'I hunt for Lif now. Not fame.'
He shook his head. 'I know you saw what your fame is like already, how hard it would make people love you. And I saw you with your daughter. You have started to find honor only you know about, and I love you for it. But, there are other tests for you. Ones you might fail.'
'Why do you say that?' I asked him with rising anger. 'Is there not enough sorrow with Ansbor—'
He nodded. 'You have to settle the issue over Cassia. She cares for you,' he blurted and blushed. 'She is mad for you. It is growing, this problem.'
'What?'
'She feels burning love for you, my lord Heart Breaker. And you know it. Send her home, or it will end badly. Or love her, and deal with it. This cauldron is just festering until it spills on someone.' He got up to leave before I could dispute him, and then Chariovalda arrived.
He walked in slowly with his men, a few less than had left that morning, and his blond eyebrows were burrowed in concentration under some crusted blood. He was reading a scroll, and by him, walked a young man pulling at a sweaty light horse. He noticed us sitting around, burrowed his eyebrows into a purposeful scowl, and gestured impatiently at me. I gestured at the tub with an exasperated look, and he rolled his eyes, as he walked over to me. I handed him a horn of ale.
'Ale again?' he said. 'You are too young to drink it so often. Addles your brains, and gods know you cannot afford to get more addled. I told Cassia it is a bad idea to make a suffering man rely on drink.' Fulcher grunted in agreement, and Chariovalda continued, 'Better let me,' he said and quaffed it all down, grabbed mine, and emptied that as well, while kicking over the vessel that held more. 'Ah. Much better.'
I scowled at him, unreasonably angry, and I suspected he was right in claiming drink was not good for me. But, I did not care. He did not care for my scowl, and threw the scroll to me, and I barely caught it before it reached the water.
'Can you read?' he asked. I nodded uncertainly.
'Latin? I did not ask you to decipher pictures,' he sneered. I scowled at him and nodded again. 'Read,' he gestured, as he stretched and smiled at Cassia, who was heaving to sight. 'Ah, she always appears when I arrive.'
Fulcher sighed. 'Are you not married, my lord?'
'I am, but I cannot help being handsome. Only women turn into coarse, milk-swabbed creatures of broken nerves when they have babies, when us men will look better and better as time passes.'
'We thank you for these words of wisdom,' Fulcher said sarcastically. 'She can use an axe, lord, and you had better remember your wife.'
'What?' Chariovalda asked. 'I? Freyr forbids I could ever forget the terrible creature. Have you read it already, lout?' I took my time and ignored him, and he rolled his eyes. He grabbed it back from me. 'Very well. I will spare you the trouble. Nero Claudius Drusus is summoning the tribes of Germania to a Thing. This very month. We are going there. Perhaps we figure out what to do with you then. And you will meet him.'
I nodded, sure I would not. But, then, I thought of something.
'Are the Cherusci invited?' I asked timidly.
'The Masters of the Two Rivers? Yes, why?' he asked prudently.
'A man owes me cows, was just wondering if I get to call his debt in,' I told him earnestly.
'He won't be bringing cows, you idiot, only spears and his words, if this man of yours comes.' He yawned, and walked for his tent. He turned around, and yelled at me, 'If you try to escape, boy, I will clip your balls. And stop dipping into my mead and ale, or I will give you to a slaver. I would not want them to see how I make adelings into bastard drunkards.' He left.
I scowled at his back, and spoke to Fulcher. 'If Armin is coming to this thing, then we are going as well.'
'If your father comes?' Fulcher asked.
'Then I shall challenge him there,' I said grimly. 'And hope to survive.'
'Gods bless you, lord,' Fulcher said. 'I shall bury you well, then.'
'Dip your head into a horse's ass, Fulcher, and get us more mead,' I told him, as I got up to dress, making a slave girl blush.
'He said no … ' Fulcher told me, but I cursed, and so we drank, as I had come to appreciate its healing powers. Few other things made me happy, few things silenced Lif's soft cries in my dreams. I did train each morning with Chariovalda or even Fulcher, but the thought of Lif in some remote hut, or even a grave, drove me mad. Cassia, apparently feeling guilty of my newborn thirst, tried to stop me, but I ignored her angry words and even pleas.
