I flipped my sticky spear in my hands, and saw how Cuthbert would have to cut left to avoid some fleet footed Black Goths. He would have to turn, I thought, and I’d be ready, I decided, and waited for the opportunity.
Cuthbert’s horse steered to the left.
‘Woden, let it miss her,’ I breathed, and threw the missile.
My spear flew. It thrummed and spun in the air, rain touching it. It went over men’s heads, nearly hit another flying spear and then went down.
It sunk in the lord’s side, and he slapped at it, instinctively, breaking the shaft, his eyes huge with surprise.
Then Cuthbert shrieked and threw his hands to his sides. The woman fell heavily, the bald chief of the Saxons fell forward and clung to his horse’s mane and then slid from the horse’s back and landed with a splash and a muted, pained scream. I grabbed my sturdy club, raised my shield and charged.
Cuthbert cursed on the ground, he cried with terrible pain, and his bodyguards, his sworn men, his last surviving oaths men streamed for him. So did the Goths. Dubbe killed a man. Hrolf was near, stabbing repeatedly at a man’s belly, and Ludovicus was ripping a shield off a thin Saxon. We tore into the enemy and most of them died around Cuthbert’s writhing body. We swarmed them, the brave Saxons dying for their lord’s honor as they had sworn to do, seeking to keep him company in Valholl. A Gothoni pushed between two such tall champions, pushed one at me and I swung my club on the back of his head, and he fell, forgotten. I wanted Cuthbert. I wanted him so bad, I could taste his blood in my mouth. We all wanted him, and perhaps I already had him with my spear, but I wanted the honor and the men watching as I, Maroboodus, the son of a lesser brother killed a king. I ran over a fallen Saxon and jumped. I landed on Cuthbert’s back and hacked down with the weapon, seeing the man’s eyes flicker over his shoulder with fear.
My soul sang with happiness. I’d kill the terrible enemy of our people. My fame would soar like a hawk in a morning sky, and if Aldbert survived, I’d have him sing my song until my ears bled. Then he would travel to Maino’s hall in Marka, and sing it there until they wept for mercy.
Then I flew over his body, as someone had slammed me with a shield.
I landed heavily, lost all the air in my lungs and struggled to my fours, gasping. I groped for the club, ready to defend myself, but it was not a Saxon oaths man who had attacked me, but a Goth.
Maino was standing over my prey and before anyone could stop him, he axed Cuthbert in the throat. He grinned at me, his meaty face a mask of mocking victory as he hit the chief again, finally killing him. He growled like a wolf, yapped like a dog, kicked the enemy hard and then he turned to the beautiful woman, who was not afraid at all as she slowly climbed to her feet. He grabbed her roughly and held on to her hand like he would hold a chunk of ham. ‘Mine! Mine brothers! Maino’s, the slayer of Cuthbert.’
They cheered him wildly, and the lie poisoned my heart, filled my belly with acid and I didn’t have to think at all on what I would do.
I got up, grabbed Cuthbert’s ax and stepped forward. The woman’s eyes followed me and Maino’s eyes followed hers and enlarged with surprise, as I slammed the weapon hilt-first in his face. He fell like a log. There was blood on the sand and he was moaning, holding his forehead, his legs thrumming on the sand. There was a silence around me, save for the shrieks of the wounded, but the woman stepped closer to me and smiled. She was so beautiful, pale as a sunny winter morning, but her lips were red and full and I could not look away. It was as if she was trying to thank me, perhaps to make a plea, and I was not sure what it was, but I already knew I’d do almost anything for her.
A shadow fell across me. Hughnot was there, looking at the carnage. His eyes were relieved as he saw Cuthbert was dead and then he looked at me with an upraised eyebrow. I pointed a quivering finger at the body of the Saxon thiuda. ‘I killed Cuthbert. I did. That’s my spear point in his side. I threw it, I felled him. Like I did that other chief. I took his life, and Maino’s a damned liar.’ Some men who had seen it, rumbled agreement, but not all.
Bero hesitated, looked at Hulderic who shrugged. It was my fight, apparently. The twisted lord stepped forward. ‘Maroboodus did not kill him. No matter who took Cuthbert down, Maino’s strike took his life. Maino deserved the honor and took the life like a man, like my son. Maroboodus has to pay for the insult. I say he loses the loot he thinks is his. Then he will tell Maino how sorry he is. His attack was a coward’s strike. Maino’s honor demands humility from Maroboodus, not lies and insults.’ He turned to Hulderic, his voice quaking. ‘I am sorry, brother.’ Hulderic looked resigned, and said nothing, his thoughts hidden under sweat, blood, and a frown.
