'Did you like being his whore?' Burlein rumbled. 'You helped him with my—'
'I did. I loved him, for a while, before I knew the truth of him,' I told him. 'Now, I only wish to go and—'
Burlein shook his head, interrupting me. He yelled at our enemies. 'What shall we do, Vangione? I have sent men to find your friends, rest of your marauding men, but here we are. Will you not fight him? Perhaps you two will skewer each other, and spare me the trouble?'
Hunfrid cursed Burlein softly, thinking hard. 'Turd spattered Marcomanni rat! Poor and thieving dogs. For every man you kill out there, we will enslave ten. We are no friends, it is true. But, today, we meant no evil towards you, we just want him. He … ' Hunfrid choked in anger, 'killed my father.'
'So, you are the King now,' Burlein rumbled. 'Should I bow?' A horn sounded somewhere far. Marcomanni had indeed begun the slaughter of the scattered Vangiones looking for me. Hunfrid did not enjoy the subtle mockery as he growled at his men to stay still, some who became skittish at the sound of the horn.
Hunfrid shook his head. 'Give him to me.'
'It is for you to choose, Burlein, with what to do with me,' I told the lord resolutely, seeing Fulcher nod at me encouragingly. I cursed the man and his faith. 'I have no love for my father, and I saw what he did to your men at the battle of the Matticati lands. I fought bravely there, you saw it.'
'It is true you fought well, Hraban, and it is not your prowess I have reservations about; it is your heart,' Burlein said calmly. 'You are not a good man.'
Hunfrid shook his axe at Burlein. 'Give him to us, give us the Oath Breaker. We know of him, and we know you have suffered much for him and his father. Give him to us, and you may dream of the things I shall do to him, for it will not be quick. Give him to me, and we shall leave and war another day!' Hunfrid screamed, mad as a bull, frustrated.
Burlein shook his head. 'If I wish him dead, I will do the deed myself, and I dare say, my imagination is at least as keen as yours. And shut your mouth. You sound like a lesser son of a greater man. Vangiones will be less wily and brave while you rule, so I shall let you go, fool.'
'If you do not give him to me,' Hunfrid continued, more composed by the reproof, 'I will lead an army of Vangiones on to your lands. It will burn, even if we are driven out eventually. You shall starve, and we will entertain ourselves with your women. It will all be gone anyway, soon, for I hear this one’s father does not love you. Give yourself some time, least of the three brothers, and buy us off this day.'
Burlein's face reddened as he watched his ragged band of men around him. Something was missing from them. Spirit, confidence? They had suffered terrible losses, despair, and my father had made them a sorrowful people. They doubted their prowess and their future. Once, Burlein's vast family had ruled the southern Marcomanni with ancient rights of blood. Now, few survived.
'What say you?' Hunfrid asked, grinning at his enemy, sensing their silent weakness and despair.
I ignored him, and stared at Hunfrid's horse, puzzled. It looked familiar. It could not be. Surely it could not. I choked, sputtered and then I laughed. Of course. It was! I turned to the blond man as I guided my horse forward. 'If I give you Hunfrid, they will find it hard to attack you. Keep him alive, a hostage. Take time, and rest your people, never fearing the dogs. Until you have recovered,' I said, smiling like the sun.
Burlein looked at me in wonder. 'He can just ride off. He will not fight. He threatens now when he does not have enough men here, but he will soon, and then they will come back, perhaps before the winter. Your father will help, but only after we have bled more.'
I laughed wildly and rode forward. 'Here, let me give him to you. Hunfrid, come here!' I made summoning gestures, like he was a hound, slapping my thighs. The dogs looked at me suspiciously.
'Is this the way you let him treat an enemy king?' Hunfrid sneered, utterly enraged. 'Very well, I—'
I yelled, 'Minas, here boy!' I whistled a certain, flippant tune. Minas, my grandfather's prime warhorse, one of the beasts they stole that night my family died, pricked up his ears to the familiar call and galloped forward, and the terrified, surprised Hunfrid was clinging in the saddle. His men tensed and stared in stupefied astonishment. Some rode forward instinctively, but none came close to us. Instead, the great black horse picked up speed, resisting all the enemy king's attempts at turning it, and Hunfrid did not have the sense of mind to jump down. Unsteadily, he just held on as the beast plunged for me. In an eye blink, the horse stood in front of me. My sword was on Hunfrid's throat. He was pale and shivering, surrounded by the Marcomanni, his bravado forgotten.
