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

by Alaric Longward

  Drusus nodded at me and pointed at a chair near Chariovalda, a strange thing as it looked rickety and delicate, but I found it sturdy enough. I observed the men in the crowds, and they stared at me with mixed feelings. Ebbe, the older Chatti, had lost weight, and his cheeks were hollow, but he still nodded my way. They had once held my side over Gernot, and despite what happened, Adgandestrius had likely spoken well of me.

  'Lord Drusus! Let him take his helmet off at least, so he may eat!' the grinning adeling hollered at Drusus, pointing a finger at me. Drusus roared with laughter, got up to fetch me a plate, stunning all present and presented it to me, with a silver goblet of mead.

  I got up to bow to him, but he waved me down, and so I took off my helmet and the scar in my face drew a buzz from the multitude. I growled at them instinctively, but then tore at the meat in front of me.

  Drusus was urgently talking with a military tribune. Chariovalda was shaking with amusement as men stared at me. He whispered, 'It is told the Sigambri have made a sortie this side of the river. Bloodily beaten back, of course. Perhaps they wanted to make a point while Drusus is trying to seduce their fellow chiefs.'

  'Where did they attack?' I asked him, drinking calmly, trying to ignore the looks. 'Gods, they think I am Roman now,' I breathed.

  'Yes,' he snickered. 'But, as for the Sigambri, up north. Ubii lands, against Castra Vetera.'

  'Castra Vetera? What is that?' I asked him, pretending not to know, but Tudrus the Older had told me already.

  He answered without care. 'North, where the war will start. Now, Sigimer is the war king of the Cherusci this year, so listen to him,' he hissed, as the old warlord was getting up, and Drusus faced him. The patience was growing thin with the Germani, and Drusus was nearly robbed of the opening statement, but recovered amiably.

  Drusus called out. 'Hold, my lord Sigimer! Let us bless the meeting first.'

  'As you please,' Sigimer said calmly, but the thought of invoking the Roman gods was not pleasing to many. Men made hammer symbols in the air, invoking Donor's protection.

  Despite this, a group of thin Romans strode next to Drusus, swathed in white ropes with hoods. Chariovalda snorted. 'Haruspices, marsi perhaps. Not a pullarii. No, haruspices, there comes the sodden cow.'

  'What are you talking about?' I saw Sigimer hesitate and sit back down.

  He snorted at my stupidity. 'Priests. Omens. Reading omens. Like our vitka and völva, they too think it suitable to read omens, and they are most often favorable. There are many kinds of magicians with the legions. Marsi, they have the same name as the tribe in the Luppia River, but are healers, often legionnaires. Pullarii are fools, who read the clucks of the holy chicken and their erratic movements and feeding habits! Imagine. Chicken eating habits. They eat anything, for Juppiter’s sakes. What can they tell you? Will we win the war? We will if the fat hen eats that grain. She did!' He laughed too loudly and sobered quickly. 'In our tribes, he would have no use, the birds would be eaten, and their bones picked clean before he farted!'

  I nodded and chuckled with him.

  He pointed at the thin man directing the cow's placement, which was proving hard for the cow was not cooperative. 'That is a trio of haruspices, man who reads entrails; look at signs from the livers. Etruscan way. Do not ask what that is. But, they are fairly much like our vitka. Drusus always sits with them the night before a campaign. He is more superstitious than a maiden trying to get pregnant. He … ' Chariovalda stopped whispering, as Drusus squinted at him.

  The cow was finally led to the priest, a man in a clean white robe and a cowl over his head. Drusus stepped forward, and the Germani toasted him, knowing he would do the honors. He took a Germani-style horn of mead. 'To your health, allies and friends! Let it be so, let us be friends!' he saluted the men in a passable Germani dialect. Most understood most of what he said.

  Wodenspear grunted, the tattooed man gesturing for the priest. 'Let the priest read the omens, and then we know better whether we shall be friends or enemies! And we will not bow to this cult of Augustus.'

  Drusus smiled coldly at the famous warrior. 'This is not the altar of Rome and Augustus, like the one in Lugdunum, just a place where men gather to discuss life and death.' There, it was clear what the agenda was. War or peace, life or death. Drusus was going to dictate, some would bow their heads, and others lose theirs, eventually. Drusus smiled to take the brunt off the words. 'I am the governor of this land, a superior legate, Augustus pro praetor for my stepfather, and I promise, no man is forced to bow.' He gestured for the priest. 'We do what you do before a Thing, ask for gods to help us.'

