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

by Alaric Longward

  Elisedd pushed us out. We turned to look at her in surprise, but she ignored our looks. The door slammed behind her, and she kept pushing us. Before we could dodge away, the centurion’s eyes had fixed on her. She greeted him shyly, adoringly, and Iodocus and I looked at each other. I resisted grasping her arm, but I didn’t have to accost her. She spoke quite plainly. “Yes, I sent word to the Roman. He came far faster than I thought possible, but he is here, and he hurried because he has no qualms taking what he wants. And now, finally, he will take me away.”

  “The harlot has an affair with that one, as well,” Iodocus murmured, and I knew he was right. I wondered if we should move away, but we had been spotted already. We stood still as hares, because all the others did as well.

  The woman had betrayed us. We’d suffer for it.

  “What do they want?” I asked her, trying to keep a civil tone, though of course I knew the answer. It was predictable.

  “The treasure,” she chuckled. “Of course the coins. And me.”

  “You—”

  The centurion finally spoke to the chief with a voice that carried across the yard, well-rehearsed to commanding men in battle and out of it. “Seisyll,” he said simply. My crude Celtic was up to the task, because his was as basic as mine. He waved his hand around lazily, and a troop of seven soldiers entered, their helmets dusty from marching, red capes in similarly disheveled condition, but they all looked like deadly professionals, save for one young man, a recruit, no doubt, who seemed a step behind the others.

  “Oh, this is not good,” said Iodocus. “I know him. That’s a centurion of the vexillation from one of the guard towers, not far from here, close to Moganticum. I’ve seen him around when I was here last year, visiting relatives. He robbed them clean. Didn’t even leave pig-bones on the plate.”

  The centurion shifted in his saddle, and Seisyll, handsome, tall warrior looked dwarfed in his glory in comparison to the representative of the true power in the land. “Call out your men.”

  “What do you mean?” Seisyll growled, squinting at the centurion.

  “The Legate sent us here. He received a complaint, you see,” the centurion said sternly, his eyes glancing in our direction, and I sensed Seisyll was about to be robbed of more than pig-bones.

  “What is the … complaint about? We can deal with it on our own, Roman,” Seisyll said bitterly. “You need not manage every simple matter here.”

  The Roman grunted, and the legionnaires twitched as they formed a solid rank of steel and red behind his horse. “Now, now. None of that. Legio I Germanica is not some fellow tribe for you to banter with. You cannot sit down with us over food and drink, and think we are fooled. We don’t do deals with robbers.”

  “Robbers?” Seisyll asked dangerously.

  The Centurion glowered at him. “The Treveri sent a complaint.”

  “The dogs always complain,” Seisyll said bitterly. “They bark like little pups, and cause mischief. Why believe them?”

  The centurion laughed merrily, and shook his head as if to a naughty child. “That may very well be so. They bark and cause trouble. So do you. But that matters not. Every such complaint must be checked out, and so I’m forced to march around like an old horse, solving these silly little troubles. I must. It is my duty. It’s for the good of all. The tensions are high. Treveri and Mediomactri steal and bleed each other, and claim lands. Gods know who is not lying. We want our people to live happily and at peace with each other, and so we must be fair.”

  Seisyll chortled incredulously. “Fair? They have been taking our lands since forever, Roman!” Seisyll roared, but the Roman was unfazed and spat in dirt.

  “Bull’s balls! Shut up!” The men in sight, Gauls tensed at that, but the Romans had killed enough Gauls in their time to make mice of them, and they stayed silent and sullen. The Roman yelled, “I know you have plenty of warriors in this village. More than you should. Call them all out!”

  Seisyll, his face white with rage, did.

  Men streamed from the halls and homes. Hundred, more, and the Roman Centurion’s eyes gauged their mood and arms. It took time, but finally a warband, Seisyll’s own, and those he had brought in from other villages, stood in two separate groups in the middle of Sparrow’s Joy.

  “Should we run?” Iodocus asked thinly.

  “Try,” Elisedd said with a ferocious grin. “He’ll want to speak with you. And he shall. I’ll scream if you try to flee.”

  “You’ll pay for this later,” Iodocus said darkly with a skull-like smile.