‘We will decide these things later. Friednot, Father is dead,’ he said.
Hughnot nodded heavily. Bero rubbed his face, shocked.
But there was a small, though brief smile on Hughnot’s face. And he also looked at the woman covetously.
CHAPTER 2
Father sat on his well-carved seat as Erse, his pretty slave and Ingild, Grandmother sowed his wounds. I sat and sampled mead as his men feasted in the hall next to us, their voices heard, though softly as Grandfather was dead and they had lost friends. Aldbert, his long hair brushing the table, hiding his face, was seated on the side, rubbing his temples as he tried to figure out a song to celebrate the great lord’s life. ‘How goes it, Aldbert?’ Hulderic grunted and then hissed with pain as Ingild’s old, but deft fingers stitched up his forearm.
The young man looked startled and grasped a horn and pushed away a plate full of bones, our recent meal. ‘I am trembling to claim I know your father, lord. I am hesitant to say it will be good enough to honor his memory. Woden will blink, he will cry but not from pride, if I fail.’
‘Let Woden cry, boy,’ Hulderic said gruffly. ‘Your poem will do just fine, and will do Friednot honor.’ His eyes turned to me and he sighed heavily. I didn’t budge. Since we returned home to Timberscar, carrying our fallen, he had avoided speaking with me. I fumed for a day, humiliated by what had happened. Maino, Maino had been given Cuthbert’s weapons. And Hulderic had let go of the ring mail and fabulous seax of Ulbrect, the Saxon warlord who had killed Friednot. They would be burned with Grandfather, and the sooty lumps of iron would accompany him to the grave mound. I heard Maino suggest this, after they had argued who had earned the armor. I had, I had earned them, like they said Maino earned Cuthbert’s gear. He got his, gods would get Ulbrect’s. Bastards. The fine mail would be given to Woden, the god who surely had far too many dverg-crafted weapons to begin with and I’d wear a tunic to battle again.
Gods, curse even Hulderic, Father who had not budged a muscle when I was robbed. I sat and stared back at him, feeling the stirrings of a violent argument in the air and so did Grandmother who had stopped sewing the wound, and stared at her son. ‘Let the boy be,’ Ingild said softly.
Hulderic did not oblige her. ‘I wonder, Aldbert, what song will you sing of my son Maroboodus? What grand poem of idiocy will you sing of him when Maino wants to get satisfaction? He’ll not settle for a simple “I am sorry, my lord”. He will want my boy on his knees.’
Aldbert shook his thin shoulders many times, stuttering. ‘He fought well.’
‘Short poem that,’ Hulderic laughed bitterly, but gave an approving nod. ‘But I guess better than some that were made that day.’
I got up and leaned on the table. ‘I didn’t even see Aldbert in the battle. Hiding behind a tree, no doubt. I—’
Hulderic slammed a hand on the seat and cursed, as Erse’s fingers slipped during the final stiches. ‘Stay still, you wool-smelling goat-brain,’ she hissed.
Hulderic looked to the rafters of the hall. He mocked me. ‘But I killed the chief. I killed two chiefs. I rescued her. It’s so wrong! It’s unjust! It’s a damned shame!’ he mimicked me, and I bit my tongue as he stole my words, nearly exactly as I had imagined uttering them.
‘All of that is true, thank you, Father,’ I said so coldly, he shoul
d have been a shuddering lump of blue-lipped meat. He was not and his face was red from anger, in fact. ‘And why didn’t you stand up for me? Dubbe would have. Harmod and Sigmundr as well—’
‘Harmod,’ he said icily, ‘would not have. Dubbe and Sigmundr would have slammed their shields with their spears, calling out the lies like the messengers of Tiw, god of justice, but Harmod would have stroked his dammed beard, and he would have made so very sure we do not suffer needlessly. Patience would have served us well. A Thing should have decided this and it would have, perhaps, judged your claim just. He struck you from behind. Everyone saw it. You were the wronged party. You lost your temper. Then you were not the wronged party. You fool.’