  Wodenspear grunted uncertainly.

  The priest hopped next to the wary animal, as we watched on inquisitively. He then took out a long, sharp pugio and, stroking the animal gently, slit its throat without further ceremony. It was a messy death, as any sacrifice is. The cow broke free, ran around crazily squirting blood, and finally fell before Ebbe. The men around him looked at him with pale faces. He kept his face stoic as the priest approached. The belly was expertly sliced open, and the man tore at the entrails, eyeballing the liver carefully, comparing it to a dark liver-sized rock with inscriptions in it. His white clothing turned grimy and red, and his voice rose to explain his favorable findings, but none listened to the man telling Drusus about the omens, or how Juppiter blessed the meeting. A torch was fluttering in the suddenly chilly afternoon air, and there was a reserved mood when Drusus thanked the priest. Ebbe looked troubled, but brave, for it had been a terrible omen to the Germani that the animal had fallen so before him.

  Drusus tried to lift the heavy mood. He raised his hands in welcome. 'It is but a cow, and likely it fell at the feet of the hungriest of the guests.' A small ripple of laughter, none from the Chatti. Drusus continued, 'Let us forget the omens, and the gods. Let us speak as men. My fine lords, I welcome you. Summer is fast coming, and so often the summer has seen brutal wounds of battle and deep scars or war, the unhappy, newly made slaves and widowed women crying. It is not the wish of Rome to be thus.' I noticed Wodenspear grimace at the claim but Drusus pressed on. 'I would much rather be in Lugdunum in Gaul, with my beautiful wife and newborn daughter.'

  Chariovalda nodded and smiled, smacking his lips, and glanced at me apologetically. 'He has a pretty wife, and it seems to many that he enjoys her company overmuch. Many babies!' I smiled, as Drusus spoke on. Little did I know some of those babies would grow into men I would loathe, one day. And women.

  'Rome wishes nothing more than to trade fairly, and live alongside you, as equal powers. This is what Augustus has told me. He told me he wishes nothing but your hands, held out in friendship.' Men eyed him, listened to his broken Germani, the power in his voice, the well-practiced gestures empowering his message. Drusus was walking back and forth slowly, and it was the first time I saw a true orator in action. This was a skill a Roman noble must know, the fine art of how to persuade his audience. Drusus was a great warrior, but he was also a likable man, who could turn nearly any man's heart.

  'Our hands, and perhaps, arms?' asked someone from the Cherusci, and Drusus laughed with them.

  'Arms, if we must, though it is not an easy feat taking them,' he said, and the Germani could be seen swelling with pride. Chariovalda snorted. Still, Drusus did not relent. 'Last year, I did more than build large towns and fancy villas, and initiated the cult to Rome and Augustus. I built forts, created markets, supported crafts, dug ditches, and laid roads, and I upheld peace.' He held a dramatic moment of silence. He pointed north. 'I did these things, things any Roman is to do with his fief. More, I also dug a river to get my men to the north, as speedily as we could. This is what the Sigambri wanted to stop, the reason we waged a terrible murdering war amongst them,' Drusus said, his face honest. He pointed a finger at the assembled men, who had their mead horns and goblets filled. 'I also made pacts with some of your brothers. Some of the Chatti, some of the Cherusci.'

  The Chatti looked unhappy, as many glanced their way, a
nd I also noticed Segestes the Fat shift his massive ass.

  'If you made such a deal with our friends,' Inguiomerus asked in a sly voice, 'then why did you conquer the north? Did they say no? Or did you even ask for their friendship? Though the north,' he said, with a nasty sneer, 'fell with no fight.'

  The Chauci and their dependents rose up as one man to spit curses at the lank Cherusci, who seemed to enjoy their spite, but Drusus slammed his fist on the table, silencing everyone. Mercury looked over the multitude of men, foreboding as a god could be. Flies buzzed around the dead cow, and men sat down slowly.

  Drusus commenced his pacing. 'As for the valor of the Chauci? It was never tested. They are wise, not foolish, and see the benefits of Roman friendship.' Many of the wilder Germani shook their heads in disgust at the comment, but Drusus kept talking. 'I have heard rumors that I took the north to gain easy access to your backs, via the glowing, glittering northern rivers. Albis and Visurgis, we named them. I found the rivers.' This stopped men from eating, mulling over the implications of the claim. Drusus could come at them over the hills and forests, or he could sail the precarious sea and wild shores of the Mare Gothonium to reach their backs over the many rivers of the north. Perhaps both. Drusus progressed with his speech, having made his point. 'I did find them, and they are useful, my friends, for war. Yes, very much so. But, the reason was trade, exploration, and peace. We are curious people.'

