Everyone looked at me with anticipation.
“If you are talking about the mewling shit that was with your man Marcus in Rome, he stumbled into my blade,” I said simply. “Can’t blame me for that, can you?”
He frowned. He had expected a simple case of paying and ending the feud, not insults.
The men rattled their spears to their shields, an ominous sound, their eyes gleaming as they watched me, and most were not happy with my bravado.
As for Maroboodus, he kept staring at me. He had wondered about the reason behind the death of Helmut. It gnawed on him and I interrupted his thoughts. “Let’s get this over with, Father. The cross-eyed dog lover that died doesn’t merit more of my time. Or yours.”
The three brothers of Helmut looked shocked. They too, had expected something else.
“I’m talking about my champion, whom you murdered,” he snarled. “Didn’t give him so much as a chance, did you?”
“To be honest,” I said, “your man looked like he would shit himself in a fight. Couldn’t risk it.”
The three brothers took a staggering step forward. All had a feral look on their face that suggested they would like to shit in my skull. Two had hands on the hilts of their swords, one carried a silver studded, beautiful cudgel loosely.
“This is my hall, Hraban, not a butcher’s pit. Shut your mouth,” Maroboodus said. “Marcus told me you killed the man in cold blood.”
Marcus twitched. “He did.”
“Helmut was a coward,” I told them. “He was terrified of the fight that was coming.”
“Lies!” slurred one of the three men. They were all swaying on their feet. “Bloody lies! I want—”
“His head,” Maroboodus said. “But no.” Everyone went silent. “I shall not smear this hall by watching him fight. I’ve seen it before, and it is boring. It is a wergild that will settle this, and he shall pay it.” He placed a hand on his sword’s hilt.
One of the three, a man with rheumy, red eyes stepped forward. “He is your son. And you, King—”
Maroboodus got up and roared. “I have tried to kill him myself! Are you saying I am letting him go for our blood? He shall pay, as our laws decree.”
The three went white of face. Men were looking down, or past their king. Silence reigned, and only the crackle of fire disturbed the silence.
Finally, the rheumy-eyed man stepped forward. “No, King. We … accept.”
“Ten aurei,” Maroboodus said with an evil glare at me. “Ten Roman aurei, Hraban. A horde of treasure, to sate my men’s desire for vengeance.”
I nodded. “I hear you.”
He sensed trouble. “Well?”
“Well what, Father?” I asked him innocently. “Speak up. This helmet …”
He pointed a quivering finger at me. “I too have a feud against you,” he roared. “And have not yet decided if I will pursue that feud, but a king is above tussling in shit. I’ll not grapple a pig in mud, Hraban. Just remember, boy, that I have beaten you before, and didn’t I give you that scar?”
Everyone looked at my face, half hidden by my helmet.
“I think so, but,” I answered with a grin, “I gave you a limp. Took your finest men, sent them to Helheim. Nihta died like a pig, Father, in his own shit. I split him in half like a turnip.”
Unwise, and stupid, I thought, and almost heard Cassia cursing in my ear, all the way from our house.
Maroboodus smiled with a white face. “Ten aurei. And you kneel before them, as you pay.”
I nodded, and grasped my pouch. I pulled out a sestertius, tarnished and chipped. I lifted it up, spat on it, and tossed it at the Hermanduri. “Your little brother, wasn’t he? Yes, I see it. Loved him well, didn’t you? He was not worth more than that coin. Less. He was worth the spit on it. He smelled like onions, and like a coward, and so do you. He was a woman. Come, crawl to the coin, pigs, and I’ll show you how I raped him with my sword.”
I mocked them with thrusting hips.
At that, they all moved, drawing swords, the cudgel high.
“Halt!” Maroboodus roared. “Wait!”
None stopped, nor waited.
I ripped out Nightbright and stepped forward. The seated warlords surged up, taking steps back, some of them making bets as fast as they could. The three Hermanduri roared, and two crashed into each other and one of my opponents, drunk out of his mind, stumbled and fell on his face, sword clattering. Maroboodus’s eyes were huge with shock, and Gunhild was holding a hand before her mouth. The boy was grinning with excitement.