‘Why didn’t you—’
‘My father died, Maroboodus!’ he yelled. My eyes went to Grandmother. Friednot had lived two days away to north with Bero, she lived with us, and there was no sign of sorrow on her face. What had happened between them years past was hard to say, and she never mentioned it. Some, evil tongues, wagged it was a split over another woman, but such a thing was unthinkable and would have resulted in a trial, though Friednot might have been powerful enough to dodge any repercussions for breaking the sensible rules and laws of the gods.
‘Grandfather died, Father,’ I agreed softly. He nodded, mollified and reprimanded as I had also lost family. ‘And I avenged him. I did.’
‘Maino was after him,’ he sighed. ‘You both had a part to play in the death of that man. Try not to be as damned stupid as your cousin, or you have no high horse to sit on.’
I sat there and shuffled my feet; staring at the burning shingles set on the pillars of old oak. There were some fires in the fire pit and a stallion was neighing in the stables, apparently unhappy about some rival of his for the attention of the mares. I let the sounds and sights calm me, and spoke only when my voice was steady. ‘I wanted to kick his teeth in, Father. Why do we always bow out of confrontations with your brother? That is a very simple question, but one I never hear answered.’
Hulderic slapped his knee. ‘Your valor was unquestioned. I saw you. They all saw you. It was well done, Maroboodus, smartly done, he ran right into your spear. It was not a raging battle of two stubborn bears going at each other, but a wise, immensely wise way to kill the bastard. You have to be careful, son, and think ahead when you choose battles.’
‘How does that answer—‘
Aldbert groaned, despairing, as I was unable to read what Hulderic was saying. The two women stared at me with some incredulity. ‘So,’ I breathed. ‘You are saying you choose your battles.’
‘I choose your battles as well,’ he growled. ‘I have to support Bero.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Why?’ he recited. ‘Because, bone skull, Father loved Bero better. And we have enemies all over the place. The Boat-Lord is looking for any excuse to grab Draupnir’s Spawn and our trade.’
‘Why does he hate us? Who is he, even? I know he is a relative, but—‘
He snapped his fingers. ‘Matters not who he is. And he hates us, because Friendnot and Hughnot escaped his power. He resents that. He never wanted to see them go, especially with the ring. And he is not our only enemy, no. Svearna have been co-operating and might not trade with us soon. To our south, other Goths are no allies. Ketil of Moosegrave might one day find a need for our fields, women, and ships. If I had challenged Bero against Friednot’s wishes these long years, Maroboodus, then Friednot would have been forced to hurt us. Because he would have had to keep us united. Puss and rot is removed before it kill you.’
‘Bah,’ I uttered, unwisely again.
He sighed. ‘And there is more. Hughnot, my boy, might be happy to see us fight each other. Never, ever, put us in such a situation for simple yearning for fame and honor, and that stupid, damned ring.’
Grandmother grunted. ‘It’s a real treasure of the gods, boy.’ She meant Hulderic by the word “boy”, not me. ‘Do not mock the ring, or you will put a curse on us.’
‘I’ll not,’ he said with a sheepish voice and addressed me again. ‘Now you were wronged. But Maino beat you to Cuthbert. He did. If you don’t keep an eye out in battle, boy, you get stomped like a drunken fool. You got cocky.’
Aldbert chipped in. ‘He wanted to save the princess.’
Hulderic rubbed his face. ‘Poets. Always seeing women—’
‘I did want to save her,’ I stated bluntly.
He whistled. ‘So, you liked her smile. Wait, she didn’t smile.’
‘She smiled to me,’ I informed him smugly.
‘The girl did not need such rescuing. Her fate is not to marry a man she loves. She is a high noble. And more, she is not of us. Svearna are no friends to the Goths, even if some trade fox furs with us. They do not love us, we do not love them, and I shall not ask what you planned to do with her.’
‘She would have left the field, against Friednot’s wishes,’ I stated. ‘I stopped them. But yes, I had a plan for her. A simple, selfish plan.’
He waved his hand. ‘Fine. You stopped her from disappearing, and yes, well done. But what—‘
‘I planned to marry her, Father,’ I said and looked up to avoid the eyes that stared at me in stupefied silence. I wasn’t sure I had told them the truth, but I felt the need to shock them and perhaps it had been the truth? She was special, very special.
Hulderic was massaging his temples. ‘So, Maino put his hands on the girl of your dreams. Gods above. He stripped of your honor and a wife, eh?’
