That morning, we stood in Chariovalda's tent.
'So, what am I to do with you?' Chariovalda said, as he stalked around the tent, holding my grandfather's sword, the Head Taker glinting in the dim light.
I said nothing.
'It's a nice sword; perhaps I shall give it to my cousin,' he mused. He slumped down on a wooden bench.
'I am to serve Drusus?' I asked him. 'He seems to have plans for us.'
'Plans for us,' he simpered at me, rubbing his lobes. 'You are a worm, Hraban. Men, such as he, have plans indeed, but you think he is wondering about you, day and night, wishing you good night and morning in his prayers, and likely you are waiting for him to serve you sweetened porridge for breakfast. He is preparing for war, not babysitting you, singing your praises in his dreams. No, you have your part to play, but you shall have to learn things first.'
'What things? We are proficient … ' Ansbor said with a wince, his head splitting with pain.
'You are to learn to fight like the Romans first,' the Batavi snarled, and Fulcher and Ansbor shuffled their feet in protest. Cassia just grinned at him, and he looked away from us, and struggled with a budding smile. He liked women overmuch, the dog. He took a deep breath, and poked me with the sword, again properly stern. 'You can swing a sword, but your boys cannot. But, you know nothing, nothing. You are not fit to fight for the Batavi. You know nothing of discipline, nor the way Romans wage war! You likely could not march fully packed and geared, but would fall in a ditch and die of exhaustion!' he spat, and took a swig of wine.
'I was trained by a man such as you for weeks,' I told him morosely. 'He made me run like a dog, swim—'
'In full gear?' he asked skeptically, and I shut up. 'Indeed.'
'Why march when you can ride?' asked Ansbor glumly, glaring at Cassia resentfully.
'There, there! That is exactly what I mean! Arrogance! Every one of my men knows how to swim like a salmon, and can do what those steel-clad Romans can do twice over. They can fight a pitched battle, then march twenty miles in cold mud, pitch a fully guarded camp, and do it again the next day after burying the men who died of the wounds during the few hours of sleep they got. You, and yours, cannot!' he mocked us with a woman-like saunter, making Cassia scowl, and then laughed like a bastard.
I shrugged at him tiredly. 'Well, it seems the war is coming. I am sure we will learn.'
'Prisoner, you do not make plans for yourself. I make them for you. I am the master of Hraban, the Oath Breaker!' he moaned. 'Because Drusus told me to give you training and position, I am stuck with you. I hear you saved his life yesterday? A man of mine was hurt there, so I know, but he has kept it a secret from the others.'
'I am not sure if he was in any real danger; he was armored under the toga, no?' I told him, as my friends gawked at me. It was news to them as well.
'You lot keep your mouth shut about it!' Chariovalda said threateningly. 'Yes, he was, but it is always possible to catch it hot when you are at the wrong end of an arrow. They could have been poisoned, no?' he said maliciously, and lifted my tunic hem with the sword. 'Apparently, they were not.'
I slapped my former sword away. 'Apparently not.'
'You were hit?' Cassia said in alarm, as she rushed forward.
'He is fine like a virgin apple, untouched, nearly so,' Chariovalda said. 'So, the war will start, and you will learn new tricks.'
'But, will I serve Drusus, or you?' I asked, nervous they would post me far from the man I was supposed to slay, even if the thought seemed distant and impossible. I cursed Armin softly, and Chariovalda stared at me peculiarly for a while. I danced away from Cassia, who cursed as well, still hanging on to my chain mail.
'You are a strange one, my boy, always mumbling. Try not to do anything foolish,' he said sternly. 'I know not what, and whom, you will serve. Perhaps me, one day, and I serve him, so you serve both. '
'What happens next?' Fulcher asked him. 'With the tribes, and the war?'
He mused, and shook his head. 'They know a fight is coming. The most important thing was to discredit Maroboodus, and Hraban, the hapless bastard here, helped. And Cassia.'
She blushed. 'He said he wanted to help Hraban. He did, and I think we have a home here.'
'You have a home already,' Ansbor began sullenly. 'You have estates and fine lands, and the lord is sure to help you get back anything you have been cheated out of. You are charming enough for that.'