The other two came on, both roared like angered bulls and swung at me.
I rolled on the ground. Their scrambling feet struck me painfully, they hollered and both fell over me. One’s knee slammed into my helmet heavily, and I grabbed that flailing leg, and climbed on his back, stabbing at his crotch, pushing and pulling the blade into and out of his flesh. He was screaming, his bloodshot eyes regarding me with pain. Those eyes were full of prayers for me to let go, but I didn’t. His cudgel rolled off as he tried to cover his arse, and he lost a finger as I stabbed at that arse again. I saw his brother staring at us on all fours. He watched me butcher his brother’s arse, until he shrieked with rage and got to his knees. He swung his sword, but I retreated with Nightbright dripping blood, and his sword slammed into his brother’s leg, shattering muscle and bone.
He loped over the corpse, and I got to my feet, danced under his sword, grasped his hair and whirled around, pulling him along. He fell on his back. The first brother who had crashed to the ground before reaching me was vomiting, but trying to get up, his sword heavy in his hand. His eyes were trying to focus.
I grinned at Maroboodus. “See, Father, how one rolls in mud with a pig! Bloody bad fighters, these men of yours” I pushed Nightbright into the belly of the man below me, and let go of his hair, as he thrashed with stabbing, red pain.
The last brother yelled slurring insults, staggered at me, and smashed down the sword.
I caught his wrist midair, and Nightbright stabbed into his throat, severing half his beard, and dyeing the rest red.
He was there before me, trying to speak, and I twisted the blade, and let go of him, and sent him to Helheim. I stood between the dying men, and wiped the blood off my cheek guard.
The men were staring at me like they would a wood spirit. All held hands on their weapons, and if the brothers had had any men in the hall who owed them allegiance and should avenge them, those men changed such oaths fast.
I spat, put away Nightbright, and pulled off my helmet.
“You have grown,” Maroboodus said sternly. “And still, as I said, it was boring. Nobody is happy, Hraban. At least finish it.”
Eyes turned to a struggling man.
The man I had mauled in the rear was alive and crawling from me. “You bastard,” he hissed with tears dropping down his beard. “You shit. I’ll survive—”
I laughed, and stepped over a man. I lifted my fine Athenian helmet high, and smashed the man’s head with it so brutally, everyone could see his skull had flattened.
I got up, and eyed Maroboodus. “If someone has an issue, let them find me. I shall settle in, Father. I will look forward to our family reunions in the months and years to come.”
Maroboodus eyed the corpses in his home, and flinched as he eyed me. “I see you are hoping I send you away, eh? Ill news, evil Raven, and here you are, again in the nest.”
“The Bear is as much to be blamed for it,” I reminded him. “He has a habit of eating his cubs.”
I gazed briefly at Gunhild, and when I turned to go, I saw Marcus smiling as he looked at the bodies on the ground.
I had no allies in Goldhelm, save for my friends, and wife, but I had Marcus, who was more a hostage than my ally. I held his secrets, and he was my key, and I intended to use him. While making it clear to the men in that hall I was not to be fucked with, and that I didn’t fear my father, I had set Marcus in debt to me.
Well, no. I had other allies
in the hall. My friends. And one more.
As I left, I let my eyes sneak over The Gold Wolf, whom Gernot had hired not only to bring my family to my father, but to keep an eye on Cassia, and to wait patiently. He had been there for years, growing slightly fat and yet not unvigilant, and as the Yellow Band had stayed in the trading post by the River Summer’s Tears all that time, they knew the ways of the land.
Tudrus had seen them around, of course.
He knew I had a plan.
The Gold Wolf had done a supreme job at dulling the men’s senses with poison. Such poison was easy to come by in the trade-town.
My eyes went over the young boy at Gunhild’s side, and then I pushed out of the hall. Wandal and Adalwulf followed me. Wandal turned me around, and looked deep into my eyes. “Will you ever tell me all of it? I know you, and you are not …” He went quiet, and waited.
Adalwulf gazed at me, and I answered. “I will. One day. All of it.”