'Lord Burlein, I give to you Hunfrid, the King of the Vangiones. His father is in the sack.'
Fulcher grinned darkly at the shocked enemy king, and Burlein, for the first time after the death of his family, smiled and laughed merrily. Then he punched me out of the saddle, and his men gleefully bound both the King and me.
CHAPTER IV
Vangiones rode off reluctantly, and we were escorted to Grinrock.
Burlein was as silent as a stone as we rode forward calmly. When we dismounted, he had men take hold of me, and they escorted me to a simple, wattle- and mud-walled house near the middle of the town. A few burly guards were posted. Fulcher spoke briefly with Burlein, and then pushed me inside the sparsely furnished main hall and untied my hands deftly, looking down.
'So, what will he do?' I asked Fulcher.
He shrugged. 'He says he does not know. But, you got a better house than Hunfrid! He is a king, after all.'
'I don't feel like this plan of regaining my honor is going well, Fulcher, house or not,' I spat and cursed him, but slept in peace that day and night. I was tired to the bone, deciding I would not benefit from trying to escape in such a condition. Fulcher stayed with me, and infuriatingly, before I did fall asleep, he sang softly and sat by the gentle flames of the fire pit. The song was a mournful lament, and I dreamt of many faceless dead by a green meadow.
Next morning, Burlein rode up to the house. Fulcher got up, went out stiffly, and came back. He pointed a quivering finger at me, giving me a cold smile. I nodded, got out where Burlein stared at me, his face unreadable. He nodded at the stable of the house, and I understood. Soon I was taking Minas out of the stall, and then saddling him with Hunfrid's fabulous Roman saddle while stroking his fine coat of hair, and nodded gratefully to Burlein, who could have easily claimed the horse. In fact, he still could. At least the Vangiones had taken good care of the old beast, I thought, and I missed my grandfather Hulderic, the true owner of Minas, and not even his death could change that. Burlein sat on his horse, patiently and silently, and let me take my time. When ready, I mounted my horse, and he guided his next to mine and looked at the Rhenus flowing by, swirls of blue and green, reeds swaying as birds skimmed the surface.
'I never liked my brothers, you know this. You don't like yours,’ he said.
I nodded. 'I cut off Gernot's hand, you know.'
He looked surprised. 'Really? He has not been seen in the Hard Hill. Perhaps he died of blood loss. What did you do to Odo? I heard your father tried to give you to him. Then something happened, and everyone involved disappeared.'
'He got away. You know about the prophecy, of course. Bark, the vitka told you, no?' I asked him.
'Yes, he told me. He told us. He said you have to die for the world to survive. I nearly believed him.' He laughed in derision. 'Had the fool not wanted a personal revenge, you would be buried here now.'
'Yes, lord,' I told him. Bark had indeed wanted to slaughter me personally, reluctant for anyone to rob him of the satisfaction of seeing me die at his feet. I had killed his wife, the act that forever sullied my soul, though the priests and priestesses were hardly innocent babies, having sacrificed men and women, young and old. And no god had punished me for the deed.
Yet, I suffered nightmares of the night. Even if Maroboodus and Odo had manipulated me that night, the act was mine. I waved my hand vaguely around
the countryside. 'A druid explained many things to me, Shayla did. Worlds end, it is their nature, and in our Midgard, our world, men decide this fate, men of my family, of the old blood. If Odo is right, I will risk everything one day, and it is my wyrd to decide such things. I do not believe in it, but many do. Vago did. The world will have to trust me to do the right thing,' I said. 'Unless you wish to hang me.'
Burlein grinned. 'Ah, yes. What should I do with you?'
I sighed. 'I am not begging, Burlein. I am not interested in explaining myself. I will go and kill him, my father, or not. You decide.' I looked at Minas and remembered the good years with my grandfather. Burlein smirked at me and guided his horse away from Minas who lightly bit his steed in the ass. The horse nearly threw him, and we laughed briefly as he calmed his beast. Then he nodded to the north. I swallowed my suspicions as we rode on.
'Maroboodus? What is he, really?' he asked languidly, adjusting a light cloak around him, for wind was blowing with biting, sudden cold. Some crows were croaking loudly.
