'Lord? Why would I not approve?'
He squinted at me. 'Call me friend, or call me Drusus. I told you. I do not wish my ass licked. You don't approve? Of the troops? There is something wrong with them? I wish to know what it is.'
I swallowed. 'It appears to me, lord, our tribes should find it in themselves to forget their petty wars quickly, or die,' I said honestly, and Drusus grunted. 'In that, my father is right, no matter his true motives.'
He laughed. 'Indeed? We should be happy your lords don't see as clearly as the young scarface scowling at them here today.' He softened the words with a clap on my leg, and then shrugged as he gazed past the legions. 'Your father will not be here, but the mighty Cherusci and our dubious allies, the Chatti, are coming, down that road, passing the silent troops. I shall wonder if they don't shit themselves. I nearly do when I witness these men in a parade. Usually the legions would train right now, but today, they serve a higher purpose. Do you think they will be impressed?' he inquired, and I realized he was genuinely puzzled.
'Lord? It is a mighty sight,' I ventured, as I finally understood what I felt.
He looked exasperated. 'Drusus, for Juppiter's sakes! You called me Drusus when we had our chat. Yes. A mighty sight, indeed. And yet, the Sigambri, Usipetes, and Tencteri again defy me, and have not appeared.'
I shrugged at him. 'They are Germani.'
He threw his hands up to the air. 'Germani! Germani? What in Hades's name does that mean? Eh? That they are mules that enjoy a whipping? Last year, I humiliated them. I punctured their shield lines, slaughtered their best warriors, and what do they do? They try to make an alliance to kill me. Is there anything one can do, short of exterminating them all, to make them yield?' he mused bitterly. I did not say anything, and he scowled. 'Despite what your father's plans are, whether of uniting the Chatti and Cherusci for the good of your nations, or his own ends, even those of the one we spoke about, the plans will not come to anything. The Cherusci are divided, some would fight, and others love us. Now, after they see this, they will know why it is wise not to cross me.' He looked very pleased with himself.
'You? Or Rome?' I asked him casually. Chariovalda was shaking his head slowly. Drusus mounted his horse, not answering my question, scowling mightily. I swallowed, and ignored Ansbor, who reached out and pinched me, knowing I was going to say something foolish. But, I had to, for what I felt when I had gazed at the army marching was greed, and so I spoke. 'They do look fine, my lord … Drusus. I do think they could make a god piss their pants. Yet, for some reason, the fear left me soon enough. Now, I look at the men. I see them. They are like the Rhenus River. Impossible to beat, but possible to harness. I hear you built a river up north? To gain safer access to the northern seas? Like the river, in their discipline, there are opportunities. Men who do things the same way are predictable. And so, all the loot they carry is a great lure to attempt many dangerous deeds, should we see them wandering around the woods.'
He snorted, and Chariovalda's eye had a tick, as he listened to my arrogant answer. Drusus shook his head at me. 'That is why we have generals, like myself. It is our job to make sure they are not predictable,' he said slowly and grinned at me.
I shook my head. 'I love the way they stand and gleam. If I was a Germani lord, with a vast, hungry army, the only thing I would think about is how I would want to loot their fabulous supplies, piles of precious armor, and their sharpest weapons, and make a strong tribe with them. We do not think like the Gauls,' I said to him, and he was silent. 'We have nothing worth defending, but we do enjoy taking.'
'The Gauls?' he inquired, his voice having a dangerous edge.
I nodded. 'They live in an oppidum; they have their cultivated, fortified lands, and things they can lose. Our people need little.'
He smiled, mulling it over as he walked his horse to Chariovalda.
He poked at the Batavi. 'Chariovalda. Do you see why we have a hard time trusting even our allies, like yourself? A boy is thinking about how to kill our men. Do you see?' he asked. 'And the Gauls did not give up easily, boy. They still fester with rebellion. My officia just found out about a plan to kick us out. That is why I am here. And so are they,' he said, and pointed at the legions. He fixed Chariovalda with a questioning eye. 'Are you going to rebel, Chariovalda?' he asked mischievously.
'Tax us, and find out, lord,' Chariovalda said, smiling.
'Frisii are paying taxes now.' Drusus gloated.
