Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2)

by Alaric Longward

  'Ah, the prisoner is exhausted after giving me a chase and a horse. He is resting for now. Burlein will send men here to bear the great news,' I told him with a smile, and then we both tired of the game. 'Hunfrid might die, lord, of this exhaustion. Then you would be hovering near the throne of the Vangiones. Surely, with the vast experience in warfare you have lately received and the intricate lessons in betrayal and diplomacy, this situation might be something of an opportunity for you.'

  He nodded stoutly. 'Lands in the future, as compared to lands now? After my father dies? It is tempting, Hraban.'

  'Oh, yes,' I chuckled. 'Vago…'

  Vannius was shaking his head. 'I loved Koun. Much more than I love my father and brothers. And sister, of course. Did you see her there? In Burbetomagus? You know they wanted you dead. For that prophecy thing.'

  I took a deep breath. 'I liked her, very much indeed.'

  His eyes took on a confused look as he examined my face. 'Liked?'

  'She grew weary of life, Vannius. We cared for each other, as she cared for my wounds. She would have died had I died, and you know what your father did to her,' I told him grimly, begging Woden he would believe me. His hand was on the dagger, his knucklebones white.

  'And you say you did not kill her either?' he hissed.

  'This, I swear, Vannius,' I told him, opening my hands in front of me as a sign of honesty. 'We shared love, and I shall weep for her for years to come.' In that, I did not lie. She had been wise beyond time, as beautiful as the moon, and utterly miserable, and our time together in my imprisonment had been gentle, if doomed to end.

  He looked away, bile in his throat. 'Vago. My father. He was unkind to her, all her life.'

  'We need not discuss it anymore, Vannius,' I said calmly.

  'I will see him one day, my father, and have words with him,' he said, with words devoid of love, and I smiled and nodded. Sooner than he thought, if he did not leave the hall. I was about to tell him Vago was dead, but felt brief anger as I gazed at him. He had caused many deaths amongst honorable men I loved.

  'Evidently, you did not love Tudrus and his family? The man who treated you like a son,' I said with reproof, even if I should have just gotten rid of him by telling him he was an orphan. 'What happened to them? Did they lose anyone for your betrayal? You were trying to trap him, remember, and then slay him. Right here, even.'

  He shrugged, taking a deep breath. 'Yes, and you fooled me to give you the means to help him. I liked him, curiously better than most men.'

  'He is that, likable,' I snickered. 'His sons?'

  'All survived the turmoil when Sibratus overran his dominion. Some of his warriors and villages fell, but he led most north, to the Luppia valley area, past the Matticati. He joined the Sigambri, I think, and likely fights Romans now, the poor bastard. I was sorry for it, Hraban. Tudrus was in the way, and man must make choices. You know this better than any. He wanted to stay independent; Maroboodus needed the Quadi to join the Marcomanni. Now, they are sad, divided people.' He skimmed his gaze over his men lounging in the room with uncertainty. 'Sibratus is the strongest lord there. Tallo is still independent from Maroboodus near the Chatti Hills. His half of the Quadi fight the savage Hermanduri and roving bands of Chatti, both, and they are doomed. I became famous when Hengsti died. There is a song about my deeds,' he purred.

  'How much did it cost you?' I snickered. 'One silver per word?'

  'Bastard,' he said, pushing me with a grin, and I liked him again, despite the past. 'So give me a way out of this, and a way to become even more powerful.'

  'It is possible for Hunfrid to die in his captivity, it is indeed. There are diseases, food poisoning.'

  'Murder?' he grinned.

  'Such things do happen, Woden forbid,' I confirmed, peering over at Nihta, who was now staring at us. I did not have much time. Outside, I could hear many horses neighing far in the dark. Dogs were barking, nervous.

  I nodded. 'As for you, I think the Quadi might benefit from not being present in Hard Hill this night.'

  His eyes popped open. 'Truly? They are bringing news from Burlein this very night?' he asked sarcastically. 'And spears?'

  'Truly. Also, I hear old Lord Balderich has been seen in the docks. Another rumor has it that he was seen riding east, for his old life. Not an hour ago.'

  He glanced at me in surprise. 'I see. The old goat escaped from his cage, scampered behind the huge beast of Leuthard, strangled him with his old, gnarled hands, and slew all the men in the tower, eh? Apparently, he did not take Leuthard's armor, though?' He tugged at the cold metal peeking under my tunic. He ticked his fingernail on the bronze ornament at the chest beneath the tunic. 'So, which way should I take my Quadi? If I agree.'

