The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3)

by Alaric Longward

  ‘Hraban,’ Fulcher whispered, and I nodded at him. My ladle is in the soup of Drusus; I thought, no matter how many innocents die, I shall eat from that soup. I hefted my spear, breathed deep, and threw it. It spun in the air; it spun true. The man guarding Drusus saw it; his mouth fell open, and he fell across Armin, the spear through his belly. Armin grasped the man, cursing and making vile oaths, and I rode up from the shadows, my helmet tilted as I watched the man’s astonished face. The Cherusci around us were fleeing in panic, little heeding their lord’s plight.

  ‘Hraban?’ Armin said with a whisper, and I enjoyed the brief bout of fear in his face.

  ‘I aimed for your leg, but perhaps he saved your life. It was a little high,’ I told him with a guttural growl. ‘So. Here we are. Again.’ I pulled the Head Taker’s massive blade from the sheath on my side.

  ‘I have no time for this,’ he told me irascibly, letting go of his man. ‘You have the ring? We can still—’

  ‘No, we cannot,’ I told him bitterly. ‘I lost the ring. To Odo. After I killed Leuthard. After you escaped him. We have common foes, but I do not trust you. Nor Catualda. I have a home now, and I shall take you home with me. And you will tell me how to get to Godsmount.’

  His eyes betrayed frustration. ‘I never meant to keep Lif from you. Nor do I now. She is no longer part of this. I will find a man to lead you there. I have one. One you would love to meet. But for now, I’ll leave. We have to fight them, and fucking Segestes will pay.’

  ‘He was already paid and expects the rest of the payment.’ I grinned. ‘Your lands.’

  Armin shook his head in god-like anger, roaring and whipping the horse.

  The rope that had been hidden and bound around the horse’s foot went taut. There was an audible crack; the magnificent horse flew on its face, and Armin spilled painfully from it. I charged, and I was not sure if I would have killed him as he struggled to a seated position, but I did not get a chance.

  My horse fell as well, and I was stuck under it so quickly I could not understand what had taken place. I was praying my foot was not broken. Fulcher bleated an oath as he engaged the other man of Armin’s, the one by the women who were now rushing to the scene. Hugo hid behind a tree, and two new Cherusci ran for Armin. One spat in my direction, blonde, red hair spilling from under her hood. Her, for I saw the golden band across her brow, the high cheekbones and tall frame of a woman. It was Thusnelda, daughter of Segestes, lover of Armin, and she had thrown a spear that had downed my sturdy war horse. I cursed Woden, laughed in frustration and tugged at my foot as Fulcher speared his opponent, who still managed to grab his foot to stop him from moving. His horse was dancing around in wild circles, the dying Cherusci getting dragged behind.

  Armin was up. He gazed at me in wonder. There was a man next to him, who wore a full metal helmet. He pointed a spear my way, demanding something, and Armin considered it. The warrior was tall, wide and terrible and cursed audibly. Finally, Armin shook his head, and the warrior held his head for a moment. Then he nodded and lifted Armin, and both staggered off to the woods. Thusnelda followed them.

  Now some fleeing horsemen rode after them, and I heard Thusnelda screaming for Armin.

  Fulcher had freed himself, and he and Hugo came to me and dragged me free. The fallen horse broke my sandal, but all I could do was scream in frustration.

  ‘Find me another horse!’ I yelled.

  Fulcher did, and we rode after the refugees. It took time, of course, and they were long gone.

  We were not alone. The Roman army surged to cut off the escape of as many of the Cherusci as they could. There were two more rivers to cross on the trade route, and Roman legates wanted to make sure there were not two more battles to be fought.

  Sigimer had escaped, I heard the Romans screaming. Armin had as well, and I sobbed in rage.

  And so, I rode after him. For the east.

  CHAPTER 8

  I rode so hard the horse was a sullen, resentful, and suffering piece of flesh in but a few hours time. By early afternoon, I growled at Hugo to show me the next crossing across the River Mödasg, the Angry One. We crashed through woods, dodged running warriors and bewildered local people who were witnessing the sudden, terrible rout of the Cherusci. This trek took all day, and we crossed the river in the afternoon. I was staring around wildly, ignoring all that Fulcher was saying and demanded Hugo to find out if Armin had been seen. A weary, wounded war chief told Hugo Armin had already passed that way. I cursed bitterly as the chief was cajoling his men to carry him. I rode on, Fulcher and Hugo with me and now there were the occasional Batavi and Thracian around us as well. They were scouts, brutally hedging the scattered enemy, avoiding any larger, organized groups of warriors but mercilessly pounding on the wounded and the cowards. I was sure I saw some of the Parthians of Gnaeus as well but lost the sight of them soon.

