Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1)

by Alaric Longward

  He didn’t answer, but nodded darkly, and Iodocus gave me a warning shake of head. “Will you go back now?” the thin Celt asked, and nudged me.

  “I will,” I said. “Thank you.”

  They turned to go, and Iodocus snapped his fingers at me and thumbed towards the woods. He would take me home, I guessed, and I followed him. He was better in the woods than Bait, and I could soon see lights shining ahead from the hill’s many halls. His men were around us in the shadows.

  “How crazy is he?” I finally asked.

  He stiffened with indignation at first, but shrugged after a while. “The lord,” Iodocus said softly, “may have forgotten Hulderic’s sword. You would not have enjoyed seeing what he did with those two servants of Bero yesterday.”

  “Do we really need him there when … if I figure out a way to Leuthard?” I asked him.

  He smiled in the dark. “He’ll be there. He keeps visiting the hill. He’s gone mad with the loss of Cerunnos. Unbalanced. He spies on us as well. He is sending men all over the place to find the bandits, in case they were locals after all. He pays men to find out if someone has heard of Raganthar. He sent his daughters over the river, to relatives. Probably thinks he’ll die trying to get his vengeance. And what he did to those two Marcomanni?” He was silent, but it was clear he was shaken. “We’ll have to keep Leuthard alive for a time, if we catch him. You and I.” He nudged me.

  “Why do you care?” I asked him. “You serve the Celt.”

  “I’m a Gaul, and some Gauls are faithful to the death, but you know Hulderic is a fine lord. He has many people on the hill, and Bellows was only one. He has Ingrid.”

  I stared at him. “And he has you. Bellows said he has few friends, because he refused to pay for them. Was he wrong?”

  He grinned. “He pays some very well. Hulderic pays me well, and one day, I’ll serve him, when I’m of no more use to Teutorigos. Hulderic spies on his friends as well, and it’s wise in Hard Hill, in case such friends host you, and suddenly take coin from Bero. I’ll do my best to help you, though I’m not sure I can fool Teutorigos when the time comes. And when will that be?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know how to trap that man,” I told him honestly.

  He shrugged. “Inspiration strikes when you are not thinking about it. Have fun. Get drunk. Have a girl. Ask for advice from Ingrid, find a way, or it will be—” He gasped with terror. He stopped walking, shaking his head.

  I passed him, holding the hammer, and stopped as well, trying to fathom what I was seeing.

  There was a large beech tree, and it stood in the middle of a well-used hunting path. Men often hung their prey there as they skinned and prepared the meat, and so it had been used again.

  There was a body of a boy hanging on the tree. It had been impaled into some broken branches, and the arms were stretched on its sides.

  “Bait,” I whispered, and knew it must be, though I couldn’t be sure, because the skin had been torn from his face. The scared boy’s jaw, skin, nose and eyes hung in tatters of bloody, wet mess as his head rested on his chest. His belly was open, and an incredible about of snake-like guts wound their way down his legs to the ground, where blood was thick.

  “Gods, above and below and far across the horizons,” Iodocus said, “What did this?”

  “Leuthard,” I whispered, and felt his eyes on me, gauging, tormenting, and enjoying a game that was now very personal.

  Iodocus was shaking. “Shit. He’s seen me now. Probably the others as well. He knows what’s hunting him. You had best figure out a way to take him, or we will all end up like that,” Iodocus said with a small, scared voice. “Find something he values. Make him react to you. You must,” he whispered, and shuddered as Bait’s hair rustled in the wind, “play the game as he plays it, without remorse. There is no honor here, only survival. Find out what he fears, or needs. Do it fast.”

  “I will,” I said resolutely, and walked up the hill to find Ingrid, who welcomed me with a worried face and frowned at my condition.

  I thanked her, and told her of Bait.

  She cried for an hour, and I held her, and tried to figure out a way to trap the Beast of Bero.

  I came up with nothing.

  CHAPTER 10

  The issue was simple. I had no idea what Leuthard’s weakness was. I had no time to think about Bero’s either, and I was failing both Hulderic and Balderich.