He nodded. “I will stay with you, then. I yearn to see Cassia and Gervas.”
Adalwulf, glum, nodded. “I shall fetch my family and come visit as well. It wasn’t planned, but it seems we must stay a while. Hopefully, things will fall in place.”
I nodded at him. “Long years, Adalwulf, have passed. Let us enjoy this, and I promise you, things will go well for us.”
He leaned close to me. “Make sure never to risk us like this again.”
I nodded, and together, we walked to my house, and there, almost like old times, we feasted, as Agetan, Tudrus, and Euanthe joined us.
CHAPTER 29 (Goldhelm, 8th May, 8 A.D.)
The two years that passed were like drawing a breath after nearly drowning. Having flailed in the currents of treachery for so many long, bloody years, we all seemed to have reached a haven of small happiness. Outside the land, there was chaos and terrible war, and the looming Roman threat. Inside, despite my father, there was the near timeless joy I had dreamt of for so long. I saw the same serenity on the faces of Tudrus and Euanthe. They had a healthy, pretty daughter. I saw it on the faces of Adalwulf with Gisil, and perhaps even Wandal and Agetan found peace and life simple. Ulrich, a restless man, was soon embroiled in a few feuds, and knew all the best people for feasts and gambling, so he too was happy. We woke up late, we ate well, and spent our time in peace. I hunted, under guard of course, I rode the land with Cassia, and saw few outsiders. We got our news from Cassia, who still used her skills in healing to make people hale, when possible. She learnt many things from her clients.
And my father? He had sired a daughter. Not a boy, but a daughter.
And Gunhild was pregnant again.
It was an odd, unexpected, and welcome time of peace and joy, and Nightbright was at rest. My Athenian helmet gathered dust on a shelf, and my shield lost the coating of paint. The land was not Germania. The trees and woods were not as deep and wild as they were in the North. It was more civilized, and a bit like a step away from Germania, and a step away from Rome, and it suited people who knew both worlds. The Boii that still lived on the hill and surrounding areas clearly didn’t mix with their new masters. They dressed like Celts, they spoke their language, and rarely smiled as they contemplated their fate.
And yet, it was clear Maroboodus was making them wealthy as well.
They were not kept as slaves, but were efficient farmers, occasional warriors, and great artisans, and Maroboodus knew well enough to treat them well to gain their support, if not love. Grudgingly, I had to admit my father made a good king. Old at over fifty, he looked as young as forty, and his powerful will could often be witnessed in law speaking. Punishing thieves or wrongdoers, no matter how high the man, and low the victim, he was fair and honest. Men had rights, but he didn’t spare even his warlords should they cross him. His personal guard, two thousand strong, was spread in the major towns across the land, and with him there were two hundred in the summit of the Amber Hall itself.
It was a land one could be happy in.
The only smear on my happiness was the warlord set to guard Cassia. The man’s eyes were always on her, and his face hid feelings I found … disturbing. His dismay at my appearance was clear. He and his men kept their distance, but those eyes had watched Cassia for a long while, and bitterness gnawed at the man. Sasas he was called, a silver-haired, thin-faced man with a beautiful, golden-hilted sword, much like Father’s. A raven was engraved on the hilt, and it had been Father’s gift to the famous warrior. He was a Sarmatian, from the East.
We escaped him and his men into our hall.
There, he didn’t enter.
There Cassia and I spent many nights just talking to each other, and wondering at Gervas, who seemed to grow up as we watched. Cassia had developed a habit of occasional silence, which lasted for long spells of time, and she was tense, but with patience on my part, she came back smiling, slowly but surely.
That bright summer day the chariot of Sunna chased most shadows into hidden holes. It was so bright outside, so warm, the air itself seemed to shimmer. We were riding for the hall of Maroboodus, and I had Gervas sitting before me.
Sasas, with two of his men, followed.
Gervas was mimicking the birds, and for some reason, that whistling made me miss Lif. Oddly, lately, I had been thinking of her fate. A man is rarely happy with what he has. She, the fateful child was somewhere learning from her aunt, old by now. What her fate would be, I didn’t know. It bothered me.