  I shrugged. 'I feel that riding for east would be prudent. You should not come back before tomorrow morning, or preferably, afternoon.' I looked deep into his eyes. 'You might be one of the most powerful men in the Suebi nations, able to choose your own way, perhaps topple Sibratus and Tallo and lead the Quadi? Young enough to do what you will. Or, go home, and take advantage of the chaos in the land.'

  'That would pit us against each other, Hraban?' he said prudently. 'Perhaps both of those choices would do so.'

  'They might. I know not yet what I shall do, if I succeed here this night,' I told him honestly. 'Why worry about it? All I want is my fame back. And, some other things, of course. Tell Maroboodus that Balderich has been seen, and volunteer to take after him.'

  'Of course,' he said, and drank the mead and wiped the juices off his weak beard. 'Yes, I see that. I like you, Hraban. But, I still have a third choice. I can wait for what Maroboodus has promised, and also wait until Vago is dead. I doubt you will ever let Hunfrid go, anyway. I cannot go home and suffer my father, nor challenge him. Perhaps I should wait? Maroboodus!' he yelled, and I cursed.

  My father's war-like face turned to stone as he gazed for the voice that hailed him. His beard was full and red, braided in gold and ale, his red hair unruly and long, golden torc shining on his armored chest. He was lean of waist, broad of shoulders, and powerful to behold, his face as merciless as the approaching winter. The man had claimed to love me. Now I saw he was incapable of loving, or if he was, it was not possible in the land so full of spears, and with his plans with Rome standing in the way. Here, he would never rest and lay down his guard.

  I cursed Vannius softly and pulled him to me. He nearly pulled his dagger, but I grabbed the hand, saw Gunhild clasping a hand on her face, and I nodded at her quickly. She nodded back, as I hissed in his ear. 'Your father is dead. You are the king now.' Gunhild rushed out of the room, for Vannius had robbed us the time to prepare.

  Vannius's face betrayed his surprise and bewilderment. Maroboodus got up and leaned over the table, banging on it and pointing a powerful, ring laden finger at me. 'Who is that man?' he growled, his voice a bit drunk. 'A man who is angry, while others revel? A man you do not trust, loyal Vannius?' Vannius looked at the ground, grabbed a vacant horn sloshing with ale, and seemed to mull over his choices. I cursed him. I had wanted Gunhild and Ishild out of the hall, before what was about to happen. 'Well?' demanded my father slowly, and I was afraid Nihta would recognize me too early.

  Vannius clapped his hand on my shoulder. 'I know not this man, though his voice is familiar. This is but a rider, my lord. He tells wild tales, and, yes, I got riled at his claims!' Vannius was covering his tracks, in case things did not work out. But, at least he was trying to grasp the Vangione throne now. He continued. 'He spins a strange story. A ghost story, or one made up by a drunken imagination. He says Balderich was seen seeking a passage across the river just now in the docks, near Euric's smithy. Would you believe that?' He stopped and looked at me. 'Was it Euric? Yes? Smithy? He said he looked tired and dead. He claims others say he was seen riding east. Surely, the great Balderich is lost, still? In the deep Matticati hills? Perhaps dead?'

  Oh, Vannius knew about Balderich, and Maroboodus knew he knew, and his and Vannius's eyes met
as they were contemplating the meaning of my tidings. The Marcomanni did not know Maroboodus had hidden their highest noble away, a very subtle situation. Most lords of the various clans sat there, oldsters and some keener younger men, and not all loved my father.

  Maroboodus looked momentarily frozen, and the party around him went silent. Nihta got up, Guthbert as well, though stiffly. The men of my father's band seemed to sober up quickly as they looked around to gather their weapons. They were old Roman guardsmen, and knew how to change from merry revelers into bloodthirsty slayers in but a moment. Maroboodus turned to Nihta, who nodded at some twenty men. They grabbed their chain mail, spears, and axes, and filed out. They were the Marcomanni warriors most dedicated to my father, the dangerous men. His closest men stayed put, though, clad in furs and Roman finery, tall, impossibly strong men who had changed so many battles. Their eyes gleamed.

  'It is true then? He is alive?' Vannius queried. Men in the hall murmured, and some cheered merrily. Some looked at my father suspiciously.

