Fulcher nodded carefully, clapped my shoulder, and ran off. The riders were about to follow him, but I stopped them. 'Wait. I have need of you.'
'You are not our lord, Oath … ' the bloody-nosed one began, but I gave him such a baleful glance he shut up and looked down. Fame. Gods, but my allies hated me as much as they hated my enemies.
I pointed my finger at the obstacle before the door. 'In a moment, I will break in from this side, and you lot will help me. We shall see what happens in there, but we are looking for two women. Two. Not one,' I growled, and grabbed a huge axe from a surprised man. 'Not a man will disobey, or I shall show you what I did to Vago.' They growled assent, some with wonder in their eyes, others suspiciously, most hefting their spears and shields, some cudgels and wicked axes. Germani are hard people to rule, unless you lead them shield first, spear bloodied.
I would do exactly that.
At the main door, men were yelling. 'We must charge them!' I heard Burlein scream manically, like a haunted, fearful man. I heard them charge, their yells mixing with the crackle of the burning thatch. He led them to the doorway, his former intrepidity forgotten, the men grunting and trying to push the great barricade down, hacking, ripping into wood and corpses.
Spears flew out; no doubt, vile curses and pained howls could be heard, as Burlein's men tried to bowl over the table. Maroboodus's men would not let it budge, but they would thrust spears at the faces of the attacking men, and death would take some. Then, on the far door, the same sounds could be heard.
I listened to Maroboodus bellow commands, slap of footsteps as men ran that way to help with the defense. I glanced again at the room, and I saw only one man there, fingering his sturdy spear unceremoniously, nervous to the bone marrow, as his friend was running for the main hall. Other men in the corridor were going that way as well. Angry men roared, as words of encouragement were ringing out on the hill. I noticed someone threw in torches from the main door, though men were quick to stomp them out or throw them to the fire pit.
Out front, Burlein's men tried to break in again, and a huge crash could be heard. I saw how a man of Maroboodus flew back on his side, his face opened by an axe, his mouth opening and closing in agony at the end of the corridor. I indicated to a wide man with a bow, and he slunk forward, his furred hood bouncing. I made a throat-cutting motion, pointed a finger to the barricade, and the man climbed next to me. Carefully, he eyed the man inside, who was now in the doorway to the corridor, gazing at the struggle in the main hall.
'Kill him,' I whispered, and the man nodded, took a bead of the enemy, and expertly let loose an arrow that tore its way through the man's back. He fell forward, shuddering in agony. He tried to claw his way forward, but apparently, the arrow had pierced him, and the tip was now wedged in the floor.
'Tear it down!' I told the men.
Together, with a strength born of desperation, we began to unravel what we had piled to keep the enemy in, and what they had built to keep us out. Loud cracks were heard as we ripped at a half-mangled door. We grunted and tore at an upturned bed, a trunk made of a whole, shit-thick log, some eight of us throwing bits of woods to the snow and mud. Then, I kicked at the bed frame, the remains of the door, which was very sturdy. I managed to rend some of the last planks aside, pushing and smiting at the obstacles mightily, cursing crudely, and some of Burlein's men came to help me.
I stepped inside, and came face-to-face with Guthbert and some of the Marcomanni, few in Roman armor, all bewildered.
They had not been fools to entirely ignore this door, yet, they were late to make sure the door was safe, for the obstacles were down. It was Guthbert, the meaty, strong Batavi, who had not always agreed with Maroboodus, and so I hesitated. Guthbert opened his mouth and cursed foully. 'Leuthard's sword and that mail,' he pointed at the iron glinting under my tunic.
I ripped it down to show it better, and he nodded as he saw the serpent's head. 'He is rotting in Hel. He sent his regards.'
One of Guthbert's men grew impatient and charged for me, while I was standing amidst a splintered door. He punched his spear forward, a fast man, but I dodged inside the room, and smote him on his back with the axe. He flew outside to the snow, and my men poured inside. We stared at each other, Guthbert and I, while our men charged forward, coming to stand behind me, filling the room. Some of Guthbert's men formed a small shield wall across the door, awaiting their leader incredulously. 'Guthbert. The women?' I growled at him. He spat, and pulled a bronze helmet on his head, wearily gazing at me and the men around me.
