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

by Alaric Longward

  “What’s in the bag?” the Roman asked.

  Leuthard answered with a dark chuckle. “His cousin. And the cause of his tears.”

  “What will you do with them?” Decimus asked at length. He was nodding at the bag.

  “The … remains?” I asked. “The ones they corrupted and left uneaten?”

  Decimus went silent, shocked and silent for once.

  Leuthard spoke, like darkness itself. “So afraid you are, lamb. So scared. Have you ever been hungry, Chatti? And I don’t mean like you are now, having missed a few meals, but hungry after weeks of survival in the wild. It was so when I left the north. I travelled the land, I did. I was shunned, and hunted by the Gauls, and even my own sent men after me. Guthbert, my brother, tried to find me. Here, I captured my first lamb. He was much like you, and I was young. It was a mess. But I learnt. It drives away the thirst, the hunger, Chatti. It is fulfilling, mad, and you’ll never forget it. Eating your enemy.”

  I didn’t say anything. Decimus was guiding his horse closer to me.

  Leuthard went on, speaking almost gently. “I ate him. I had killed back home, oh, I had. So had Father. And others in the family. But there, we never ate them. In home, I was less skillful in hiding my hunt than Father, and was caught, and sent away with a feud over my head, but here there were no feuds. Here there were only the hunters and the hunted. When Ear and Raganthar felt the stirrings back home, their Father brought them here. And being afflicted himself, he stayed. He wasn’t in a cage when I ruled them.” He chortled. “Such a terrible thing men think it. Eating a man. It is not. They say it’s only flesh after they are gone. That it doesn’t matter.”

  “My cousin matters,” I snarled. “He matters.”

  He clucked his tongue. “You interrupted me. They say the dead are not men. Just flesh, just bones, joints, blood. But they are still people, boy. Some part of them linger on, and even when you carve their flesh off their bones, they still see, feel, and know the part of the prey, even if they nap in Hel’s lap. Your cousin did. Perhaps he still feels the pain, though perhaps he is a bit relieved in your clutches, smiling a sad, dry, grateful smile. I’ve seen them smile, you know. I’ve seen them sit up.”

  “Shut up!” I roared, and he did, gloating under his heavy brow. “I’m not going to listen to your madness Leuthard. You are a mad dog. It’s plain as nose on face.” I pointed a finger at the bag. “Did you help kill him?”

  He grunted, and leered at me maliciously. “Why? Does it truly matter? You remember I told them not to kill another in Hard Hill, so I didn’t feast on him. But, yes, I knew he would die, one day. The fact is he was just another little lamb like you, and he was torn apart in Hard Hill, and the rest ended up in that cave. Did you love him?”

  I gripped the hammer so hard it hurt. “I didn’t hate him.”

  “He loved you,” Leuthard said darkly. “Rode through the troubled land to find you, to bring you back. A thief you are, Adalwulf, but also the bane of those who care for you.”

  Decimus spurred next to me. He pointed a finger up to a road that forked in the dark. “That way. And best stop talking to him now.”

  We rode in silence until I heard the gurgle of a river. I guided the horse that way, and found a rocky, high bank of a fair-sized river, which was makings its way for Rhenus River, somewhere in the east. I grasped the bag, and sat there, and gave Woden a prayer, and let the remains fall to the water. They fell true, twirled in the dark water, and travelled away, under and over the surface. I turned my horse back, and rode up to the two men.

  Leuthard smiled. “That won’t set Gisil free, you know.”

  “It will set her free of your cousin,” I spat. “The rest is up to her.” He smiled and shrugged and let me ride past him.

  We rode on, broke out of the woods, and reached a strange, level surface set with stones. Decimus grinned. “This is a road. A real military road. And the road takes to Moganticum, but will stop in the villages and guard towers on the way,” Decimus said and continued slyly. “So Tiberius will be in that village? I knew he was coming to some of the towers, but not mine.”

  I grunted. “There is a Roman garrison in that town. And we shall have to be careful.”

  “Oh, we shall be,” he said earnestly and I hated his lies nearly as much as I hated Leuthard.