‘Perhaps?’
He roared. ‘I’ll find you a girl to marry! Like it is with her, you are a noble. And you will marry as I wish!’ Grandmother was looking sternly at my father, and finally Hulderic growled, somewhat subdued. ‘I’ll pick a fine girl.’ His eyes went to Erse, who smiled back and he actually blushed. I noticed Aldbert frowning at the exchange. Hulderic shook his shoulders, speaking dreamily. ‘It shall be a girl that serves the family interests, perhaps from the Gothoni islands, and you shall marry that one. Why would you think otherwise? Marry a Svea? No!’
Aldbert chortled. ‘She was a rare looking girl.’ His smile froze as Hulderic’s animal eyes turned to bore a hole in him. He stammered. ‘So they say. I can’t see very well. Probably very plain and boring looking doe, after all.’
‘Shut up, poet,’ Hulderic growled. ‘Concentrate on your sad songs or you will sleep in the stables with the dogs. They’ll teach you to yap.’ Indeed, there were at least six large dogs in the hall, eyeing us curiously, hoping for something to gnaw on.
I shook my head at the young singer and sipped my mead. ‘So, Father. What now? You expect me to dance before Maino like a trained bird, hopping from one foot to another to amuse his crude, evil little mind? And who will rule the gau?’ Father had mentioned Hughnot.
Hulderic shook his arms to be rid of the probing fingers and Grandmother and the servant stood up and went to sit on the side. ‘Who?’ he asked, amused. ‘Now you finally think like a leader. That is the question, is it not? That’s why you will bow to Maino. Bero shall rule. And as I said before, now is not the time to be quarrelsome, boy.’
I slammed my hand on the table so hard a horn broke and fell to the dust in pieces, dripping the drink to the floorboards where a slinking, brown dog lapped at it while keeping a careful eye on me. I got up and pointed a quivering finger towards the north, where Bero ruled. ‘Not time to be quarrelsome, Father? Bero? He holds Draupnir’s Spawn. I bet he takes the Head Taker as well?’ I saw it in his eyes. He would. I went on, my voice thin with rage. ‘He has wealth, more than we do. If Grandfather is gone, why should it be Bero? Because it’s just so? Who will get the Saxon ships? The slaves? Shall we even get a fair choice or shall they leave us with the sickly wounded and near floundering tubs?’
‘We will get our share,’ Hulderic said mildly, but there was fire burning in his eyes. ‘Are you saying I am letting them fool myself? And yes, he has wealth, more than we do, but it’s not because I am weak, but because Friednot favored h
im. It’s not Bero’s fault. Do you think I’m weak?’
I opened my mouth to say exactly that, but closed it instead with a clacking sound that echoed in the hall.
‘He is,’ Aldbert said, and had a terrified look on his face as he realized he had echoed his thoughts aloud. Maroboodus took his words as mine.
He growled. ‘Fool. Utter and total fool. You disdain me for being wise enough to know what my own strength is? What is my uncle Hughnot thinking about?’
I hesitated, feeling like a trout swimming in very shallow waters and Hulderic, a bear, his hair knot adorned with long fangs of such a beast was hungry. ‘I have no idea what the seedy, rotten bastard is thinking about,’ I mumbled. ‘Women, like I am? His thoughts are beyond my care.’
‘They are not beyond your care, fool. Friednot was his brother—’
‘I understand family connections, Father. I have not been living here, wondering who Friednot was and why Hughnot looked a lot like him. I’m not like the Young Cilarg, forever smiling and nodding after he fell to the river and bashed in his damned skull on a bloody rock.’
He cursed and threw a mug my way. It spun in the light of the crackling shingles and the fires in the fire pit and hit me squarely in the forehead. I stumbled back into my seat. ‘A fine aim, my lord,’ Aldbert said happily, and Hulderic nodded in thanks. I bit my lip, for that had hurt, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.
‘Boy,’ he rumbled. ‘Shut up or I’ll have your rear whipped before Erse here.’
That got my attention. Erse was my age, pretty and lithe and I blushed at the thought of the indignity. She gave me a wicked grin under her bushy braided hair and I was sure she hoped I’d keep fighting Father. No, I wasn’t prepared for that. ‘I’m listening now.’
Maroboodus: A Novel of Germania (The Goth Chronicles Book 1) Page 6