  Maroboodus shrugged, as he eyeballed Vannius murderously, warning the young fool to stay his tongue. 'If it is so Balderich has returned, it is a ghost, as why would our lord be running away? It is a dead spirit, and so, he has died. Nihta went to see if this ghost is stalking the harbor. You men … ' Maroboodus pointed at some of the drunken Marcomanni getting up unsteadily.

  Vannius intercepted him. 'Lord, if there truly is a ghost stalking the land, let me take my Quadi to search the eastern roads. I have some twenty men, most hopelessly drunk, aye, but able to go anyway. Some will break legs and arms as they fall from the horse, but let us capture this ghost. I am happy to do you this favor.'

  Maroboodus grunted and nodded. 'Noble Vannius, I accept.' His eyes flashed at the young man, and he motioned for one of his riders to accompany Vannius. I felt sorry for the man, should we win. Maroboodus stalked to the wall, and took down Balderich's ancient weapons, the blue-hued hasta, the huge cavalry spear with a chiseled, ornate blade, and the shield with a symbol of a black chain. He walked back to his seat, set the gear near him, adjusted his spatha, a long, sturdy butcher's blade, my grandfather's ancient blade called the Head Taker, and turned to the staring clan's heads. 'Please, keep drinking and eating. Make merry! If a ghost stalks the land, we will drive it away. If it is seen, we will mourn our lord. We will avenge his death, so we will.'

  The men in the hall murmured, and raised their mugs in salute to Balderich. Everyone knew he had lost his power to Maroboodus, but he had led them for decades, and they respected him. Vannius left, grinning at me, and I followed him out. Nihta had jumped on a large, roan horse, and some twenty armored men were ready to stagger to the harbor. The lethal man guided them towards Bero's former hall, and I hoped to see him dead.

  Vannius said nothing, as his Quadi followed him out of the hall, muttering to themselves, stroking their beards and suebian knots in the chaos. Many of them were soon rushing downhill, towards the houses where the Quadi were quartered. I thanked Vannius in my head for his duplicity, though I also cursed him. Gunhild and Ishild were still inside. I nodded at the young man, and thought Tudrus would slaughter him one day, but that day, he had served me fairly well.

  He glanced my way. 'He is dead? Truly?' I grunted and patted a heavy sack at my side. A pungent smell rose from it. Vannius's eyes went to slits, and he nearly protested, but thought better of it. Shaking his head, he rode to gather his men. 'We shall be back. I'll bury you, should you fail. It is likely.'

  'Enjoy your throne, wherever you find it, Vannius.' Gazing at the shadows of the surrounding halls, I knew we were ready.

  I waited, fidgeting.

  Ready, but for Gunhild. I waited still. Nothing. Wind blew mournfully.

  I cursed, and went back in, furious at my aunt. The hall was half empty after my father's supporters had followed Nihta out and the Quadi had left, my father mumbling something to a few of his men. One left, evidently riding for the swamp. Then Maroboodus settled down to his seat, his hands thrumming the table. The jolly mood had evaporated as fog would in scorching sunlight. I waited for some time, leaning on the doorframe. I glanced out of the door, and saw torches carried by Nihta and his men disappear down towards the water line. It was time, Gunhild or not. I nodded at the darkness, and entered the hall fully, my eyes feverishly seeking her outside, but she was not there. She was still inside, or she had forgotten to signal me they were safe. Gods. She was failing me. Screw Vannius for making it so. I had to chance it. Woden, everything had been going miraculously well so far, so this was the price to pay for it.

  Then, my father looked up, tearing himself from his contemplations. Here was the warlord of terrible deeds, I thought, gnashing my teeth together. A failed father, a failed husband, and an evil son himself, a treacherous dog for all the Marcomanni, nay, even the Germani. Fulcher and Ansbor came in casually, standing near me, and he glanced at them curiously, frowned at Ansbor, searching his memory for his face, which was partially hidden under a rough hood. Balderich walked in, swathed in rags and hoods, trembling in anger or sad memories of his own former hall, and scuttled to the side, his face hidden.

  'Greetings,' I said loudly, and with little respect. People turned to look at me, many of the eldest Marcomanni lords wondering what was to happen next.

