The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3)
Page 6
The Tribune nodded. ‘Pay the man. Half.’
The Questor shook his head, clearly disgusted at having to pay at all and pulled out a pouch of coins. He hefted it in his hand and viciously opened it, pouring only some silver and gold out, leaving the rest inside. Antius opened his mouth but closed it fast, apparently thinking better about fighting a lost cause. Also, the last ship, I was sure, was loaded to the brim with precious wine, and he would sell it on the side, for the legions carried heaps of treasure from the fallen enemy, mainly rings. It would make him a lot of coin in the end.
Antius took a long breath and walked over to me. ‘Well, Oath Breaker. That’s what they all call you now. I sat with the Chauci the other week, and there was a pretty, young boy singing about you. Not the sort of song you would like to hear, I am sure. Would drive you mad as a slapped hornet. But you do look good, like a warrior,’ he told me while eyeing the ships getting unloaded.
I spat at his feet and got his full, unbelieving attention. ‘We are going on a trip.’
‘And why are you coming, I wonder,’ Antius huffed, shuffling away from my spittle. ‘His lordship was most adamant that a barbarian who hates me should provide me with an escort to Segestes. And yes, I can find him. I know the woods and the villages ahead and can likely find where he is holed at. But you? Useless as a dick without balls, but dangerous to me, maybe.’
‘Coming from a man with no cock nor balls to fight his fights up front, that is quite an observation. You know what Antius is. I was to die when you told me about Maroboodus and Drusus. You played with a caged wolf, and the wolf is no longer caged. One day you will see the beast in the woods, and you will not have a friend in the world. But not today,’ I lied. ‘As for the reasons why I’m coming along? He needs a man he can trust. He does not wish to starve when he goes out to give the Cherusci battle.’
‘Ah,’ Antius smirked. ‘You are to make sure I do my duty, eh? Fine. And you are bringing Batavi to guard me, no doubt?’
‘Yes, they will suffice,’ I told him coldly. ‘He told me to keep you alive. It is an insufferable test and yes, he is testing me. He wants to see if I can be trusted with matters that are more important later on. He does not trust you, Antius. You know it. He thinks there are many plots being hatched against him out there, men moving in the shadows to kill him. He thinks you are a fat, useless thief, a liar, and a traitor, but he also needs you for this particular job. His campaign is in peril, and you can save it.’
‘You are his lapdog, are you?’ Antius said softly. ‘Must be irksome not to be able to filet me, eh? And you will be a lord in his service, one day? Hopefully you will not fail his … test.’ His eyes flashed. ‘Here. This will change his life. And yours.’ He showed me a scroll.
I grabbed it.
‘What are you …’ he choked with a panicked, high-pitched voice, trying to grab it back from my hands, but I pointed a finger at him, and he calmed down. I ripped it open, breaking the seal. Antius sucked in his breath, his face red and then visibly calmed himself. ‘Do you understand what it says?’ he asked snidely. ‘I can translate it. Of course, it would be embarrassing to open a scroll meant for another and then ask the person you stole it from to tell you what—’
‘No need, I get the idea,’ I said as my eyes went over the text, thanking Woden for Marcus Romanus, the exile who had taught me Latin. ‘It says it is from a man called Verrius Flaccus—’
‘A scribe in the employment of Augustus,’ Antius interrupted happily. ‘This man is instructing the golden grandsons of Augustus in many things. But he also writes letters when his lordship requires it though Augustus often conveys his letters. It says—’ Antius explained, and I interrupted him in my turn.
‘How is it you know of it? The contents?’ I asked him.
‘I …’ he stammered.
‘I’m sure a slimy thing like you can unseal and reseal anything, worm,’ I laughed at him. ‘You could probably steal a god’s ball hairs and sell them back to him as a beard.’
He bowed, not ashamed in the least. ‘Many skills are useful in this world and unsealing scrolls not the least of them, boy.’
