‘Call me Tudrus, Hraban,’ the young man said amidst his silent tears. ‘For I am the Younger no longer.’
‘Yes, Lord,’ I said.
‘I am not a lord either,’ he told me with sorrow. ‘Come.’
Tudrus invited me to his hall in the village. A somber feast was held, men eating the meat of the sacrificial cow and drinking sour ale. The people were dirty and tired and sat amidst tables and enjoyed the sound of a crackling fire. It was mostly a silent feast.
I leaned on Tudrus. ‘How did he die?’
He snorted. ‘He was wounded last year in the battle of the valley. We fought in the same war, brother.’
‘I thought I saw his standard,’ I agreed.
‘His wound sapped his vitality. This year he led us against your Roman friends trying to take over these woods. Caught a slingshot on the ribs. Broke some. It was too much. But we saved many Sigambri from slavery and killed many Romans. And their auxilia. And Germani traitors.’ He glanced at me at those words but did not press the point. After a time, he sighed and served me slabs of cow, some very dark ale, and delicious vegetables. ‘I suppose we all have harsh choices to make. Romans fight well. I do envy them their discipline. Here, eat. I am sorry the fare is no better. It has been a tiresome summer. After we lost the battle last year, the legions have been raiding the fields, trying to starve the Sigambri into submission. They are succeeding in some parts of the land, but Sigambri are a large nation and can still feed us.’
‘I see,’ I told him, feeling bad for eating well. ‘I ate shit for months, and this is like a feast of Eostere in comparison.’
He continued. ‘Good. Good. The war goes on. Forever. There are still plenty of Sigambri warriors, more than eight thousand, perhaps if all would fight some ten, but they lack hope. Tencteri and Usipetes are still out there as well, supporting us as best they can. Luppia River, as Rome calls it, is falling, though. We call it the Black River now. Its beauty is waning. Many have surrendered to Saturninus, who treats them well. Some Sigambri have moved to your side of the river.’ My side, I thought. Yes, it was my side.
‘I know Saturninus. He is a fair man,’ I said.
Tudrus slammed a mug on the table before me. ‘A fair man does not war on women and children.’
I shrugged, running my hand across the foaming mug. ‘A fair man rarely has control over the war in such a way as to spare men and women, but I am sorry to see the Quadi reduced so,’ I told him, gravely. ‘It was my warning, after all, that sent you packing from my father. Little good it did you.’
He nodded. ‘Sibratus and the dog Vannius. Your father bought them somehow. We meant to return, but there was nowhere to go. Tallo, our last lord, our uncle was dead as well. The Quadi of Moenus are all Marcomanni now. So we held our wows to Maelo.’
‘Maelo will put up a good fight for years still. How many are you?’ I asked, and he smiled.
‘We? The Quadi? Some two hundred, perhaps. Many went back, this spring, to submit to Sibratus and your father. Most did, in fact. Except Rome owns our home now, so gods know what happens to them. Perhaps they will die to Hermanduri spears? Perhaps. So now, I lead a clan, not a nation. And even the Quadi here, in our villages, my oaths men are drifting away after Father died. They think we failed. My family failed. We did, did we not? So, I have no gau, just my horse and brothers and a starving group of stragglers who are slowly leaving me.’ He looked around the tables, and it was true men avoided his eyes. He poured ale to wash down the mead I had just finished. ‘I never got to marry, even. Imagine that! Though I distrust women. I do. I want a noble woman, beyond reproach and doubt, a fine and high one, and here there is only mud and misery.’
‘I never did marry either, though I have a child,’ I said, and Agetan laughed like I imagined a mossy forest boulder would laugh.
Tudrus smiled. ‘They know about your healer. Fulcher here told me she swore to give you a thrashing if she ever found you again.’
I gave Fulcher a withering look, and he ignored me, smiling. ‘She did. I am a confused man, Tudrus,’ I told him with a sigh.
