‘He is but one man,’ Tudrus admonished me.
‘I had none else.’
‘Well, he is still alive,’ Hund said as we approached the gate. ‘Hares are jumping!’ he called out to the guard.
A Legionnaire turned on the wall. ‘But we still starve!’ he answered the other half of the passphrase and nodded below. We walked under the gatehouse that smelled of fresh wood, were admitted through the gate, jumped across muddy pools and walked outside past some grimy guards who had apparently been building the gatehouse before their guard duty. I stepped out and saw Brimwulf eating an apple, sitting on a trunk. He grinned at me, and I grinned back.
‘So, you missed my skills?’ he asked me.
‘I’ve missed you, friend,’ I told him and embraced him. I pushed him to arms length, and he shrugged. ‘You have gained weight,’ I admonished him.
‘They have plenty of food. That much Armin has prepared. And Segestes, of course,’ he said and looked around as if there were spies listening. ‘Something came up,’ he whispered, swallowing a huge bite of the apple.
‘You going to kill me with suspense?’
He nodded and then shook his head. ‘They held a Thing. That father of yours is one grizzled bastard. They hate each other more than I hated Helmut. And that is saying a lot. He is giving the orders and has no respect for lords of this land.’
‘The lords of this land have no respect for each other. And did you hear what they spoke about?’ I asked, excited.
‘Nope,’ he told me, and there was a glint in his eye. I put a hand over Tudrus’s chest as he nearly barreled over the archer.
‘But?’ I asked him.
He grinned at Tudrus and nodded at me. ‘They had a heated discussion on a grove dedicated to Tiw and made oaths. Armin looked like a dead man walking as he left the ring. Maroboodus, a Quadi named Sibratus, and Segestes stayed a while longer, with a man.’
‘A man?’ I asked with a premonition of doom.
‘This man had a melted face. A melted one. Looked like a hideous, skinned bear. He was to ride to the castra.’
I stared at him, holding my fist so tight I noticed nothing until Tudrus budged me.
‘Cornix,’ I hissed. ‘And he was to ride to our camp?’
‘He is,’ Brimwulf said. ‘I heard your father tell him to convey the orders.’
‘So, they have a plan beyond dying in a shield wall,’ I said to myself. ‘When was this?’
‘Cornix ate. He took wine and venison and ate, and I rode here as fast as I could. What now?’ he asked.
‘We have to see who he meets with,’ I told him. ‘You will go back to Armin after you help us out.’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘He …’ Brimwulf said softly and shook his head.
‘He what?’ I asked him.
‘He has that fancy old spear of yours. This Cornix does,’ he told me seriously. ‘Didn’t Fulcher look after it?’ he asked.
I leaned on a tree. Cornix had killed him before he had reached Drusus. ‘Yes. And Fulcher is dead.’
Brimwulf nodded and looked away. ‘That incompetent idiot. We will avenge him.’
CHAPTER 31
We waited near the gate. We lounged in the shadows of a wooden, hastily built barracks, ignoring the legionnaires looking at us curiously. I had sent Hund and the Batavi to all the other gates, but we went to the Porta Praetoria, the main gate facing the ridge, and there we hunkered down. ‘What,’ Tudrus whispered, ‘if he uses the other gates? The Batavi might very well miss him if his face is covered.’
‘He will use this one,’ I said stubbornly, praying for Woden’s help. ‘Why go anywhere else? He is a Roman. A respected one, no doubt planted here by Antius’s many allies.’
‘Best hope this will work,’ Tudrus growled.
‘It will,’ I said and nodded at Brimwulf lounging near the gate. He was gesturing at me madly. ‘Draw your cowls over your heads.’
They did, masking themselves. We waited a while longer and then I saw a small altercation at the gates, then a man in a high helm of a Tribune was marching imperiously past the quivering guards. The plume was white, he had a ribbon under his chest and over a silvery sculpted armor. His leathery petruges skirt was studded with silvery studs, and the sword on his side was long and expensive. Tudrus looked at him incredulously. ‘Like a cock. If he wanted to stay undetected, perhaps something less jubilant would have been appropriate.’