I spat in anger. 'A traitor.'
'Traitor, Oath Breaker?' he laughed.
I did not enjoy his mockery. 'He is that, and more. Catualda, Bero's son, helped him, but he is trying to become a leader of the Germani, while working for his masters in Rome.'
'Catualda, eh? I always distrusted that sweaty rat's skin,' Burlein said. 'Scheming and ugly. Those lips would have made excellent fish bait.'
I showed him the fine ring, golden and brilliant, sparkling and precious, carved with leaves and old symbols. 'Catualda wanted this. He wanted to rule men under Armin's banner. He left Father as well, you see.'
'Why would Armin the Cherusci,' Burlein drawled as his eyes flickered to the ring, 'care for the worm?'
'They are relatives; his mother was a Cherusci,' I said. 'One day, he will suffer.'
'Relatives, eh? We will all suffer one day, but let us speak of the more urgent matters now, Hraban,' Burlein told me, 'though you seem to know much I am interested in.' He was not much older than I was, but being the lord of the southern Marcomanni had grown him from a merry young drunkard into a serious, overly careful ruler. 'Over there,' Burlein nodded, and we rode to a light woods full of young oaks, hung with ornaments and bizarre symbols.
'There a vitka with a sharp dagger and a sturdy rope waiting there, Burlein?' I asked, half amused, half scared. He did not answer, so I continued. 'What are we doing here?'
Burlein grunted noncommittally, and we came to a pristine, silent clearing. It was almost a shame to disturb the peace of it, and I said nothing. Even Minas seemed subdued, for it was a place for the dead. There, a multitude of sad mounds, one after another, lay in a haphazard order, like a thousand anthills had suddenly sprung up. Some were pale green with grass, others dark and dirty, fresh. All held bones and ashes, and the few possessions the dead should take with them. Few were larger than the others, likely holding remains of a horse and some finer treasure.
Burlein's voice sounded hollow. 'Here lies my whole family. Most of the people I knew and grew up with. Merry uncles, drunkard cousins, great warriors, men, and fathers. We were happy, free as the wind and prosperous enough. Yes, Isfried and Melheim were ever worried about our fame, and our place under Balderich. They had ambition, but a man should have some, at least. When your father ousted Bero with Isfried's help, he failed. He trusted the wrong man. He should have helped Bero and trusted Gunhild; Balderich's last daughter would be married to us after all. There was no reason to believe Maroboodus would keep his promises.'
I nodded, and wondered how I had forgotten Balderich, the great former ruler of the Marcomanni, blood of Aristovistus, and my other grandfather. I had loved him, especially after I found out Father had framed him for the deaths of Mother and Hulderic. Balderich had disappeared when Isfried had been lured to the trap. Perhaps I would find him as well, if I managed to free myself. Then again, I suddenly thought, Woden whispering to my ear, perhaps he was not far, as Father had claimed. Perhaps he was with Maroboodus. Perhaps dead, perhaps alive. I would find out. ‘None,’ I said.
Burlein continued, 'And the lesser nobles. They trusted us. They were our men, believing in us to make the right choices. We made none.' I nodded but said nothing. 'There is the suspicious Isfried, and rapist Melheim, buried after they gave the corpses back. I wanted them dead, quite often, but they were family. So, I buried them with honor. We used to play together as children, wildly, and we had many good times, before they grew up into beasts. There is my favorite uncle; there, my cousin. The whole line of my family.' He clapped his large hands, and the echoing sound bounced eerily off the trees. The crows went quiet. 'Everything we were, lies here. Except for me. Hunfrid called me the least of the brothers. He is right. What am I to do? I hear your words, and see what you do. You were sent away in shame to die, and come back with Vago's head, never heeding danger. Where do you find the will to crawl through Hel to get what is yours?' he said, miserably. 'I am no Isfried, Hraban. I am the death of my people. I only know how to sever weak necks. Your father’s is strong and thick.'
I turned Minas towards him, not sure what to tell him. 'As you said, Isfried made mistakes as well. I suppose ruling people is harder than severing necks.'
'I feel stuck, constricted…,' he said with a ragged breath. 'I long to be the man who drinks himself senseless, and lets someone else carry the burden.'
