There would be a feast.
A wedding feast.
CHAPTER 13
We were given woolen tunics and trousers and well-made leather shoes with furry, out-turned insides, and everyone got leather belts that were simple and practical, and the generous Agin waved away our thanks and gave us more. Cloaks of fur were placed in our quarters, and I could tell the Saxons were well impressed by the Svea lord. Ceadda bowed, and when he had done so, Njord leaned on him. ‘Maybe we should ask for some fat cows and even pigs and perhaps precious treasure as well, and swords,’ Njord wondered, but Ceadda pushed him away in disgust.
We were led to the dim main hall of the Svea lord. There, the host of the trading village sat, beaming like a robber god at each of us, happy to have made us respectable. He snapped his fingers and pointed the Saxons and Aldbert to the seats by sturdy oak tables, set around the fire-pit, and the Saxons happily took their places, the fears for their lives gone for a moment. The feast was indeed a small one, and silent; sturdy guards stood or sat in the shadows of the hall, and no local warriors took part in it, which was probably for the best considering the Saxons had not so long ago trekked through the land with less than friendly intentions. Some shaggy hounds were lounging by the fire, their snouts high in the air as they smelled roasting meat, and the Saxons and even Aldbert looked like they did as well, as we were all starving for something cooked. We flinched as a maid snapped her fingers after a cursory glance at the hall, and then slaves carried in food on wooden platters which they expertly left within reach of every man. ‘Eat,’ Agin said dreamily, apparently drowsy and tired by the excitement. ‘There is more. Enough for all, even with the winter coming.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, and he nodded me closer. I ambled to sit on a bench near him.
He smiled and probably thought I was timid. ‘Do I stink, Goth? Or have vomit on my beard? Come closer.’ I got up and walked to stand near him. He went on. ‘I’ve sent out a call to my villages. We will have two hundred men here by the day after tomorrow, and we go and hunt the Goths. It will be glorious, and brief.’ He smiled. ‘Hope you won’t find you love your relatives after all?’
‘I can love them dead just as well as alive,’ I said and nodded, not sure why the words bothered me. I cared little for Bero and Maino, but there were Bero’s men out there as well, and some had treated me well, and while they were enemies whom I had just feared and loathed, not hours ago, they were also mostly good men. I shook my head to clear it of such thoughts, growled away the shame and indecision and nodded at the great Lord gratefully. I looked at Aldbert, who was fidgeting at the end of the table, afraid, as Agin was looking at him. ‘Lord, this is Aldbert, a poet—’
Aldbert surged up and bowed deeply. ‘At your service.’
‘I know he is one. A poet, a Goth poet, used to making songs and poems about Goths killing Svea. Tomorrow you shall make one for our small war with Bero,’ Agin said confidently. I frowned because I knew the Goths were no pushovers, and we didn’t know how many there were out there.
‘I am not sure it will be that easy—’
He waved me silent ‘Oh, don’t give me advice on war yet, Maroboodus. Let us see how you do, first. Sit down here,’ he said and slapped his heavy hand on the bench next to him so hard splinters and dust flew. Aldbert slid back to silence, his eyes full of fear and indecision, but I had to ignore my friend’s strange mood, and I nodded gratefully and sat my rear down.
‘Thank you, Lord,’ I said gravely.
‘No, thank you, young Goth,’ he chuckled and rolled his eyes as the Saxons tore into the meat and gulped down horns filled with ale. ‘Look at them. Murdering scum, but still men I fill with the best food this night. They should be sacrificed to Boar-Lord Freyr, of course, but let them feast here in thanks for their protection of my Saxa.’
I decided to advise him, nonetheless. ‘The Goths you will chase. There will be famous champions, wily warriors, and—’
He chuckled. ‘I know, I have met them in battle, but I know my land as well,’ he said with relish. ‘The Goths will be ready, Maroboodus, I know it. They will have surprises of their own. But we know where they are, and we know what they will do, and there will be powerful warlords on our side, the favor of the gods we know, the spirits and the vaettir speak as we do, and we will have more spears, and that’s what counts. They are like a magnificent auroch, lumbering along, thinking it the master of the woods, but in truth it is not, and the Goths? They are the prey, and we are the hunters, and we will nip their balls. Nothing can change that. I’ll look forward to fighting with your Danr, Eadwine, and Gasto. They have killed many a brother of ours in the past. And this Maino. Your cousin?’ He glanced my way.