He nodded at me, his voice a bit strained, as if the tumultuous events around him were of little concern. 'Hraban. The toothless puppy that followed my master, has grown fangs, it seems. The women are alive. I do not know if you would enjoy Ishild's company. She wants her brother.' He growled like a bear would, and his grip on his sword was like iron. It was a gladius, and he had no shield. 'Did Leuthard die easily?'
I shook my head as I walked forward. 'No, he was mighty. I had him fight a wolverine. I suppose it was a tie, but he is gone, nonetheless. I promised his ashes would go with yours to your father. I am willing to renege on that, if you but run out of here and let me have the women. And why would Ishild want her brother? No creature enjoys Odo's presence!' I grimaced at him as thick smoke billowed out of the next room, and women coughed. 'Give them to me.'
He glanced behind him to the corridors and the rooms, concerned, but turned back towards me. 'No, Hraban, I will not betray my lord, never like this, despite his many flaws. The only way you will get them is if I will die in front of you, boy. Not an easy feat.'
I cursed him, the men around me tensed, and I nodded, my heart heavy, but not heavy enough for Woden to ignore the fight. I felt savagery conquer my soul. 'Let us find out then.'
He nodded. 'Wyrd.' His voice was steady. His bronze helm glittered as he settled into a fighting man's position, his legs wide and balanced, his sword low. His men stepped forward to cover him, grim Marcomanni of many battles, some armored and all ready. The warriors stood rooted to their place, men were begging to all-father Woden and old Tiw, smiter Donor and fierce Freya for favor. At the front door, Burlein's men tried to get in, still. A man shrieked for a long, long time, and that was our cue.
We charged.
There were nine men with me, and I thrust my sunburst shield at Guthbert savagely in the press, Burlein's men guarding my flanks. A mighty pushing-and-pulling match ensued, and we sweated, spat, and cursed foully over the shields. Guthbert stepped suddenly forward, punching out with his fist at my helmet, and my ears rang. He had been fast, so fast. His gladius flickered for a gut-opening strike, but I was fast as well that evening, and my shield rim pushed it down. He stumbled forward to my shield, I struck his neck and helmet with the pommel of Nightbright, and he grunted in pain. Near me, two of my men were skewered, panting their lives away on the floor, one dragging himself for the door. The archer in his furred cap was aiming a dark-feathered arrow at Guthbert, but a large man in iron ring armor was covering the Batavi as he danced back from me, hurting.
I threw my weight at that man guarding Guthbert, charged under his shoulder and punctured Nightbright up, so hard it went in through his armpit and came out from his neck, and we fell in a tangle. At that time, Guthbert spat in anger, about to stab at my back, but then howled in pain, and I saw an arrow pierce his armor. The large man fell on his back, and the Marcomanni fled around him. I got up, shrieking in anger, and pulled at the blade, which was stuck only for a moment. I ignored everything else, saw Guthbert was still on his back, charged to the corridor after the fleeing men, and saw Maroboodus turn to regard them, his face hard and sweaty as Burlein was making another costly brunt at the door.
I looked at the room that had once been mine.
Ishild and Gunhild were there, cowering on the bed, coughing. Their eyes enlarged as they regarded me. 'Hraban,' Gunhild said softly. 'Is—’
'I am fine, thank you. Guthbert is not, for which I am sorry. Come
!' I told them, and pulled at them, Ishild's large blue eyes regarding me carefully. 'Ishild, I am not sure … ' I stammered.
She took a long breath, a shuddering one. 'Odo?'
I spat in anger. 'I do not know where the maggot is, Ishild. I know about the prophecy. He wants to whelp a child on you. Why worry about him?'
'You do not understand,' she told me. 'Mother?'
'Is safe,' I grunted as I glanced toward the end of the corridor. There, Maroboodus was pulling and pushing at men, pointing his sword one way, then the other. I pushed the women for the door. 'Quickly! Outside.'
I hesitated at the room where the battle had taken place. Men were there, the archer regarding Guthbert, who was on his back, his sword pointed at the men. The archer was aiming a bow at the champion. I slapped the arrow away, and pushed Gunhild and Ishild their way. I pointed at the women. 'That woman is Burlein's future wife.' Gunhild's eyes enlarged as he looked at me, and I had to remind myself she had once helped father poison me. Wyrd. I continued, waving her protests away, 'This other one is a völva's daughter. Guard them with your lives, and get them both to Burlein.'