‘You always were, Bear Head,’ he laughed, and we smiled at each other as we thought back on our childhood and the many fights the Bear Heads and the Wolves had endured. He shrugged. ‘So, tell me about your daughter. And about your master Nero Claudius Drusus. And perhaps a bit about your father.’ We ate, drank and I told him of my years. I told how I lost Ansbor, fell in love with Cassia and how I had chosen Drusus. I told him of Leuthard and Odo, who chased after Lif and the destruction of the world. He nodded as I told him of my attempt to capture Armin, then how I tried to trick Armin and how I failed due to Catualda and Segestes. He snorted as I told him of my imprisonment with Segestes. ‘I thought I smelled pork when you showed up!’ he told me, and I cursed him. I told him of the coming spring and the many plans taking place and my promise to save Armin and Drusus both, as well as Lif. I told him of Odo and Sigimer. He was nodding vigorously and after awhile, he looked at his meal, mulling over something.
‘And that is what I am doing,’ I told him.
He snorted. ‘Yea. I see. You are doing a lot. Planning and living and leaving the past behind.’
‘No. I am trying to catch up with the past. If I succeed, yes, I shall leave it behind,’ I said, somewhat embarrassed, fingering the Winter Sword.
‘I gave you an oath, sort of,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Perhaps I did. Remember?’
‘The day Maroboodus, Father sent me to Hard Hill?’ I asked. ‘Yes. You said you might fight with me. Not for me.’
‘Yes,’ he nodded and smiled. ‘That one.’
‘I gave your father an oath,’ I told him, uncomfortably.
‘That day in Moganticum?’ he questioned me, surprised. ‘When he asked us to leave the table?’
‘Yes. He wanted me to adopt you, should he die.’ I grinned.
‘Adopt us?’ There was fury on his lean face.
‘He wanted me to find you. He wanted us to help each other. He asked me to help you become Quadi again. To regain your lands.’ I rapped my fingers on the mug. ‘Though I am not sure any man can give the Quadi back their lives and halls. But there might be a way.’
‘A way?’ he asked and sneered. ‘But we could give you your vengeance?’ he sneered and shook his head. ‘He would have Quadi nobles follow you?’ he asked, and I shrugged.
I looked him in his eyes. ‘I have not forgotten Maroboodus. Father. I have things to do this coming spring and summer and could use your help. Perhaps we would fight together?’
He glowered at his drink. ‘I have not forgotten Maroboodus and his lies either. But you also serve Rome?’ he said, and Bohscyld grunted and spat. I flexed my arms and smiled at them.
‘I understand you hate them for the losses of the past years. And they are enemy to the Germani. Yes, I have friends with them. Many are Germani. The Germani serving Rome learn to fight the Roman way, and perhaps one day need not fight for Rome any more.’ As Vago and Catualda had once told me, but it made sense. I continued. ‘But most of all I serve Nero Claudius Drusus and obey his words and wishes. I serve their army and their state, which is glorious service for he is a just, great man. I serve my lord. He is not unlike your father. And entirely unlike mine. Drusus will be there when I meet my father again. When we deal with Catualda, Armin, and Segestes and Odo and put things right. I hope you would be there as well. Thus, at least partly would your father be revenged.’
‘And after the revenge?’ he asked wryly. ‘What way could there be to gain us our halls back?’
I leaned towards him. ‘I will do what Drusus asks me to. Perhaps we will regain what we lost. Our lands? Drusus might be the power behind Rome, one day. He will need friends in our lands. Patient, loyal friends who will bleed for him, and bleed his enemies. But who also can fight like Rome, should there be no Drusus.’ Let it not be so, I thought. ‘Father will have to fall. Others. Catualda and so many others. Odo—‘
He growled. ‘Vannius. You f
orgot Vannius the Vangione. I will want to be there when he draws his last breath,’ Tudrus said. ‘That dog was a prisoner to my father. He was trusted and given power. He betrayed us to your rotten father. But I said that already.’ He was breathing hard and struggling to calm himself.
I squirmed for I had liked Vannius, and he had allowed me burn Maroboodus’s hall. I told him of his brother Hunfried, the king of the Vangiones who was my prisoner. Vannius would have been happy to go home and become a king, but now Hunfried was freed, apparently, and Vannius was likely dead or on the run. Perhaps he was with my father and the remaining Quadi. And that meant he too, might be there in the spring. I nodded heavily. ‘One day, we will corner him, as well. Perhaps this coming summer. We all get revenge or die trying,’ I said forcefully, and their eyes lighted.