'They will run out of gold and silver soon, and cattle, then their children. Then, they will only have their weapons, lord,' Chariovalda said neutrally.
Drusus nodded. 'Gods help us all when a man less amicable than I am takes over here. You will bring the boy, today. He will sit next to you and me in the meeting. I will want the Cherusci and the Chatti seated, so they can see him. Now, wear the helmet, son. You are known for that, they tell me.
' I shook my head softly. He would parade me before the Germani. He would ruin the last shreds of my fame. For Lif, I would do it. I would suffer happily, if only I could find a solution.
And so we waited.
The legions didn't move. And you could tell they were alive by just looking at the small movements their heads made. I wondered if they thought they were to present arms to Augustus himself, not the barbarian aristocracy.
Then they arrived.
The Ubii cavalry came galloping through the woods, aiming directly for Drusus, and an officer in a gorgeous helmet rode towards them, talking to them quickly, and then nodded calmly at Drusus, who waved his hand. The Ubii took their place amongst the auxilia on the side.
Far in the north, down the hill and near the villages, a road stretched towards the horizon. A line of men appeared, many of whom had already visited Moganticum, but who would now join a train of proud men, coming to meet their host in a procession of Germani.
First, came the mighty Chatti, formally allies to Rome, yet nervous allies, a mighty nation careful of its independence. I saw Ebbe swaying on his horse, his beard braided and head swinging from side-to-side, and there was also Oldaric, the fierce, tattooed man, both in their war glory, bronze and golden panoply of war and huge spears held in powerful hands, silver glinting amidst barbaric furs. I saw Adgandestrius, and I smiled, for I liked him. The man had saved my ass when Odo and Gernot would have taken me, mutilated me, and I would be a man like Bero now, somewhere far in the north, whimpering and delirious, Odo's toy. The young fool with twinkling eyes and a cropped, blonde beard looked good with his forehead bared. The Chatti cut their hair as a sign of killing a man.
With them came champions and their men, large and tough, much like the Batavi but less armored, wilder. The Chatti looked at the vast array of men, and I chuckled as I noticed them whispering to each other, exchanging upset words, for every man there much desired such gear. Drusus glanced my way, and gave me a small cold smile, which I answered. Finally, the vast Chatti delegation passed the legions, their eyes constantly glancing at the massed men staring back at them, with steely eyes, red shields out, spears in precise angles, and swords at their sides.
We were on the right flank, just before Drusus's officia and the legates, who were waiting by the gate to the castrum, and I saw the Chatti scowl at the Batavi, all of them the same nation formerly, now bitter enemies. Then Ebbe fixed his eyes on me, staring in utter stupefaction, and whispering something to Adgandestrius. I raised a hand to them, and the adeling gawked, and started to whisper and nod at his father. 'Do not do that, stand still. In the Roman army, discipline is all; this is not a market where you dilly-dally with girls,' Chariovalda said grimly under his breath.
'I'm not in the Roman army,' I answered equally grim, but he just hissed at me to be quiet. 'And I at least moved them. Unlike the legions.'
'Infamy tends to rock men,' he whispered, and I cursed him.
Next arrived the Cherusci, the northern neighbors of the Chatti, your people, lord, and my throat tightened. They were the mighty lords of the Albis and Visurgis Rivers, e
ast of the Sigambri. Mighty people like the Chatti, they rode with their heads held high, dressed in their best.
Armin, he had to be there. I did not see him.
And then my prayers were answered, for first came Armin indeed, his blond head bared, and his tall body covered with a glittering, rich ring mail, a long sword on his side in a red leather belt. He rode in with the standard of his father, Sigimer, a round bronze disk with a painted axe. He looked like a young god, a hero returned from the dead, his cheeks rosy and his eyes bright, as he flashed wolf-like glances over the enemy lines. A small, fat horn was on his hip, and I wondered how he would react to me, for he had schemed with me to overturn Maroboodus. I had obeyed Father and tricked him, and so had toppled Isfried and Melheim, and many Matticati as well for we had fooled him.
He had escaped.