One week passed. Even Fulcher and Ansbor ignored my company, but I growled at their backs, and told them all to go to Hel and drank myself senseless. So, on the day before we were supposed to ride to Moganticum, Chariovalda came to me while I slept, kicked me awake, and when I growled and tried to slap his offending foot, he gave me a proper feast. He sat heavily on my chest, forced my hands down to the sides, and beckoned to his grinning, fiendish men, who brought jar after jar of wine, heavy mead, and some stiff drinks I didn't know, apparently made of fermented horse milk. He forced so much drink down my throat I was left insensible.
Later in the morning, he forced me on a horse, and I threw up long into the afternoon; I cannot remember feeling as miserable. For some reason, I did not even remember Lif.
The Batavians laughed helplessly at my vomit-sodden face and beard, my desperate eyes, and the poor beast carrying me likely felt as miserable as I did. We were riding for Rhenus River, with many a rebellious, captured Matticati lords in tow, and Chariovalda was constantly sending scouts ahead and behind and smirking at my red eyes. 'I told you, son. No more mead. No more ale. You had better know whom to obey. I mean you no evil,' he said, and smirked as I retched again. 'Drink without permission again, and we shall do this again. I shall lead you around Moganticum's two Gaulish towns, nude and drunk, and tell all it is Hraban of No Sense, and you will never forget that. Mourn Lif, you bastard, your daughter. It is what a man is supposed to do, not to escape the fears and sorrow.'
'Yes, lord,' I told him, retching. 'You never saw her, and—'
'Yes, the name is all I know,' he told me morosely. 'Now, your men tell me nothing of worth. I serve Rome; Hercules knows whom you serve, but at least the woman told me of your life a bit more, so I do feel some pity for you.'
I turned to look at Cassia, who stared at me imperiously. 'She would make a terrible enemy,' I blurted. 'She knows too much about me.'
'Any woman would,' he rumbled. 'No sense destroying yourself. Sweet wine, sweeter mead, it will do that to a man. You grow weak as a kitten, your limbs do not answer your call as swiftly as they should, your muscles groan at the simplest of tasks, and you die a rotten, pitiful death at the backyard of some inn, utterly despised and forgotten. The only time they will take note of you is when they have to bury you for the common good. World is full of adelings, abandoned by their fathers, and men who have lost a child. Even Drusus does not get along with Augustus, these days!' He chewed some dried meat, and laughed at me as he eyed me.
'How badly are they—'
He shrugged. 'Drusus is … an old Roman. He is fury as Donor himself in war, but in his ways frugal and austere. Of course, when he feasts, he is like us, happy and boisterous. His wife is a goddess as well. But, his adopted father does not care for him.'
'And yet, he commands the war?' I questioned.
'Oh, yes, he is allowed legions here, in the frontier. It is a risk. For Augustus. Should Drusus will it, these troops might not hesitate to turn on Rome; after all, it has been so in Rome for decades,' Chariovalda said. 'Drusus is a good son to Livia and obeys her, but he has his own thoughts. And I wish you to share with him what you know about Maroboodus.'
'You said Drusus is one of the men the bastards in Rome wish to see die?' I said, feeling sick.
'It is irony, you see, that Drusus, Augustus's own adopted son, thinks the Republic is the finest thing that ever fell out of Juppiter's ass, and I am sure there are a lot of tensions in their world. Now, if Maroboodus is raising the tribes against Dr
usus, then Drusus should not underestimate the danger. I worry for him. They dare not attack him publicly, so I do believe your story. They will use a Roman to slay Romans, and will reap Germania as a nice bonus,' Chariovalda said softly. 'You have to—'
'Tell him someone in Rome wishes to see him dead? I should tell him this? He would laugh. Then, sell me to slavery,' I said, and then retched.
'For the sakes of the bastard dogs of Cerebus! Stop torturing the horse! Yes,' he said more calmly. 'Just tell him what the bastard told you. Who was the bastard?'
'One Antius,' I said. ‘Trader for the legions.’
He turned in his saddle. 'The producer of munitions for the army? Negotiatore for annona militaris? What? That fat creature?'
'He has a servant, some ugly mule of an optio? Cornix. They are there, and serve some other purpose than … taking care of annona miliaris.'
'Militaris,' he crumbled. 'There, see. This will be interesting. You shall tell him.' He turned in his saddle. 'If you are planning an escape, of which I warned you about, then at least see him before you try. He might not understand your words, if your voice is very high.'
