The Oath Breaker: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 1)

by Alaric Longward

  Father laughed, clapped Koun on his shoulder, and the Quadi dragged the man forward, not taking Koun to the trees, but the slippery bank of the river.

  'Woden will have you, even with no sword. Woden, or whatever foreign god appreciates your bravery, but you will die in the cold river, as my wife did. It is proper.' Father's voice was cold.

  I nodded while my tears fell. Final justice was to be had for Hagano, for my dead family. I hoped Mother and Grandfather were watching from the pyre. The Quadi dragged Koun to the water and grabbed him by his hair. Strong warriors started to push him under. Koun struggled fiercely in the water against the two grunting Quadi, which attracted hoots of mocking derision from our people.

  Koun spoke as he struggled. 'I will tell to the men in any table the gods seem fit to seat me, or the sad shades of Hades, about the tragedy of Maroboodus. Vannius will make sure the truth be known about the whole affair—' With that, he plunged under, his strength finally betraying him.

  Maroboodus grimaced. He fidgeted greatly and stalked back and forth, squinting at Vannius uncertainly, vengefully, and the young man looked down in fear.

  'Will you have him join his brother, noble Tudrus?' Maroboodus asked. 'Woden would—'

  'No,' Tudrus said carefully. 'I see no point to do that. The battle is over, and there is no need to kill more.'

  Father stared at Vannius like he would a lamb, but finally cursed and yelled hollowly, 'Bring him up.'

  Wulf's eyes bulged with fury.

  'I said, bring him up!' Maroboodus roared.

  Tudrus the Older nodded slowly at the confused Quadi. Koun was dragged, coughing, nearly choking and vomiting murky water on to the feet of my father. Maroboodus growled aloud, and people went quiet. Then he bent his knee and grabbed Koun's face. They spoke, Father brutal in his sibilant whisperings. Koun looked at him, his eyes calculating and red from his brush with Hel, but he managed to whisper spiteful words. Maroboodus sneered at him, placed a gladius on his throat, ignoring the surprised gasps from the electrified crowd. He whispered to Koun, who shook his head in denial, suddenly concerned. Then Maroboodus nodded at Vannius's direction, made a subtle fist, and Koun's resolve broke, his face doubtful, his eyes flickering at his brother. Finally he nodded, humbled.

  'What the hell is he about?' I wondered.

  Ishild whispered to me. 'He knows someone told Vago where your family lives. For Maroboodus, it is better it was Bero, but these two might lie to hurt him. Therefore, Maroboodus threatens them. They are a risk; they can muddy waters. Your father needs to have a fine, just cause. If they died, the problem would have been solved. If Vannius lives, he can make trouble when your father confronts your great uncle.'

  'Someone in Hard Hill did tell them about us,' I hissed,

  'It would benefit Bero most, I think,' Ishild mused. 'But these two can say what they like.'

  Maroboodus regarded the brothers, still contemplating murder, but he saw Tudrus the Older shake his head subtly, still indicating Vannius would live, and so, in the end, Father also shook his head. 'Let them live separated, and, by the threat of sword, they will not lie over the truth we all know.'

  'What is this secret, Maroboodus?' Wulf asked venomously, and some men mumbled assent. 'Free men have no secrets amongst themselves. Marcomanni do not abide secrecy!'

  Maroboodus got up and surveyed the crowd. His face was ashen. He gestured at the two men. 'There is no secret, only filthy worms and slippery snakes who would save Bero, if paid enough by the dog. Now, there will be no lies. Koun will serve me, as his brother will serve Tudrus, and their mutual, deep love will make them honest.'

  Tudrus the Older nodded carefully, not entirely happy about the whole deal. Tudrus had claimed to help Maroboodus, but there was something to the exchange we did not understand. But the Quadi said nothing, agreeing with Maroboodus. Vannius was to be a hostage against Koun, Koun against Vannius.

  'Oath, Koun. Give it humbly.' Maroboodus pointed at the sodden ground.

  Koun blanched with humiliation, and crawled to my father's impatient foot, staying there as he swore a bitter oath to my father. He trembled like a leaf from anger but loved his brother enough to obey. I snorted. If I was given such a choice, I would rather drown willingly than save Gernot.