  'Perhaps too curious,' Sigimer stated bluntly, scowling.

  'Perhaps not,' Drusus answered spitefully, 'for our spears give us the right to be as curious as we wish to be. Is it not the same with the strong Germani tribes? How many clans and weaker tribes have you pushed against Rhenus River, sometimes over it? Like the Ubii? We are the same. We have power, much power, maybe too much for those who seek to oppose our will. Ask the Sigambri how many legions they have seen. What you saw on the field was paltry compared to my full force. And that is trivial compared to all the legions of Rome.'

  If men had not thought of Roman spears before, now they did. Romans could come at them from many places, many directions. In addition, the war with Sigambri was rumored to have left so many Sigambri dead that whole villages were empty. What would a large war be like? That was the thought riding through their minds, a fear of war coming at them from the north and west, maybe even south? Killing thousands?

  Drusus laughed, dismissing the threat. 'Here, today, we have the honest Chauci, and the finest men of the Chassuari, even the implacable Frisii. Many others who wish nothing more than peace with us. They will benefit greatly, for while they will not suffer wars with Rome, we will give them peace from their neighbors.' The Cherusci looked at each other. They were the closet neighbors to the Chauci. Drusus smiled benevolently. 'So, I summoned you here, the great chiefs, no vile brigands or thoughtless villains, to discuss a peaceful end to the constant war. Is that not desirable? Loot and slaves, we all can have elsewhere. Why make us your enemies by raiding our lands, like the simple Sigambri and their subjects do?' Drusus made a fist and turned to the Germani. 'See the difference between the Chauci, and the Sigambri. The former are alive, their grandfathers sit their grandchildren on their knees, smiling in feasts, gazing around their long halls happily. They have much wealth, and a great future. Sigambri lack grandfathers and many fathers, some, if not all, of their wealth, many halls, and very soon they will lose the rest,' he said, evenly and calmly.

  Wodenspear spat. 'And they lack mothers and grandmothers, and to be honest, even the children, for your legion spares none.'

  'Yes, that is so,' Drusus told him coldly.

  The Germani looked down to their mugs and each other. Some were nodding slowly, like Segestes, his corpulent body shaking, his gaudy tunic smeared with mead, and sinister eyes scanning the other Germani. Others gritted their teeth at the not-so-veiled threats. Wodenspear, close ally to the Sigambri, was whispering something to the Marsi, their neighbors, harshly and without care. He was aggressive, and the Marsi seemed of like mind. Drusus looked at them, gauging the mood. He looked uncaring, and I knew he wished to make sure the largest tribes stayed out of the war. Surely, he did not think that threats would make the proud warriors trusty allies, a man so like the Germani himself?

  No, I shook my head. He only cared about the Cherusci and the Chatti.

  Drusus ignored the unsettled lords. 'We have an alliance with the Matticati and with the Chatti,' he bowed to Ebbe and Oldaric, 'an understanding with the Cherusci, some of you at least. Hermanduri of the Suebi talk with us peacefully. Yet, we hear troubled rumors.' He fixed an eye on Sigimer. 'We hear a deal was made, a deal with the Sigambri present, between the Chatti, the Cherusci, and the Marcomanni and their Quadi friends. A cur named Maroboodus put a concern forward. That Rome is a common enemy to all of you? Is this so? Did you listen to him? I hear you did.'

  They all shifted their gazes to me, remembering I had been present in the meeting, and they assumed I had spilled my guts to Drusus. I shifted in my seat. I had not spoken much of the meeting I had attended, but little did it matter. I would be the hole all shit would be thrown in.

  Silence. Drusus did not move.

  Finally, Inguiomerus got up, and Drusus turned his head towards him.

  The gaunt man made no lies. 'We did speak. We are no subjects to Rome but men of our own laws and customs. You offer prosperity and peace. We are prosperous, after our own fashion.' Segestes rolled his eyes at his brother. Inguiomerus walked forward. 'You bring laws. We have them. Passed to us by Esla and Aska, the first men, and the gods who gave them life. Our laws respect men, and their rights. Man is to be respected, no matter his stature, nor is his death a commodity for judges to give or take. No, it is for his peers to decide. Death we deal, but only if the crime is great enough.' The Germani banged their shields. 'Roman laws concern us. Roman trade we do not need. Your words? We should not heed.' Rap of spear on shield echoed in the meeting for a long time. 'As for Maroboodus? Perhaps you should fear him. He knows you better than any.'