  “This Lollius shall be there as well,” I confirmed, looking at him. He was a superb thief and a liar, and kept a straight face. “Your Tiberius is supposed to spend a night or two there after he leaves for Moganticum. He is hearing local chiefs vent their spleen and deciding on some matters of importance.”

  Decimus’s eyes glinted. “I’ll be the hero, who brings him the news, then. I’ll ride to the tower, torn and bloodied, having escaped the enemy, and bring them the tidings.”

  I leaned on him. “You’ll be a bigger hero if we find Raganthar first. And I need the sword.”

  He looked unhappy and fidgeted. “I would be lax in my duty should it come to pass that Tiberius is in danger.”

  Was he trying to reach his men? To kill us quietly?

  I snorted. “You’d be in hot water if the truth about your lost men came to be known. Don’t ride anywhere. First, we find Raganthar. Together.”

  He spat, frowning, and cursed, until he finally shrugged. “No need to be so hostile, friend. We’ll see what’s what in there, and hopefully find a way to accomplish much. As long as you find a rusty sword, and I’m happily paraded as a hero, I’ll help. He glanced behind him to Leuthard. “Perhaps he gets a nice meal as well.”

  “How many men there?” Leuthard asked, as if cheered by a prospect of a meal.

  “There is a guard tower there with a century of men. That’s all,” Decimus said. “How would this filthy Raganthar know Tiberius would stop there?”

  “They have spies,” I said neutrally, and still didn’t mention the centurion or King Vago, who had ways into the officia of any high Roman. Kings were rich. “They’ll be there for a day or two.”

  “I have a hunch you learned something more in there, eh?” Decimus said nervously, and I kicked the horse off at a canter. “We are riding in blind.”

  “Only this, nothing more,” I lied.

  A fox ran past us, rushed for the road, and dashed towards Moganticum, until it disappeared to the night, and I guided my horse onward. I took the fox to be a good sign, and hoped what I had planned would work out. The horse seemed genuinely confused by the hard surface, and Leuthard was actually riding next to the road.

  We made our uncomfortable way towards the Mediomactri village.

  ***

  When we arrived, it was clear it would be hard to find Raganthar and his Brethren.

  The village was larger than I had expected, packed with people. People slept on the fields around it, and there were a hundred horses corralled at the edge. The buildings were nothing like they had been in Sparrow’s Joy, in Seisyll’s village. These were halls, some were the round huts, but all were dirty, some in ill repair, and many sprouted ugly gray smoke to the sky.

  There was a hill overlooking the ramshackle Gaul village, and on top, there was a thirty feet tall, sturdy watchtower. Its roof was made of thatch, the palisade around it was at least nine feet tall, and soldier’s bronze and iron helmets glinted at the gate, the walls, and on the top, where there was a railed observation deck, though crudely crafted.

  Decimus squinted his eyes as he looked up at the tower. “They are a Vexillation of the Legio XIIII Gemina, from Moganticum. There are few legions in the area now. Most are building, shuffling around, but we have the towers. I’m in the same legion as the boys, but different Cohort, the third. Those boys are from the second.” He fidgeted and slapped his thigh. “I still think I should go up there.”

  “No,” I said simply and stared at him until he stopped frowning.

  He took a ragged breath. “Well, since I cannot ride up and greet my fellows, I think we need to find a place to plan. We will have to find a tavern. Somewhere to stay. M
any people in the village, though. Many more than usually.”

  Leuthard spat. “There’s a reason why they are here, and why Tiberius will come as well. It’s the celebration of Lugh, and all kinds of artisans are here. It’s like our Thing, meeting of the tribes during a feast.”

  I saw many Gauls in fine armor riding around. We peered down at the village below. There were rich tents, guarded by tall Celts with armor. “What’s the deal with the Treveri and the Mediomactri, anyway?”

  Decimus spat. “Old Augustus made Augusta Treverum the capital this past year. While Moganticum will be the capital of Germania Superior, the Treveri are split between the Belgica province and Germania Superior. They are probably begging Tiberius to help keep them a one nation, and not split them all over the place. Some of these are Treveri. And the Mediomactri,” he pointed a practiced finger to other side of the village, “will argue the Treveri in the Germania Superior are trying to steal lands they consider theirs, and combine them to Belgica province. It’s been a mess for a decade. If Tiberius is coming here from Augusta Treverum, it will take days.”