  “Dreaming, that’s what you are,” she laughed brazenly, but took some steps away from us. Her husband came out of his workshop, and stood there forlornly, and I didn’t look his way.

  The Roman eyed the warriors, and the turned to Seisyll with a look that told everyone he’d have to punish the lord. “And you have done nothing, eh? So many men? Waiting for the Treveri to come, and—”

  “I’ve done nothing to the Treveri! I’ve fought with the Marcomanni!” Seisyll yelled.

  The Roman pointed a finger at the warbands. “Which ones live here? Which ones do not?” the Centurion growled.

  Seisyll pointed a finger at the ones who did not. “They are visiting.”

  “Visiting,” the Roman snorted and guided his horse past the man, stopping before the warband and a tall Celt leading it. “These forty men will leave this place. They will go, and they will go now. Go to your homes, or your villages shall be given to your enemies. We will take you, your wives, children, and they shall be sold to all the corners of the world. And those corners, louts, are far from home.”

  The men looked at Seisyll, the threats echoing in the hill, and not one of the men who had been ready to fight for Seisyll against the Marcomanni was willing to risk the Roman’s ire. Seisyll saw this, and nodded subtly. The men turned, and in one huge column, marched away from the gates, scattering. When it was done, only Seisyll’s own men remained, and the Roman smiled.

  “And you shall give me all that loot you took from the …Treveri. The truth shall be judged fairly, and the ones who are guilty shall be punished, trust me.” He had the audacity to spice his words with a roguish wink.

  I snorted. He’d take it. He’d take it all, hide it and lie, if someone dared to question him, an he’d be rich in his retirement one day.

  “My coins? You want my coins?” Seisyll asked him, near the brink of violence.

  The Roman didn’t flinch, but knew his limits. He’s steal, but not all of it. “No, not your own. The ones brought in here days past. Yes. I’ll take all of that. I shall need a fair judge on the matter, so I will take it to where it is safe. To Moganticum.” His eyes went to the girl next to us, and Seisyll didn’t miss that look. His face was like a skull as he looked at her, and I knew she had better leave the village if things didn’t go the way she hoped they would.

  “You had better hope he takes you with him,” Iodocus stated, having come to the same conclusion.

  She said nothing, smiling confidently, and whether she was mad or brave, I wasn’t sure.

  The Centurion went on. “We’ll stay here for the night, and I’ll leave in the morning,” he said, bored with the affair. “A sack will go with me. And there had better be everything inside it, Seisyll. Obey, and perhaps some of it will come back to you. Prepare your hall for me, and sleep elsewhere,” he said, and left Seisyll fidgeting, cursing, and then the chief spat, and kicked a dog as he stormed off.

  The Centurion turned his head, and rode to us.

  “Gods, damn him,” Iodocus said as the Roman skillfully guided his horse past sullen Celts. His eyes gazed at our gear and rested on my hammer, which left him frowning. The Celt girl trembled, and turned to her husband, suddenly full of doubts. He cursed softly, took a step away, and disappeared, wanting no part in her schemes. She visibly gathered herself and walked forward, and the Roman looked down at her with a small frown. There was a questioning look on his face, as if he didn’t know who she was. She spoke to him urge
ntly, wringing her hands. I nearly felt sorry for her, because I had a hunch she was not about to find love and affection. The man seemed incapable of it.

  “You came!” she beamed. “You really came. So fast!”

  “Huh?” the Roman asked. “Yes—”

  “Gaius, you came. I sent you a message. A brilliant ploy, with the Treveri.”

  “Gaius?” he asked, and then smiled carefully. “Thank you,” the armored thief said, still confused. “A message?”

  She blinked. “I sent you one yesterday. About the Marcomanni treasure. You know? What you just asked him for? And I told you about the men in the huts and the halls. And these two thieves.” She thumbed our way. “Will you take me with you now? I gave you great riches, no? We spoke about love before, and you said—”

  He rubbed his chin. “I remember you now. Last month? Yes, right here. It was fun, I seem to recall. As for the treasure and the men and these thieves, yes, I was sent a word.” He turned to me. “You are Adalwulf,” he said, and pointed a finger at me, and then at my friend, “and you are Iodocus?”