But Gervas was not fateful, and I loved him with a foolish grin on my face.
Cassia was riding near me, and while Nightbright and the chainmail I habitually carried made Gervas uncomfortable, she was happy to have me armed and armored.
Sasas whistled as well, though Gervas didn’t grin back at him. He sensed there was an issue between us. “How good is he?” I asked her.
“Sasas,” she muttered. “He is very good. Perhaps better than you.”
I gave her a sour look, and she returned a tired smile.
“But you succeeded?” I asked her. “How?”
She hesitated and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Gervas, as he always did when we quarreled, which wasn’t often, distracted me immediately, and deviously changed the topic. “You going to go hunting for boars, Father?” he asked as he touched the hilt of Nightbright. The hilt was sticking to his back. “Seems you can kill one with this. You are that fast, they say.”
“I’m always ready for a boar or two, love, and fast enough for ten,” I told him, and tickled him, and Cassia rolled her eyes.
We stopped before the hall of Maroboodus, the gigantic round-shaped dome high above other buildings. Gervas began wiggling as we approached it, as he did every day.
I kept ahold of him, as I always did.
Cassia sighed. “I know, Hraban,” she said. “I know. I worry too.”
“Let me go to Grandfather!” Gervas yelled, and I tickled him before letting him down. He shrieked, hit the ground running, and ran off. He charged past men exiting the hall, and then I heard, to my great shock, as I did every day, Maroboodus laughing, my son answering his greeting, and the son of Gunhild, Cenric yelling with glee. There were dogs barking as the boys sat to eat with my father. I had often peeked inside, and they always had food together, with Cenric sitting a bit further from Gervas and Maroboodus. Thus, they met every day. Maroboodus, Gervas, and the outsider, Cenric.
This happened every day, when Maroboodus was not out on kingly business.
After the small feast, the boys played, and then Maroboodus himself taught the boys the spear. He even had taught my son to write and read Latin. Cassia had taught him her Celtic language as well. Maroboodus was keen on teaching them old stories from the North, stories I had learnt from my grandfather Hulderic, and tales of the Greeks, and of Rome.
Cassia shook her head as I sat there, unmoving, listening, and rode past me. I heard Sasas riding forward and finally I followed her, as always fretting it would be the last time I saw Gervas. So far, Cassia ha
d always picked him up, and Marcus had sometimes brought him back early, when Maroboodus had things to do. Like in Rome, midday was the time he sat and met with his people and visitors. He was busy as a bee at that time, with long lines of clients asking for favors, and merchants bringing gifts. Many foreigners were hoping to enter the trade for amber that was brought all the way from Mare Gothonia. The tears of Freya, they were called, and made him fabulously rich, and busy.
“I don’t like it,” I said, and gave Sasas a quick look. The man’s fierce eyes were bored on Cassia. “Father and I will never be friends. Not ever.”
“He hates you,” she said simply. “He hates you because you stand up to him but he doesn’t hate your son, for some reason. In fact, he sees hope in him. I hated you for this plan, at first. Hostages? Such a long time, Hraban. A lifetime, for some. Years and years, it took, and when you asked me to come here, we had no idea how long it would take for you to come get me, or even if you would return to us. I was so lonely.” She shook her head, and then something made her sad, but she spoke on. “Gunhild is pregnant, but Frigg only knows if she will give him a son, and if she does?” She shrugged. “Children die like flies in our world. No, he likes Gervas. Cenric he usually ignores but he loves Gervas, for Gervas loves him.”
“Is she truly pregnant?”
“She is. Again.”
I grinned. “Perhaps when Gervas looks like me,” I said gleefully, “he will change his mind and will hate him as well. Or when Gervas tells him ‘no’ for the first time.”
“He says ‘no’ to him plenty,” she said acidly. “Of course, he does. Your father knows it is as it should be. Gervas is no dog, and your father is no beast. No, he only hates you.”
That sentence stung me like a dozen bees, and I felt betrayed, but of course, knowing she had seen him more than I had, she might have a point.
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