  The death of Bait thrust me into shocked inactivity. I could see his faceless, sad death in my waking moments and dreams alike. Ingrid did as well, because despite the warnings, she was the one who went to bury him. Balderich roared, demanded the culprit be found, but the look he gave me told me he guessed much of the issue, and he couldn’t react. I tried to plan. I tried it all the time. I might as well have tried to court the goddess Freya.

  I was terrified, I realized. Of Leuthard. Of failure. What sort of man did something like that to a boy?

  No man.

  Certainly no sane man. Some animals did, but they also ate the body.

  And since Bait’s face had been missing, perhaps Leuthard did as well?

  Not possible, I thought, and knew I wasn’t sure.

  I spent days in the hall, eating and resting, my wound oozing a bit, but not too badly. Whenever I left the hall, I felt like a lost fox cub, looking over my shoulder, no matter if Iodocus had men watching me. “Adalwulf, the Wise,” I whispered to myself every morning I woke covered with cold sweat, after which I spent the day fretting, and in the evening, I sat down on my bed, listened to Balderich feast his quests, and fidgeted, knowing I should do something soon.

  On the third day after the death of Bait, I was in such a state, that even Leuthard would have felt sorry for me. I was disheveled, had a harried look on my face, and by nightfall, I sat in my room again, holding my knees. “What Leuthard fears?” I chuckled to myself. “Not anything on two legs, for sure,” I added, and went quiet as a warrior passing my room gave me a queer look. I banged my head on my knees when he was gone and felt sorry for myself. “Frigg’s frozen tits, but what am I to do?” I moaned, and then Ingrid sat next to me. She had not been around for the past days, and I had actually missed her. My eyes rested on hers, and I realized she was a pretty girl, a slave since ten, but wise and worthy of note. I needed help.

  “Are we done feeling sorry for ourselves?” she asked tiredly. “You and me both?”

  “Not quite,” I answered, and she frowned. “Yes, we are?” I tried again, and she gave me a vigorous hug, which felt nice, surprisingly much so considering how miserable I had just felt. I let her cling to me, and I clung to her. Bero had men like Leuthard, I had the girl and a thin Celt with some men, but she was a good ally, wise to the ways of the village. I suspected she was far smarter than I. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’ve been a bit lost,” I added, and she pushed me back, looking into my eyes. Then came the inevitable question.

  “Have you thought of something you might do to get that bald, ham-faced fucker in an early grave mound?” she asked.

  “Ah! No,” I answered. “I’ve been trying though. Hard. Nothing comes to mind! So can you come up with something? What should I do?”

  “Men,” she cursed as she got up quickly, a quizzical look on her face. She walked around, holding her hips, and kicked my ankle painfully. “Anything but this.”

  “What?”

  “Do anything but this! Sit around this damned hall, moping.”

  “You have been moping as well,” I told her with a frown.

  “I knew Bait, you didn’t,” she sighed, and of course she was right. “Anyway, he is buried now, and we have to do something more than this. Fine, both of us must.”

  “It’s we now?”

  “Yes, and I’m sorry,” she said, turning me around and groping for the wound under my tunic. I fought her, and she pushed me until she managed to get her way, and I lifted the up the tunic. Her fingers opened the wrapping, and I flinched as she pulled some skin with it. She was nodding, I
saw that much. “The wound is healing nicely. You are lucky it didn’t tear open when they tried to kill you. Don’t break the scab. You might, you know, if you keep twitching on this bed. Iodocus was asking for you. Teutorigos is growing impatient.”

  I snarled. “That man. I’d rather not have Teutorigos present if I do figure out a plan that might work. He is unstable,” I said. “I will ask for their help when I know what to do, but not his.” I rubbed my face, despondent. “I have too many responsibilities. It’s like trying to find a specific end of a horribly jumbled pile of threads, and there are far too many ends,” I cursed. “Balderich’s demands are not helping any more than those made by Teutorigos and Hulderic. Perhaps I should get out of the hall, but I have taken walks, and they gave me no help.”

  She grunted as she bound the wound. “The enemy is getting restless as well. Leuthard’s men have been looking for you since his men died in the woods,” she said uneasily. “He has sent men to the hall, some asking for your health. Others have been asking servants if you have any habits you keep repeating. He is looking for another way to slay you, all right. Nothing’s changed, and Balderich cannot do much about that.”

