When he finally left, I found it hard to find sleep.
The same treatment continued all that week, and next. Nihta grew tenser and more fey as time passed, apparently working hard on some scheme father had concocted, but he still joked with me, and called me fewer derogatory names as he seemed pleased by the effort I put into my training.
I was confused, for Balderich grew closer to me, and I saw Bero daily, often over fine food and kind words, and even the occasional story from the far north, our ancestral home. They took me riding, and consulted me on small issues concerning the Matticati and the Quadi. They took me hunting and praised my skills with the spear and my good instincts in finding hiding game. They did not invite Nihta. Never him. Behind all the friendship loomed the awkward discussion I had had with Balderich at the feast the day I arrived. We would speak more. I had agreed with him, though they said nothing of the matter for now. I dreaded the terrible day they wanted to do that.
I loved sweet Gunhild, and she grew less grim and much happier, as if my presence had given her an unexpected son to take care of. She did look after me. I grew heavier and thought Ansbor might soon call me fat. However, I also grew more powerful and swifter, thanks to Nihta's training.
I saw more of the Hard Hill. Nihta made me run along the outlying fields and unused pastures, the wild riverbank and the smelly bogs of the dense northern woods. We noticed men shadowing us with silent dogs. Bero was taking no chances. Nihta grinned at me as I glanced behind us. A horseman was there with some guards, near us though somewhat hidden under some fir trees, his beard dripping as he was drinking mead. I saw it was Catualda, and he was grinning.
'Many more around us, every day. Not at the night though, not anymore, however there are many men around Hard Hill with those slavering beasts, making sure we do not leave town. Odo is hiding. In one week, things will be decided,' Nihta told me, puffing. 'Finally. I might be able to sleep then.'
'So how are things going, for my father?' I asked as I nearly slipped on a wet, muddy patch. I stopped to retch miserably.
Nihta was crouching next to me, wiping sweat off his forearm. 'You are doing well. They like you, and I suppose they trust you? Have you made deals with them?'
I glanced at Catualda who seemed to notice my look, but I did not hail him.
I nodded at Nihta, giving no promises. 'I have made no deals with my family.'
I had avoided Catualda. He seemed friendly enough, and we seemed to have things in common. Yet there was something about Catualda I disliked. Perhaps that he would make me dislike Bero, whom I wanted to like.
'Why do you follow Father, Nihta?' I asked him.
He smiled wistfully and shrugged. 'You saw him in the battle. I was young, very young when I joined the guard. He is fierce as lightning in battle, jolly and happy out of it. He taught me patience, I suppose. I was always good with the blade, but he made that blade useful. He is a lord with a lord's future, and I found in him, I guess, a friend. He accepted me like he would a son.'
I stiffened at that, and he noticed, looking sheepish.
'He had a woman in Rome?' I asked him, swallowing my self-pity.
'I am sorry, Hraban. He did, a fine woman. Love is weird, Hraban. The true love we find is often the hardest one. And now, we go, before I betray his secrets.'
He pulled me along towards the Hill, and I groaned in pain. I hated to run, hated the clammy sweat, and hated the occasional vomit and spittle covering my dark beard and the pain that never seemed to end.
Nihta was speaking to himself as we jogged the last grueling moments up to the Red Hall. 'Now, in a short week, things will be decided. You will need to do a deed. A hard one. So will I. I will slaughter Bero's champions, one-by-one, and flee with Odo.'
I nodded, horrified at his casual attitude. 'All ten champions? I doubt…'
He smiled. 'No, of course not, but enough to make a difference. Most are fat, careless, and idle, and their houses are wide open, with drunken men guarding them in stupor and contentment. They will die to a stubborn, single-minded killer like I am. They have to. They have near a thousand men scattered all around us, but if some fall, those men will lack purpose and leadership, their oaths broken.'
'You came here to kill them, and make Father known? Is this going to work? Surely the men just follow Bero, should their lords fall?'
'Your father's fame will be great, and many are tired of Bero's opulence. It will be an interesting Thing,' he mused, and I felt desperation and hopelessness creeping into my soul. He noticed this, and tried to console me. 'What Odo is planning will tip the scales greatly.'