I grinned at his distraught face. 'Did not Isfried ever drink himself senseless?'
'He did, but—'
I laughed. 'I think, Lord Burlein, that you need to do what I have done. Let go of the fears, and make decisions. And bury your sorrows in sour ale, trusting men like … well, Fulcher. Build your lands anew, my lord, and grow your family. One day, your sons and grandsons will walk this place, pointing out your mound in awe. Perhaps they will say that there is the man who saved your family.' I stopped. 'Or, they might come and piss on the mound, cursing you for their thralldom to Maroboodus, laughing at the fool who failed. Just try, or don't. If you don't, let someone else build something with the dregs of the southern Marcomanni.'
He stared at me incredulously and then laughed raucously, the horses neighing with surprise. He got down and walked to a large mound, and pissed on it, a long, pleasurable piss that ran down the hill in rivulets. He finished and tucked his manhood away and cursed the piss that soaked his foot as he stood there wondering. He nodded at me happily. 'So, you tell me to brave it all or wither away, but one must decide, and play it to the end. As if I didn't know this already?'
'As long as you try, it matters not what you knew or didn't,' I laughed with him. 'I have nothing to risk but my life, so who am I to advise you? But, I think you worry about the fight so much you do not think of what you might accomplish. Though I am not sure what you will try? Will you obey Father, and slowly grow stronger? Ride away with your people?'
He sighed. 'No, we will fight him. We will not go away, like beaten dogs, nor will we bow to him. Very well. If I die, we are gone, our people left with very few men of my old family, and we will be lesser slaves to Maroboodus. Your father would not mind this. Do you know that the remaining Quadi lords are mostly dead, the ones that did not join your father? Poison and blade, they say. Your friend, Nihta, is slowly making Maroboodus a king. The Quadi Sibratus is now forcing even Tudrus's brother, Tallo, out. That Vannius helps him. No, I shall not wait, nor flee. I would rule happy, proud people, not beaten ones.'
'I know very well what you mean,' I said as I patted Minas, who was struggling with my reins so he could eat grass. 'It is never too late for the living to try to change things. The dead can but weep. I told Fulcher just now I would regain my fame one day.'
'Your fame as Hulderic's grandson?' he smiled. 'You are so young; you had little fame.'
'I have slain men. I have Vago's head. I fought in Castrum Luppia. I have fame. I want men to praise me for it,' I told him with a growl.
'You sound like Isfried,' he chuckled, and silenced me with his hand.
/> He looked to the sky that was cast over. 'Winter is coming. They will celebrate all over our lands, at least some four days. Hard Hill is very prosperous now. They looted so many cows from the Matticati, took so many of the greatest of horses and mightiest of weapons, a veritable hoard of Roman ones, that restless men flock to your father. The people of the mountains trade iron there now, not with us. I wish to change this. So, to answer your question, I will have revenge in order to secure happiness for my family.'
I held my breath. 'I will help you change it. If I can.'
He nodded. 'Gods know if I should fillet you now, but I won't, and, yes, you can. I give my oath in front of high Woden, before my dead people, that I shall not rest until the land we have lived on is made new again. I will find a wife, be happy, our people prosperous. He will pay for what he did to us in the Matticati lands, and what he did to Isfried.'
'I give my oath to help you, but I doubt you would trust that,' I said bitterly. He shrugged and climbed back on his horse, and we sat in silence for a while, mulling it over.
He then glanced at me and gave me a small smile. 'A man came to see me, few days past. He was looking for you. His name was Ansbor.'
My heart raced with unfathomable joy, and I nearly grabbed him to hug him, but he raised his finger in an unsubtle warning. 'He came here? Was he a fat man? Grumpy?'
He laughed at my happiness. 'Well, it is cheerful, this graveyard today. I have come here daily, and always left the place with tears, but not so today. No, this man was not fat, but he looked like he had suffered a lot lately. Perhaps he had once been corpulent, gods know. As I said, he was looking for you, had been looking for you in all the directions of the sun. He said he had been to see the Quadi already. I gave him no hope, but I respected him for daring to come to me. Your enemy. This is possibly why I did not slit open your throat yesterday, for filth to have such loyal friends with such high praises of his qualities, means the man might not be as evil as it is said. After all, they still call me a drunkard, and I have not drunk in a while.'
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 6