I read the text and spoke, my voice dripping with boredom. ‘It warns Drusus not to cross to the Cherusci lands,’ I said. ‘Why is Augustus sending such—’
Antius was wringing his hands, snapping his joints, bored. ‘Drusus is here, exercising the imperium of Augustus. Augustus can do what he will with Drusus and his armies, Raven. He owns the armies. To be exact, he rules the provinces the armies belong to. He is the master of men of violence, and Drusus is only one of these men. He was unhappy with the way things went in the Thing of Drusus. He has heard rumors of the losses inflicted on the legions by the young Cherusci. Now, the war continues. Augustus does not approve of this.’
I threw the scroll at his feet. ‘I doubt the old man dare test his strength in this matter. And we are going this evening.’
Antius smiled as he picked up the scroll, though he was nervous. ‘Does not dare? He dares. The more Nero Claudius defies him, the more determined Augustus becomes. I think even our young general sees this. Perhaps we won’t travel, after all.’
‘Unfortunately,’ I grinned, ‘we need the food, no matter if the army marches or not. Usipetes took it, I seem to recall.’
Antius stopped at that, his face ashen white. ‘Be careful, Hraban, not to choose the wrong allies again. You are running very low on them, are you not? Perhaps you should just disappear?’
‘I have my swords as allies, and you know I can crawl up from Hel, alone and naked if I need to. You helped temper me to such a fine edge, didn’t you? Take care, Antius and meet us at the Porta Decumana this evening. Do take your scroll to him, but I’m sure you shall be there nonetheless. And the army shall march, for the men love him. And his causes.’
He nodded carefully, anger and doubt playing on his fat face. ‘Fine. If that is so, pack up some food and water. No Legionnaire gear on the men, none. No words of Latin are to be uttered. Best you don’t say anything at all out there and that shall be a relief, I tell you. Make sure all your merry boys know this. We shall ride due east, follow the trade route. The very same route the army will surely be using as they go east. They could cross the great Visurgis, but it is steep and harsh to build on, so there are three rivers to the southeast from here, shallower rivers. They call the first one Bhugnos, the Buck. Then there is Mödasg, the Angry One and finally Weihnan, the Holy Water. We shall stop at a village near Bhugnos, and there we shall wait.’
‘What do they call Visurgis?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know that. I am no teacher. I’m your enemy. I just told you all I know, and I hope you won’t get us killed by your foolishness,’ he noted. ‘You have a history of bad choices.’
‘We shall see, Antius the Fat, what you can accomplish with your scrolls and lies. But yes, the army will tramp for Bhugnos,’ I said and decided he would not appear at the gates. He was very suspicious. If he did, I thought, he would be prepared. But so was I. I turned to go. ‘Go and try to spare yourself the trip. Tell Drusus I opened it up for him.’
‘I will,’ he called after me. ‘And we shall see where we shall all travel. Soon.’
CHAPTER 4
The men were killers.
There were nine of them, wearing little armor, armed with Germani shields, oblong and square, made of sturdy wood frames and thick leather, and painted with fantastic figures of moons, stars, and animals. Some were punctured; others were spattered with mud and blood. They were taken from the slain. All the men had cudgels, axes, and some held bows. Most carried the typical Germani spear with short iron tip, a framae. Fulcher had his heavy cavalry spear, and I had Nightbright girted on my hip and a round shield. None of us had chain mail, Roman gear, and helmets. Grimwald, a Decurion of the 2nd Batavi nodded at me as I approached, holding his hand out and I grasped it. We did not speak as the guards near the gates stared at the ragtag band, whispering.
Then we waited.
He had not.
Fulcher slapped my hand and pointed at the shadows of the harbor. There, a man on a huge horse trundled closer. He had two tall servants and three horses full of gear, and it was Antius indeed. He wore a heavy cape and had a pair of Roman pugiones, daggers on his wide belt.
‘I take it Drusus is going east?’ I asked him sweetly, and he did not answer but rode past us. I pushed my scroll into a bag and rode after him. ‘Hold!’ I yelled, and he stopped reluctantly.
‘I recall you wanted to go, Hraban, this very night?’ he asked sweetly. ‘The night does not dance and tarry to your pleasure. We going or dallying here?’
‘What is all that?’ I asked, pointing at the horses and the two Gauls accompanying him.