  There was no point to deny. “I’m Adalwulf,” I told him carefully.

  “A sturdy fellow,” he grunted, and I wasn’t sure how many years older he was, but at least ten. His words and tone made me straighten my back almost immediately. I frowned at that. For some reason, I wanted him to be proud of me. He noticed and chuckled as I let myself relax. “Natural soldier. Know your place immediately. Stand up like a man when your officer calls you out. Yes. You’d do well under the Aquila. Now, unfortunately, you will not have such an opportunity.” His eyes turned to the girl, uncertainly. “But I’m confused. A Gaul found us yesterday with this bit of delicious news. He’s someone who travels the lands a lot, a horse-merchant. He told me a tale. Did you send him?”

  She beamed uncertainly. “I sent a man on horse. He’s a local, though he doesn’t sell horses. I—”

  The Roman turned back to us and adopted an actor’s pose. “Different man then.”

  Different man? I thought, frowning.

  He went on. “Now, let us be official.” His men were marching for us. “You two. Thieves.”

  “I’m not—” I began.

  “A damnable thief, that’s what you are,” he growled. “You helped Seisyll there. You stole that coin and treasure from a traveling Treveri lord for Seisyll. Murdered his men. And so, you will come with us to be judged.”

  He spun lies like an old thief. He wanted to take us with him.

  I understood. He knew there were no Treveri. He guesses someone wanted Seisyll to suffer, and he didn’t care where the treasure came from. But he had heard we brought the coin in. He had heard we didn’t belong with Seisyll. Since the treasure would never leave his greedy hands, we would have to die. He wanted no vagrants whispering tales of his crime. He could blackmail Seisyll with the loss of his lands and life, but we had no such ties to the land. He wanted us dead, and as scapegoats. He would be promoted for capturing us. Somehow, someway, he’d hang us, and we’d be blamed for everything. The girl. I spat at her feet. She blanched. “Damn whore.”

  The Roman smiled widely. “She is a whore, though I cannot ever remember her name, to be honest. I usually remember the best of them, but not hers.”

  “I? A whore?” she hissed, but the Roman pulled his sword, and she went quiet and resentful as the soldiers arrived, ringing us. “Lord, I sent the man last evening. Tell me you will reward me. Though I am confused. He couldn’t have reached you before this morning.”

  “Strange,” the Roman said evenly. “But as I said, this must be a different man. I found out about this yesterday morning already. The names of these men, the treasure, the warbands, and the meaningless tale of the Treveri.”

  “Not possible!” she said, stunned. “How is that possible? You are lying!”

  He rubbed his face. “I care not how,” the man said, and waved his hand imperiously towards us. “Leave the hammer and the spear here. And do not leave the hall. Tomorrow, we shall go, and you’ll tramp with us for a while.” He snapped his fingers, and three legionnaires strode forward. He spoke Latin to them, and they nodded. I let go of the weapon, though reluctantly. They pushed us through the door. and we sat there, staring at each other.

  “What in the name of Cerunnos’s wild women is this?” Iodocus breathed. How—”

  “The girl deserves to be hanged. But it wasn’t her doing. It was Leuthard,” I said. “Leuthard sent word of Seisyll’s men, of us, of the treasure. He knew the Roman would come and break up everything. The village is gutted and half helpless, isn’t it? The woman,” I said, and glared at the door, where I could hear her speaking to the Roman, and the Roman laughing, “sent her own man, but he was already on his way.”

  He nodded at me, his face white.

  “Leuthard is coming?”

  “Don’t sleep this night,” I said. “There will be news, Romans or not. Let’s wait to see the messenger arrive.”

  We lounged in the house all that evening, waiting for a man to arrive from the other side of the river. The Celts were wary of the Romans, and I was sure many of the wealthier families living on the hill were busily hiding their coin and jewelry. They should have done that already, since there was a risk of an attack on the village by Bero and Leuthard, but the Romans were greedy men. Such presence in the village was a far bigger threat, since Roman demands could not be countered by violence and determination.