Cassia spun on him, but Chariovalda struck the wall so hard a guard vaulted in, but went out as he noticed the mood was not welcoming and there was no danger. Chariovalda continued, 'I see you have issues gods themselves would fear mingling in. My advice for you, Ansbor, is to respect her as a friend and find yourself a woman. More than anything, Drusus wishes for the Chatti to stay out of the war. Cherusci, we can handle, and I think Drusus wishes to humble them in any case, but the Chatti have to remain calm. And so they shall.'
'How do you know this?' I asked, stupefied.
'Oh, he has taken Ebbe as a hostage.'
'What?' I asked, now shocked.
'A guest? Whichever you prefer. The old warrior is here until the war is over,' Chariovalda said, uncomfortably. 'He wishes the Chatti to remain peaceful, after all.'
'You think this is the way to prove friendship?' Cassia asked, incredulous.
'It is necessary,' Chariovalda said doubtfully. 'They spoke the words of Maroboodus yesterday, and Rome does intend to build fat forts in Luppia, collect taxes and slaves, and settle in. It cannot be changed. It is ordered by Rome, and Drusus has no saying in it. But, I admit, it is a total, and utter, mess. The opposition will be mottled. The Bructeri will fight like maniacs, the Marsi as well. We will see if the Cherusci will stay out of it. They are fools, if they do! That Segestes is such a fool, but the others are not. They have wars with the Suebi in the east, but may have a sizable army available for this war. Mayhap not. We can keep them busy elsewhere, I think. The Chauci might have their tails up for the insults yesterday.'
'And you think Oldaric and Adgandestrius, and the hundreds of honorable Chatti warlords will sit still like children while their honor is broken so?' Fulcher noted with a sneer.
'Ebbe is ill,' Chariovalda said slyly. 'He is ill, and has to rest, before going home. That is all the Chatti need to know.'
'They are no fools,' I snarled. 'They will let Ebbe hang, and make songs about him, while they march to gain vengeance.'
'Well, we will see,' Chariovalda said. 'But, it will be decided soon. They should be glad it is not Stone Jaws here.'
'Stone Jaws?' Fulcher asked curiously.
'Tiberius, brother of Drusus. Or Augustus? Yes. Augustus would have killed the lot, all the trusty fools who travelled here, and so would Tiberius, but Drusus and that Saturninus, the legate you have become briefly acquainted with, would never do so. No, Drusus needs these men for the future,' Chariovalda sighed, and got up. 'As you know, Hraban, he might wage a different kind of war soon, at some point. He believes you about your father, yet he only has your word, but he is wary of his family. No, he needs men to respect him after the war is done with and won, and he will need the Germani to serve him. He needs allies and willing friends from the surviving enemies. Gods! Why explain this to you backwoods numbskulls? Just nod.'
We did.
'Now, go and speak with Drusus, Hraban. The day he agrees you are Roman, is the day I will return the sword and the spear to you. I'll keep them for now, for I do not entirely trust you,' he told me, and I bowed to him, liking the man. We filed out and followed a Batavi, and I had to slap Cassia's probing fingers, as she tried to put her hands under my tunic to feel the wound.
'Scratch!' I told her scathingly. 'Just that.'
'I am sorry I told him of your life, but I could not say no. He is very persuasive,' she told me unhappily.
'I wish I had his skills of persuasion,' I told her, as I glanced at Ansbor, who refused to look at me. 'He thinks you and I—'
'I told him yesterday,' she said heavily, giving up
on trying to check the wound, 'that I am not meant for him. That I would be a friend, and even then, he would have to be happier, for all we have shared since you returned are bitter, unhappy words.'
'I'll try to speak with him,' I told her worryingly. 'Again.'
'It will do no good. I told him I am taken.'
I gazed at her. 'Taken?'
'My heart is taken, has been for a year,' she whispered, and I knew what she meant, unable to deny it as she gazed at me. I nodded. She peered up at me from under her beautiful eyebrows. 'So, will you stay with Rome then? Drusus can help you with many things, and after the war is over—'
'It will never be over, Cassia,' I told her seriously, as I stared at Ansbor. His eyes had a vacant, hurt look, and he did not smile nor frown as he held my eyes. I shook my head and walked on, enjoying the sunlight and occasional blast of reviving wind, and tried to find ways out of the dilemma. Ansbor. He was my friend. Gods help me.