'They have hundreds of spears,' I mumbled softly. 'No flaming speech before the Thing will change that.'
'Patience, Hraban. But yes, it will be desperate,' he allowed.
'And what does Odo wish for?' I asked, horrified.
Nihta clapped my shoulder and confirmed my fears. 'He will deal with the priests. Or, rather, you will help him.'
I nodded, not sure I would. 'Why not you? I have no skills …'
He grinned. 'I have trained you hard. I know you are not the best choice. However, Odo is adamant. It has to be you who helps them. Many disagree with him, but we cannot sidestep Odo in this. That he came at all was to show people not all vitka follow Bero. And that he healed you is something they talk about. None else managed it. He risked his life many times this past few weeks, and now, it is your turn.'
'Many disagree with my part?'
'Maroboodus has many plans, and never goes to war unprepared. Bero will die, by sword or his own cowardice. But the true challenges lie beyond Bero.'
I nodded glumly, wondering if I was to find the girl the bastards were so keen on getting in their hands.
We trained, and I hurt myself many times.
I found my sharpened seax under the mattress that night. Nihta was arming me.
You might know the agony of being torn in two by impossible choices.
A thirst for revenge could make you mull over some strange thoughts, forget binding oaths.
I did not like Maroboodus. I feared him. But I also feared breaking my oaths, the ones given before Woden. I wanted to make Hulderic proud while he looked down on me from beyond death.
And I loved my new family.
The closer the night of the perilous Thing came, the more nervous I had become. I would have to choose a side. Father was my lord, but he did not think me his son. What obligation did I have towards him? To Odo? None, because both disdained and misused me.
In truth, I had already chosen a side, but I had not acknowledged it.
I wanted to hear nothing evil of my relatives, and so I played deaf and dumb when Nihta spoke ill of Bero, and even if I saw and heard Catualda complain about his father. I saw the power of Bero and Balderich, hundreds of well-armed loyal men, tall champions and wealth, and they planned to kill vitka and warriors and then talk Bero out of his seat? Gods, that plan would get me killed.
There was great excitement in the summer air as the celebration to Holda and Freya, and the beginning of Maius month, what we called Drimilchi, approached. Such early summer nights were magical, the air crisp and clear, and everything seemed possible. The great Thing was being prepared well before it was to take place, a meeting of men of the Marcomanni, most of the greatest chiefs from both gaus gathering on the hill. Game was killed, and traders flocked in. A small market was set up down in the pastures, and merchants were hawking their fares.
The talk was of Maroboodus.
All men knew it was going to be a day a lord died. Most thought the lord to die would be my father. They saw vitka and völva flock to the village, getting ready to oust shadowy Tear, should she dare come. They would condemn Father by the law they governed. Bero was also discreetly bringing in his best men to bear. Some two hundred Marcomanni were gathered under his standard of crow's wings and skull on the hill itself, hundreds more around it, and some fifty of the best bodyguards under Leuthard were busily making sure their gear was in b
est possible condition. His champions were tense, jumpy as hungry wolves, smelling sweet blood. They were not as drunk and careless as Nihta had claimed.
It was also rumored that in the far north, something strange was afoot. Men whispered about the Sigambri and the tribes of the Luppia River Valley, forever at war with Rome. They had been bloodily beaten, again, and they would be bloodily beaten yearly for years and years. Yet, there they were. One of their boats was mooring itself down at the harbor, full of strange Roman wares.
Nihta saw I had lost heart and nodded carefully. 'Enough then. They will wish to make a deal with you soon, and tomorrow, all will be decided.' He bent over me. 'Remember your father, Hraban, and Odo will talk with you on your part before I kill the champions. You are a warrior in the making, Hraban. Are you ready?'
I nodded. 'I find it hard to obey the filth of Odo, but yes.'
He laughed. 'Best obey when one must, and save the defiance for times when it is useful. Now we will not, perhaps, see again before the night of the Thing. Listen to Odo. What is more, obey Odo. Take care, young master!'
He left with a sideward glance.
I knew he wanted me to leave, but I was curious what he was up to.