‘He walks in like he owns the place, the fat knee cripple,’ I cursed. Cornix’s other knee was a bit strange, and the powerful man had a hint of a limp. I noticed Brimwulf also watched the dangerous man, fiddling with an arrow. I shook my head at him. Brimwulf looked hard at me, but I shook my head again.
Tudrus hissed at me. ‘Are you or are you not trying to kill him, Hraban? Ansbor’s blood is in his hands. Fulcher’s. Kill him. It is easier with a bow. Then just disappear. I could hardly miss his ugly face from here, and Brimwulf there has his tail up.’
‘We will wait. I said we have to find out their plans,’ I said, and Bohscyld agreed with a simple grunt. ‘Men die easily enough later. And this one shall indeed.’
‘So, we just keep him alive?’ Tudrus said with distaste.
‘His death is but postponed,’ I said darkly. ‘Come. He is moving.’
Cornix took the Via Principia towards the praetorium. He passed tents and some hastily erected barracks. He walked arrogantly as a younger Tribune, but the real power radiated from the expensive gear. Men nodded at him, some distastefully, others with respect, but none could miss him. ‘Is he going to the damned praetorium?’ Tudrus asked, bewildered. ‘We cannot follow him there.’
‘I will expose him if he is. He is an enemy to Drusus,’ I whispered as we dodged tents and ropes and legionnaires sharpening weapons and adjusting kit. Cornix ambled along. Then a man crossed before him, coming from the tents and bumped into him. I half drew my blade, but the man apologized to him and walked away.
Cornix stopped.
Then he turned to follow the man between the tents. He went quickly, dodging through men and even beasts being prepared, and I nearly lost sight of him. ‘Come,’ I hissed at them and went on. My enemy was easy to spot, thankfully, and soon we picked up his trail. He made his way forward resolutely and aimed for a rough building where a shadowy figure had just disappeared. He followed the man inside.
Tudrus snorted. ‘Why would they build something that permanent in a camp like this? Waste of time.’
‘Wait.’ I looked around and crouched in the shadows near the building. I saw two pairs of legs on the side and went forward to the corner. I peeked around it. There were men working on bellows, arguing over some past love affair. I came back and smiled at my friends. ‘It’s a bathhouse.’
‘Bath?’ Tudrus asked suspiciously. ‘Some Roman torture method?’
‘They put you in a cold bath, then scalding hot, and someone beats your back so that you groan and shriek,’ I told him conspiratorially. ‘They always build one if they plan to stay for a longer time. It’s as important as the latrine.’
‘I don’t get it,’ Tudrus said.
‘We wait a moment,’ I told them.
‘Why? We can wait inside for anyone coming to meet him. If he is not there already. He did follow that one man, no?’ Brimwulf hissed from the side.
‘It’s best Cornix is nude,’ I said with a grin. ‘Will make him less likely to resort to violence when we beat him blue.’
‘What makes you think he would go to a bath?’ Tudrus asked.
‘He is Roman. We bathe. They do it in hot water.’ I grinned and leaned on the wall. ‘He won’t be able to resist it.’
‘Grows them lazy,’ Brimwulf agreed. ‘I will go around.’
‘Do so,’ I told him. We squatted on the side of the building for a time until Tudrus began to pull at his braid. I stared at him, and he nodded. We stood up and walked to the door. A man with a pug nose poked his face out of the door. ‘Private meeting. Go away.’
&
nbsp; ‘Bohscyld,’ I stated, and the rock-like man reached out, pulled the man out of the building so hard a part of the door came with him and tossed him into the dark. We walked in.
In the tub, there was Cornix.
He had been leaning his head on a stone bench as he lay in the tub and his hand was a pugio. His cold, mad eyes grew very large as he regarded us entering the room. I wanted to murder him then and there for Fulcher, but before him, in the same tub sat another man. He stiffened. And did not turn. He looked familiar, and I walked around the tub. I saw his face rise from his chest, and his long, blond hair was wet. His eyes were huge and scared, and I nearly dropped Nightbright.
It was Vannius.
‘Hraban!’ he breathed. ‘Look! I can explain!’
