, frowning. He looked ready to argue the fairness of the fight, but I shook my head at him, and he clasped his mouth shut.
I lifted my shield and nodded.
“Fight,” Gochan said softly.
I kissed my blade and moved forward.
I had fought in similar fights before.
But something was different. I knew it immediately.
I had faced men in single combat, and I had conquered. I had fought in dozen wars, in many more battles, and while Woden’s anger had ever helped me, ever brought me through the battle, I had also feared.
Now?
After Cassia’s death?
I sought death.
I wanted to kill and give death, and I felt no fear. Naked or armored, armed or unarmed, a woman or a man opposing me, I was ready and feared nothing.
The new sword was the extension of my arm, of my misery, and it sang in my palm as the two walked around my advance, licking their lips. I stopped and watched them. They were herding me, but I was not to be herded. They moved and fainted attacks, but I didn’t react.
I simply…waited.
I was ready.
They came at me fast.
I was fast as well. I thought of Ulrich, and of the death of Cassia in the misery of mud, of Germanicus, and felt Woden’s rage hammering in me. I welcomed the savagery, saw the dance of the spirit-beast in the dust, in the darkness, in the fog, the savage spear-dance of the god of men. He was not the protector, but the maker, and his wisdom was balanced by savagery. These were the qualities of which men had been made of as well.
The lance, long and thin-tipped, came at me from the left. Borena’s speed was spectacular, and it was coming for my shoulder, just over my shield-arm, and should have incapacitated me. I crashed my shield to her blade, and I dodged away from the ax.
I pushed left.
I kept pushing Borena back.
Boulder loped after me so very fast.
The ax came down again, a terrible, heavy thing, and smashed for my skull. I stepped under the swing, the ax shaft bashed to my shoulders and I stepped towards him this time, my shield holding Borena.
The lance thrust past my knee, missing narrowly.
I hacked down at the ax-man, who hopped back to Borena. The lance was tearing on my shield’s leather as I danced away from her, smashed my bladed down on the man who stumbled back. I didn’t let Boulder recover. I charged him. He sprung back, dodged away, and crashed into a horseman, whose mount bolted, throwing the rider. He fell forward and narrowly missed my sword’s thrust, which tore skin off his neck.
He pushed at me, and I fell back, tripped, rolled over my shield and banged into the knees of Borena who had been chasing me. I lifted my sword, saw the ax coming, and pushed up to my knees.
The heavier weapon met my sword with a terrible force.
And held.
Borena was dodging behind me, the spear reaching for my back, but I hooked my sword around the ax, and yanked the ax man at her, and whirled to my feet to face both.
They were panting, excited, and grinning, charging to the sides again, trying to flank me.
I growled and attacked them straight, giving them no time, banging my shield into Borena’s shoulder and thrusting my sword at Boulder’s face.
She fell on her rear, and I rushed over her, the lance snapping in the air before my face. I kicked at her head hard, leaving her sprawling under me.
Boulder roared and bashed the hilt of his weapon on my shield and then swung, executing a small chop. The blade cut to my shield and was stuck on it. We struggled, Borena sat up groggily and tried to stab the spear up to my crotch, but I fell, knees first on her and crashed over her thigh and knee.
She howled, the bone broken, and limb twisted.
A furious, raging man was on top of me. The ax was torn off my shield, it went up and came down, hacking to my shield again. I felt my arm aching, my skin bleeding from a shallow wound, and a foot was coming for my face.
I let it.
I felt the explosive power of the kick, and spat blood, my lip broken.
My sword had been cutting for his thigh at the same time.
It cut to the limb, and I saw bone exposed, white, then red, and the man fell next to me.
I hopped onto my feet, dizzy, and pushed the sword through the struggling man’s feeble defenses and pressed the blade deep into his body. I twisted it, pulled and pushed, grunting savagely and watched him die.
Borena was coming to her knees, and I stood there, looking at her trying to find her lance.
I cursed and stabbed my blade on her back, just an inch of it. Then I kicked her hard, and she fell, senseless, muddied, bloodied, a widow.
I stood over her.
Son dead and now husband. She should die too.
Borena was silent and bleeding.
The man was dead.
I let her live. There was still a weakness of compassion living somewhere deep inside me. I hated it.
I put away the blade, and then, the Sarmatians cheered. Alde rushed to Borena and began aiding her, and I watched our and their men cheering, and the barely concealed smile of Gochan. He was both thrilled by the bloody fight and angered that Borena might survive it.
I turned and walked to my horse. I tossed down my broken shield and leaned on my knees as they still cheered. Gochan was staring at me, and he walked to Borena. Alde was nodding at me, and she was whispering to him.
Gochan walked over and nodded. “So it is, then.”
“What is she saying?” I asked him. “Alde.”
He shrugged. “She said she thinks Borena will live. She will be long time healing. She also said that would have been me, had I fought you.” He smiled at me. “I doubt her sight. She also says you will lead us to a war that will make us rich, but there won’t be many left after. She says she will be your guard.”
I blinked. “Guard?” I asked.
“She thinks she can heal you,” he said, deep in thought. “It seems she thinks you might be ill. I think she likes you.”