The archer nodded dutifully, his full beard bobbling as I kicked at a broken table and then walked in front of Guthbert, angry. I had liked him, even if he was my father's man. His eyes were feverish as he regarded me, the sword still out. I ignored it, as I bent before him. Some of Burlein's men covered my back, stealing glances across to the hall, where Maroboodus was now screaming orders. We did not have much time.
'Go out and prepare to block the door again,' I told them. They did, and I faced the man again, who pulled his helmet off and sighed.
'Thank you,' he said. 'Was getting tired of showing a brave face there. Gods, archers are cowards. But, a good move that. Surprised me.'
'You were not fighting fully, my lord,' I told him. 'Halfhearted defenses. Normally, you would have slaughtered the lot with one hand, and no help.'
Guthbert smiled at me. 'True, Hraban,' he snorted. 'I am tired. It has been heavy serving your father. And I have been sick. Strangely weak for months. Losing weight. God Juppiter laughs, but your father is in a pickle.'
'He is a Roman,' I told him neutrally. 'Truly Roman. Not Germani.'
He smiled. 'Yes, he is that. So is our original band. He serves the many, many interests of some high noble, someone who intends to kill those who would upkeep the Republic. That’s not old Augustus, though,' Guthbert said. 'Never saw the noble. Only the fat go-between. Antius.'
'I know Antius,' I told him sadly, as he was going to die.
He grabbed me. 'He will combine the mighty tribes, and fight Rome with Roman tactics. He will kill those suspected republicans, and be rewarded, as he lets the Germani die to Roman swords. I admire your father, Hraban, in many ways, but I also admire my father, and he would not approve of the many games we are playing. Filthy games. Now, I shall leave this place, and I hope he forgives me when he has my ashes.'
'Is it that bad?' I said carefully, as I tried to see to his wound.
He shook his head, humored. 'You are as brave a boy as your father is a man. You both know how to fight, but he has more experience. Do not face him, Hraban, for I do not want your company in the afterlife yet. I should fight you still, with my last breath, but you see … ' he parted a piece of a torn tunic. The arrow was embedded in his belly, having pulled some of the chain mail with it. 'It is too painful, yes. You will give us a proper burial, and send us to Father. I have a wife in Rome, and a daughter with her. Try to send them word, if you can. I miss them. Now, I suppose my mad brother Leuthard is waiting for me just beyond the shadows.' He groaned and let go of his sword, his heels thrumming the ground briefly in terrible pain. I did not know what to tell him as he fell on his side, groaning in agony, his sword tumbling across the floor.
'Tell Leuthard,' I told him, 'that I hate him.'
He was suddenly calm, his breath rasping, his arms groping for creatures I did not see. His voice was as calm as gentle rain. 'Mother? Father. But, I see no Leuthard. The beast is not there.'
His words made my skin crawl with skittering fear. I got up, and said my farewells to the mighty man, as he fell limp. I eyed the corridor briefly, gazed at ten Marcomanni coming forward cautiously, anticipating a trap, led by two of Maroboodus's riders, and I spat their way.
I stepped out, and Burlein's men blocked the doorway. I leaned on the wall and wept for Guthbert, for he had been a friend. I waved at the men of Burlein. 'Burn it,' I said heavily. They started to lob torches inside and to the roof again, and they would hold the door, the archer firing gleefully inside. A man screamed crazily.
'The women,' I asked him.
'As you commanded,' he told me, and kept at his fun, the slayer of Guthbert. A bow, my lord, was a terrible weapon where there was no shield wall to protect you. I ran around the huge hall for the pandemonium of the front doors. There were some fifty men of Burlein's there still, though some were skirmishing at the corners of the nearby halls with confused Marcomanni bravely trying to defend the town.
I nodded at Burlein, who threw his hand around in frustration.
'They throw the torches back out, and we cannot get in,' he cursed. 'I lost six men, and many wounded. But, you succeeded. I thank you. The women are in that hall, safe, for now.' He pointed at a sturdy hall, and I nodded, happy for the fact. Fulcher ran to me.
He pointed at Ansbor's end of the hall. 'That side is burning now. It will be terrible for them, soon.'