  Night fell. The sun ran away from the sky, and I lost hope.

  ‘We will never find him,’ Fulcher said timidly while stroking the horse. ‘Even Woden’s loved one Hraban can occasionally fail. He got lucky.’

  ‘He had Thusnelda save him. She does not seem to believe in luck,’ I yelled, holding my head in anger. ‘The bitch skewered my horse.’

  ‘It did not even have a name yet, Hraban. Your horse,’ Fulcher said with a small chuckle. I turned to stare at him with incredulity. He shrugged and spat. ‘You have to admit it seems likely the gods wanted him to live, not strung at the end of Drusus’s noose as he rides home. Perhaps it will be good for us, as well. Perhaps he will save us one day?’

  ‘Regretting becoming a Roman?’ I asked him, staring around at the woods filled with the noise of running dregs of an army and women and their pursuers.

  ‘I’m your oaths man, Hraban. I have no doubts about our new allegiance, but perhaps Armin will have to live to balance the odds set against the Cherusci. Gods wish to see strife, not surrender. He is like you. Men love him and die for him. And spear throwing women fight for him. You are lucky she did not hit your manhood,’ he said laughing. Even Hugo quaffed at that, and I sighed deeply.

  ‘How in Hel’s four names shall we find him?’

  Then, as if the gods had heard me, a woman shrieked nearby. There were guttural yells of men, horses whinnying and then crude laughter as I heard the Thracian language being spoken. I gazed at Fulcher, and we both remembered the way we had met. I had killed the men who held him and raped his wife. The men had killed his son. His eyes flashed, and we rode for the sound.

  And found Thusnelda.

  There, in a small clearing, two burly Thracians were struggling with a tall woman on a bank of moss. She was breathing hard, her eyes agog with terror, and she tried to kick and bite at the two would-be rapists. They had half stripped her and were laughing at her futile fight until she scratched one of them, and they decided to finish the games and get to the point, and I saw the terror in the moonlight on the face of Thusnelda as one tried to kiss her savagely.

  Without thinking too long about the matter, I got down from my horse and walked over with the Head Taker bared. The bigger of the two had just managed to tear the last clothes from Thusnelda’s body when they noticed me in my armor and helmet.

  The smaller one turned to me. ‘Rome?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answered in Latin. ‘A Batavi. What juicy morsel do you have there?’

  The large one snorted as he tried to pry Thusnelda’s feet apart, stripping his belt at the same time. ‘Find your own fun Batavi dog. This one’s ours, and we will not share.’ I did not wish to share either so I slashed him through his neck so hard and so fast he did not realize what had happened. The other one was looking up, his open mouth full of foul, rotten teeth and the blade took them and his life. He screamed, and the blade visited his skull through his mouth. He fell back and died on Thusnelda, spraying blood on her nude and bruised body, and I dragged him off her. She backpedaled to the darkness, blushing and raging angry, hissing like a hurt lynx. Her hair was hiding her other eye as sh
e looked at me apprehensively.

  I ignored her for now, my mind awhirl with the implications of my prize.

  I searched the corpses carefully and found some bracelets, Germani made, silver and bronze. I threw them at her. She didn’t reach for them. ‘Not mine. And I should think you know I rather use a spear than wear finery. Give me one of theirs?’

  ‘No,’ I chuckled. ‘I rather not. Your aim might improve.’

  ‘Wasn’t trying to kill you,’ she hissed.

  ‘You tried to kill me after the battle in the lands of the Bructeri when I came for Lif,’ I said. ‘So why not now? Or when I wanted to take your pretty lover prisoner?’

  ‘He needs the ring,’ she said sullenly. ‘That is why he has used you. He respects you. So I respected his opinion of you and spared you.’

  ‘Don’t have the ring, I told him.’ I found her diadem, a thin golden thing and showed it to her. She spat in anger and then nodded though reluctantly. I grinned and threw it into her lap, and she instinctively grabbed it, forgetting to cover herself. She cursed, mumbled something uncouth about men and put the diadem on, little heeding our eyes. I sighed and nodded at Fulcher and Hugo, who had been sitting on their horse, stupefied by the beautiful female. They turned away.