  “At least I have his attention,” I laughed, frowning at the hysterical tone in my voice. “Perhaps I should develop a habit. I could bathe in the river every evening, and then I might capture him in a fishing net hidden under water. Truss him up, carry him to this room, and gut him like a trout.”

  “Shut up,” she said unkindly. “And as you know, twilight and night are his time,” she said and squeezed my arm. “They say you should never hunt him during the night. Don’t meet him alone in some dark alley. Never alone.”

  “I could do it during the day, then,” I wondered, and rubbed my face tiredly. “A bath. Nets. Gods help me.”

  She shook her head, and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Adalwulf. You have to come up with something better than that.”

  “Oh, its only me again,” I growled. “How can I even capture him in the village? The hill’s so busy, someone would rush to Bero, complaining. What in Hel’s name can we do?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps, since this hill is his hunting ground, you cannot do it here?”

  I stared at her, and knew she was right. I pushed at the hay in my bed, and went to lie on it, looking at the ceiling. “Where, then?” I asked. “Gisil mentioned he is hated all across the lands. If I had free hands, I’d use his enemies to capture him,” I said, thinking aloud but went quiet as I thought of Gisil. Was she alive? Ingrid put her hand on mine, and I squeezed it.

  “You have free hands,” she said, and pushed my side. “Nobody said you have to capture him here. And you can do anything you like, no? Use anyone, even?” I tried letting go of her hand, because I felt like scum due to Gisil, who had not really promised me anything, but Ingrid hung on to mine like a dog to a juicy bone. “They are nice hands, Adalwulf, very nice, but you must start using your brain. There.” She tapped my head. “Be imaginative. Do anything. You will find a good way to get to it, if you apply yourself.”

  “My father and uncle used to say things like that, but I never did manage,” I said. “How much time do we have, anyway?”

  She shrugged, and cast an eye in the general direction of Balderich’s voice booming in the main hall. “I wouldn’t over enjoy the feasts in the Red Hall, and the ale is slowing your thinking. You have to do this in a week, or one day, you will be the feast in the Red Hall. There are dogs, you know. I love Balderich, our lord, but he has limits to his patience. I’ve seen him lose it. Not something you wish to witness up close.”

  Indeed there were dogs in the hall, and while Balderich had been a gracious host, even I had noticed he had been staring at me coldly for the past days. Ingrid was right. “So, I have free hands. I have to get Leuthard out of Hard Hill. But we cannot just burst into his hall, kill his servants, and drag him off.”

  “No, love. You need allies that might surprise Leuthard. He knows who we are,” she said huskily, and I remembered Bait mentioning she was looking for a man. I knew she had found him as she draped a hand on my neck, looking around carefully so no one might witness us, and nodded to the direction of the river. “It’s pretty active along the shores and the harbor. They say there are lots of Roman ships rowing up and down this spring, but I’ve only seen the few traders. Fishing’s been good as well. Helmut, a warrior in Balderich’s band, caught something that was bigger than his dog.”

  “Oh?” I said with a smile. “We had some fine fishing in the mountain rivers, and some scaled monsters that could have eaten a dog.”

  Her face sobered. “No, this catch had been a man,” she told me. “One from the villages below. A broken husk of a former man. Bait’s not the only one, you see, to displease Leuthard.”

  “I bet he wasn’t,” I said, wondering why she spoke of the beautiful river, happy feats in fishing, and then turned it into a tale of rot and sorrow.

  “It was a man of Fulch the Red. The great man—“

  “I’ve seen the man,” I said. “Wide-shouldered and famous. He displeased Leuthard the other day.”

  “Fulch is a greasy brute,” Ingrid said with a shudder. “He puts his hands where he shouldn’t during the feasts.”

  “I—” I shot up, but she put her face near me, and I fell back.