Tudrus put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I will fetch the shield you gave Father from the pyre and bury it with my father’s bones and horse and weapons. Woden appreciated your gift, and so did I. And in the morning, I will come to you, as your man. I revoke my oath to fight as equals and will follow you as long as you give us a chance to regain that which was lost. The dolts will, as well.’ He nodded at the two mountainous brothers next to him, both of whom nodded stiffly. ‘Next spring, the remaining Quadi will have moved to Maelos’s heartlands or to Moganticum for Rome, or wherever they have room. I hear they are settling some Sigambri already south of Castra Vetera. Some will join us if we do well.’ He looked at the men around the tables. ‘I doubt many will follow me, but some will.’
‘Your vows to Maelo?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘My father gave oaths. I have not done so. But I do to you.’
I took his hand, and we mourned his father together that night.
CHAPTER 24
We woke up to see the ashes smoldering on the fire pit. That morning, the Quadi raised a mound in that small copse of wood and covered it with stones. We buried his weapons there, his horse, and the fabulous shield though we broke it first. We prayed and added food for his trip. Then, Fulcher guided us home in the morning, and Tudrus and his brothers followed me. We arrived at Castra Flamma to meet some Batavi riders who were scowling at the Quadi suspiciously, but I growled their questions away. The man leading them pointed a finger at me. ‘The Decurion wants to see you as soon as possible.’
I kept riding past them. ‘I am a Decurion as well, so change your fucking tone. Where is Lothar?’
He adjusted his seat, surprised by my tone and nodded toward the village. ‘You know his name? Fine. This morning he is riding to the north and scouting a village. Afternoon, eating and drinking at the village. The last ship for Castra Vetera is leaving, and he is overseeing the guards, making sure it will get on its way.’
‘Robbing it, I think,’ I told him woodenly.
He shrugged. ‘He does what he does. But he wants to know why you are riding around, not reporting to him. He, after all, has men, and you do not have …’ The man’s eyes settled on the terrible Quadi threesome, and he waved the rest of his sentence away. ‘In any case, meet him.’
‘I will see him,’ I said with spite, and we dismounted and led the horses to the stables. We went to the barracks, and I showed the Quadi their bunks. We all had a good scare when Cassia arrived and nearly bumped into Agetan. She screamed at the sight of the wide creature, and I swear Agetan blushed at the sight of her. I nodded at the Quadi. ‘Meet the Quadi.’
‘I screamed once already when I saw him the last time. Or his brother, I know not,’ she said sheepishly and that was true, for she had seen them once in Moganticum. She grinned and gave the huge men a fierce hug and a kiss on the cheeks. Both smiled like demented idiots. Then Cassia blushed at Tudrus, who was already waiting with open arms and a lean grin. She gave him a hug as well and shook her head at me. ‘They will eat you to ruin, I think.’
‘Rome pays for their food.’ I grinned. ‘But perhaps we should hunt to make sure we survive.’
‘Spring, Hraban,’ she scolded me. ‘Summer at latest. Then we find something else. You find us something sane to do.’
‘I will,’ I told her. ‘In the spring and summer, all will be made clear.’
‘It is my turn to find some happiness, instead of festering warts and punctures,’ she told me and poked me in the chest.
The Quadi laughed, Fulcher smirked, and I led the lot to the praetorium. The Tribune had them signed up after I explained they were Suebi looking to join the Batavi. He led them to the principia and rarely have you seen a more confused sight as Agetan and Bohscyld holding a pen that a scribe gave them with some hesitation. The Tribune was hovering near, eyeing the newcomers. ‘Chariovalda told you to get your men and that is fine. We need the men,’ the silky smooth Tribune noted. ‘Two hundred and fifty denarii, minus the gear and the food and such,’ he pointed out. ‘Welcome to Castra Flamma.’
‘Two hundred and fifty denarii?’ Tudrus hissed. ‘Is that good? Fifty, not sixty? Why won’t they pay in cows?’
‘Fifty or sixty, doesn’t matter. And they eat the cows. That coin is what you get, minus what you pay for equipment, and expenses,’ I told him, and I saw from his face he thought he was being cheated, even when he had no idea what a denarii was worth.
The Tribune was looking at my friends, one by one. ‘So, they are Suebi peregrine, living in Roman areas? Or barbarians? We prefer to recruit from the ones living near our Roman controlled lands. Not that I am complaining.’