  ‘Tell me what do you think about your father’s bid for power?’ I asked while rifling the belts of the Thracians.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m with Armin.’

  ‘A good daughter is to obey the father. You might not be betrothed to Maroboodus, my father, anymore, but should you not obey the fat piece of gristle?’

  ‘I escaped him,’ she said sullenly. ‘After he ordered the retreat.’ She cleared her throat. ‘My … clothes?’ she asked hopefully, and I flicked the torn clothes to her.

  ‘You only needed to ask.’

  ‘You are paying me back for the spear. And my earlier belligerence. Are you not?’ she asked as she pulled at the torn clothing with her feet, scowling at Fulcher, who slapped incredulous, sneaky Hugo on the back of the head. The rogue had been glancing at her, and he turned away, mumbling apologies. She was dressing up, and I laughed.

  ‘Perhaps I am,’ I agreed.

  ‘He does not hate you, no matter if you do betray your people,’ she said softly.

  Armin, she was talking about Armin. ‘No, I do not think your Armin truly hates anyone. He can sacrifice anyone at a whim, wipe his tears and say how sorry he is for having manipulated them, but he does not hate anyone,’ I said and got up.

  She shook her head. ‘He hates your father.’

  ‘For you?’ I asked.

  ‘For me.’

  ‘Maroboodus is both my father and my foe,’ I told her with some difficulty, for the thought of Maroboodus was burning me. I lifted my helmet and ran my finger across the scar he had given me after I burned his hall and nearly killed him. ‘And as I told Armin, we have common enemies. But few common allies.’

  ‘Fancy,’ she said, indicating the scar while struggling with her tunic. She had been wearing men’s clothing under her dress. ‘He did that?’

  ‘He did it. I would have done worse to him, as well. I will, one day.’ I was walking back and forth as she was struggling. ‘You had better hurry. This is not a safe place, and I do not wish to explain why I skewered the two whoresons.’

  ‘I thank you for that,’ she said with some emotion, fear perhaps. ‘I know you have had harsh times, Hraban, but you ride with the Romans now,’ she chided me as she finished pulling on her pants.

  I went to my hunches before her. ‘So, do you think he truly cares for you? Armin? Or do you think he would have tried to topple Maroboodus, my father, anyway since it seems Maroboodus is trying to rally all the tribes against Rome just like Armin is? Even if he has surprising masters, Maroboodus does,’ I asked her.

  ‘He is a Roman,’ she said bluntly. ‘Like you.’

  ‘A Roman but not like his son,’ I said. ‘I serve Nero Claudius Drusus, who is a fair man. He serves schemers and traitors and murderers. Do you think—’

  She sighed, adjusting her hair. ‘If you take me to him, he will reward you. He would reward you with Lif,’ she told me with a smile. ‘She is a beautiful girl, Hraban.’ I stared at her sitting there. She had taken care of Lif when Hands the bounty hunter had fallen in Armin’s hand while escaping Odo. ‘She cuddles when she has eaten, and I swear she smiles at her name.’ I looked away from her, holding my head. She came forward and placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Take me to him. And perhaps you will finally find a way to reconcile.’

  Lif. I could get Lif back. And perhaps I could find home again with Armin? No, I thought. Never again. But I would be close to him. I could, perhaps, take him to Drusus. Or even slay him and then escape. I felt filthy as I stared at Thusnelda’s eyes. ‘Yes. Fulcher?’

  Fulcher rode to me cautiously, trying to fathom my mood.

  ‘So. Are we Germani again?’ he asked, gesturing at the corpses and Thusnelda.

  ‘No. I just don’t like rapists.’ I pointed my thumb at Thusnelda. ‘I’m taking her to Armin. For Lif.’ I held his eye for just a moment, and he knew what I was thinking about. Lif. And perhaps Armin as well. ‘Don’t mention the Thracians as you go.’

  ‘Don’t think anyone misses them,’ Fulcher said and spat on the corpses. ‘Bastards. I’ll take the youngster with me then and wish you luck with your future, my Lord.’

  ‘And I wish you the same, Fulcher,’ I said and grinned at him. ‘If we should not meet again,’ I said as I fixed a hard eye on him, ‘then you go find your wife, and Euric. Take them to Batavorium. As we agreed. Chariovalda will let you serve him. Try to find Wandal if you can. And tell Cassia—’

  He snorted. ‘No need for you to twist your jaw trying to admit it. I’ll sing her a song of love, and I will tell her you are doing what you must.’