Catualda had tried to take the precious ring to Armin, but I did not see Catualda with him. Sigimer, Armin's powerful father, followed, his armor a plain leather jacket. He held his axe loosely, the beautiful weapon with a wolf insignia, a famous weapon of much honor. By him, rode a dark man, very much like Armin, yet different; where Armin was radiant, he was gloomy, all dressed in black and grey. His fair hair brought contrast, for it was almost white. It was Rochus, his brother, and the man I would know well one day.
Next followed Segestes, his fat face smiling benevolently at the Romans, his corpulent body contained inside a loose and rich tunic, gold glittering around his neck and his fat jowls bouncing prominently when he was turning his head around, clearly admiring the legions. He was carrying a large metal shield, with a carved and sculpted face, and wondrous chiseled beasts, a guard fit for a warrior but ludicrous on him. Indeed, there was a slow murmur of mirth rippling through the legions, though quickly repressed, but Segestes was oblivious to the fact. Or he was beyond it. He was no fool.
Inguiomerus came last, his black skull standard held aloft by someone who was likely his son, and he eyed the legions like a wolf would look at a wounded prey. I saw Drusus furrow his eyebrows for a second when he saw the gaunt man. Inguiomerus had fame as a flayer of his foes, and Rome feared him, much more than his brothers. They passed, and I noticed Armin suddenly turn his head and look directly at me, his face uncommonly serious and thoughtful, but he was gathering looks, too. There were many appreciative murmurs amongst the Batavi on his stature, and I could see the young man also impressed Drusus as he approached.
'He looks like Vercingetorix about to surrender his arms to Caesar,' a Roman said to another near us.
'Except he is not about to surrender,' answered the other with a hawking laugh.
His eyes followed me, and I struggled not to wave at him. I stood still until he was gone.
After this came the Marsi and Bructeri, allies to Sigambri, but more willing to talk terms. Wodenspear led them, a Bructeri war king, and a tall muscular man, with weird tattoos around his eyes, black beard strangely tarred, disdaining armor and fancy clothing. He did not even look at the legions. He knew them well. The Marsi did not have a high chief with them after all, just minor ones. An insult to Rome, perhaps.
The rest did not matter, the northerners and the insignificant, and I kept my eyes on Armin, wondering what would come to pass.
The Germani rode up to Drusus, and greeted him, bowed heads, nodding as if to an equal. He was fairly young, Drusus, but not young enough to be insignificant to these Germani leaders. Drusus nodded back with lavish smiles. Sigimer led the Cherusci, Ebbe the Chatti, and they talked softly, and I could not hear what about. Then, the play was over, for the Germani were led away to their quarters outside the castrum, but Armin lingered, passing the standard to one of the tall men in his father's party, a man with a very high forehead and red hair.
I looked at Chariovalda. 'He wants me.'
'Who is he?' he asked carefully. 'The young god.'
'Armin, son of Sigimer,' I said hollowly.
“Ah, the man who you spoke about. He does not look like a cow herder, and I doubt he owes you anything. Lord of men to be, by the looks of him, a spear king. Go ahead, talk to him, you liar, and I will wait here,' said Chariovalda, not giving me freedom, yet giving me some trust.
'Stay with Chariovalda, Fulcher and Ansbor. I have words to say to the man,' I said, and guided my horse away.
I rode to Armin, and took off my helmet.
He flinched at my scar. 'Your father?'
I nodded. 'I do not hold it against him. I tried to kill him. I only rue that he survived.'
'You gave him your oaths. Is that how you honor them?' he asked, and smiled at me. 'You certainly obeyed him well enough as you tricked me. I thought you might, but I had little to lose.'
'Trickery is hardly a gift a guest should give his host, my lord,' I reprimanded him. 'And I know Catualda was to bring you the ring, no matter what was to pass. He tried.'
'He did, yes,' Armin said neutrally, giving me a small smile. 'We actually had it for the autumn, until he took it with him to meet with Vago. And then you escaped. And you retook it, Hraban. It was upsetting. Catualda was hurt badly.' He glanced around uncertainly, and stared at the legions. 'Fancy looking boys, are they not?'
'Indeed. Killers, the lot,' I said glumly.
'So are we,' he remarked coldly and shook his head. 'And now you are here. A Roman.'
I shook my head. 'I still seek vengeance, Armin. And something else.'