  “Will shut up.” She squeezed my hand, very close to me. “You are a hot-headed idiot, but a nice idiot compared to most of fools we entertain. You are sort of fresh, not spoiled by power, rewards, position, and battlescars. Stay that way for a while.” She rested her head on my chest, and I struggled to keep myself from not getting too comfortable with her. “When you go and fight for Hulderic, I think it will do you good. Eventually, that is. It’s less rotten over there in his lands. People are real. And perhaps, you know, I will as well? That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

  “Iodocus might go, too,” I blurted to hide my confusion.

  She misunderstood and frowned. “He is welcome to. But I was thinking about you and I, and not him at all. Are you thinking about him?”

  I opened my mouth.

  Gisil.

  I thought about Gisil, but Ingrid was real. She was there, and just as beautiful, but love didn’t work like that, thanks to the malice of the gods. I only thought of Gisil, I realized, but gave her a smile I hoped was non-binding. It failed as she read something in that smile that gave her heaps of hope. She kissed my cheek. I failed to stop myself from getting aroused, and begged she wouldn’t notice. Her eyes rounded, she moved and pressed herself against me, and her face was blushed and serious, and I knew I was in trouble.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking, Adalwulf. Think on this. Fulch serves Balderich, but has to take his orders from Bero. He was a young man when he joined Balderich’s band of warriors, and one of those few men who built this gau into what it is now. His hall is right there, near the Red Hall. Bero lives down hill near the harbor, and Leuthard even further. But the fact remains, Bero came, dazzled, built, and managed, while Fulch fought, but fighting doesn’t feed the villages.”

  “I see,” I said, my hand on her shoulder.

  “Bero could soon buy a dozen such fighting champions for the Marcomanni. Now, Fulch is just one of the champions, since Balderich has left much of the management of Hard Hill’s affairs to Bero. And Bero favors Leuthard, and what can Fulch do? There will always be one who is higher than the greasy spitball. Leuthard hates him back. That’s why Fulch’s men occasionally die mysteriously.”

  “Leuthard hates everyone,” I stated and nodded. “You say Fulch might help with the issues we have? Does he know any weakness in Leuthard?” She was pressing herself on me softly. I found I had put a hand on her rump, and pressed her to me. She groaned softly.

  I was a bastard, I thought, but didn’t take the hand off.

  She shook her head vigorously, her hair brushing my face, and she was whispering to my ear. “I doubt it. Fulch has been looking for weaknesses in Leuthard, like we have. He has been spea
king against him with the other champions, but Leuthard is a hard one to catch,” she said huskily. “He drinks moderately, he boasts but delivers, and he thinks deeply and never betrays Bero, at least so openly that he might get caught. The rest of them squabble, thinking how to increase their fame and lands, and how to fatten their cows at the expense of the others. They guard their own riches, never co-operate, and so Leuthard will never be truly challenged. Few would dare, anyway. He gets his share of the loot and slaves on time. He is like the most faithful hound, and gets well-rewarded for it. He is Bero’s best man, and Bero trusts him. Fulch doesn’t know his weakness. But Fulch can help.”

  “Can he?” I asked, trying to ignore her hand on my chest, and the roundness of her behind. “How would Fulch solve out issue?” I added, nearly babbling, speaking breathlessly, because she felt warm, very close, and her hips moved over me, very slowly. A man chuckled as he passed the room, and with a groan, Ingrid got up and sat on the bed, and rubbed her face. She threw her long, blonde hair back as I climbed to a seated position to hide my discomfort. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Not your fault,” she said weakly. “I should just …” She waved her hand towards Fulch’s hall. “Listen. Fulch could probably figure out a way to capture him in one of the few raids they make. Figure out a lie, have Fulch boast of some rich enemy out of the Hill, and see if Leuthard takes the bait. Then, take Fulch and his men and capture Leuthard. Kill his men, and we have him. Make the lie rich enough, and perhaps Leuthard will go and ignores Bero’s peace.”

  I nodded, and frowned. “Yes, I guess.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “You guess? You mean “no”? You are uncertain?” She bristled and looked annoyed. “Do you have a better plan?”

  I placed a hand on her thigh and smiled disarmingly. “No. But the thing is, I don’t trust Fulch. He could just as easily chop off my head, and that of Iodocus after Leuthard is dead, and he has no friendship with Hulderic. Teutorigos is one unstable man, but at least he knows the old Goth.”