The Vangione, the third wastrel brother and son of Vago. He was an ally of Maroboodus, yet a greedy one, and I had enticed him once to let me burn Father’s hall by telling him his brother Hunfried, the king of the Vangiones was our prisoner, leaving him the king apparent. His face went white as a Roman sheet as he regarded the men stalking to sight around him. My friends were Quadi. Vannius had helped Father take over their tribe, leaving my friends vagabonds and exiles. Tudrus saw him. Bohscyld saw him.
And they forgot our mission.
For that boy was partly to blame for the downfall of the Quadi.
They roared like animals and tore the poor fool out of the tub. In fact, the tub broke apart as they ripped through it to rip the man apart, and that gave Cornix his opening. He rolled free of the tumultuous fight on the floor, if you can call it a fight, for Tudrus was pummeling the fool in the face, Bohscyld was tearing at his leg, which snapped and Vannius howled. Cornix, however, threw his whole weight against the far wall, falling through it in a heap of planks and flesh, taking the two Legionnaires working on the bellows down with him. They cursed and grappled, and I jumped through the hole.
Outside, I saw Brimwulf slinking to the shadows.
Then I saw a dozen pila pointed my way as a dozen Legionnaires faced me. The man who had been guarding the door was hunkered behind them, holding his lacerated face. Behind me, men thudded through the door as well, and I could hear Tudrus cursing profusely at the men. Vannius was hollering and still alive. Men ran from the shadows, more Legionnaires, spears and swords in hand. A bare headed centurion with a sword stalked forth and kicked one of the sprawling Legionnaires out of the way. He stared at Cornix resentfully, bile in his throat. ‘Your doing, dog?’
Cornix rose up, hairy and strong like an animal. ‘I am Tribune Gaius Ahenobarbus. A special envoy from Rome. My brother is Paellus Ahenobarbus, commanding Castrum Flamma. I am here seeking the legate—’
‘Lies! He is a traitor!’ I yelled.
The centurion snapped his fingers at my fuming face and spied the tribune’s gear inside. He raised his eyebrow at Cornix. ‘You can, of course, prove this?’
‘Yes, I have the orders in there,’ Cornix said with a grin. ‘This bastard tried to rob me. They hurt that poor soul I was sharing the bath with. I suggest you imprison him.’
‘I demand to speak to Nero Claudius Drusus,’ I gasped, clenching Nightbright. ‘This man is in league with Armin, Maroboodus, and Segestes and was here plotting with the Vangione Vannius there.’
Cornix smiled inanely, indicating his nude condition. ‘Centurion. Dear man. I am a Tribune. He is filth. Let us deal with this in the morning. Put that animal in the jail for the night, and we shall confront the Consul first thing in the morning. That is reasonable, no? He is preparing for battle and has little time for drunks and murderers. ’
The centurion hesitated, then he pointed his finger at me and shrugged. ‘Take that one and make sure he is guarded and pacified until the battle is done. Then we will deal with him. Or rather; see he is given proper army justice.’ I did not give Cornix satisfaction of hearing me scream and kept quiet. ‘The rest,’ he grinned and nodded at me. ‘Put them with the Thracian unit and prepare them for battle.’
I cursed but knew it made no difference to fight them there. I shook my head at Tudrus, who was flexing his fists, but he nodded at me. My eyes caught a shadow in the dark as Brimwulf disappeared. Then, before the Legionnaires herded me away, I saw Vannius getting carried out of the ruined bath house and Cornix rifling his gear. He smiled at me with his humorless eyes and picked up Wolf’s Bane. He showed it to me, and I turned away, rage making my strides jerky. They pushed me on, and I shook my head, breathing hard. Fulcher. I would not forget him. I rubbed my head and tried to think about Armin and Maroboodus. Father was sending Vannius a message. Why? And why was Vannius in the camp? He had contemplated on going home to Vangiones to challenge nobles for the Vangione kingship while his brother was Burlein’s prisoner. Then, Hunfried had been Father’s prisoner.
And now Hunfried was the king of the Vangiones.
He was with the army, was he not? The Vangione auxilia was marching along with Rome.
And that meant Vannius was with Hunfried for Father. And that meant Hunfried was also with Maroboodus?
No.
Yes, I thought.