  Maroboodus leaned back, truly resembling the Bear, as the prophecy named him. He waved his hand. 'It is warm here, my friends. Why not remove your extra clothing? Let us gaze at your faces. Perhaps we know them?' I ignored his request, and whispers began all around us. Guthbert roused himself, his mouth slightly open as he was trying to gaze at the sword strapped on Ansbor's back, Leuthard's blade. Then I witnessed Gunhild in a cape leading a stooped figure with blonde locks falling out of her covered hood, inching out of the side rooms, her face terrified. I cursed bitterly. She had not managed to get Ishild out of the side exits, and maybe it was not her fault. Suspicious Maroboodus most likely kept a close guard there, and I should have thought about that.

  But, I had not.

  Maroboodus waved for a seat after a lengthy silence, and I struggled to keep my face turned away from Gunhild, who was bravely trying to hold her end of our bargain. 'Sit down then, my ugly friend, and keep your face hidden. Tell me more of the ghost? Where did you hear about this creature, a vaettir? Or did you actually see it yourself?'

  I walked to the middle of the room. 'I know nothing of ghosts, rather it seemed like a live man to me. Dead men do not seek passage across rivers. However, I might be wrong, and know little. Yet, now that I am here, my lord. Do tell me, oh mighty Maroboodus, do you truly have the head of Agrippa?' Maroboodus was a fugitive to Rome, and claimed to have slain the great, old Roman, a man who had been called the Sword of Augustus. It gave him great fame this side of the river, and made him a terrible enemy to all the Romans lurking on the other side of the Rhenus River. Yet, Antius the Negotiatore had told me, when he was sure I was to die, that it was but a ruse to invoke awe amongst our people, and the head came from a Syrian male whore.

  He grinned, though a bit uncertainly, for I had changed the subject. 'I have it. Over there, in my chest of treasures. Do you wish to see it?’ I nodded eagerly, and he gestured for one of his armored men to go get it. I saw Guthbert look at me now, his hard, cragged face twitching. I looked down at my feet under my hood, drawing quick breaths. This was what I had wanted. I could not turn back now.

  'The head,' my father said, receiving it from his man, and then grinning at it before placing it with a bang in the middle of the table. It was nothing much more than a skull now, though skin and dark hair could be seen in patches around it. It stank, and I smiled at it.

  'A fine trophy indeed, but— '

  I shut up, for disaster struck.

  Maroboodus turned his head casually, and saw Gunhild, and his brow furrowed. A suspicious look flickered on his face as he glanced at Ishild. 'Where are you going, my love?'

  Gunhild took deep breaths and nodded outside. 'She needs air, husband.
Air, for she is pregnant and very ill this evening.'

  He hesitated, half getting up to inspect the woman, but then frowned. His animal-like instincts told him something was wrong. 'No.'

  'Husband, I—'

  'Will take her back to her room. You shall care for her, yes, but it is freezing outside, and I hear there are ghosts walking the land. No place for delicate flowers such as you two. You do not wish to stride the snow banks full of dead men, eh?'

  Men chortled at him, but the mood was somehow dangerous. I sweated and shook, cursing the bastard. When Gunhild did not move, he indicated to Guthbert, who got up stiffly, and went to stand next to the women. Gunhild looked at me. They would not get out before the matter was solved. It meant great trouble, and I wished I could send word to Burlein, but it was too late. My mind whirled while seeking a solution. My father turned back towards me as Guthbert was whispering to Gunhild, who was still arguing, bravely. Balderich was sitting near the door, his hands clutched as he witnessed his daughter holding Ishild's hand, accosted by the terrible warrior, unable to do anything about it.

  'What say you about the skull then? Why did you wish to see it?'

  'It is a magnificent trophy, lord!' I told him with some sarcasm, as I tore my eyes from the women. 'What say you men?'

  Men cheered happily, as I pulled up my sack. 'Yet, I hear this head belonged to a Syrian male prostitute. I heard it from a Roman, who knows Maroboodus very well. He is a Roman who says Maroboodus works for him, and his mission, my Marcomanni lords, is to work the will of Rome, and thus ruin the Germani tribes.'

  The silence was such, it nearly thrummed in our ears.

  Those words were malicious, unproven, but like my fame had been torn from me, I knew there would always be tarnish over his. Men were always willing to believe in gossip. Men would doubt him, men enjoyed such doubts when high lords were concerned. I felt giddy happiness, as I saw the bastard squirm and steal glances at the shocked men around him. The fire pit crackled with burning wood, but even the mutts were silent, some slinking away with their fur standing up like a porcupine's, tails under and between their legs. The men and women all stared at me, a man about to become a corpse. Woden's Rage beat inside my skull, as I stared at the man I hated.