  “Days he doesn’t have when he arrives,” I said, and noticed, to my surprise, that Rhenus was quite near, glittering along through a screen of beech trees. I tried to see where we might stay and plot. “Yes, we will have to find a room, somewhere in the edges of the town. Peaceful and quiet.”

  “I’ll get us a room, or two,” Leuthard said darkly.

  He managed it easily enough. There was a set of large houses near the river bank. As he rode in, a taciturn, strong jawed Gaul appeared, wiping his hands on his tunic. There were horses in the yard, boys taking care of them, but after some quiet words from Leuthard, the man left with a concerned look. Soon, furious Treveri nobles mounted some of the horses, and rode away to find accommodation that was likely not to be had. We settled on a house close to the river, the tavern keeper scowling uncertainly, probably trying to fathom if he would be paid, and there, we settled in. I walked out to find the man, and smiled as I approached him.

  “What more do you need?” he asked guardedly. “I’ve got food coming. You want my wife next?”

  “Information,” I said. “First, what are the Romans doing on top?”

  He smiled deviously. “Why? What they always do. Sit, eat, shit, and keep an eye on us.”

  “Who’s their centurion?”

  He hesitated. “Why do you need to know that?”

  “Shall I get the big bastard to ask this same question?” I retorted.

  His face went pale with fear, and he shook his head, while nodding at the boys who were not taking care of our horses to hurry up. “No, I suppose you don’t have to.” He spat, and nodded up the hill to the tower. “But I don’t know his name. They changed the century last week.”

  “Changed it?” So, it wasn’t Decimus?

  He shrugged. “I don’t know why. They sometimes do change them. I don’t give orders in their legions. Do I look like one they consult in the movements of their troops? No. He’s like the other centurions, wide and lucky, having survived in their army for so long. He’s also a thief, like the rest. Named Gaius, that’s all I know.”

  Gaius Caecina? That’s what Decimus had called himself in Sparrow’s Joy.

  “You’ll have visitors here soon?” I asked him. I glanced at the doorway, and saw Decimus was there, lounging, his eyes on my back.

  “We always do have lots on Lughnasadh of Equos. It’s a horse race time. But yes, the nobles are here to quarrel.”

  “Roman visitors. High ones,” I sighed.

  He was nodding. “Yes, the governor of something or the other, Marcus Lollius. Then that prefect, Tiberius. They’ll be here soon, they say.”

  “Where will Tiberius stay?” I asked. “In the tower?”

  His eyes went to slits. “In the tower, of course! The Roman commander, who fought in the Alps and pacified the north, doesn’t sleep with the horses and pigs.” In that, he was wrong, but I’d learn it much later. “You are not a Gaul, but a Vangione?” he asked carefully. “Right? From the south where the Mediomactri meow under your heels?” He smiled widely at the thought.

  “A Vangione,” I said proudly, knowing the Mediomactri despised the Germani overlords living in their lands, so allowed by Rome. If the man before me were a Treveri, he would be happy to aid me. “I would ask a favor. I have a grudge against the chief who feeds his cows with my hay. I’d like a …final solution for that issue. The bastard’s here to make a plea to Tiberius. So I need help.”

  He grinned and clapped a hand on my shoulder, leaning closer. “A Mediomactri? Is this man one?”

  “A filthy pig of a Mediomactri,” I agreed. “Murdering scum.”

  He smiled like a boy with honey. “And what can I do to help? And perhaps this Tiberius would rule in your favor? Romans often do prefer the Germani to us.” He scowled at the thought but gave me a small smile. We were talking about a Mediomactri after all.

  I nodded and winked. “The thing is, I don’t wish to risk anything. I’ll not take my case to Tiberius, and want to stop him from doing so,” I told him conspiratorially. “In fact, I’m thinking I’ll take his land. It’s good land. His cows are fat and well-built. Perhaps you’d like a few?”

  He squinted at me, and rubbed his chin, smelling trouble. “Perhaps?”