I chuckled. “She is right, brother,” I told him. “There won’t be many left after this war.” I looked at Vannius and thought about our issues with Maroboodus. “I fought two, so I want a prize.”
He turned to look at the way I was looking. He saw Vannius. “I suppose it is fair. But he is worth a lot of gold.”
I smiled. “I suppose they would have paid you already if that is so, eh? I think he shall be our quest for a while. I want to talk with him. Get him to me.”
“I warn you, brother,” he said. “He has a tongue of gold.”
“I have no doubt,” I said. “Let us leave and let me speak with him.”
I turned to see Gervas smiling.
He was proud of me.
CHAPTER 5
Vannius was riding next to me as the column of horses and riders moved along the hidden trails. He was tired and looked worried.
He was constantly turning back to look at the chief of the Sarmatians, and then he would look at Adalwulf, and then at me.
“Spit it out,” I said.
“The witch,” he finally said, “the one you killed. It was well done. Gods, but it was well done.”
“She lives,” I told him, dodging branches. “You are both Hermanduri and a Quadi?”
“Yes,” he told me.
I smiled. “Did you know one Tudrus, either the older or the younger one?”
He shook his head. “Alas, no. I know of t
hem, as my mother was a high Quadi noble. They were related. They are all with Maroboodus.”
“You have Tudrus’s blood? That is good. Ah, Maroboodus,” I said. “I want to talk to you about him.”
He said nothing.
I grinned. “What do you have to lose, eh?”
He scowled. “My brother and his sons? They rule the tribe while I am away. Eight thousand men and as many women. What can they do against Maroboodus if he is upset? That is what you are asking for, right? For me to influence other Hermanduri and the Quadi and to join—”
“Oh,” I said. “I see you have no balls. I knew a Vannius once, a Vangione,” I told him. “He had balls. One of the few I ever respected. He was also a shifty shit when it came to his plans. Those he put before all.” I gave him a quick look. “What is this business with Maroboodus? The business that left you a prisoner of your own clients? I hear he is busy in the north?”
He laughed softly. “Maroboodus? He is building his kingdom. He has been, for a long decade, but the past few years, he has stepped up the efforts. He has subjugated many Hermanduri by war. War with him, Hraban, is what wise kings avoid.”
“I know he has dreams,” I said. “I saw it, a few years past in person. So, what is going on with Hermanduri?”
He frowned. “There are south and north Hermanduri. He has perhaps third of the kings and adelings following him in the south. In the north, every fourth. He wanted us, for we are close to Cherusci. Draw your conclusions.”
“He is planning—”
“He is preparing,” the man said. “I doubt he will. It would push his enemies together. Unless, of course, he fights for Rome.” He gave me a sly look. “I know not. I truly do not. He seems to have plans, but what they are? I know not. He has only asked some of us to make our oaths to him. I promised I would. That’s when…well…”
I smiled. I was thinking and planning and suddenly realized he was speaking to me. “What?”
He leaned closer. “Will you let me go? Or will Armin?”
I rubbed my neck. “Armin is interested in allies,” I said. “Allies that might help us, when the war starts. Truly starts, that is. And you are now Maroboodus’s boy.”
He went red of face. “I am not! Not a boy, at least!”
“Are you an ambitious man, Vannius?” I asked him.
He was silent.
“Do you dream of glory?” I asked. “And are you patient?”
“I am not patient,” he said darkly. “I want to go home.”
“If I release you home,” I said, “you must make your oaths to me.”
He frowned. “To you? A nobody?”
“I am not a nobody,” I said. “I am the man who might let you go home. I could just as well let Gochan kill you. There are risks even if you go home and agree to do what I need you to do. There are things you must do, and if things work out well, if we find all the luck in Midgard is on our side, you shall not regret it.”
He muttered curses. “I wonder if Armin would be less demanding?”
I chuckled. “Armin might not be keen on letting you go. Hermanduri, after all, have ever been unpredictable and not keen on keeping oaths. I shall trust you, though. For Tudrus. He and I were good friends.”
He stared at me with wonder. Then he spoke. “What might you need from me?” He closed his eyes. He was ambitious indeed. “And also, what is the prize you spoke of?”
“I collect adelings,” I said. “I collect them like I collect horses, and I keep them only for as long,” I said, “as they are useful. But the useful ones will find their dreams fulfilled.”
He looked sour as he rode down a mossy hillside after me, dodging pine branches my horse launched at him.
“I wonder,” he said at length, catching up, “what sort of use might a Thiuda of one Hermanduri tribe be, just one of the many, to a vagabond and a rogue that collects adelings? Oh, I know of you, Hraban. Your father wants you dead.”
I watched him with curiosity. “He does?”
“He has sent word to some select people in the north he wants you dead,” he said. “To his allies, mainly. It was mentioned to me when I said I would join him.” He shook his head. “Wait. No, that is not right. He wants you brought to him, and your son and wife. He has promised a sack of gold for each of you. One per person. Delivered to him. He has sent the word to leaders of men, and no ordinary ruffians. They might hire men, or they do not. His request is a filthy one. He should capture his wayward son himself.”
I felt cold claws of terror claw their way across my back.