‘I wish you success in killing that bastard,’ I said sullenly and showed him the recent wound on my leg from our fight in Marka. It was healing well, thankfully.
‘Oh, his handiwork? Well, that explains what pushed you here, eh?’
‘I beat him, they didn’t reward me,’ I said with a growl and gripped my sword hilt.
Agin slammed his hand on my back while laughing. ‘To imagine, they wouldn’t be here in our woods, hoping to find an errant Goth adeling, had they been fair as gods expected them to be! You will find it hard to see Goths getting hung by our priests for the glory of the boar god, but you will endure it. Saxa is worth it. And so is the future you hope to build. You will be a great Lord and will see even the ones you love die one day.’ His words made me shiver with premonition, but he went on. ‘I said few dreams come true, but let us try to make them real, indeed. We will conquer left and right and grow fat and rich and share blood, Goths, and Svea, and it will do us all good. But we will change, mind you that, Maroboodus.’
‘She is worth it all,’ I said, trying to chase away his words and he saw I needed cheering.
He gave me his mead, his brew, and I drank it down gratefully. Agin smiled. ‘Be happy, rather than a damned soul that worries about tomorrow. I’m sorry if I made you gloomy. Yes, yours is a possible union of two similar minds, but falling in love is a mystery even the Aesir and the Vanir do not understand. Didn’t Freyr give away his sword for his giantess? Yes, he did. Love is as good as the secret of mead, and you shall sample it this night.’ He hesitated. ‘At least young mead. Let it fester for too long and it turns into bad brew indeed, but you’ll see what I mean, if you are unlucky,’ Agin beamed a smile my way. ‘Saxa will not be an easy woman to live with. I’ve known her for a while, you see.’
‘I agree,’ I told him, nervous now as I realized I’d be married in a bit and so I drank down another horn, this time of ale brought to me to steel my nerves. It was instantly filled by a plump woman who chuckled to herself as she eyed me with appreciation.
‘I like a man who can drink,’ she chirped. ‘Have another and forget what Lord Agin is blathering about. He loves despite his fear of marriage.’ I drank the ale down and had it refilled.
Agin chortled. ‘I do fall in love, at least a dozen times a day. Just looking at some young girl can make me sigh with love. It’s terrible, for I’d like to marry one of them one of these days, but then I couldn’t admire the daughters of my warriors. I have time, yet. Now—’
The door opened. A figure entered.
The guards stepped away from it as if it was a harbinger of Hel and it stopped to stare at me. At first, I was not sure if it was a human at all, because some fog entered the hall with it, casting an ethereal blanket around the figure, and even the dogs were on their feet, their tails between their legs. I noticed there was a hank of golden hair pouring from under its hood, and then the hood was pulled back. It had a face, and the head was turned my way, but the eyes looked strangely to the sides. It was looking at me nonetheless, I was sure, and I realized it was a woman. The nose had been broken, some teeth were missing but the skin was smooth, and I decided it was the village völva, seidr-seer, holy woman of Freya, mistress of magic. ‘I was summoned,’ she said, her voice smooth though it was impossible to de
cide if she was old or young. She wore a seamless tunic of good make, though bloodstains dotted her ample chest and the brooches on her shoulders were glinting redly as well, for some reason. I thought better than to ask, though.
Agin leaned on me. ‘Hild,’ he whispered, ‘was caught by a rival chief in a battle once and left on the field for dead. Father exiled her, because she had told him they would win the battle, and she was wrong. Father hates being wrong. She is crazy, my age, thirty or so, but her face is as broken as her mind. Her eyes don’t function very well, and yet she seems to know where she is going. She will marry you.’
‘No, I was to marry Saxa,’ I said nervously, and Agin and the Saxons laughed hugely while Hild seemed to give me a wry smile. I shook my head and bowed to the great woman. ‘Yes, I see what you meant, I am sorry. I—’
‘Shut up, Goth,’ Agin murmured. ‘Lift your rear up and bow to her, or she will put something uncanny inside your belly, and it will gnaw its way out of there while you weep and wither.’