  Strangely, as I thought about my filthy brother, Gernot laughed loudly. 'A sight a man cannot stomach to see,' he said languidly, mocking Koun. I saw Father glance his way uncertainly. Gernot in his newfound position was an arrogant pup, and it gave me perverse joy to see brief doubt play on Maroboodus's face.

  Koun's eyes were feverish from the unusually brave deed as he finished his oath. I suddenly felt kinship with the Vangione and then hated him again.

  Wulf, scoffing at the whole sordid act, cursed. 'The gods will want a payment for it.'

  Maroboodus nodded, expecting this. He pulled the magnificent chain mail of Hulderic from the ground, grunting at the glittering prize and its weight, and then heaved it in a lazy arch to the river, where it sank in a blink, the armor seeming like a dream.

  I made an animal-like sound of distress. Ansigar walked briskly over to Ansbor and Wandal, and they all approached me, observing Ishild carefully. Wandal saw my feverish eyes as Maroboodus was looking at Wulf, both weighing their next words. Much of the heritance Hulderic had promised me was gone in a blink of an eye. I wanted to walk to Father, smash my fist in his face, and take no heed of the consequences.

  Wandal crouched next to me and hissed in my ear. 'You must not, Hraban, Eh? As your friend, I will tie and clobber you if you try!'

  Ansbor stood in front of us, his fat face quivering as he was determined to stop me.

  Ansigar laid a clasping hand on my shoulder. 'If you go there, he will throw you to the river to keep the armor and the shield company. Think about it, you thrice damned idiot. Who would keep company to the young vixen then?'

  Ishild nodded sagely, staring at Ansigar carefully, and Ansigar leered at her. I shrugged him off.

  Maroboodus turned to the assembled people. 'It was my father's armor and previously, his shield, both worth many lives. The armor came from far Gothonia. Ancient. Strong. A legend. Will Woden be happy, men?'

  The people nodded, screamed and agreed, the thump of the spear on shields rose above the crackle of a burning hall. An unbelievably great treasure had indeed been given to the gods that day.

  Wulf, sweating, stepped forward. 'Fine gifts, very fine. But Woden says it must be the hallowed ring. Draupnir's Spawn? That, too, must be cast to the great river, if you wish to keep Koun. And the sword? That would please them greatly, for the omens are ill, as it stands.'

  I stared at Wulf in confusion. I remembered Hulderic warning me about Wulf, a vitka, a man I had known all my life. Wulf was apparently aware of the prophecy, and was helping Bero, challenging and weakening Maroboodus, coaxing him and taking his measure, hoping to strip away his many strengths.

  Maroboodus stepped gingerly to the riverbank, ignoring Wulf. 'This will suffice. Woden fights bloody wars. He does not wear fancy rings or flashing jewelry like a rancid Syrian whore in the gardens of Sallust. The sword stays, for with that sword, I killed Maino, Bero's son, and it is said a sword will also slay another enemy of mine, one day. And I do wonder how you, Wulf, know about our ring, and, no doubt, its history.'

  I calmed myself, but spat instinctively in anger, thinking about the armor I had loved. The intrusive act was not lost to Wulf and Maroboodus, who glanced at me in barely controlled fury.

  'Gods cursed idiot, Hraban,' Ansigar said, harshly. 'Soon, one does not dare to be seen with you.'

  'Then slither to Gernot, Ansigar,' I hissed. 'He seems to have a future.'

  'Perhaps I will,' he growled. 'Perhaps your father will appreciate my services.'

  'He leads a mighty war party, and needs no quivering boys,' I said sullenly.

  Ansigar walked away, but hissed as he went, 'He needs more than simple fools with spears, Hraban. There are others as well.'

  I snorted
at his back. Maroboodus had turned and walked to Wulf. The old vitka raised his chin to the large warrior fearlessly.

  Wulf cleared his throat. 'It is a sad day when village vitka is discarded so callously. It is a sad day, when the omens are so bad, and an even sadder day when a chief insults Woden. I tell you great people,' he yelled. 'That the deaths of these men whisper of misfortune. Of death! More death, unless you follow my lead and turn from this vagabond.'

  So the die was cast. A Thing was to take place, right then, right there, under the hanging men, next to my burning home full of blackened cadavers. Men gathered around, wondering at the sudden challenge. Sharp spears held by attentive guards were slowly riding around the perimeter of my former home, but it was indeed a dangerous mood that sprung from the words between Wulf and Father, and none felt safe, spears or not.