  “I need men,” I said. “A hardy, dark-hearted band of men who would do this sort of thing for me. Help me find some. I know there is a group of Germani mercenaries in the city. Why don’t you send your men to find them, boys to ask around, and then come tell me. That’s all. You’ll do well to do so.”

  He grinned. “That’s all? Sure. I’ll send my sons to find them.” He turned to fetch them.

  I pulled his sleeve. “One more thing.” I looked at Decimus, and whispered my demands to Treveri. He looked at me oddly, nodded, and went to obey.

  I turned away, hoping his sons were as clever as Ermendrud. Decimus headed out to relieve himself. “Inside,” I told him darkly. “We stay out of sight.”

  “I have to—”

  “There are guards out, the man said. We’ll stay inside,” I told him, and while he hesitated, Leuthard pulled him inside. The big man stepped outside, and I spoke to him quickly in hushed tones. I didn’t trust him, but I trusted him better than I did Decimus. He said nothing, but nodded, grimacing darkly. We settled in to wait.

  Tiberius arrived during the night.

  CHAPTER 23

  Decimus was fidgeting as he sat and stared at the doorway late that night. We had all stayed awake, and observed the torches travelling the hill, where the great Romans settled in. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he rubbed his face, tapped a finger on the metal of his helmet, and generally looked like he was ready to chew his way through the wall. Silence reigned as we sat there, looking around at the white-chalked walls. Finally Decimus nodded at me, as I was admiring the hammer. The remains of a late-night meal were scattered on a table.

  “What shall you name it?” he asked. “The hammer should have one.”

  “I’ll name it later. When its all over,” I told him, wondering if I should just keep it.

  “You should,” he told me and shrugged. “We all name them.” He leaned closer. “What did that tavern keeper tell you?”

  I smiled at him. “That the Centurion is new,” I answered. “Someone who came in just now. Surely, you know this? You said you know this one, but he’s only been here a week.”

  He wiped his hand across his face. “Rumors. It’s not my tower. Mine’s not too far, but we are surprisingly isolated, yet we have rumors.”

  Leuthard, sitting at the doorway, got up and hesitated. I looked at him, and he nodded, and disappeared to the night.

  “Where did he go?” Decimus frowned. “Where in Hades’s name is he going? I had to shit in a bucket!”

  “Probably has to take a shit as well,” I said. “Rather he take it outside than in.”

  “Right,” he breathed, eyeing the doorway nervously. “So
I can go out now?”

  I eyed him for a while and then slapped the hammer to the planked floor, and dust billowed up. He raised his eyebrows, and knew the answer was negative. I shrugged. “So, tell me about your family, Decimus. Something, anything? How did you become a conniving, womanizing thief in the backwoods of Gaul?”

  He shuffled uncomfortably. “How did I become a Centurion?”

  “No, a conniving and womanizing thief,” I corrected him. “I know you can fight. I know you are a proper fighter, brave and deadly. I saw you stab Fulch the Red down.”

  He smiled pettily, but deigned to answer anyway. “My family? We were poor, or at least periodically. Father was a …baker. He had a shop, and sold to local servants, who were out shopping for their masters. Many clients, men who were headed out for their morning salutation with their patrons, visited there, in the alleyway each morning, hoping to find a delicacy so their requests would be granted. Mostly we sold focaccia. This bread, you see. Always bread.” He shook his head, and looked to the doorway darkly.

  “You hated the life, didn’t you? Your little hands full of flour, up at night, late to bed.”

  He snorted, and said nothing for a while. “He is taking his time, isn’t he?”

  “Leuthard?” I asked him with a smile.

  “Who else?” he retorted, scowling at me. He grabbed his helmet, and put it in his head. “Clusium was a great city, old Etruscan, and the hills and gardens were breathtaking. I didn’t hate all of it. I’d often sneaked out to the old tombs to look at the pictures of the life they lived there before Romans, and I could see so much wealth and happiness in those old walls. People were rich, fat, affluent—”

  “That’s probably why the Romans took the land,” I interrupted him.

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But it would have happened in any case. The city is by a river leading to Rome. Tiber is near, green and beautiful, before it combines with another near Rome, and turns golden. We have always been tied to Rome, one way or the other. Before the Gauls sacked Rome—”