‘Lady Hild,’ I said, getting up. I bowed her way, and she tilted her head in acknowledgment as she made her way around the Saxons, who were all making near unseen warding signs at her approach. She came to stand before me, grasped my hand with her left hand and put her right on my face. She was cold, and her skin was dry. Aldbert was looking on, clearly distraught, but he didn’t move.
Finally, she stepped back. ‘You are a strange one. An odd one.’ She tilted her head at me. Aldbert was trying to get up.
‘He is just a Goth,’ he said quickly. ‘Nothing to worry about. Really.’
‘I’m a Goth,’ I said, waving Aldbert down. ‘An Adeling. Just a—’
‘Traitor,’ she finished but didn’t judge, as the word was delivered matter-of-factly. ‘A vagabond out for a new world.’ She hesitated and tilted her head. ‘Like a … young bear out in the spring, finding fresh horizons.’
I shook my head, but Agin roared with laughter. Hild looked around the tables. ‘And they are … from the south. I smell it. Salt. Blood. Vermin.’
‘He is a traitor, and they are very loyal vermin, and worthy men at the same time,’ Agin said and gave the Saxons a warning sign they all took quick note of. They relaxed, despite the fact they had been found out.
‘You will not go to Snowlake, then?’ Hild asked softly. ‘To meet Gislin, her father?’
‘They should stay here,’ Agin said. ‘But Saxa knows her duty to Gislin, so perhaps we shall visit it one day soon, eh?’ The threat was not lost on Hild, who cocked her head quizzically and hummed as if seeking answers somewhere none of us could see. Then she leaned forward, and her guttural voice silenced the hall.
‘He will wish to see this man,’ she told me. ‘Gislin. The man who breaks his plans.’
‘He means to court Saxa, not Gislin,’ Njord said mischievously, but went reticent, chomping on his bit of meat as the Svear glanced his way with a clear message that suggested the Saxon was wading in treacherous waters.
‘He will wish it,’ she told me again. ‘But the Spinners shall decide how it goes, eh?’ She looked at Aldbert, who tried not to be noticed, fidgeting with his horn of ale. Finally, Hild looked away from my friend and sighed. ‘Tonight you shall enjoy, yes? You will be married, under the rays of Mani, blessed by Freya, the goddess of love. Where is she?’ Njord bit his tongue before hazarding a guess as to where Freya might be, but Saxa was not far.
She entered. She was wearing a simple white tunic, with bared arms, and bronze fibulae on each shoulder and on her feet there were doeskin shoes. Her hair was glimmering in the light of the shingles, and I cursed my state, as I should have bathed at least. Agin seemed to agree, as he leaned towards me and sniffed experimentally. ‘Pigs are a cleaner lot,’ he said happily, ‘but this pig will marry well tonight.’ Then Saxa saw me, and smiled, her full lips and eyes joining in a look of love, and I nearly fell to my seat, breath caught in my throat. Agin muttered something and gulped down a full horn of mead. ‘She is too good for you.’
‘She is too good for every man,’ I stated confidently. ‘Gods included.’
‘True, probably right,’ Ceadda said from the side with wonder, his previous apprehensions about Saxa gone as he admired the wondrous girl.
The völva’s crooked mouth turned into a smile, and she turned to Saxa. ‘Let’s not tarry, then. The goddess hears, and she will be here only for a short while,’ Hild said reverently. ‘Come here,’ she said sadly and pulled me after her. I stumbled like a man in a daze and Saxa beamed me a smile that would have melted an icy lake and woken up frozen butterflies. I nearly fell over a bench, tried to regain my composure, but I felt entirely detached from the holy ritual about to take place. I noticed my hand was draped over Hild’s shoulders, then she removed my hand and placed it in Saxa’s hand, who was chuckling at me. She held on to me fiercely, and I remember Freya was mentioned many times. I was vaguely aware I was being asked questions about my bravery, my honor, and my fame, some of which I no doubt lied about, but I did not care if it won me the girl next to me, and finally Hild pressed her hands on our cheeks. ‘Is there anyone here who would deny them their happiness?’