I trekked inside the Red Hall, and from the shadows of the doorway, I saw Nihta walk with the young boy who had sought him out weeks earlier. I crept back out from the less used side door and crept closer to them. I went forward, and noticed they were whispering urgently. There was a small slat in the wall close to where they were speaking. I made my way quickly through a series of rooms, until I found the one with the open slat. I peered through, watching Nihta and the boy.
The boy was nervous but looked smart as he contemplated on something they had discussed.
'I shall tell him he is promised this by Maroboodus?' the boy asked.
Nihta turned, his eyes hard. 'Yes. He is promised it. Make it good. Much depends on it. If you fail, and I die, there are men who know about you. Harbor, just after sundown. Do not fail. Make it look good,' Nihta told him softly yet with iron in his voice and walked off.
The boy fingered his plain tunic, indecisive and apparently scared. He took a deep breath and left as well.
I decided I would be at the harbor in the evening. I would make sure no man of Bero's followed me, and would decide later what to do with anything I found out.
I turned to go, and faced a startled girl covering her nudity with her hands. She stood beside a rough tub filled with water.
Her eyes were big and round, her mouth open. She was not terribly ugly, nor a famous beauty. The softly glimmering hair was long, dripping wet and quite blonde, her plain face a bit flat, but I imagined she might have an alluring smile. I noticed, with a brief glance, her round hips and shapely legs.
I had been careless. I stammered like a fool, but shut my mouth quickly. I would suffer for being there, and gods help me should her father call the issue to a Thing.
'I am sorry, I was lost. I…'
She took a deep breath, and my impulsive legs started to move with desperation, ready to carry me out of the Hard Hill, but then she closed her mouth quickly as a shrewd look replaced her momentary confusion.
We stood there for a while until I took a reluctant step towards a bed, where I saw her dress and fibula in a heap.
Her eyes followed me warily.
'My father is hunting,' she told me with trembling voice. 'Hunting with his men and his Lord Bero. Fulch the Red, he is.'
I looked to the ceiling. Gods help me, he was one of Bero's champions.
'I will apologize to him,' I said miserably, though grateful she had not screamed.
'I am Ermendrud,' she said, but did not take the dress when I offered it to her.
'Hraban,' I told her, and looked at her, Woden curse me, for she had dropped her hands. She was nude now, with no shelter, her thighs glistening from the bath, the pubic hair enticingly curled around her wet privates. Her shoulders were beautiful, her breasts were small, and I reddened and stammered, making a squeaking sound.
'I know you,' she said pointedly. Her eyes were glistening. 'I will not scream. I have not…I just feel that…this is not so bad.'
I nodded. I should have left, but what if she told someone I had seen her thus? I had to please her, to make her happy, I reasoned to myself.
'My father is a lord,' she said huskily, but I was blushing. She saw this and tittered. 'He leads men. He can be an ally one day, perhaps?'
I was astonished for a moment. She saw me as a great, coming man of the Marcomanni. Perhaps she was right. I nodded, utterly forgetting all sense of responsibility. She stepped closer to me, and hesitantly, her tongue licking her lips, she touched my hand. I let her, and her deft hands went gingerly to my belt as she unbuckled my pants. I cursed myself in waves of surprising lust.
She slowly put her lips to mine, and I kissed her awkwardly, whimpering as her wet and warm tongue flicked around my mouth. I put my hand on her hip and stroked her, and she pulled my pants down, crouching before me. What followed was embarrassingly clumsy, yet we were both surprisingly patient, and in the glorious end, we were both very, very happy. It was a fine evening, even if I should have shuddered in fear.
However, I was not afraid enough, and we fell asleep.
I woke up to darkness. I panicked and tried to surge up, but she was still there, and pushed me down urgently, her eyes drowsy. I breathed, trying to calm myself, yet crying inside my head.
I was in terrible trouble.
She gazed at me, stroking me gently. She said, 'Speak to my father, one day soon, and we make it look like we are just getting to know each other.'
I nodded gratefully, croaked like a bullfrog, smiled like an idiot and dressed in a rush. I was both wonderfully happy and deathly terrified, and again, just like with Ishild, I was fairly sure I did not wish to marry her, though she seemed to have a plan similar to Ishild’s.