We found Drusus in a simple tunic, his hair disheveled as he was guiding his horse in skillful circles over a grassy field. I walked forward and my friends waited, and Drusus waved at me happily, enjoying the moment of solitude. The horse was lathered, spirited as a young fox, and I was happy to watch him ride. Could I slay him?
For Lif, yes.
Saturninus walked over, and watched the lord with me. He was gray of face, having worked all night. He shrugged as Drusus made the horse vault a small trunk, half rotten, the horse huffing as it came down. The legate was not looking at me, but handed me a carving on wood. I gazed at the letters, and then spoke. 'It says, “Inimica.” An enemy.'
'Yes,' he told me dryly. 'The Cherusci left this night, during the celebrations. The Chatti left this morning. Not sure who left this in the Thing. But, they are gone.'
'Minus the poor, ill Ebbe,' I sneered as I handed him the wooden message.
'Yes, he is still here,' Saturninus said dryly. 'Thank you for keeping our man safe. Suffice it to say, he is not safe. Not from yours, not from ours. He does not have enough proof on who is conspiring against him. He knows, of course, but cannot prove it. And if he did? He would face war in any case, no matter the evidence of treason. He needs more fame, more allies, more tribes to commit for peace. For alliance. For now, he goes to war, and hopes to conquer, for he needs the fame should he tackle … higher targets.'
'He is a dangerous man,' I told him. 'Ruthless, like my father. But, I like him better.'
'Better than you like Armin?' he inquired sweetly.
'I do not like Armin,' I blurted, and realized it was true. No matter if he could remake me into a Germani, I distrusted him. 'What do you know of Maroboodus and his son in Rome?'
He thought for a while, and then spoke. 'Drusus will tell you. I do not know more than rumors. As for you, I know from Chariovalda you are contemplating on leaving us as soon as you can. Perhaps to join Sigimer and the enemies of Rome. Can they help you with your vengeance and your lost family? They might. I know not.' He clapped me in the back. 'But, Drusus has honor as well as ruthlessness. I love him. He is younger than I am, and I love him like a son. Trust him.'
'I will serve him,' I told him hollowly. 'Even if I have to train like a dolt.'
'You did not just call the legionnaires dolts?' he breathed. 'No, that is impossible.'
'Dolts and lazy mules,' I growled. 'I could outmarch them two times over.'
'What?' he asked, mortified as Drusus rode over and vaulted from his horse with a laugh. He spied Saturninus ashen, shocked face, and cocked his head at the legate. The man twitched as he whispered at length to Drusus, who just laughed hugely and guided me away, keeping his hand on my shoulder.
He spoke to me merrily. 'I will ask you to join my army.'
'Yes, lord,' I said softly.
'Drusus. Friend,' he reprimanded me.
'I am but a boy from backwoods of Germania, Drusus. Why do I call you a friend?' I asked him bluntly.
He chuckled. 'I need you. I like you. And we have things in common, no matter if you have hay between your toes.'
'Lord?'
'Friend or Drusus, can you not remember?' He blushed, and hung his head. 'I am a leader of hard men, Roman, first and foremost. But, my friendship to you is no lie. The day you bowed to my idiot slave, and mocked our gods as liars, I liked you. Your story is not unlike ours, mine and my brother's.'
'Really?' I asked. 'Your mother and grandfather were killed by your father, too?'
He shook his head. 'No, but it is rumored Augustus killed my father, and he certainly ruined him. I was still a baby in my mother's womb when Augustus married her. My father had to attend the marriage. Imagine that!'
'Really?'
He nodded. 'It is true. We have both been misused, hurt, and thrust into a vortex of betrayals and pain. Yet, I have a goal. It is to serve Rome. The real Rome. My Rome, for which my father gave his life for.' He looked troubled, and waved us on. He looked grave as he walked. 'I seem like a brutal, grand lord to you, and indeed I am. But, I am not immune to betrayal. Observe what happened to my brother. When Agrippa died, and Augustus's daughter Julia was widowed, he had to divorce the only woman he could ever love, and marry the flippant Julia. He, Augustus, wishes to cover all his bases. What is in store for me?'
I nodded. 'Your brother—'
'Stone Jaws. Tiberius,' he smiled. 'Call him either.'
'Is unhappy?' I asked carefully
He nodded. 'He is indeed. I would be, too. He marries a whore, and sees the woman he loves soon married to another, a man who sits in the senate and meets him nearly daily, arrogant in his ways!'