A bird flew in.
Everyone saw it, a delicate thing trapped in the hall, but this one stopped to sit on a beam, and stared down at us with near intelligence. It was brown, delicate, but beautiful, and should have been sleeping with others like it, but there it was.
‘I take that as a good sign,’ I murmured to Saxa.
‘It is a spirit,’ she said with a smile. ‘And it approves.’
Oblivious to the holiness of the bird, Agin smirked. ‘What will you give her as dowry?’ he asked darkly, though there was a glint of humor in his eyes.
‘I have nothing,’ I said. ‘Nothing, my lord. Only my sword, but that, I suppose can make her a dozen dowries.’
‘Her father will ask this question,’ Agin said. ‘Just give him the sword when we meet him. At least the pointy bit.’
‘He gave me my freedom, brother,’ Saxa told him. ‘That is the greatest dowry Saxa of Snowlake can ever ask for.’
‘That is a great gift indeed,’ Agin said softly, though his bear-like voice still thrummed through the hall. ‘Though it might be an ill deed to chain him for his bravery this way. Be good to him, nag little, and if he mistreats you, bring him to me, and I’ll sit him on an anthill until he is a woman. Maroboodus. Kiss her! Eat well, drink too much, and retire, with my blessings.’ He nodded for the sleeping quarters. ‘Then, tomorrow, we shall begin to plan, eh?’
‘Yes, Lord,’ I told him.
Hild nodded at us. ‘You are one.’ There was intensity in her eyes as she clutched our forearms. ‘Enjoy your night.’
We were married.
I kissed Saxa. It was a clumsy kiss where our noses got in the way. After that problem was solved, the kiss went awry in a show of sloppy lips that sought each other unsuccessfully, and we broke it off, chuckling, and what followed were tilted heads, a perfect kiss, a long, happy union of lips and she pressed her lithe body against mine with a force and warmth born of love. The Saxons murmured appreciatively, and Aldbert frowned, but that’s all I remember as I kissed her. Thus, we stayed until Hild poked us. Apparently everyone was standing up and reluctant to stop cheering us until we quit the embrace, and we did. I guided Saxa to the table, and spent a supremely happy evening with the merry, drunk party of relatively friendly Saxons, my former enemies the Svear, and my Goth friend Aldbert, and a völva Hild who ate and drank more than the rest of us, though she kept casting her crooked eyes around the party, and shaking her head. Aldbert was careful, silent, worried, and would not sing when asked to. He kept staring at Hild, who stared back and then, at some stage I saw him gesturing for me, and he was pulling at my sleeve.
The look on his face. I shall never forget it. There were tears in his eyes, and his face was haggard with the massive knowledge he wanted to share, reluctant, like someone who had lied all their lives and were making a supreme effort to
salvage their soul, but I denied him that relief, cursing him for his timing. ‘Not now, Aldbert.’
‘And I don’t want it to be now,’ he whispered. ‘I just wanted you to know you are right. I did it all on purpose.’
I stopped and rubbed my forehead, pushing away the anger his words made me feel. ‘I said not today. I don’t want to have this discussion today.’
‘Leave the village with me. Leave her with them. Go back to the Goths,’ he begged. I pushed him away from me and turned my back to him.
I was happy. I was married. I had no time for him.
He disappeared.
Finally, when it was late, we retired. I dragged Saxa to my alcove, and she pushed me as I did. I tried to take my time, but she wanted passion rather than care and opened her brooches deftly, the tunic peeling from her, and I held my breath as she pulled at my belt. My hands were touching her shoulders, my lips devoured her neck and face, and lips, and what followed was bliss, full of the loving energy of the gods themselves, full of Freya’s blessings and that night, it was good to be a man.
It was the best night of my life until then, and probably one of the best I ever had. But as happiness must eventually be balanced by sorrow, as the Norns weave it, so also was our happiness to be tested by spears.
That next morning, we awoke to the voice of battle.
The Goths had not been fooled, after all.
Someone had betrayed us.
CHAPTER 14
Maroboodus: A Novel of Germania (The Goth Chronicles Book 1) Page 24