I cursed as she pulled me down, and I kissed her, but then I tore myself away and ran like a hare. Gods help me, I thought as she was singing happily. I crept through the dark hall, begging Woden no one saw me, that there were no friendly or angry dogs, slaves or surprised parents about. I made it out, and saw tired horses riding to the yard. A grim lord was on a horse, a surprised looking dead boar hung before him over the horse's neck. He was very large, apparently permanently angry and looked unforgiving as an axe.
Then I remembered Nihta's words, the strange boy and the mysterious deed at harbor after sundown, and ran.
It was nearly dark as I walked the empty paths down to the waterfront. I squatted at the deepest shadows, looking at the general harbor area. Some lazy guards were about. A drunken merchant was ambling along. I saw no sign of the boy. Perhaps I had spent too much time losing my boyhood, I admonished myself, but the thought still made me giggle silently and then brood in silent terror. I hung around for a long time, getting tense and bored, about to give up, when I spotted the face of the boy who had spoken with Nihta. He was headed for the gate of the harbor area. The boy had clever eyes and an animated, thin face with a wide, infectious grin. He was up to no good.
He was not alone.
Some men were walking after him, hooded, large men, and I sneaked like a weasel after them. The fleet-footed youngster walked brazenly to the guarded gate, the men following him resolutely, and I noticed they were carrying crude boxes and rough jars. They were obviously heavy, for they were grunting. They passed the uninterested guards, and I took to the shallow moat, climbing like a young squirrel as the guards let the men through. I followed them into the deepest shadows of the warehouses. A dog barked, an owl hooted, the men followed the boy toward a small ship.
'Gorth!' yelled the boy as they got close to it. He was also whispering to one of the large men.
A slight light was flickering in the cracks of the ship as a gaunt man appeared. A simple man, by his looks, he squinted down. 'Yes? Who is there?'
'Felix!' yelled the youngster. 'We bring the goods from Lord Bero. T
he finest of mead, and other things!'
Gorth smiled a toothless smile as he nodded. 'The bloody legate will be well pleased!'
Legate? A Roman army commander, Marcus had called them. I saw them go up a rickety plank, and Gorth was fuzzing as they placed the items on the unseen deck. Then, Felix pointed at the open door of the cabin, and they went in. All of them. Later, they came back, but for Gorth. Felix handed something to one of the men, who took it, grunted arrogant thanks, and left in a huff, leading his men out. Felix went towards a simple house on the side, whistling happily.
'Felix!' a man yelled as the boy opened the door. I saw him hide a clinking pouch in his belt as he took a meek demeanor and went in.
'Yes, Master Gaius. I am here,' he said, with a slightly mocking voice.
The men were going to pass me by. Germani, well to do men. They had heavy, expensive cloaks, beautiful fibula holding them. Thick belts and decorated buckles marked them as warriors. They were hard to see in the shadows, and they were hooded. Then Woden helped me. I saw one of the men scratch his face under the deep hood, and I saw his face.
It was Isfried.
He was carrying a crumbled scroll, and did not look happy, in fact, he looked deathly furious. I stood there in the dark and shook my head. I looked at the silent ship and got up on wobbly feet. I ran up the creaky plank, silent as a hungry rat, tiptoed to the jars they had been carrying and cracked the lid off one, eyeing the darkness around me for signs of trouble. I put my hand inside the jar and came up with rubble. The door to the cabin was ajar. A pale light was burning inside as I pushed the door open. The man, Gorth, was lying belly down on the floor, but his surprised face was staring at the ceiling. Whatever was going on, it was Nihta's doing.
I left, shaken by the cruel death of Gorth, silently creeping out of the harbor area, and so I missed a shadow.
A man stood up. I tried to go around him, but he stepped before me. I cursed as moonlight lit his face, and the strange, moist eyes. It was Odo. I upgraded my estimation of him. He had sneaked up on me, apparently having followed me for a while, and I would not let him do so again. I growled savagely and meant to push him out of my way, but he did not let me, stubbornly standing before me.
The Oath Breaker: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 1) Page 22