'I would kill the man,' I said, truthfully.
He laughed. 'I serve Augustus; we loved each other in some ways. He taught me to be a man who keeps his words, he often played with us when we grew up, gave us a life like most could only dream of, education, position, and wealth to make kings weep with envy. But, the price? Imagine if he told me to divorce Antonia! We have two children, more to come, as soon as it is possible,' he smiled at me, and I smiled back. 'But, imagine, if Tiberius was to die, who would Julia be forced on next? Would I lose my wife?'
'I doubt you would allow that, lord,' I told him, but he shrugged.
'A lord now, tomorrow but a puppet. In Lugdunum, where I govern the Tres Galliae, my wife sits, trusting me. I hope I am worth that trust. I have the new Urban Cohort there to guard the mint and her, but Gaul is a festering cesspit of discontent. If that was to explode, and I lost it?' He laughed. 'Augustus would enjoy seeing me humbled, somewhere in the back of his mind.'
'Surely, the Gauls see the war in Germania as a good thing? Rome fighting the bothersome Germani will unify them under you, certainly?' I asked.
'Gauls hate both the Germani and Rome, Hraban. I am facing a festering rebellion, war with your people, war with the Roman traitors. I can fall easily enough, should Augustus become overly suspicious of me. Then Antonia would be used to marry someone he needs. I tread carefully, Hraban. So I cannot blame him, or anyone, for their plots to kill or discredit me, not on your words alone. I will grow strong here in the north, Hraban, and when the time is right? I will, perhaps, make the Republic shiny and bright again. But, it will be hard and bloody.'
'And you need men like me for this?'
He placed a hand on my shoulder, making his lictors jump. 'I have status, wealth, and an army, Hraban, but my family is truly my treasure. Livilla, my beautiful girl, our little imp, how she loves to hug me, and to play with my fingers. In addition, my boy,' he said, with tears in his eyes, 'also Nero Claudius Drusus, he is a clever one, planning war already. We will have more.' He pulled me with him. 'Antonia, my wife. Never was there a woman so virtuous, so much unlike her father, Marc Anthony. She is the virtue itself, and likely the one common thing Augustus and I love. However, she is more; she has my heart. For them, Hraban, I will never cease fighting. I understand your choices.' We walked in silence for a minute. 'I held a census in Gaul. I know how much money we can have from there, perhaps I should us
e it to create a new Rome, and there is the mint in Lugdunum,' he mused and smiled, looking back at his lictors. 'Do not speak freely in front of them. I know some spy for my stepfather,' he nodded towards the men, looking at us pointedly. 'But, I will need men like you for the future. Many men like you.'
'Would the legions follow you?' I asked him dubiously.
'Perhaps, if I give them victory. They would after this war, and the loot I will give them,' he said scornfully. 'One earns such devotion. Besides, many have served with me, or Tiberius, in the past.'
'Indeed, few seem to dislike you, Drusus,' I told him, and he clapped my back.
'So, I ask you. Stay with us, and I will reward you,' he said, and glanced at me. 'I will give you power, and help you with your daughter.'
'Because you like me, or because I am useful?' I asked boldly.
He put his forehead on mine, his eyes burning. 'Because I like you, but also because you will be useful in the wars of the north. Because you are Maroboodus's son, and because Armin wants you. I spoke with him last night, and his eyes lingered on you so many times. He has plans, and I will be careful. And because I will need a friend and a skillful man when I go home.'
'What am I to do for you? Be another soldier?' I asked.
'Soldier for now. You will sign papers, Hraban. They are just papers. They tell me nothing. One day soon, I will want you to come and tell me where and whom you will serve. I will have work for you, for I sense I could trust you, if you finally made up your mind.'
'You do not trust me now, Drusus?'
'No, Hraban,' he said. 'It is not Chariovalda who whispers evil little thoughts in my ear. I do not trust you as long as your daughter is missing. When that terrible situation is cleared, for good or for bad, I will trust you with my life.'
'If you do not trust me, how can I serve you?' I asked sullenly.
'You will serve Chariovalda for the time being. I will keep you from this war. I will face an enemy out there, and I do not know yet who. I cannot think about blades behind my back.'
'I am sorry you do not think more highly of me,' I told him miserably, hating the whole situation.
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 39