'What?'
'If I clip your nuts, boy, I told you, and you will not speak like a man again,' he chuckled, and I trusted his expertise. 'And remember, Drusus is a powerful ally. One who takes his favors and honor seriously. Trust him, but do not betray him. Tell him everything, as he is like a god. Swift to reward and to love, but stubborn in hate.'
'Not unlike Maroboodus,' I said. 'They know each other?'
'Likely met in Rome, your father guarded Augustus, remember?' he told me as he observed the Rhenus River coming to sight, the long streak of silver amidst greens and myriads of browns, as we passed fertile valleys and tight copses of alder trees. 'His father died when he was young. Loved him, I think, anyway.'
'I am past caring for my father. He abandoned me the moment he saw me.' I spat.
We rode in silence for a while, until he grunted. 'So what? You lost your woman and child? I hear you were not even properly married! It is a brutal world. I have rarely seen a young man so prominent, and most of the Matticati whisper about your fight in that there castrum. You should be strong, and stop worrying yourself into a drunkard!' he pushed me, and I tried to slap his arm feebly.
I could not help it, but his concern got through to me. 'I had a beautiful baby, and a woman I did not understand. She betrayed us, or saved us, I don't know. In the end, I had to give up the baby to a man I do not trust,' I said. Tears filled my eyes, and I tried to wipe them away so as not to shame myself, but Chariovalda clapped a hand on my shoulder.
'So tell me everything. Everything about fathers, brothers, sisters if you have them, sons and daughters. It will be good to share aches with a man, not only to a woman.'
And I did. Cassia rode close by, protectively. It took time, but he never once interrupted, but kept nodding and grunting. I saw his face harden with anger, and even his tears flow with grief, and I told him what had come to pass the past year. I told him of the prophecy, and what I had to do to survive Wulf, Bark, and Shayla, and how I had loved Shayla. I told him of my losses of grandfathers, mother, and even father, whom I had come to respect. I told him of the vile deeds I performed for him. I told him of the loss of Wandal, and what happened to Ermendrud.
When I was done, he was silent, watching the thickets around us. Then he smiled sarcastically. 'And here I thought you were wet behind the ears. Gods know you have suffered, but you have also caused grief.'
'Yes, lord,' I told him with misery.
Ansbor shook his head nearby. 'And you did not tell us of Leuthard.'
Chariovalda spat. 'He told me, as he knows I won't start crying. Shut up. Here,' he said, and handed me Nightbright. 'Sounds like you need to be armed in sleep.' I gratefully accepted the fine blade and grasped it in my hand. 'And, before you ask, I am keeping the long blade. You will tell me its history, one day. It is a mighty relic we do not wish to see amidst a horde of Germani charging us, should you go back.'
'I gave them freely,' I said hollowly, looking over at Head Taker enviously.
'No, you gave them because you had to,' he corrected me. 'As for this poor Ermendrud? There are stories of their family.'
'Ermendrud's? His father was Fulch the Red,' I said, addled indeed.
'No, no! Leuthard's. But Fulch the Red? Oh. He was a nasty one in a shield wall. Smelly, but also deft with an axe. Split one of my friends from collarbone to belly, and then—'
'Lord!' I nearly shrieked. 'Leuthard?'
'Yes, well,' he said, guiding his horse so it would not step on horse dung, dropped by the beast in front of him. He failed. 'Gods! I am sorry, lovely one. We will clean it later, yes. As for Leuthard's family, Guthbert left for Rome, long before Leuthard was driven from Batavorium. His father, I hear, had it. What Leuthard has.'
'An illness?' I asked.
'A curse, not unlike yours, except you don't eat man flesh,' he giggled, and sobered. 'They do. They eat humans. They tear the meat, crack the bone, and it fascinates them. They cannot subdue their thirst for such things. A woman was killed when Leuthard was but fifteen. The Thing condemned him to exile, after his father paid the wergild.'
'He is what, exactly?'
Cassia was riding close, listening in. Chariovalda glared at her.
'Why are you with him? Next in line to be his wife?' Chariovalda asked her with a grin.
'I've never been married,' I interrupted, and noticed Ansbor's face darken. His brown beard shook in anger, and I knew Fulcher was right. I'd have to deal with the problem, though I had tried already. It was not my fault Cassia did not think of him as a future husband. Had I not told him to tell her he loved her a long time ago? He had done so near Moenus, finally, I reminded myself. Had Cassia left him hanging, giving him some hope? Gods, women were terrible.