‘Barbarians, raw and savage, sir,’ I said. ‘Chariovalda likes such men. And I have a use for them.’
He hummed and shrugged. ‘Use? I have “a use” for men in the castra. Not a Decurion. My needs are your first concern. Remember that. Keep your nose clean. How was your reunion with your wife? I know she is not married to that Fulcher.’
‘It was long awaited,’ I said with a nod.
He eyed me with curiosity and smiled inanely. ‘A soft spot for a woman. It always pleases me to see men know their priorities. Do not swim too far to the sea, Decurion,’ he warned me, smoothing his hair. ‘Keep far from Segestes.’
‘No, sir! I will lead my men to the best interest of Rome,’ I told him.
‘Best interest of Rome might surprise you, remember that,’ he stated. ‘I have written to Nero Claudius Drusus, my friend. Given him your warnings. It will go out this afternoon with the last ship.’ He thrummed his fingers on the desk. ‘You can relax now for the winter.’ I saluted him and bowed, and he left. My scroll would also leave that afternoon, I thought though it would not be obvious.
My Quadi friends did not glower after they got their gladius, a Roman hasta spear, good quality tunics and cloaks, with reasonably well fitting helmets. Their scutum was of fine make, and they admired the shield’s thick, well-oiled leather. And when they got the fabulous lorica hamata, they beamed. I paid for them, for they had no money, and the payment of their salary should be settled with Chariovalda’s officia. The best of all, they got wide, strong Roman horses, with Roman saddles and the looks on their faces destroyed the last qualms they had about Rome, the legions, and the auxilia. Tudrus was patting his horse. I stared forlornly at the few pieces of gold and bracelets I had left but felt no remorse as they smiled like the sun. Brimwulf, also geared up was grinning at their looks on the side, and Fulcher was grumbling about the cost. Tudrus bowed in thanks. ‘What then, Hraban? We have duties?’
‘Oh, very many. You will love it. Now we go meet my fellow Decurion, the man who likes Cassia,’ I said, and Tudrus’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘He has men. I need more men.’
‘Agetan and Bohscyld? They coming too?‘ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘No. Not exactly. This Lothar is working for Segestes, so it is more than just about Cassia. Listen.’
Later, I rode to the town with Fulcher and Tudrus. We had visited the harbor and now headed for the tavern. The street was a thing of mud, dirt, and brown snow as the merchants and slaves, craftsmen and whores shared the misery of the coming winter, but it was also a
place to meet and spy, and in its narrow streets you could see men from all the tribes.
We found the place where the Batavi leader holed up when relaxing. It was a mud-spattered, brown and gray hall, and the timbers and thatch made it look like it had been long abandoned. It was a tavern called the Dirty Wart. It had no real name, of course, but men knew it by that name, for the Gaul holding the filthy establishment in the sorry little village next to Castra Flamma had so many warts that his face was covered with them. His face was also ever covered in soot from the fires he ceaselessly stoked as he burnt sad meat of something that would resemble a meal.
We entered the room.
The floor creaked. It was a filthy hovel with nasty straws littering the floor, brown mice running in the rafters, and all sorts of dirty platters and mugs heaped at the ends of the raw tables, hopelessly waiting to be collected. Men were mostly drinking, and some brave ones were eating as we stalked in. The Gaul running the establishment got up from a table, wiping his hands with a dirty rag, his belly swollen under his tunic.
‘What will it be, lords?’ he yelled, and some men seated at the back turned their heads our way. A blond man with curly hair stared at me with very blue eyes. He gestured at us, and I nodded, walked over and slumped on a seat opposite to him, fat silver bracelets jingling on my arms. His eyes flashed with greed. I had little else left than those fine things, but they worked. He was already interested.
‘You are Lothar?’ I asked him timidly.
‘Decurion Lothar,’ he nodded. ‘Speak up!’
‘And I am Decurion Hraban,’ I told him as I pulled my helmet off and his eyes took a calculating look.
Lothar finally nodded at me, grinning. ‘Decurions here, Decurions there, and in the end only one can command a turma. And it’s going to be the one who has been given the order to do so. Nice scar boy. Fancy. Rarely seen better. The one your father gave you? Yea, I know of you.’
The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3) Page 28