'Send more men around to the walled side,' I told Burlein, and he nodded, turning to look for the men he could spare. I gazed around, understanding my father was trapped. The Bear's coat would be signed soon, unless he charged out. Then, he would fall into mud and snow, and I would be at peace. I grabbed and turned Burlein, who had sent some men around to the other side of the hall, where there were no doors or windows. 'Charge the front doors again, and have your men lob in dozens from the sides. Keep at it and more to the roof, the torches. It is costly, but keep them defending at the front door. Find hay, and throw that in as well. Bleed and die, Burlein, my lord, your men will, but do not let them fight the fires. Have some more archers keep their men down in the side rooms.'
So, it was that Burlein led his men to the door again. They battered at the barricade, Maroboodus's men defended ferociously, men bled profusely and died sad deaths, but on the sides, the fires started to spread resolutely. Suddenly, thick smoke filled the hall, pouring out of the sides, and the front door and dozens of strained coughs could be heard. Burlein grinned at me, and I pulled my sword and grabbed my shield. The blond man snorted, and waved his sword at his men. 'Get ready. Some, at least, will try to get out. Make sure they do not. Perhaps they want to die in fire. We will see. Thus ends the story of the Red Hall. But, you can always build new ones.'
Balderich appeared and grimaced, nodding. His face aged further, as he regarded the pouring smoke. 'It was always Aristovistus's seat,' he said glumly, and gestured at the door. 'His mighty weapons will be gone. His ancient standard, dust. Our family's artifacts, smoke in the air. Yet, perhaps it is fitting these mighty tokens will burn with the man trying to usurp his glory,' Balderich said, tiredly. I nodded. I did not care for the artifacts, save for the Head Taker. Hulderic had promised it to me, I still believed, though he had not been that specific. That night, I would lose the artifact, but would gain the death of my father.
'You still have Gunhild,' Burlein told him carefully, not sure where he stood with the Lord of the Marcomanni, even if it was evident Burlein would be the power behind him now. Yet, Burlein was not a strong man, and he eyed the great one with suspicion. Suspicious lords are dangerous.
Balderich flashed a rotten smile his way, though there was a careful glint in the old, wise man's eye, one that remembered the dead Marcomanni nobles at the door not moments before, victims of Burlein. Would he have died in the tower later, had Burlein come to rescue him? 'We will speak about Gunhild, but I think you have well-deserved her hand, Burlein.'<
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'I … ' the blond man started, blushing. 'Let us see the bastard dead first.'
'A death deserved. I hope Hulderic and Sigilind are watching here with us,' I said, as I spat at the hall. 'And poor Bero.'
It seemed impossible for my father to survive the conflagration. Some commands could be heard, a man shrieking in horrible agony. 'Wait! They will come soon!' I yelled, and the men tensed, forming a hard shield wall. I bullied my way to the first rank, growling at men to cover me. Fulcher was there on my right, his shield banging into mine as we braced ourselves.
Then, desperate hands started to rip the splintered bench and tables out of the doorway.
Men rushed out.
Their beards were burnt, heavy tunics smoking, and they coughed. All had shed their armor. Man after man came, and Burlein's men butchered them on the muddy and snowy front yard. Some cried for mercy, others tried to give a fight, but they had no chance. One man, a rider of Maroboodus, charged out with an axe, and chopped down a surprised man in the shield wall, but Burlein speared him in the throat, and his mail-clad, smoking body fell to the mud, next to the bodies, twitching.
Then, they stopped coming.
'How many got out?' I asked bitterly.
'Ten? Another ten inside, at least?' Fulcher said.
'On the sides?' I yelled.
'Nothing happens there,' Burlein yelled, his men running back and forth. 'He is not going to give us the satisfaction,' he grumbled, flushed with the glory of the great victory. He likely thought about his family and the dead ones in the silent cemetery, and of their glory restored.
Yet, I felt something was wrong.
'Grandfather, is there any other way out of there?' I asked, and he just looked at me and shrugged tiredly.
'Not unless they made one,' he said with little emotion, and then we heard a wooden crash. We had not heard the axe strokes in the midst of the brief battles of the men rushing out of the front door, but his remaining men, most his former riders, had indeed used massive weapons to hack a hole on the back wall, and then the wall had fallen. It was a hard feat to achieve, but perhaps Maroboodus had deliberately weakened the wall for just such an eventuality. They would be going downhill now, escaping.
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 15