'And Romans are happy to help you, no? Maroboodus is their great enemy,' he told me happily.
'Maroboodus is, and is not, their enemy,' I said slowly. 'And I need something.'
'Indeed?' he asked. 'But, your father is the one clamoring for war, right? War we should lead in, since the Romans are coming our way.'
'He has his agendas, and I shall not speak of them,' I told him. 'Perhaps later, if I find a safe haven for me while I search for the other thing I need.'
'A safe haven?' he asked softly, his eyes flickering towards Chariovalda. 'Surely you are not trying to lull me into believing you? I tried that once.'
'As I said, neither of us is blameless, Armin,' I said darkly. 'I am no Roman.'
'Ah,' he nodded, and eyed my finger. 'And you know we shall need that.'
'Yes,' I said, fingering Draupnir. 'I have it now.'
'You nearly killed Catualda for it, and he is kin,' he smiled dangerously, but looked away for a moment, gathering himself.
I spat. 'He is bad news, my lord, and a worthless shitty piece of gristle, a murderer, and a schemer, and I was his victim,' I growled. 'And he is my kin as well.'
'Yes, he is. Bero's son,' he smiled. 'So, you are offering that for a position in our lands, in our troops.'
'I am.' I felt tightness in my belly, as I fought the urge to fidget.
He was nodding again and shrugged. 'The thing is, Hraban, I could do this. You could start anew with the Cherusci. My father and Inguiomerus have deals with your father, as you know, deals they still might consider valid, but they also see the benefits of what you might bring to our side, the ring included. But, I am not sure, Hraban, not yet on what I will do.'
I nodded carefully. 'So, you make no promises nor oaths to the Oath Breaker.'
'I did once, Hraban, but I admit the situation was … complex. I shall have someone speak with you, Hraban, very soon. Don't lose heart,' he said, and turned his horse. He rode forward, but stopped for a moment. 'Should we fight each other one day, Hraban, it is a sorry thing, and sure to lead to blood we regret.'
'It is, lord,' I told him heavily. 'I do not hate you, and regret trusting my father. But, I will not lie to you. Catualda is my enemy. One I will not spare. But, I shall need a home, no matter how many people detest me.'
He smiled. 'They do. But, a home is a dream you might find, indeed. Let us talk. Later.'
He rode away, his young face turned to the gloriously armored legates, the younger tribunes, and especially the tough centurions standing in front of their cohorts, the souls and arms of the legions. The legions might bear fantastic
, frightening beasts on their shields, emblems that had seen a hundred wars through centuries, but Armin smiled at the devices, his blue eyes flashing, for he was the lion of these woods.
Chariovalda passed me on his horse, and laughed briefly. 'You will have to decide soon, Hraban, on whom you serve.' He left some men to guard me, as I sat there on my horse.
Fulcher and Ansbor came to me. 'So who will we serve?' Ansbor asked dryly.
'Wyrd,' I said, and gloomily followed the Batavi to castrum.
CHAPTER XXIII
Ansbor and Cassia were talking in the room that evening, arguing about how to care for a rash, when Fulcher walked in and came to sit on my bed. He kneeled next to me. 'One Antius wishes a word with you.'
I sat there, with Nightbright in my hand. 'Antius? A fat—'
'It is him,' he said. 'The man who works with your father.'
'Is he alone?' I asked, mystified.
Fulcher snorted. 'There are thousands of men in the camp. None are alone here. But, you won't be alone, will you?'
I perked up and nodded, as I pulled on a tunic and my armor, which was shining prominently. I walked outside, where the Batavi guarded us. A man looked at me in alarm, as I strode past him with Fulcher, but two of them started to trail after us. Fulcher kept in step next to me, his red beard swaying, as he pointed towards the fifth street, where the locals were packing up the daily market. There, near a wheat merchant, stood the man I hated.
He was corpulent and ugly, his hair short, dyed with blond streaks. He had a half amused look on his face, as he regarded the simple merchants packing, most of whom knew the man. He was speaking Gaulish with them. He was intelligent, despite his foppish looks, I reminded myself. Had he not manipulated Tear, and Odo even, and worked with Catualda and my father to change our world? Oh, how he must regret speaking with me, thinking Vago would have killed me.
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