  'Wulf,' Maroboodus smiled at him like a feral wolf would before devouring an old lamb. 'The man who bows to Bero more than to our gods. Should you not go to him? Surely, you counsel the villagers to trek to Hard Hill, to forget me, the son of their leader? Their savior?'

  Wulf shifted his eyes to Tudrus the Older. 'A Quadi in our village's Thing? That…'

  Tudrus the Older grumbled. 'We have bled together, and made oaths. We will be here.'

  Wulf shook his head. 'I am the last lawspeaker of the village. Not you, Quadi.' We all saw he wore Hulderic's silver bracelet.

  Maroboodus barked a laugh. 'This is a Thing for people my father respected and knew, not something you mold and dictate, lawspeaker for Bero with a pilfered bracelet.'

  Wulf gestured around the people, the burned village, his face full of righteous hate. In Rome, I would later see how the irascible actors play the crowd in a similar aggressive manner, and I remember giggling uncontrollably as an actor playing Almaceon accused a hapless woman of causing the death of his innocent father.

  Such a dramatic figure Wulf played now. He turned to Maroboodus, chin up, bears jutting, and voice quivering. 'It is you, a traitor fresh from Roman service, who caused this to take place! Not great Bero, as you no doubt will claim.'

  Some of the women were hissing in accordance, and when women hiss in accordance, men take heed, for if there is no peace at one's home and hearth, there is no peace at all. Yet, there was something comical about our village vitka, opposing a god-like warrior.

  Ansbor grunted. 'He looks like a crippled badger snarling at a bear.'

  The Bear. Indeed. Maroboodus was the Bear.

  Wulf continued, his fingers twitching, 'So few. So few of us left. So many have burned, so many lonely wives without husbands, so many good boys dead, and so many terribly maimed men, never to carry the swift spear again. The village is destroyed. They came here, burning like demons, raping as Romans do, and killing at a whim, and the month of plenty is now the month of terrible hunger. Is this not so?'

  Some few men nodded, some clashed their spears on their shields in agreement, and there were whispers as women were commenting fiercely amongst themselves.

  Wulf smiled. 'So, what are we to do? What is the wisdom Lord Maroboodus is offering us? To rebuild? We are not strong enough. We have no food, no proper tools, and no real strength. What if they come back to finish this?'

  The women looked at each other, and some glanced into the darkness where spears had come for us once.

  Wulf waved his tired hand around. 'Yes, they know we are weak, even if we managed to drive them away, a miracle it was. They can come back, indeed, with a vengeance. And when I say they, that means … anyone.' He glanced at the Quadi host on the other bank, hundreds of men and women.

  Tudrus the Older stirred and laughed in surprise. 'You are speaking ridiculous nonsense. Quadi are no threat to you, and you are spreading fear amongst the quivering women, who will not decide here, just us men. There is trust between our tribes, always has been. You can stop trying to topple the Quadi. We are here for the oaths and blood we have shared lately.'

  Wulf evidently did not like the light tone, for he got up. 'Trust is for fools. This is not miraculous Valholl where you awaken from death. These are your families.'

  Men glanced at Tudrus uncertainly.

  The Quadi looked indignant, and Euric, Wandal's father, spat. 'I, for one, do not care for a few lost cattle when we have the Quadi thieves here, with us, with ready spears and common foes.'

  Men laughed, even the insulted Quadi.

  Maroboodus grinned at Euric. 'Hear the great smith. In addition, our valor was no miracle, Wulf. It is in the nature of a true man to swat at lesser beings, and we did that. It was by my avenging hands we beat the enemy. We helped strong men fighting a desperate fight, men of Hulderic, the men living here and the great Quadi. We are strong together, and we slew well over a hundred of their marauding bastards. They are in no position to attack anyone for long months. I say we made ourselves famous. Stop fearing the unknown, men and women of my father. Stop listening to a shuddering scarecrow!' My father walked to stand opposite Wulf. 'An evil seer,' my father hissed. 'A scarecrow to frighten the children and the weak.'

  Wulf dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 'Bah! The Vangiones fight for the Romans, and Romans are numerous and entirely unforgiving. Did you not hear the reason why so many are dead? Why your wife, a good woman, is dead? Why people are without a great leader, and why the great Hulderic is dead? The reason is you. And you live still.' He ended the sentence with a venomous jeer at my father. 'You, the foul exile. The reason why other honest Marcomanni do not come here with much-needed aid.'