‘My gear,’ he hissed, exasperated. ‘I’m a to be a lord of the Chauci, this time, and no lord of the rich Chauci will travel like a beggar.’
‘And what else?’ I asked, feeling reluctant to let him take anything but his ass east. ‘Comforts rather than gear we need?’
‘Drusus is in need of food,’ he said spitefully. ‘It costs money. I am taking a fortune of coin with me. Most all Drusus had in his war chest.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But you don’t need your damned rugs and wine.’
‘My rug? Ah,’ he said, displeased. He had used one to sit in the woods when I saw him the very first time, disdaining the discomforts of Germania. ‘You want me to sleep on the ground as you do? Is that important to you, Hraban?’
‘I’ve slept in a cage smeared with mice shit for you, Antius,’ I told him and rode close to the packhorses. ‘So yes, it is important for me. And I want nothing extra with us. Nothing.’ The Gauls, two large, wiry men scowled at me, but I growled at them as I pulled Nightbright and poked at the gear.
‘Fine. Leave that one,’ Antius said with a hurt, tired voice, and one of the horses, laden with comforts was left with a slave. ‘Together on the road, finally,’ Antius whispered. ‘Shall we?’ I nodded and led the way.
We rode hard, and I was surprised by the hardiness of the fat man. He glanced at my wondering eyes and shrugged. ‘I’ve been a soldier in my time, Raven. I have seen the world. I’ve ridden sturdy camels in Numidia, huge elephants in Parthia and suffered my share of discomforts before I found my place.’
‘You served twenty-five years in the army? You look around forty,’ I asked him, interested despite hating him.
‘No, only fifteen, Hraban. I had talents that were needed elsewhere,’ he whispered.
‘Are you in the army still? Though not in one of Drusus’s.’
His eyes widened, and then he looked away. ‘You are a most perceptive bastard, are you not? But that does not matter. Here I am but a negotiatore and your charge, am I not?’ I nodded at him and the Batavi around me gave him dark looks, for they were no fools. We would not underestimate him. He was not only a spy, but a soldier. A clever, dangerous one.
The night ride took us far from the camps, and we took to trails that were well traveled. We passed a Roman patrol coming back home and then soon, there were nothing but shadowy trees ahead and around us. The night was full of sounds, an owl hooting, our horses neighing, trees swaying and their leaves rustling sorrowfully. The hills were dark around us, and when the sun peeked, we found ourselves on top of a tall hill. We slept, and in the afternoon, we took to the lower ground between valleys, the game trails running south and east.
We encountered Cherusci or even Chatti, often hunting in pairs and hailed them somberly. Antius would approach them and trade news in a perfect Chauci dialect. They nodded at him, pointing around with their framae, and so we traveled on. We encountered some poor peasants, herding noble horses. He spoke for a time; they nodded, and he spoke some more. Finally, he pulled out something bright, then another such bright thing and handed them to a pale young man who took them eagerly. Then the youngster rode off on a skinny horse.
‘What was that?’ I asked him when he turned to continue the trek east.
‘I set a messanger pigeon flying, Raven. He knows someone who knows where they are,’ Antius told me while thinking deep. ‘You need not bother yourself with such intricate matters, Raven. Let me do the thinking part and you just concentrate on brooding.’
Dog, I thought and we trekked on.
We skirted great settlements and major roads and so it went on until a few days later we found ourselves staring across a field at a great river. The field had been burned to the woods sometime years past. It had been a field of barley and wheat, and our horses nibbled on wild crops as we stood there. Antius was speaking with a rich looking Cherusci, seated on a large horse. The man had a long beard streaked with gray and was crippled in the leg. He was gesturing widely, and finally, Antius bowed to him and rode to us, reluctantly.
Antius glanced at me, and our day-long silence was broken. ‘Your lord—’
‘And your commander,’ I reminded him.
‘And my lord commander, urban praefectus Nero Claudius Drusus and the sun behind our victorious armies was right. Armin and Sigimer and even Segestes have summoned some ten thousand men to defend Bhugnos and the fords. They aim to keep our Roman boys out of Visurgis River gaus, and if they do, they will claim that was a victory. They hope to fight a more aggressive war next year. Inguiomerus is busy in the east, far in the east where your kinsmen Suebi are again pressing across Albis.’