I had been right.
There was a bounty out for my head. And not only for mine. He was promising great wealth to those who hunted me down. For son, and wife as well.
I spat.
He grinned. “Cold ice in your veins, eh? Cold. I know not how many he has asked, to be honest. I was. Few others, perhaps. I asked him, and he said he is keeping the number small.”
“There is a good reason for you not to join him, eh? He is a coward,” I said. “I will want to know all there is to know about his plans when he makes them and if he shares them with his allies. With you. Armin will want to know as well, and I shall tell him. You just have to betray Maroboodus.”
“It is easy for a man called ‘the Oath Breaker’ to speak thus.”
I nodded. “It is. It will get easier for you as well.”
He was glowering. “I am no friend to him.”
I leaned closer to him. “What is he doing? Here in the north? Is he doing more than seeking mercenaries to capture me? What is he promising people? What of the Semnones and the Langobardi?”
I knew he was a Roman.
I knew he would do anything Tiberius asked him to do unless he was truly going to help Germanicus or even himself.
He would have to join or beat Tiberius, or he would die a sad, terrible death, or in exile, a victim of Roman armies. Tiberius would command two thirds of the legions in Rome, even if Germanicus sat on Gaul.
At the same time, my father’s hand was reaching awfully far, and especially amongst the Suebi. He might be angry enough to risk much. He might be doing something else than simply trying to capture me.
He spoke. “He is being a bastard. He is promising people they may live if they join him,” he told me. “Hermanduri are Suebi, though only partly. He has allies wide and far. Tens of thousands of Quadi and Marcomanni warriors, with the best spears and shields, and many Hermanduri as well. But most of all, he wants to subjugate the noblest of tribes. He is making inroads to the Langobardi and the Semnones. Alberich of the Langobardi sends him men to listen when he asks for them. Semnones—”
“Berard of Stone Home as well?” I asked.
“Indeed,” Vannius said. “That’s right. They all do it with long teeth, but the amber trade roads run through those lands, and Maroboodus controls the only viable route with the Cherusci and perhaps the Chauci fighting Rome now. They need Maroboodus to make coin and riches off Rome. Also, Maroboodus is marrying his people left and right to Semnones and us, and the Langobardi. His warlords and ours are drawing close. But it is all extortion,” he said and went quiet.
“Oh?” I asked, curious. “What sort of extortion?”
He rubbed his eyes and looked embarrassed. “He claims he is the only one who can protect us all from Rome, and he has kept that word. But he is also a kingmaker. When anyone of stature finds a desire to lead any of our nations and entertains ideas of independence from his influence, that one’s enemies suddenly grow more powerful. He supports those who love him. Everyone knows that. Berard and Alberich dare not rebel. When they tried, their rival suddenly grew, and they were diminished. Now they bow to your father. Think not they, of very old and noble blood, do it willingly. They do so because they know he is of the oldest of Goth blood and claims to hold a ring. That ring could pull their war-lords away from them and to Maroboodus.”
I closed my eyes. Father had, when I had been in his damned town, asked for Draupnir’s Spawn.
He spoke on. “It is a very holy thing for the Suebi of the north. The two kings fear they might lose their influence if Maroboodus turns their own people against him with that ring.”
Father lies he has the Draupnir’s Spawn?
Bastard.
“They are arranging more than marriages between war-lords,” he murmured. “He, himself, is set to marry a daughter of both those men.”
“Both?”
“He is marrying two women in few years when they are old enough,” he said. “He is a goat.”
He was having plans indeed. Perhaps he was having them for Germanicus, but likely more for himself.
Father was trying to find balance.
He had a shaky throne with Marcomanni without Gunhild and the blood of Aristovistus, so he was rushing to spread his influence and power around. He wanted to subjugate all the Suebi.
He was using the ring.
And seed.
He spoke on, wistfully. “We are burying our old ways. Semnones and Langobardi are seething under the yoke. And they dare not—”
“They meet with Armin now,” I said. “Perhaps they seek a way out?”
“They dare not,” he answered. “They simply meet Armin to appease him. Armin must first survive. Rome is coming.”
“It is,” I agreed. “It is, indeed.” I smiled. “Is there no way to threaten Maroboodus? With such terrible influence over the peoples and adelings, surely there are many who would see him deposed. No coin or spear can be sent to pull down an adeling of Hermanduri, if Maroboodus lies dead. He has no sons.”
I thought I knew a way but didn’t want to speculate it. I added it to my plans and knew I would likely die before success.
He shook his head. “I doubt it. Rome. Armin’s alliance? None else. Only beggars dare speak against him.”
I almost let that pass, and then I turned and frowned. “Beggars?”
“Aye,” he laughed softly. “There is a man who has been trying to raise army against Maroboodus for long years. Mad shit. He holds a ring and claims it is the one Maroboodus holds. Draupnir’s Spawn, he calls is, and seeks to raise the adelings under him to go to war against your father. In every Thing, this man appears, claiming to be the rightful owner of this ring. Alas, but Berard has seen the real ring with his father before it was lost. It is a fake this man shows to those who are willing to listen to him.”
The Summer Sword Page 9