  Euric smirked at Wulf while Father was toeing a mossy stone on the ground, apparently bored with Wulf's rhetoric.

  'What, pray tell us, should we do?' the smith asked.

  Wulf nodded. 'Bero's village perhaps, Maroboodus is right in saying I, the vitka, think this is very prudent. Hard Hill will need you, skilled men, for during the winter many died of feverish illness. Bero would welcome us, who are all valiant men and women. Honest folk. Most of us.'

  He looked pointedly at my father, and his eyes glimmered feverishly.

  Father started to pace slowly, glancing around with an amused smile, stopped in front of the old vitka and put his hands behind his back.

  Maroboodus laughed, stopping Wulf from continuing. 'So. Bero. Not Balderich. Bero. The man Wulf claims is innocent of the deed that took place here. If the Vangiones were hunters running after their prey, where was the gamekeeper? Where was Bero? Where is he now, I wonder? How did so many strange ships sail down our rivers with no word or warning, and who told them where my father rules? I would hail my great Lord Balderich gladly, my father-in-law he was, until a few days ago. He blessed my marriage, and parted with his precious daughter, Wulf. However, you speak with Bero's voice.' He scratched his beard. 'Hard Hill. Yes, I agree. I shall lead us there. I shall talk with our Balderich, and offer my sharp swords to him. He shall not refuse me. Bero would, but he is but a mongrel dog for the great man, a man whose son I once slew. You speak as Bero's man, Wulf. Not as a man of the gods. The Thing once released me for his son's death. Now I admit it, and I will demand his death for my wife's. I wonder if Balderich still loves him after he finds his daughter died under Bero's hand.'

  The men around Maroboodus cheered, then started to thrum their spears on their shields.

  Wulf looked on, angry at the apparent and unexpected loss of control of the villagers to the upstart. He stepped up once again, whirling madly, and people went quiet. 'Yes, Bero will answer your accusations, and no doubt we will hear the matter of dead Maino again, should you dare to appear. But as for the people here, their fate? What say we ask the gods? I am one of you, you should trust me. The omens are bad. The swinging and nailed dead men all say this, but yet you would follow this man and cheer his words of violence when there are words of wisdom to counter them. So, let us ask our gods, let them tell whom to follow? Sword or sense.'

  Men went uncannily quiet. Wulf grimaced as he was drawing crude rune sticks and subtly etched stones from his pouch. He did not
expect Maroboodus to dare deny this request, few Germani would, but he was also afraid. Maroboodus was a dangerous man, and sometimes such men did rash deeds.

  Tudrus the Older raised his arms.

  'I am Tudrus, you all know us. None of us will join Bero, nor will we join you. We are here for our mutual safety, and the great friendship our old villages have had in the past, even if our idiot children have been waging war.'

  He smiled at Maroboodus, and my father clapped his armored hand on my brother's weak shoulder with apparent affection and support.

  Gernot shot me a triumphant smile.

  Tudrus the Old shook his head weakly at that, and continued, 'Yet I also owe Maroboodus a great debt. I have my fine wife, and he lost his. I will forever stand by him in a glorious battle line, and those who follow me will do so as well unless Maroboodus is proven unworthy, and today, he is not.'

  There was a clash of rumbling spear on shield in approval amongst the Quadi men.

  Wulf opened his mouth to protest, but Tudrus the Older cut him off. 'But, to defy the gods is folly. Utter folly. You should ask them what to do,' Tudrus said happily and sat down, having said his bit.

  Wulf, surprised by his unexpected victory, looked around, smiling. He turned to Maroboodus, who nodded.

  'I agree, we should ask the gods,' Maroboodus said evenly. 'My men and I have worshipped our gods all along in our service. No other gods will do. Woden, Tiw, Freyr and Freya, Donor and Frigg. And we brewed our own sweet mead, too.'

  Men hailed him for that.

  Wulf was an old man, perhaps a bit senile, apparently thinking he had won. He thought himself inviolate, able to say his mind without challenge, and, normally, it would be so. Few would defy a vitka, no matter how many spears a man commands. His was a request an honest man could hardly refuse. His eyes flickered around, his legs trembling a bit. He was ready to cast the lots, chanting under his breath.

  Yet Maroboodus was not a Germani chief, helpless before a vitka, but planned his fights well.