‘And Segestes is near?’ I asked him.
He pointed his fat finger. He trailed the great green and blue River Visurgis stretching from north to south and then the myriad of rivers that made it up to our southeast. ‘He is camped across Visurgis near the bit of delta heaped at the confluences of the rivers. They are camped separately until the Roman army comes here. It will be tough for Drusus to break through the ford. But he is a bullhead.’ His eyes briefly traveled my gear, and I knew he thought we had a plan. He smiled, but said nothing about that. ‘There,’ he added and pointed a finger at haze rising from the bank of Visurgis. ‘That is a village called Oddglade. And we shall wait there for Segestes.’
‘I don’t like it. We wait outside it and only enter when he does,’ I said suspiciously.
‘I agree,’ Fulcher added.
Antius stared at him for a moment and then shook his head at me. ‘Tell the thick skulled fuck to be quiet, Hraban. Now, listen. Segestes is the son of greater lords of the Cherusci. His line is ancient, and he carries the favor of the gods. He is one of the three men who can be the thiuda of the Cherusci. The Cherusci are the power of the north. And you, a near damned peasant expect him to come if we are skulking outside? As if he was a common criminal? No, we go in, respect the lord, trust his well wishes, sleep in his beds, drink the wine and wait for his pleasure.’
‘And if he is not interested in helping us in our plight and only wants to take the gold and silver? And our heads?’ Fulcher growled.
‘Then we need not worry about the silver and the gold and will go to the afterlife poor,’ Antius grinned. ‘But he is too greedy to settle for this paltry sum when he might get so much more. And I do believe you are to give him a deal that will make him rich and affluent in these lands.’ He patted the bag on my horse, laughed hugely and whipped his horse. He had touched my scroll, and I cursed him.
CHAPTER 5
We rode to the village, passing halls and shacks on the way. Dogs were barking, we were grimy from the trip and our shields were dusty. We were not in a great mood, but the thought of foaming ale and a warm hall gave us the strength to be polite and patient. Some men approached us carefully, and I nodded grimly at the largest one of them, a man with a huge hasta spear. His beard was dark brown, and he stood on the road leading to a multitude of halls and sheds. I approached him. ‘Hail,’ I told him. ‘Donor’s blessing to you.’
‘May Woden’s spear Gungir give you strength,’ the man sa
id cautiously and squinted at us. ‘Where are you off to?’
‘Why, we hope for hospitality. We are to meet a man here,’ I told him.
He laughed roughly. ‘Hospitality is a gift most men deserve, but I want to make sure you are like most men. What man are you meeting?’
Antius rode forward. ‘Your Lord, first. And then his lord, the mighty Segestes,’ Antius nodded respectfully, pushing in front of me. ‘Take us to your Lord Gerlach. We know each other.’
‘Lord Gerlach is dead,’ the man said brusquely. ‘He knows nothing now, except the kisses of the Valkyries. Died in the battle beyond the hills. Died defending Rochus as they broke the Roman lines.’
‘I have heard of the battle Rochus fell in,’ I said and nodded reverently. ‘We did not quite make it to Armin. And we had to flee the Batavi after.’ My rogues nodded and spat at the mention of the Batavi.
The warrior before us echoed their sentiment and nodded. The leader spoke. ‘His hall is half empty and you are to wait there. Gerlach’s son is serving Segestes in the mustering. Sigimer is our thiuda now for this year, and they are—’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘We will likely join the army.’
‘To fight the southern dogs,’ the warrior concluded and tapped his finger on his spear, a suspicious look conquering his face. ‘So how come you are to meet here and not at the rivers camp? In fact, are you sure you did not flee the battle earlier and now try to restore your honor by lies? I doubt Segestes would come here to meet scoundrels such as yourself.’ Men were emerging to stare at us. Some had shields; all had framea. There were thirty of them, and they had dogs.
I jumped down from my horse and stood face to face with the man. ‘Are you calling us cowards?’