  The evening turned into night. Mani rose majestically to the sky, a piece of it missing as the wolf Hati chased it across the blue-tinted brilliance. Iodocus was fidgeting, and I was rubbing my face. I tugged at my hair, something the Chatti kept long until they killed a man, and decided I’d cut it soon. I had deserved it. “Where is the man?” I asked.

  Iodocus didn’t look at me. “He is dead. Or Seisyll’s man is, the one who meets him. No news will come.”

  He was right.

  Horn blew in the night. It was deep, demanding, threating.

  We stood up. A shout could be heard, a challenge. Then, there was the roar of men and a huge crash, as something terrible was taking place at the gate. Celts were screaming, and horses whinnying.

  A guttural Germani voice was yelling in the night, so loud it echoed across the woods.

  “Find Adalwulf! I want him alive! Find the others!” The voice thrummed through the night. We would fight, as Leuthard had arrived.

  CHAPTER 15

  I grasped Iodocus. “The gold. The silver. Get it, hide it. Let nobody stop you,” I told him nervously. “And then hide yourself.”

  “You’ll need me out there,” he complained, but I pushed him. He scowled and nodded curtly. “Try not to get killed, you idiot.”

  “I try. Let’s see if we can get out of here.”

  We softly opened the doorway and peeked out. The Roman guards were gone, save for the one youngster who had been left on duty. He was hovering, taking steps back and forth, and watching the sudden chaos unfold around him. He was hesitant. There were torches flaring in the hill-fort, women and children running around in panic, and the warriors were gathering under their leaders, pushing each other to rush for the gate where the danger was looming. A tall chief held them back, gathering all he could before anyone rushed anywhere. Our hearts thrummed madly, as there was another booming voice from the gates, then a crash. We could see the wall swaying.

  I nudged Iodocus, and he nodded. We exited the hall, and snuck towards the young legionnaire who turned to face us, mumbling: “Intra muros.”

  Within the walls, I’d later learn, and he was right. They’d be inside in a bit, but he would not need to worry about it. As my fist met his chin, Iodocus tackled him hard, and we dragged him, his arms flailing wildly, inside the hall. There, Elisedd looked at us, aghast. The youngster was a tough one, hissing, and cursing, and he fought wildly, but in the end, he was gagged, tied, and tucked in a corner. I pointed a finger at the girl. “You should probably run, girl.”

  “Where are
you going?” she asked, taking steps forward, wringing her hands.

  “To capture riches and a beast,” Iodocus laughed. “You run, or fight. Perhaps you should try to crab the treasure, instead of having a man do it for you? Or has your bravery left you?”

  She said nothing, scowling at us.

  We left her there, and dodged back out. I could hear Roman commands being issued somewhere near, as Gaius was trying to organize his men. Dozens of Celts were converging on the gate, and I saw Seisyll’s face there, with the men, encouraging them.

  “I hope Seisyll really had some further plan than just relying on the men hidden in the village,” Iodocus snorted as he hefted his spear and shield from the side, where they had been unceremoniously dropped on a bench. He threw me my hammer, and it gave me comfort. “And I hope it is a good one. I’ll go then, and perhaps I’ll hide my ass after the treasure. Perhaps not,” he said bravely, but with a sad smile, and I knew he didn’t think he’d see me alive again.

  “Don’t die,” I told him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “At least try not to run into a spear. Take news home, if things turn sour as old ale. You must survive.”

  “You care?” he laughed and clasped my arm in a warrior’s salute. “I’m touched.”

  I grinned like a skull. “If you die, there’s no way to know where you hid the treasure. Stay alive, and tell Hulderic what happened.”

  “Shit,” he chortled, “you’re such a dear friend.” He waved and disappeared into the shadows.

  I turned to regard the gate. Men rushed forward, and there were forty warriors there now, a thick column of men with bristling spears, colorful shields and pants. Tall Celts wore with rich armbands, listening to Seisyll, whose round shield, painted blue and red, flashed in the torch light, as he pointed his sword for the gate. The men were nodding, looking grave.

  But the gate was not the problem. It was the wall.

  There was a most peculiar sight. The tall, thick wall was tilted, shaking, and Celts were hanging precariously on the thin parapet, throwing down rocks and javelins.