  Sigimer came to stand next to his brother. 'We have spoken with the Chatti, and the Marcomanni. We have agreed to marriages and aid; in case we are threatened. We are friends, Roman, if there is no such threat to the nations who love freedom. But, there is, is it not so? You speak of the Sigambri and war? Are you going to take their lands? Come over the river? Should you do so, where will you stop? Will you stay in the lands of the Sigambri? Will you stay near us and the Chatti? Will you build forts? Maroboodus maybe spoke true words of wisdom.'

  Drusus's eyes and voice hardened. 'Rome has a grudge against Maroboodus,' he spat. 'A grudge we will settle. However, we cannot settle it if the Sigambri attack us, every spring, every summer, like rabid dogs. They did, not week past. We wish peace with you. But, Rome will have Maroboodus's head, and the Sigambri humbled. Will you stand with him? With them?'

  The Germani spoke animatedly with each other.

  Ebbe of the Chatti got up heavily. 'Lord Drusus. We can make our mutual alliances, and still keep peace and treaties with you. If you invade our great nations one-by-one, as your armies have done all over the world, as they tell us, the backwater mud swallowers,' he said sarcastically, 'then I doubt you can blame the Chatti for throwing their lot in with the free people.'

  Drusus was about to speak, but Oldaric the Chatti stood up next to Ebbe. 'Our agreement with you stands, but we will not look on idly at these wars.' He sounded sour, the father of Gunda, his tattoos crudely wrinkled as he scowled. 'Answer Sigimer. Are you, my lord, going to take the Sigambri lands? Do not, and we are friends. Do, and we might not be.'

  Drusus shook his head, as he walked up and down the field. He laughed, throwing his hand towards the east. 'His words echo here, even if he is not here. Maroboodus is not to be trusted,' he said tiredly, as if he was an utterly misunderstood wise man, surrounded by tedious children. 'I do know him. Better than you. Did he not serve my stepfather? He is a snake. A murderer of the elderly and the unwary.' He continued, 'Will you let Rome avenge
itself? That is all I need to know. Will you let Maroboodus win you over? Here, look at his son!' he said, and pointed at me. 'Come here!' Drusus ordered.

  I was mortified, but got up, slowly.

  'Hraban. The boy he called the Oath Breaker, a boy whose hands he was going to cut away, then turn over to be sacrificed and tortured,' Drusus said spitefully.

  I glanced at Chariovalda, the only man who knew this. He shrugged, bewildered, shaking his head, and then my eyes snaked to Cassia, who was looking down. Drusus had spoken with her? She was blushing. I cursed her under my breath, and turned to look at the multitude of men staring at me.

  'His son,' Drusus said, with spite, and pulled me next to him, 'served him, worshipped him, yearned for his return. When Hraban found out Maroboodus had set up his so-called rescue of the village they lived in, causing the death of his noble mother and famed grandfather, imagine his rage! Imagine it! He had done great and dark services for the man. He trusted his father! Like you trust him.'

  My mouth was open, and I croaked something unintelligible, finding I could not say anything. I flushed with anger, and tried to take a steely gaze. Drusus was flaunting some very dirty laundry in front of everyone. For now, that of Maroboodus.

  Drusus placed a hand on my shoulder. 'In his face is a terrible scar; it is the scar he got for trying to fight back. Where is Hraban's honor? Still here.' He tapped my chest. 'He is my prisoner, but a trusted prisoner. His story rings true, for I know Maroboodus.' I was wondering if he would speak of Maroboodus's deals with Rome, but this Drusus did not do. Instead, he shook his head. 'Such a brave boy he was, now a self-made man. Slayer of his foes.' The Vangiones scowled at me, standing at the edges of the meeting, fingering their weapons. 'Lost! Lost! He is a good man; so do not hate him for serving Maroboodus, for the many crimes he had to commit. His weakness was love for his father, and are we not supposed to obey our fathers?' Drusus's voice was dripping with sarcasm, and I knew he was thinking of his own stepfather, but now there were some voices from the Germani side agreeing with him, Adgandestrius one. Others were voicing concerns over Maroboodus and his many ill deeds, especially the Matticati, who had suffered unusually high losses in the war this past year.