She blushed and choked. 'He is my friend. And I don't wish to get married. That is exactly why I am here.'
'Ah,' he said, confused. 'You are hiding from your fiancé? With this god-cursed boy? A brilliant plan. As for Leuthard,' he continued. 'As you just told me, your family is blessed, or cursed, with the blood of the high one, Woden the Wanderer, the Wise God, but there are other creatures the gods made.'
I agreed. 'Odo, the mongrel who tries to make this world a drowned land devoid of life, claims Lok cursed our blood, and then created theirs. I have heard Sigyn speak, so—'
He made warding signs, and knocked on wood we were passing, startling a fat squirrel to run high up to the boughs. It was yipping agitatedly. 'Do not mention … very well. Mention away. But, Lok made many creatures, inspired by Woden. We all know Lok is spreading his seed profusely across all the worlds, and he has bred quite a host of monsters into this world of ours. The Midgard Serpent, for example. And Vánagandr.'
'Ishild mentioned something before she left me,' I said softly.
Fulcher was nodding. 'Vánagandr. The Wolf?'
'The same, the wolf. Fenfir, by his other name.'
'Woden's bane, come Ragnarök,' Ansbor grunted.
Chariovalda nodded sagely, as he picked leaves off the trees. 'Fenfir bred two wolves, one that chases the sun, Skoll. Another chases the moon. When these are swallowed, Fenfir is freed, as is Lok, and so—'
Cassia was smiling. 'You have so many legends.'
'You share these … dreams,' Chariovalda spat. 'Your druids hide them, that is all, keeping the signs and many of the stories to themselves. As for Hati, this moon-chasing mutt, this wolf is a savage one. A night creature, and it is said he does not chase the moon dutifully across the sky, as a good dog would. No, he has the taste of man flesh, but also can take a man's form. It is said he lives amongst us, sullenly serving Lok in small ways, spreading his seed, and growing his brood of half-men.'
'Guthbert never had this … urge?' I asked, terrified now.
'No. But, Leuthard was ever strange. What did he look like? When you saw him.'
'Bloody,' I told him. 'Very tal
l, but he is tall. Dangerous. Delighted by his meal. Above—'
'Human needs and thoughts, yes,' Chariovalda said, with a chuckle. 'He was caught that day, when he was fifteen, holding the heart of the woman he had killed. He was exiled, and became a shield breaker for the Marcomanni. Your father bought him easily enough, for he loves, loved Guthbert, even if they often fought. Now, you say he is after you?'
'He is,' I spoke hollowly, eyeing Fulcher and Ansbor who were riding sullenly near us, unhappy with this news.
Chariovalda put a heavy hand on my shoulder. 'As I said, Hati is a wolf that follows few gods, and only occasionally chases the moon in the sky. Leuthard is like that. Odo’s service to Lok does not matter to him. I would fear, both whatever Maroboodus has asked him to do, and what he will do to avenge Guthbert. He wants revenge, at some point.'
'I will try to survive him,' I growled. 'Last time I fed him to a wolverine.'
He laughed hugely. 'I know, incredible. But, likely, that saved your ass.' He nodded at me. 'You are all crazy, but I like you lot. Let me mull things over, Hraban, and see if I can help you in any way, after you have had a chat with Drusus. End of the world? You fighting a powerful prophecy with a Wolf, and this awkward rot-skull Odo after you? Your father's games? All this is a hard tale for a simple man like me to understand, but I will try!'
That evening, we were close to Rhenus River, and Chariovalda kept glancing at me. I knew not what he was thinking, for he had been mostly silent after my story, though he did not shame me for my tears. He had shed his own, as he was an empathetic man. I gazed at the small fort on the eastern bank of the river and across the water; Moganticum's mighty fort atop a bluff was shadowing the filthy harbor and the two Gaul villages. Fulcher and Ansbor came, and wondered at its many lights, the torch light rafts, and the larger ships. The Roman power was evident.
'Rancid tit,' Ansbor said softly. 'God's piss, but it is four times Hard Hill.'
Fulcher and Ansbor stared at it awestruck. Chariovalda was grinning at their reaction. 'Tomorrow, we cross. And you are Romans. At least, until you run away.'
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 30