Armin’s war was not Armin’s at all. All he hoped was to come on top, see Drusus killed, escape, and then challenge Segestes. This was all Father’s plan. He had a thousand men, the best and most agile. He would try to reach his goal, no matter the opposition. He had had Segestes with Drusus, but he also had Hunfried and had not left anything to chance. Perhaps Segestes had never had a part in Father’s plans at all? And his goal was to kill Drusus. For his future kingdom, for his rewards. For the son, he had in Rome? Yes, for that as well, I spat. The guards looked at each other, and I glanced at them. The young one carrying my weapons looked sheepish as my eyes took in the weapons, but the older ones just tightened their grip on the pila and shields. Finally, we reached a silent part of the camp, near the eastern walls. They whispered to an optio who looked thin and sick, and he nodded back. ‘Optio. I ...’ I began, but he refused to listen.
‘The Tribune said you are one with wild stories. Fever? Broke a bathhouse and tried to rape the Tribune?’
‘What? No!’ I yelled and then calmed myself with a struggle. ‘Whatever. I need you to take a word to the Consul.’
He shook his head and laughed. ‘Take a word to the Consul? What will I tell him? That a trout is good eating? That you know how to sing? What possible interest would he have to you and anything you might say? You will stay and send no words anywhere. Into the tent with you, and don’t make us shackle you to the tent post.’ I dodged to the tent and begged Agetan was guarding Cassia. I begged and prayed and hoped Cornix stayed far from her.
Drusus was going to battle.
And there was an enemy in his army. Not Segestes, but Hunfried.
CHAPTER 32
I waited in the tent. Outside, the optio had left with his century, leaving my gear with a guard, an eight man contubernium and a freckle-faced immunes in charge. He was strict enough, for he had pushed my face back inside as I tried to see what the fuss was about. I seethed, walking back and forward in the tent, kicking at bedrolls. Outside, I heard men march from the camp. Drusus was putting his men into position when it was still dark, sending more and more exploratores everywhere around the enemy, making final plans. He had much to prove, and the fool did not understand the enemy was in his ranks. I tried to lift the tent’s far side to see how good my chances would be to dash to the sea of tents, but a burly foot nearly slapped down on my face. It was the immunes. I cursed him impolitely and seethed, and he thanked me by placing two guards in the tent itself. The men also had shackles with them and left them prominently in sight.
The rest of the night passed, and I contemplated on my options.
There were none.
I would have to fight the men, but no matter the hour, the legionnaires stood there, not tired in the least, their eyes were not leaving me. I wondered if they were asleep on their feet, but when I tried to move around, their eyes followed me.
The dawn broke, th
e rays of the sun breaking the misty vapors of the night, the valley filling with fresh winds. I could smell smoke as the wind buffeted the tents, and the camp outside was strangely silent, save for a distant tramp of feet and wild whinnying of horses. Then, the tubicens rang the trumpets, and I knew the Army was deploying for battle.
And so I charged.
I ran like a wraith in between the two men, rolling to avoid their grasp and burst through the tent flap. On the left, far, I thought I saw the two Aquila of the legions march after the men from the praetorium where they were kept, following the last of the army.
There were two guards outside the tent.
And they were as alert as the two running after me.
I flew back to the tent and found myself staring into the eyes of the immunes. His young face was grave, and he was fondling the shackles. ‘They say you are a famous man. That you are friends to the Consul? Perhaps that is so, but even friends to consuls have to obey the military laws, and you are putting me in a damned hard position. You have to calm down. He will see you after the battle. I am sorry you will miss it. We are. Most of us are.’
I rubbed my lobes. ‘You do not understand. There is something afoot! I would not make such claims just to escape some punishment.’
He shook his head, nervously licking his lips. ‘I cannot do anything. I am here with orders. What the fuck do you think I should do? Let my prisoner go, and I’ll then tell the high and mighty in my charge had a charming voice and was surely not up to anything evil? By Juppiter and Cronos! Yes! And then you slit the Consul’s gut and people begin to wonder how it is possible I forgot to guard you.’
I pushed my finger on his chest, and he went silent. ‘Or, you might be asked why you did not tell the Consul his army is about to be betrayed. They might think that is a problem, as well,’ I spat, frustrated.
He licked his lips uncertainly but shook his head. ‘I am just doing my job. I would lie down if I were you and listen to the music of the trumpets, the cornu, and the buccina as they attack.’
The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3) Page 39