  ‘Here,’ I said as I gave him the bloodied Head Taker. ‘If things go sour, keep it safe. It is ancient. It should go to Lif one day. And this.’ I gave him the end of the spear that had killed Leuthard. ‘Wolf’s Bane, spear of Aristovistus.’ I kept my helm and my armor. I also kept Nightbright.

  He leaned close, and we embraced. He whispered in my ear. ‘Make sure you survive. Remember your honor. I’ll come and find you if you are lost. I’ll tell Drusus you are doing your best.’

  I nodded, swallowed my fears and clasped his forearm. He gestured for Hugo, and they rode off. I watched him go and turned to Thusnelda, who was smoothing her clothes, unsure what would follow. ‘I guess you learn to run faster the next time the Romans butcher your army.’

  ‘I got separated from the army in the dark and ran the wrong way, not too slowly,’ she said and sniffed indignantly in the dark.

  ‘Where is Armin then?’ I asked. ‘Somewhere beyond the trade route and the rivers?’

  She laughed, not taking my hand. ‘I will never tell you before we get there, my dear Roman friend and the Oath Breaker. But I am grateful.’ I mounted the horse and then reached down to her and grabbed her hand. ‘Do not make me regret this, Raven,’ she said, and I pulled her up to me. We managed it with a struggle, and she was seated uncomfortably in the saddle that seemed too small for both, her hips tight against me. She glanced over her shoulder at me and raised her eyebrow. I cursed, let her have the saddle and slithered up beyond the four-horned saddle and slid to sit on the horse’s rump.

  ‘Where to, Princess?’ I asked her.

  ‘I was lost, oaf, remember?’ she huffed and then gestured around. ‘If you find the Weihnan, the Holy River to the east, I can find him. He is likely to be in a village of his father’s warlord, not far from the ford. Perhaps a day’s ride to the east? No doubt getting men together after the disaster,’ she said so softly it could have been a forest mouse sniffing, but I nodded. ‘Hoping to kill my father, perhaps,’ she added.

  ‘Then, there we shall go,’ I spurred the horse.

  We rode to meet Armin.

  CHAPTER 9

  We traveled through the long morning.
The sunlight was peeking through the many holes in the canopy of the forest, lighting up mossy boulders, and the happy sound of birds made one almost forget the thousands of dangerous men traveling the land. The trip was strangely peaceful, and I enjoyed it, partly because I now had a plan. A filthy and dangerous plan, but one nonetheless. By midday, things got more interesting. We avoided bands of Cherusci still flitting through the forest, hid from the leading elements of Roman cavalry, all scouting around us but soon, some hours after midday, the Romans disappeared, and Germani alone could be heard talking in the dark shades. I pulled off my heavy Roman sagum cloak and threw it aside. I stared at the tunic over my armor, took that off as well, and cursed myself for not picking up a patched up garment with a hood from the occasional wounded men. We crossed a smaller stream, then another, and my belly churned with hunger at the sight of lazy fish resting in warm ponds, amidst smooth rocks of the brilliantly flowing waters. We rode through the midday and the poor exhausted Thusnelda managed to sleep on my shoulder, despite the discomfort. I wondered what Cassia would think if she saw Thusnelda there, and I chuckled at the thought of her thin eyebrows raised in divine fury. Gods, I loved the woman, I thought. Her love had cost me Ansbor, my sole remaining companion from childhood, but it was his choice. Wandal, I had lost before that, gods knew where he was. Ansigar was with Gernot, my brother serving Odo. I had Fulcher. And Chariovalda. And that wonderful woman, I mused as I adjusted Thusnelda’s head. She mumbled in some discontent and settled down. I would meet Cassia again, I decided and rode ahead, a hollow feeling of fear in my belly.

  Then, when the afternoon was nearly over, we came upon Weihnan, the Holy One, the last of the three rivers that ran to make up the mighty Visurgis River. Predictably, as I guided the horse out of the trails to a bank of sand, there was another ford not far and men were running across it. I rode that way and saw a motley crew of Cherusci warriors, their leader in leather mail and a wolf pelt guarded it. I rode down to the water’s edge, the green and blue water churning on a very shallow ford. There I sat with a Cherusci princess on my lap and my quite distinctive helmet on my head, which I had forgotten to hide.